The Silver Pen

“This is going to be the longest thing I’ll ever write.”

The words kept ringing in Shalini’s mind. And as if echoing by themselves, they kept on coming back to them.

Shalini was 23, an attractive and smart South Indian girl. She had dark, understanding eyes and was unusually fair to be a southie. She worked as a Public Relations Officer for Geroo Pens Inc. With her flair, she almost handled every thick situation with such an ease, that a person might wonder if she were asked to negotiate with a burly old man, or were to swing a 3 month old.

But still, today had been even more weird. As she lay resting on her couch after a long, hard day, she couldn’t stop thinking of the day’s happenings.

‘Of course!’ she thought, ‘It’s not everyday that a Padma Bhushan awardee walks into a pen store him/herself.’

She had to accept that she had been absolutely amazed when the legendary Neela Dey had walked into the store, in her reserved dignified gait. Neela, unlike approaching any sales person, had directly walked into Shalini’s office chamber.

“I’m Neela Dey.”

“Hello madam, I’m Shalini for Geroo Pens Inc. How may I help you?”

“I had sent for a private catalogue” Dey had it in her hands already. “I just wanted to confirm one of the designs.”

‘Another loaded one.’ Thought Shalini dryly.

It had been happening since about a year now. Surprising clients had walked in straight into her office with a private catalogue straight from her boss. She knew Mr Ananth Venugopalan was an influential man, but she had learnt how much when she had big, important people walking into her office, clutching carefully the catalogue whose copies were only dispatched from the personal chamber of Venugopalan.

“I want the SY143 in silver, monogrammed with my initials.”

“Yes madam. I will need you to fill this form.”

Dey’s butler took a step forth to take the form, but Dey stopped him mid way and asked him to step back.

“It’s just an elementary form, Narayan. I’ll do that myself.”

“Yes madam.”

Dey took the form in her hands as Shalini offered her a pen.

‘Big shot, them all!’ Thought Shalini. She wondered about the thing again. It was definitely no coincidence. All the VIPs that had walked in straight had asked for the same pen model to be custom made (although in gold or silver or platinum or studded with gemstones, varying as per what they afforded to spend on a pen). They had all filled their form themselves when atleast a dozen more people could have done that.

And then came there last sentences, which invariably sent a chill down Shalini’s spine. And this was no different.

“This is going to be the longest thing I’ll ever write.”

And for a moment, Shalini thought she saw a gleam of the wicked in Dey’s eyes. She just could not understand.

“This pen is going to be special”

“I have a lot of expectations from this pen”

“This pen is going to create history, girl!”

“This is going to be the longest thing I’ll ever write.”

Shalini stirred quietly on her couch, also remembering the black cat that had crossed her way. ‘Oh ! have I started believing in the superstition I chide at my mother about?’ and plugged the latest A R Rahman into her ears. As she found herself lost in the beautiful music, she just never understood when she slept off.

As Neela Dey returned from Geroo Pens Inc and stepped into her villa, her husband roared onto her.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?”

‘Such a cynical waste of a man!’ she thought.

“I was to Connaught Place to fly kites!” she said mockingly.

“I have no time for your sarcasm, Neela! TELL ME WHERE YOU WERE !”

“I have no time for arguments.” And she started walking away.

Ram Dey crossed into her and slapped her.

‘YOU SCOUNDREL.. wait till my day arrives!’ she thought.

“Tell me what were you doing in Geroo.”

“Geroo is a pen shop. I bought a pen. That’s what you do from pen shops.”

“don’t you try being smart with me, Neela.”

“I bought a pen. You heard me. I have an alibi, this is Shalini Mathur’s card. Call her. Confirm it.”

“That I will.” He snatched Shalini’s business card.

The moment Neela was left, she fled into her room and locked herself.

As she slumped into the couch, she could not hold back her tears.

Their marriage had been a buzzkill. Ram was not at all the handsome, gentle, understanding man she’d met at her cousin’s sangeet. The underworld don was hidden behind that beautifully handsome face. Ram had been weird from the first day of their marriage. Their home had voice activated security.

“Bazzinga!” Ram had said as he walked his bride in.

“Too weird for a password, isn’t it?”

And from the horrible life that followed, Neela was glad it was Bazzinga and not Bazooka.

Within 3 days, Shalini called up to tell Neela Dey that her pen was waiting for her.

Within an hour from the call, Neela hurried inside and walked out without a single word.

Shalini had an uneasy feeling that whatever was happening, wasn’t happening good. It was going to be an apocalyptic day.

The next morning’s Times Of India’s headline was “Padma Bhushan awardee Neela Dey arrested in suspicion for husband’s murder”

Her insides churned in and out and over. She became sick and puked off.

Her younger brother, Prasad, 17, carelessly ruffled the papers for the day’s movies.

“The Man with The Golden Gun today on HBO, 9pm” He announced to nobody in particular.

And then it all came crashing down to her. She was shocked and disgusted at what she had been a part of, though unknowingly.

When she called Venugopalan to tell him she wished to try a job elsewhere, he politely asked her to continue on for the month, considering it was the 25^th day of the month.

Unwillingly, she accepted.

When she walked into her office, she was surprised to see the honourable Home Minister for State in her office, waiting for her.

“I have a private copy of your catalogue, and I want an SY143 customed for me in silver and gold, studded with jades. May I have the form, please?”

And she disgustingly thought, “This is what they call a continuum.”