The Killing Machine (standard:Inspirational stories, 1470 words)
Author: Ashwini Ahuja	Added: Mar 19 2007	Views/Reads: 3212/2042	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Cruelty breeds hatred and when a beautiful lady grows callous towards a servile class rickshaw puller just because of his slow pulling then hatred intensifies and stuns the onlookers. Should beautiful people show apathy towards poor?

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Although Shakshi is not as pretty beautiful as she, but she is humble 
and kind. The rickshaw lady is much egoistic, Shakshi is not. After a 
short silence, our conversation again begins. She tells me she is from 
Ludhiana and earning her post graduate degree in theatre department. I 
glance at her lips doing up with lustrous lipstick. Shakshi hardly 
apply lispstick on her lips as she thinks- married ladies should do it. 
“No problem, no problem” She says when my thighs glue to her thighs 
accidentally. “Thank you” I say thinking Shakshi dislikes my (even 
inadvertent) touch on her thighs. Shakshi thinks my this act- an act of 
lust of a pervert. Rickshaw puller enjoyfully listens to our 
conversation and looks back at us. “Baba, I hate you- I hate you- I 
hate you” She gets furious. “I don't want to miss the movie, friends 
are waiting...waiting, baba” And she encapsulates wild fury into her 
fist to hurl over him. “Move fast, move fast” And cries in the tone of 
challenge. I dislike his tyrannical behaviour towards the old man. 
Should educated and sophisticated girls behave like this? Shakshi never 
behaved anyone like this. Apprehensively, the man on rickshaw jumps on 
paddles and accelerates its speed. “Baba, see, see, my watch, it is 3'o 
clock. My friends must have entered the hall” Listening her stinging 
voice, he jumps on the paddle again and slips. Die, die, die. He yells 
with pain.  Right leg injures. “Stop, stop, stop” She commands him to 
stop the vehicle, he obeys. Rickshaw pulls up with a jerk. Thank God, 
thank God, thank God- I say. She leaves his rickshaw mercilessly 
placing some coins onto his palms and walks away. “Poor rickshaw 
puller” The curve of her lips shows indignation. Rickshaw puller does 
not take notice of it falling down onto toes. The tip of his ankle is 
too injured and knee cap displaced. The girl hires another rickshaw 
coming from the opposite side and go off ignoring old man's gash. My 
blood begins roaring in my veins. Cruel, cruel, cruel. I put on him his 
chappals and use his towel as a bandage so as to control the flow of 
his blood. I'm too much late. But could I ever ask him to reach me 
destination? Mom had given me only six seven coins of five rupees 
denominations and I honestly put them into his shirt pocket. “You go, 
you go, you go” He smiles with apology. “Saheb, I come- just after 
dressing up my wound” He goes paddling his rickshaw cycle. Meanwhile, 
local bus arrives. I mount on it. I reach court campus. Advocate Mehta 
has gone to home. Then I see papa in his office scaring he would 
reproach me. But, on hearing the entire episode, he smiles and praises 
me. “My son, I'm proud of you” Proud, proud, proud. I thrill and look 
at my watch. It is 4.15 pm. The Killing Machine might have been 
started. The movie is said to be a chilling thriller but might it be 
more chilling than the girl to whom I had met on rickshaw. 


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