Tuesday, 8 May 2012

Enter Dustman

It takes three to be a serial killer. Even children know this now, after the success of so many TV serials about serial killers. He had already got two. He was finding it tough to decide on who deserved the most to be his third.

He was not your typical copycat serial killer aspirant, for he was killing with a motive. He wasn’t trying to fast-track apocalypse. On his to-kill list were all those who had got more from their lives than they should have. And those who had managed to upset him in some way. A firm believer in the law of averages, he was sure he was only doing nature’s work by attempting to restore the ‘balance’ unnaturally. Nature has memory and it doesn’t forgive. A rare occurrence usually happens, given enough time. And if it doesn’t happen, he will make it happen. Very soon someone will come to know this.
He was also considering if he should leave a signature or do a ghoulish ritual after every kill. Every serial killer is supposed to seek recognition for his work. May be he should perfect a dance of destruction with vigorous, violent movements. But then what good is a dancer without an audience? For some time he pondered over the possibility of subjecting his victim to the visual treat of his violent dance before killing him. The dance would be so violent he would beg to be killed rather than being made to watch the brisk moves of the sadistic dancer. Or maybe he could write a Y on the nearest wall with the blood of the deserving departed. Nah, this was very ordinary – he wanted something creative. Just when he was about to give up on giving himself a ritual, a speck of dust hit his eye. He got his ritual. He would tear open the chest of the dead and fill it with dust. The media will hail him as the Dustman. Dust thou art, to dust returnest…

Having finalized the ritual, he again scanned his list. He had made sure both the genders and all the age groups had equal representation in his list. Not because he was a champion of gender equality. Just that he didn’t want the media to conclude that he was either gay or impotent or a victim of child molestation. Serial killers are always stereotyped by the media. But the Dustman won’t fit the pattern.  

There were many worthy of being chosen. But a few stood out – his first boss, his second boss, his third boss, his current boss – but it would establish a direct motive – and in any case, everyone wants to kill his boss – so this would have been ordinary. The bosses will live, for a while. Then there was this always-happy employee-of-every-quarter. This joker was inspired by the collective wisdom of all the self help books of this world. With a perpetual smile on his face, he went on doing the same thing every day without getting frustrated. His happiness was frustrating and fake. But his life was so miserable death would be a gift to him. And the Dustman was not in his charitable mood.
After burning midnight oil for two successive nights, he finally decides on his blessed victim, the one whose blood will anoint a serial killer. He will not shoot the messenger. He will cut the messenger of God to pieces…

1 comment:

  1. Terrific read.The idea is superb and the way it has been painted is instigating.
    This extrasensory line-"A firm believer in the law of averages, he was sure he was only doing nature’s work by attempting to restore the ‘balance’ unnaturally" is ready to mark trepidation in any no.of average hearts...