We, the team Potliwale Baba, are writing a fictional story as a part of #CelebrateBlogging – Game of Blogs.


Read the previous posts here: Chapter #1|#2|#3|#4|#5|#6|#7|#8|#9|#10|#11|#12|#13|#14|#15|#16|#17|#18|#19|#20|#21|#22|#23|#24|#25|#26|#27|#28||#29|#30|#31

“What is this that I hear? We have a confession? Already? Nice! Now, if you may please repeat it, we shall record it and you can sign it with your acceptance.” The devil inside Java was esctatic.

Jenny repeated the motive that she had just spoken out to the lady constable. Another constable sitting in the corner made note of everything that was being said and furiously typed it away on a rusty old typewriter. When Jenny was done, the paper was handed over to her, and she was asked to sign it. She did so with tears in her eyes.

Cyrus grew impatient and restless waiting outside. He was waiting impatiently for them to complete the formalities or signing the written confession and other documents.

A beaming Java stepped out of the room with a handcuffed Jenny in the tow. Cyrus was confused.

“Cyrus, you are lucky. While I all the while believed that you murdered Naina, it turns out Jenny did. She has just confessed to her crime.”

Cyrus was flabbergasted. For a second, he stood there speechless. Then coming back to his senses, he ran behind Java saying “There must be something wrong inspector. Jenny cannot confess to such a crime. I need to speak to her.”

“I am sorry Virus, but I cannot allow that!”

“Please inspector. I request you. I am sure Jenny is innocent,” said Cyrus literally falling at Java’s feet.

Java was unmoved, but the two devils in him were moved. They prodded in unison, “Java, he is like a bloody pup who has lost its mother. Let him meet her for a while and he will be gone.”

Reluctantly, Java agreed.

Cyrus met Jenny in the lockup that she had been remanded before being produced at the court the next day. Jenny and Cyrus looked at each other with tears in their eyes.

Cyrus at the verge of tears, just simply asked, “Why?”

“I had to, for you Cyrus. I know about the anonymous blog that you had been maintaining. I know about how you were planning revenge against your dad. Also, I know Shekhar is your dad. After confronting you that day in your house, and after being interrogated by Java, I did a little of background research on your mother. That day in Shekhar’s house, I saw a certificate from the college your mom graduated from. Remember? You once told me about how she never speaks about her college days, and all you knew was just her college name.” !” said Jenny already succumbing to her fate.

Cyrus was aghast. “Jenny, I wrote that blog out of frustration. Also, I never knew that you would remember such minute things. Also, just because Shekhar is … my dad… it does not mean that I killed Naina. I could have never gathered enough courage to do it! I could never kill anyone. I went his house to confront him for what he did to my mother that’s it I didn’t want anything from him.”

“WHAT?” The tiny 8×8 cell started spinning around Jenny’s head, ”That means I confessed in vein? There’s somebody else? Oh my God!! Who would kill the maid and why?”

Somewhere, not very far, a shadow smiles,

Twinkle twinkle burning star,                                                                                                                                                                           How I wonder where you are,                                                                                                                                                                      Up above the world so high,                                                                                                                                                                   Please come down and make them cfry,                                                                                                                                             Twinkle twinkle little star,                                                                                                                                                                            For I know their deaths aren’t far,                                                                                                                                                        Twinkle twinkle boiling star,                                                                                                                                                                    How I wonder how deadly you are,                                                                                                                                                            Up above my grave so high,                                                                                                                                                                            Like my diamond, make them die,                                                                                                                                                           Twinkle twinkle killing star…

The shadow looking out in the dark night sky filled with stars, thinking to oneself. Good now that all the hurdles are gone, nosy neighbour and frivolous visitors.

A blind figure in a dark room, sitting there without a sound. Staring into the neverending sky, seeing nothing but the fading lives, the aftermath of last few nights. Open my eyes, I’m blind without you. I am a lost girl in a lost world, a lasting life above all death. But looks like everything is now fine, Oh daddy, you are only mine.

She was four when those horrible nightmares started. Her mother thought she should see a therapist because Roohi had recently begun complaining about nightmares and ear pain, with no physical origin, and had become very clingy. Roohi’s behaviour varied a lot, in her school she would be sometimes aggressive, kicking, and cursing at the students, insisting her name was Ritu, and at other times Roohi sat quietly, as if in her own world.

During one of the sessions with the child counselor in her school, she had an aggressive tantrum, where she threw a vase at the counselor and ran out of the room. When she came back, quiet and shy, she asked the therapist what happened to her arm and could not remember what had just transpired. When her parents were informed, Tara just requested the therapist to give medicines and even punishment if needed. According to Tara, Roohi was spoilt by Shekhar’s pampering.

Roohi had no friends, other than the kittens. She would talk to her like the kitten is a human being, perhaps her best friend or a daughter like figure. Probably because she hardly ever got her mother’s attention. She was brought up by her daddy. From making her breakfast to dropping her to school to tucking her to sleep, all were daddy’s work. She would hardly see her mother at home. Her mother would often arrive late when she was already asleep and would be sleeping when she left for school.

She would spend most of the time alone in her room, writing something in her notebook. The only time she was happy is when she would spend time with her daddy. Her daddy was her hero, she always wanted to be a writer like him. She hated her mother for always fighting with her daddy. Her mother would spend most of her time out of the house, which was a good thing. The more she would be away, the less will be the fights and that also meant more attention of daddy towards her.

But lately things have changed a little bit. That witch Naina aunty is spending way too much time at daddy’s study. Suddenly, she has developed a taste for writing. “I know that it is only to hog daddy’s attention. I should be the one who gets his appreciation and encouragement. Good she died that evening. I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be. But next time there will be no darkness, there will be no mistake, she will die, she will have to, for troubling daddy.


The clouds are filled with tears – I don’t know why                                                                                                                               Was it really worth it – or shall I cry                                                                                                                                                          Or shall I remain in silence and bury the pain within me                                                                                                                        I can’t stand this any longer – will you please set me free                                                                                                                    But I must go on – and I shall not break                                                                                                                                                   For next time there will be no darkness – there will be no mistake.         


Stay tuned for grand finalé chapter

“Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”

Our Team Members: Srilakshmi Indrasenan, Sneha Bhattacharjee, Hemantkumar Jain, Shameem Rizwana, Shoumik De, Nirav Thakker, Tushar, Ritu Pandey.

Did you think we are forming a nail-biting thriller? Share our blogs through FB or Twitter with #CelebrateBlogging #TeamPotliwaleBaba tags


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