REVENGE
REVENGE
The continuous ringing of my telephone woke me up. It was my uncle from thousands of miles away.
"Elizabeth is in a hospital in a precarious condition. She wants to see Andrew, who left home last week after a tiff with her. He is untraceable. Please come."
My uncle, who loved me like his son Andrew, had always turned to me in an emergency.
I assured him I would be with him soon.
He had taken care of me after my parent died in a road accident. My college days were coming to an end. I got my favourite job as a make-up man in the cinema industry and became much sought after. I was not worried about money as my father's life insurance had taken care of it.
Comparing her lazy son with me, my aunt had detested me and had told everyone I was a bad influence on him, but Andrew and I were close friends. We had studied in the same school and college. In appearance, we had many similarities except for his moustache and a deep scar on his temple. Some had mistaken us as twins.
My uncle heaved a sigh of relief when I landed at the hospital.
"Elizabeth has been asking for Andrew. The doctor says anything is possible if she doesn't stop worrying," he said.
Andrew had gone away in the past, too, but had returned after a couple of days. When he did not do so this time, she started imagining the worst possible things that might have happened to him.
Promising to return soon, I left after a while.
It was late at night, and the hospital room was dimly lit. Elizabeth was delirious and was mumbling 'Andrew...' repeatedly.
The door opened slowly, and a young man stood in the doorway.
"Andrew!" shouted his father, leaping to his feet. The patient stopped mumbling and seemed to be listening.
The visitor walked towards the patient, sat beside her, took her feeble hand and whispered, "Sorry, mom!"
She opened her eyes, raised her hand slowly, moved her fingers over the scar on his temple and moustache, and murmured, tears rolling down her cheeks, "My son!" She clutched his hand firmly and sighed loudly, a contented smile creasing her face.
"Go to sleep, mom. I won't leave you," he whispered again, stroking her head, his eyes overflowing.
Later, the doctor came.
He took her hand and suddenly changed his expression. He made some checks and shook his head.
"She is dead," he said.
Though my job didn't pay much, it helped me in making my aunt, who always hated me, die smiling.
Sweet revenge.
The continuous ringing of my telephone woke me up. It was my uncle from thousands of miles away.
"Elizabeth is in a hospital in a precarious condition. She wants to see Andrew, who left home last week after a tiff with her. He is untraceable. Please come."
My uncle, who loved me like his son Andrew, had always turned to me in an emergency.
I assured him I would be with him soon.
He had taken care of me after my parent died in a road accident. My college days were coming to an end. I got my favourite job as a make-up man in the cinema industry and became much sought after. I was not worried about money as my father's life insurance had taken care of it.
Comparing her lazy son with me, my aunt had detested me and had told everyone I was a bad influence on him, but Andrew and I were close friends. We had studied in the same school and college. In appearance, we had many similarities except for his moustache and a deep scar on his temple. Some had mistaken us as twins.
My uncle heaved a sigh of relief when I landed at the hospital.
"Elizabeth has been asking for Andrew. The doctor says anything is possible if she doesn't stop worrying," he said.
Andrew had gone away in the past, too, but had returned after a couple of days. When he did not do so this time, she started imagining the worst possible things that might have happened to him.
Promising to return soon, I left after a while.
It was late at night, and the hospital room was dimly lit. Elizabeth was delirious and was mumbling 'Andrew...' repeatedly.
The door opened slowly, and a young man stood in the doorway.
"Andrew!" shouted his father, leaping to his feet. The patient stopped mumbling and seemed to be listening.
The visitor walked towards the patient, sat beside her, took her feeble hand and whispered, "Sorry, mom!"
She opened her eyes, raised her hand slowly, moved her fingers over the scar on his temple and moustache, and murmured, tears rolling down her cheeks, "My son!" She clutched his hand firmly and sighed loudly, a contented smile creasing her face.
"Go to sleep, mom. I won't leave you," he whispered again, stroking her head, his eyes overflowing.
Later, the doctor came.
He took her hand and suddenly changed his expression. He made some checks and shook his head.
"She is dead," he said.
Though my job didn't pay much, it helped me in making my aunt, who always hated me, die smiling.
Sweet revenge.
