Its not the end...

Darkness was at its extreme, his eyes got open with a strange sound. The sound of leather shoes, which his master used to wear and roam in this big house. The sound was turning louder and louder, that means his master is coming in his direction. His throat felt a drought and he found a drop of sweat running down behind his right ear.

It has been nine years working in this house, for this fourteen year boy. He knew that his master has bought him from his father for two hundred and eighty rupees, when he was five, so that his father could pay to the land lord and save his mother from being a keep of him. He doesn’t know what has happened after that to his family, his master never told him anything else, now all he knows is washing clothes, utensils, floor and polishing shoes, making drinks, cleaning tables and to add he knows the beatings, be it from a belt, a stick or legs covered with same leather shoes.

Next moment his master was in front of him. Carrying the same leather belt in his hand which he used to beat him. He started crying, but that made no difference, his master started beating him with the belt, when his hand were tired, he kicked him, when his legs got tired, again the belt made his way. Whole house was filled with loud cries of pain, but he knew no one is listening, not even his master. He could feel his skin getting torn, his abdomen bleed, his eyes swollen, and his legs numb. Once his master was done, he shouted, ‘you son of a bitch, how dare you tried to kill me, take it as a lesson you mother f***r, next time I will kill you bastard’

He left, leaving him in intense pain, but his mind was not worried about the wounds, it was worried about the words his master said ‘how dare you tried to kill me’ he was struggling to recall. It was not that he has not thought about killing his master for beating him like animals but never let this thought convert in an act. He tried hard and was again back to last night.

His master just came in and asked him to prepare drinks. He did. It was the fifth time he was pouring the whisky in the glass, his master put his legs on the table and with the jerk he trembled and bottle smashed on the ground with an intense sound, sharp smell of whisky all over. Next moment he found himself on the ground, two big hands pressing hard on his throat, he was not able to breath, lungs dying in lack of air, heart slowing down, eye bulging out, mouth opened to its extreme to find some air, legs started pounding the ground, hands moving all over the glass pieces and grabbing a big one tightly…Next moment there was no sound, not even sound of breathing, everything went silent.    

He felt present was more painful than the last night; he just closed his eyes and kept waiting for the morning, when he heard few people walking and someone saying, ‘they both killed each other it seems, send the bodies for postmortem’

He came out dragging his left leg, wiping blood from his eyes and saw few policemen taking out his and his master’s body out, his master sitting on the chair, with the belt still in his hand, drinking, smiling.


He understood the meaning of his smile, 'Its not the end...'