The Souvenir (Part 3)

Mortal fear paralyzed his senses. The morning meant to be the onset of a new life had rapidly metamorphosed into a drive down the alley of death. “Can’t you do anything?”, Jake screamed, as the speeding cab whizzed past screaming pedestrians. “I’m trying”, cried the driver, as he noticed a mound in the distance and steered the car towards it, “Hold on tight We’ll collide against the mound to stop”. Jake tightened the grip on his seatbelt and closed his eyes. There was a loud bang. He felt his lungs deflating and his interiors almost finding a way out through the skin pores, with the sudden disappearance of momentum. Jake opened his eyes and noticed that the cab was on an incline. An electric pole on the top of the mound had helped stop the cab in its tracks.

He was about to breath the customary sigh of relief, when he heard another, louder bang, interspersed with the sound of glass cracking. He tried to get out of the cab but the doors were jammed from the impact. The flurry of sounds did not stop. He heard loud screams and saw a bunch of harried looking boys and girls rushing out of the building on the other side of the mound. As the mob passed by his cab in their sprint towards the gate, he heard the hysterical voice of Marie, his sister’s friend – “Where the hell is the ambulance? The pole fell straight on her head. Julia’s head was smashed…”

April 10, 11 AM, Luxor (Egypt):

“Stop doing that, will you?”, cried Cheryl for what seemed to her as the thousandth time this morning, “I’ll take it away if you don’t behave yourself”. The threat seemed to have an immediate effect. The irritating sound of glass rubbing against glass finally gave way to the humming of the jeep engine, which had hitherto been suppressed in the background. “In 5 minutes, we’ll be on the hot air balloon”, Mark’s words broke the monotone. “And enjoying an incredible view of the Egyptian desert”, Cheryl completed her husbands’ sentence. No reaction was, however, forthcoming from their son Mike.

“Incredible India and now Exotic Egypt – this world tour has had the perfect start”, smirked Mark, as the jeep finally arrived at its destination. Blue skies meeting the limitless expanse of the golden desert – it was a breathtaking sight. Mark strolled towards the booking counter as Cheryl took out her compactor to adjust her make up.

“Trying to look good for the mummies?”, remarked Mark as he returned 5 minutes later and still found her wife busy with the compactor, forcing an abashed look from Cheryl. “Tough luck, the next balloon is sold out. We need to wait half an hour for the one after that”, he continued. The dejected look on Cheryl’s face following this announcement was enough to undo all the makeup had managed to achieve in the last 300 seconds. Mike was nonchalant as usual, now making shapes in the sand with the glass souvenir. “Enough of it, give it to me”, shouted Cheryl as she snatched it from Mike’s hands. “You’re being paranoid. Let him play”, remarked Mark. “I didn’t bring him all the way to Egypt to irritate me. Throw this thing away”, Cheryl’s decibel level rose. “But I love this souvenir”, Mark protested. “Then you figure out what to do with it”, Cheryl said, thrusting the trinket into her husband’s hands.

Mark turned and started walking towards the counter, thinking to himself the painful repercussions his second marriage had brought about on his child. But his current concern was the souvenir in his hand. As he lifted his head, he noticed the queue of people getting onto the balloon, and struck upon an arrangement. He went up to the elderly gentleman standing at the rear end of the queue. “Sir, I have a family situation. Can you hold onto this thing for me? I’ll collect it from you at the end of the balloon flight. If you remember, we’re put up in the same hotel”, Mark pleaded. ‘With pleasure, young man”, the gentleman took off the burden from Mark’s hands and stepped onto the gangway.

Dr. Davon was impressed by the sheer beauty of the object in his hand. Even as the balloon took flight, he couldn’t take his eyes off it, ignoring the spectacular view of the desert below. “Sir, you’re missing the view”, hissed a young man standing beside him. “Very well”, whispered Dr. Davon. But as he took his eyes off the souvenir, his hands trembled, and the object of his attention slipped out for a free descent.

“Why don’t you…”, Mark could not finish his statement, as he fell the plugs pulled out from the sockets of his brain. And in a moment’s flash, he collapsed.

April 10, 1:30 PM, Agra (India):

“Good men, all of them were”, recounted Kabir, as he reflected on his last 3 customers, “They even tipped me generously”. “Must have been firangis”, Gogi’s shrill voice broke Kabir’s reverie, and it was then that he realized he had been thinking his thoughts aloud. He felt obligated to reply, “No, all of them were Indian people – a Sardarji, a South Indian gentleman and an elderly lady”.

April 10, 11:30 AM, Luxor (Egypt):

“Sir, accident here. Air balloon take off site. 34 year old man, hit on the head, object fell off an overhead balloon”, mumbled Officer Kayan in broken English. “What object?”, echoed the voice from the other side. “Some glass object. Looks like a crystal ball.”.

April 10, 8:00 AM, London (UK):

“Sir, there has been an accident here at Gottenham Music School. 20 year old girl, head smashed by an electric pole”, spoke Officer Jones into the microphone. “What was the reason?”, echoed the voice from the other side. “A speeding car rammed into the pole. Brakes had been apparently stuck by a glass souvenir, has a cupid inside”.

April 10, 2:30 AM, Connecticut (USA):

“Sir, there has been a murder in Block 29. 30 year old lady shot at by her husband. A RXC095 military rifle seems to have been the weapon. Murderer absconding.”, hollered Officer Harding on the walkie. “Any other circumstantial evidence?”, echoed the voice from the other side. “A semi circular glass souvenir, has a dancing couple inside”. “Alright, report back at the station”, was the command. Officer Harding made a move towards the door. His eyes fell upon a poster that hung on the side wall.

“Omens don’t make your destiny. You do” – it said.

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