I

  "It was a silent night – exceedingly dark and peaceful. The sky, it seemed, had been garnished with a jet-black robe – twinkling stars beautifully embroidering its wavy dimensions. There was a cold breeze, speeding melancholically through the deserted lanes of the sleeping city. Believe me or no, Kolkata looks magnificent as much more in the darkness of the night, rather than in the broad daylight. Every lane and bylane, every lamppost, every drunken burglar who wanders by, every single car that drives past, every branch of dried trees and every dog that barks have their own stories to tell – stories bearing ceaseless evidences of crime.

  Well, it was exactly twelve o’clock, as was being clearly indicated by the hands of a huge clock, embedded upon a tall multi-storeyed building. It was one of the best restaurants of the city with a provision for roof top dining. That night, the roof had been wonderfully decorated for some occasion – with candles glowing brightly at various locations and flowers spread all over.

  Amidst such an ambience, he had arrived like a strange mystical character of ancient classics. He was dressed in a black jacket with its hoodie covering his head – providing an unclear visibility. Each of his footsteps resonated with terror, and what was even more frightful was the dagger that he was holding firmly in his left hand. The man advanced with a slow pace towards the extreme dead end of the roof – his vision transfixed at someone who was standing there.

  II

  Hi, I am Dr. Insane and this is my story. This is the first time I’ve been into writing after so many years of spending life in the dark cell of the rehabilitation centre; if at all you would call this a life.

  Waking up before the sun, to the tunes of a siren, spending the day in required medication and civilized works and finally going to bed — I mean, caged beasts are treated in a much better way than us.

  A lot of questions must be getting piled up in your brain — like, how did I manage to get such a strange name, and what good work had I done for getting into such a life of imprisonment? I’ll answer all your questions one by one. But to begin with, my story has been a common man’s story — stories that begin with futile battles of the world and end with a king and a queen living happily ever after. My story has always been a thriller — where bloodshed and death lose their way in the labyrinth of crimes, and where life is nothing but a sheer insanity.

  Memory is really a strange game and I will tell you why. Have you read the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Something similar used to happen with me. On the first of every month, I used to realize that I was completely a different person — thirsty for blood and a complete devil. The urge for bloodshed was so intense that it wouldn’t suffice until I had made a kill. Yes, you’ve heard that right — a kill, a murder. Strangely, when I used to return back to my normal self, I could recall each and every dreadful activity of mine. In short, I had been living a life with two dangerous characters, coexisting in a single self.

  I used to be terrorized every single moment, thinking that when the police would knock at my door, with an arrest warrant duly issued for me, and once I was behind the bars, my punishment would be no less than a capital punishment — a death sentence; seven murders beautifully decorating my resume already!

  As time flew into the mysterious abyss of history, I realized that I was turning insane. Living all by myself in a three-storeyed building, I had no one to share my worries with. It was suffocating. It was intoxicating. Just imagine, you are all alone in a huge world, waiting impatiently to hear the footsteps of your own death. I would constantly adjust the curtains of my windows, lest be seen by any inquisitive neighbour. No music could soothe my aching soul. No sleep could let me forget the blood that stained my hand.

  One fine afternoon, when I was sitting upon a cozy armchair, my attention got diverted towards a new article on the front page. It read:

  "Kolkata Police In Search of Dr. Insane:"

  This man has committed seven murders, stabbing each victim quite brutally. He chooses the first of every month for his masterplan, and this mad man’s show has been continuing for the past seven months. There is no pattern that he follows, leaving the police department with absolutely no clue about the strange serial killer. He hides his identity under a hoodied pullover and there is no witness to any of his crimes through which he may be identified. The people of the city are getting terrorized. There has been a lot of pressure upon the defence officials from the higher authorities. Dr. Insane must be caught at any cost — dead or alive.”

  There was a sudden knock at the door.

  III

  Well, now let me introduce you with Rezwan, if I haven’t. I forgot to mention, that this story is not solely mine. This is his story as well.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  You can tell that I knew Rezwan right since my birth and no one knew him as vividly as I did. He was an extremely straight-forward man — with an upright character and cherishing set of morals. He was quite handsome — bluish eyes, chiseled face and a strikingly noticeable jawline. He used to work for an eminent private firm, but was strangely excellent at poetry.

  "Dear Tempest,

  I am the ship-wrecked sailor amidst your stormy seas,

  watching you sail for days and years —

  I have kept you safe in memories mundane —

  in vibrant smiles and countless tears."

  “Marvellous!”

  This was Joyee, Rezwan’s love interest. If he was a charming prince, born to rule the world, she was like the Goddess of Beauty. Her eyes concealed the power to let the dead rise to life. I knew love made people go mad, but I had never seen people love each other to such an extent. It seemed that there was some divine connection in their soul.

  “Thanks Joyee. That one’s for you.”

  “And that’s when a hypocrite turns into a passionate lover.”

  “You called me a hypocrite?”

  “Aren’t you one? Come on, don’t be angry now. My apologies, Your Highness.”

  “Fine. Tomorrow is our anniversary. Don’t you remember, Joyee?”

  “Anniversary?”

  “Yeah. One year since I proposed you. We’ll celebrate.”

  “Rez, you know very well that I don’t like these kind of melodrama.”

  "Please Joyee. Are you afraid of love?"

  "No. There’s nothing that can make me afraid. I just don’t like certain things. But, I’ll be there if you insist."

  "Means a lot, dear. Love you."

  IV

  There was a sudden knock at the door and it made my heart beat faster.

  "Who…who’s it?" I shouted out.

  "It’s me — Raj; your friend."

  I hurriedly opened the door to let him in and closed the door once again. It was such a relief to see him after such a long time, that I embraced him tightly. Raj was my best friend in college and I knew that I could share whatever I underwent with this fellow, without bothering the least of its circumstances.

  "Tell me the truth. What are you up to?" asked Raj, with a sense of mistrust darkening his countenance.

  "I didn’t get you."

  "I saw the news of Dr. Insane. They’re showing it up on almost in every news channel. I saw the hoodied pullover and got reminded of the one that you used to be your favourite since your college days. Tell me the truth; are you the one behind these crimes?"

  "You’re right, Raj. It was I who did them or rather, it was some secret part of my brain that made me do those. Believe me, I felt no guilt for those murders. My fingers didn’t even shake a little while piercing the dagger into their heart, since I was not under my control then."

  "I believe you. I believe strongly that you can do no crime in your conscience. But will law believe this? Will jurisdiction leave you for the sake of a disease that you are suffering?"

  "No. That is what is my matter of concern, and this is exactly where I will be needing your help. Raj; you’re a renowned lawyer of the city. If my case ever comes up to the court, you need to appeal that I am mentally unstable. I am sick, sick and I need treatment."

  "Do you know what shall be its result? You’ll be given life-time imprisonment. Have you really lost all your senses?"

  "No. Just trying to justify the name they gave me."

  Friendship didn’t pay off that afternoon. Raj turned out to have been appointed as an informer for the police. My statements were used as evidences and I was arrested the very next morning. But he did as per my request during the legal procedures, and here I am, in this dark cell, writing the story of my own life.

  V

  "Did you like the decorations, Madam?" asked the Manager of the roof-top restaurant, as he was walking through the aisle with his listener.

  "Yes. Very much," replied Joyee. "It’s very beautiful. I mean, everything looks so perfect here. Where is Rezwan?"

  "Sir will be here any moment. I’ll go down to attend my customers now.

  It’s the first of January, you see.

  Please enjoy yourselves. And lots of congratulations for your anniversary."

  The manager went away and Joyee was looking at the beautiful flowers, marvelling at the dedication without which Rezwan had arranged everything, just for her. It made her feel so special. She walked steadily towards the extreme edge of the roof, in her own mind, waiting eagerly for her man to come.

  Finally, the clock struck twelve. Her wait was over.

  "Happy Anniversary Joyee!" That was indeed Rezwan’s voice.

  Joyee turned about and was frightened to see that it was a man with a jet black pullover and was holding a dagger in his left hand to kill her.

  She screamed and lost her balance, fell off from the roof.

  Removing the hoodie and throwing away the dagger, Rezwan shouted out, “Joyee!”—but it was too late. Everything was finished by then.

  Whatever Rezwan did that night was not at all intentional. He had planned to make Joyee loose her challenge, where she mentioned that she didn’t fear anything, but he hadn’t realized in the weirdest of his night maxes, that to his surprise it would take such a turn—deadly turn—snatching away the one whom he loved the most from him. You still must be thinking after all these, what does this man have to do with my story and why did I waste your precious time with his life. You know, in order to realize the effect, one must know the cause. Well, I’ll tell you the cause some other day. My fingers are aching badly; let some stories be in store for now.

  The man kept his notebook and his pen aside and was about to doze off to sleep, when an attendant came into the room.

  “Dr. Insane, we need your finger imprint as a signature on this form for some legal formalities of your case.”

  “Go ahead.”

  The attendant picked up the thumb of his right hand and was about to press it in the stamp pad, when the man interrupted, “How many times will I need to correct you, bastards? That’s not the correct hand. I’m left-handed.”

  Turning to the audience, the man said, “Wasn’t Rezwan left-handed too? Remember in which hand he held his dagger?” Then with a smile, he turned back and kept signing the legal papers.