Skip to main content



Kundan was returning home after his monthly entertainment of a night show in the city.  It was past midnight and the heavy downpour had put out the street lamps on the village road.  But Kundan knew the road like the back of his palm and so neither the pitch darkness nor the battering rain slowed him down. 

He was about to leave the road and enter the mud path through his farm when he felt the touch of cold steel on his temple.  “Keep your trap shut, else you won’t open it ever again,” said a voice which was horribly rough but perfect in pronunciation.  In the flash of a lightening Kundan saw that the burly figure that was holding a pistol against his temple.  The figure was wearing a western suit, complete with the blazer and a tie.  His suit was drenched in the rain in spite of the enormous parasol he was holding with one hand. 

“I’m your boss from now on,” Kundan heard the steely voice.  “You’ll obey my orders and be at my beck and call.”

Kundan, not knowing what to do, walked on to his home.  His self-appointed boss said that the bedroom would belong to him hereafter.  Kundan could sleep elsewhere, he said, in the living room, for example.  “Make me a good cup of coffee before going to bed,” ordered boss.

“I don’t need any coffee,” grumbled Kundan.  “I’m tired and want to sleep.”

Boss fired two shots from his pistol.  They fell in perfectly obedient sequence, one on the left and the other on the right of Kundan’s trembling feet.  The shots were followed by a volley of abuses. 

Boss began his reign in perfect style.  He always wore a perfect suit, always carried his pistol in his hand and used it occasionally to scare Kundan, and was always generous with his abuses. 

When Kundan went to work on the farm, Boss was there relaxing under one tree or another.  When Kundan cooked the meals in the kitchen, Boss was there supervising it and giving orders when he deemed it fit. 

Days and weeks ran into months.  Kundan got used to Boss and his ways.  Once, just once, Kundan did toy with the idea of complaining to the police.  He got down from the bus near the police station.  Boss followed him as usual.  When Boss saw the police station ahead, he fired two shots from his pistol, one each aimed at Kundan’s right and left.  Kundan bent down and picked up a stone which he flung with all his energy at Boss.  The stone hit Boss’s forehead which started bleeding profusely.  Kundan got scared.  If he went to the police station now, he would be arrested for inflicting injury on Boss.  So he turned back and went home. 

Boss followed him with his usual abuses. 

Kundan got used to the abuses.  Got used to Boss’s orders.  Got used to Boss’s unfailing presence with him. 

Months passed.  Boss became an inalienable part of Kundan’s life.

Then one day Boss was unusually silent.  He just sat on a chair in the living room and refused to utter abuses.  There was no pistol in his hand.  Kundan felt a sense of emptiness welling up within him.  Life seemed absurd without Boss’s abuses and the pistol.  Life seemed futile, hollow...

“Please, abuse me,” Kundan longed to plead with Boss.  “Please, fire some shots from your pistol.  Enrich my life with your greatness.”

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers


  1. A very interesting story. Set me thinking about how people actually start enjoying victim hood. The 'Stockholm syndrome' exactly resonates with this.

    1. Yes, dear friend, life often brings bosses and victims together to teach other lessons they need to learn but never learn... Why do wives want husbands to beat them up rather than sit and brood...? Why do students want teachers to slap them rather than be indifferent? ...

  2. Wow.That's a good one. The things we get used to,we accept as natural., even if harmful.

  3. Good one...and I must of the most unexpected and weirdest ending... :)

    1. Haven't you noticed such twists and turns in life? We just get used to them and hence don't become particularly aware of them!

  4. This is a parable in our modern times. Years ago I had seen a German movie, “Wild Rider”. The rider was on horse, following and ordering the young man. One day the young man escaped the wild rider’s estate. As soon as he comes on the street, a car stopped by his side: another version of Wild Rider!

    1. Thanks for the nuance added, Remi. The story has a lot of meaning for me personally. I'm glad you could relate so much to it.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Ugly Duckling

Source: Acting Company A. A. Milne’s one-act play, The Ugly Duckling , acquired a classical status because of the hearty humour used to present a profound theme. The King and the Queen are worried because their daughter Camilla is too ugly to get a suitor. In spite of all the devious strategies employed by the King and his Chancellor, the princess remained unmarried. Camilla was blessed with a unique beauty by her two godmothers but no one could see any beauty in her physical appearance. She has an exquisitely beautiful character. What use is character? The King asks. The play is an answer to that question. Character plays the most crucial role in our moral science books and traditional rhetoric, religious scriptures and homilies. When it comes to practical life, we look for other things such as wealth, social rank, physical looks, and so on. As the King says in this play, “If a girl is beautiful, it is easy to assume that she has, tucked away inside her, an equally beauti

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Face of the Faceless

“When you choose to fight for truth and justice, you will have to face serious threats.” Sister Rani Maria, the protagonist of the movie, is counselled by her mother in a letter. Face of the Faceless is a movie that shows how serious those threats are. This movie is a biopic. It shows us the life of a Catholic nun who dedicated her life to serve some Adivasis of Madhya Pradesh [MP] and ended up as a martyr. If it were not a real story, this movie would have been an absolute flop. Since it is the real story of not only a nun but also the impoverished and terribly exploited Adivasis in a particular village of MP, it keeps you engrossed. It is a sad movie, right from the beginning to the end. It is a story of the good versus evil, the powerless versus the powerful, the heroic versus the villainous, the divine versus the diabolic. Having said that, I must hasten to add one conspicuous fact: the movie does not ever present Christianity or its religious practices as the only right way

The Little Girl

The Little Girl is a short story by Katherine Mansfield given in the class 9 English course of NCERT. Maggie gave an assignment to her students based on the story and one of her students, Athena Baby Sabu, presented a brilliant job. She converted the story into a delightful comic strip. Mansfield tells the story of Kezia who is the eponymous little girl. Kezia is scared of her father who wields a lot of control on the entire family. She is punished severely for an unwitting mistake which makes her even more scared of her father. Her grandmother is fond of her and is her emotional succour. The grandmother is away from home one day with Kezia's mother who is hospitalised. Kezia gets her usual nightmare and is terrified. There is no one at home to console her except her father from whom she does not expect any consolation. But the father rises to the occasion and lets the little girl sleep beside him that night. She rests her head on her father's chest and can feel his heart

All the light we cannot see

Book Review Title: All the light we cannot see Author: Anthony Doerr Publisher: Fourth Estate, London, 2014 Pages: 531 What we call light is just a tiny fraction of the electromagnetic spectrum. Most part of the electromagnetic spectrum remains beyond ordinary human perception. Such is human life too: so many of its shades remain beyond our ordinary perception and understanding. Anthony Doerr’s novel, All the light we cannot see , unravels for us some of the mysterious shades of human life. Marie-Laure LeBlanc leaves Paris with her father Daniel who is entrusted with the task of carrying a rare diamond, Sea of Flames , to safe custody when the second world war breaks out. The National Museum of Natural History, Paris, has made three counterfeit diamonds of the Sea of Flames. Four men are assigned the task of carrying each of these diamonds to four different destinations. None of them knows whether they are carrying the original diamond or the counterfeit. Marie-Laure a