So, apart from the winning entry in the intra-school, on-the-spot short story writing contest–My Work for the Giant—I don’t remember how many others I wrote and published in St. Xavier’s school magazine, The Godavarian. I used to scribble a lot. The back of my planners used to be filled with scribbles, at least the ones I used as tenth and eleventh grader. During those years, I was even working on what I believed would, one day, be a novel! I don’t know what happened to it though.
But, here’s a verbatim reproduction of one that I wrote as a ninth grader and had it published in the Jumbo Issue of 1985.
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RISKY BUSINESS
– By Dorje Gurung, 9-B
I was in the store to buy a loaf of bread when suddenly the man behind me with the fiendish look on his face pushed something hard up against my back. I was downright aghast! I just had the chance to glance towards the opposite side of the street before he told me to obey what the man behind the counter said, if I valued my llfe. The street was deserted.
The shopkeeper beckoned me in and I followed him. He opened a door at the back of the shop and told me to go in first, so I proceeded to do so. He came in followed by the other man, who now held a Luger .45 automatic fitted with a silencer. I could well see and recognize the gun because of the bright tube-light in the room. The former closed the door, pulled up a nearby chair and tied me to it. The door was to my right. I looked around me. The room looked immaculate. There was nothing that shouldn’t have been there, but in the other hand there was everything that should have been there. There was a big table in the middle of the room, three yards in front of me, which could very well have had other uses than merely supporting tea-cups. There were two settees on both sides of the table. On the table was a shelf which held an abundant supply of whiskey, bottled stuff, canned food and other grotesque contraptions.
“We want to ask you a question. Now be a nice boy and answer the question correctly. You don’t want to end up in the mortuary, do you?” the man with the luger broke the silence.
“You wouldn’t even hesitate to kill me if I don’t cooperate, isn’t that it?” I asked the silliest question of the day.
“You seem to understand very quickly. Yes, you are right. That is what we do and will still do to non-cooperative little captives.”
Keep on talking, buster–I was saying to myself. I was desperately fighting for time.
“Peter! Let’s make it snappy. This waiting bores me.” The shopkeeper was getting impatient.
“Now, let’s get down to business. Where did your father put that big red suitcase that he brought with him the other day? Don’t tell us that you don’t know what we are talking about!”
“As a matter of fact, that is exactly what I was going to say.” I lied.
“Don’t try to be smart, you little fool,” he pushed the muzzle of the gun against my cheek. I cried out in pain.
“I don’t know… ” I began, only to be stopped by the muzzle pushed even harder against my cheek. “O. K., O. K. Remove that thing from there will you? It’s painful.” He did so.
“I know what it contains, why it was given to your father and so on and so forth. Just tell me where it is in your house.”
“Alright. Alright.” I said. What’s this? I asked myself. Why aren’t they here yet? I decided to fight for more time. “You are talking about that red suitcase given to my father yesterday, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. Where is it?”
“It’s, it’s” I hesitated, “It’s in the safe in my father’s room.”
“A job for Quinn, don’t you think so John?”
“Absolutely. He’ll be happy about it.” beamed the shopkeeper.
“We know which your father’s room is. We Just wanted to know where it was so that we wouldn’t have to search the whole house.”
Keep talking, buster. They’ll be here any moment. Go on.
“We regret to kill you, especially after you’ve been so helpful, but that’s the only way to save our own necks” the man with the gun announced.
I was quite taken aback. “You mean you’re going to kill me after all!” Oh God! I hoped that they would arrive soon.
“By the way Peter is a pseudonym, so is John. We professionals don’t take any chances you know.” He moved a few steps backwards, brought up the revolver and leveled it at my forehead. I closed my eyes and waited for the shot. I began to tremble. Then I heard it, but it wasn’t the silent shot of the luger. I heard a crash immediately followed by a bang of a pistol and a cry.
“It’s all over.” I recognized Lieutenant Andrews’ voice. I opened my eyes to see him with a peacemaker colt in his hand. There was a big open space of nothingness where the door had once been. The hand which had held the luger only a few moments ago was now soaked with blood and the gun, a good ten feet away from the man to my right. The false shopkeeper stood still like a statue.
“You sure took your time, didn’t you? I thought you would never make it on time.” I told them gasping with relief.
“Yeah, we had a little trouble waiting for that guy to get clear of you.” He undid the ropes that bound me.
“May one ask what all this talk is about?” the guy who called himself Peter inquired with a frown.
“Just that the lieutenant was awaiting me at the opposite side of the street and upon seeing you take me in, hotfooted it back to my father’s. We had originally planned to get back to my father after buying the loaf. Boy, was l scared when I didn’t see him on the street. Where were you Lieutenant?”
“Oh, I hid behind a building to watch where you’d be taken.”
“Do you know these fellows Lieutenant?” I queried.
”Peter is a pseudonym all right. His real name is Jimmy Anderson, a wanted man in the FBI list. I don’t know the other fellow, but come on, let’s go.”
At lunch that afternoon, I told my father about the conversation that I had with Anderson, alias Peter. I asked him what the suitcase contained. However my father thought it better that I didn’t know and told me to rest after a cold bath. I tried in vain to get some information from my mother. I never really got to know what was inside the suitcase.
