After a prolong searching for an apartment in a quiet and peaceful atmosphere to lead the rest of his life Mr. Lahiri got it at last. Though the price of the flat was quite a pincher, he, a heart patient, gave the serenity of the place his priority. Within a month it was all settled. He got the first floor South facing one with a li’l porch where he could place an armchair in sultry summer nights and enjoy the breeze caressing him while watch the star-studded sky up there for hours together. The stillness was so complete as if he could hear the crickets clearing their throats with cough syrup. For the first seven days he was almost on cloud nine for having such a coveted place to live in that he consider to be staying just on the edge of heaven.
It was the eighth day that ‘jaywalker’ Janardan (that moniker appropriately given by Mr. Lahiri himself) put his feet right into the apartment rather to say into the heart of Mr. Lahiri. He stayed in the second floor just next up to Mr. Lahiri’s. A wealthy businessman directly proportionate to his body width, Janardan usually came late at night. He opened the collapsible main gate with all his power resulting a huge screeching sound that tore apart the entire apartment. Then he stomping his feet on the stairs in a bid to reach his flat. That shuddering sound of boots with the dolby stereophonic effect almost hit Mr. Lahiri in his heart like a bullet. There were 37 steps. There were 37 nightmares to Mr. Lahiri.
And that was not the end. After reaching his flat Janardan threw his boots in different directions in his room that also produced an equal sound of a bomb exploded right next to the ears of Mr. Lahiri. Through the entire process he squatted on his bed clutching his chest and prayed to god when that would end.
Sooner it became a day’s ordeal. But one night the thing took a bizarre turn. It was all the same. Janardan opened the gate. Then he thumped his boots 37 times. Went into the room. Closed the door. A little after there came the sound of throwing of his one boot. But there was a silence. No sound of the second one. One...two...five minutes gone. Mr. Lahiri waited still clutching his chest. Ten...eleven...fifteen. It was too much to bear. Mr. Lahiri’s patience ended. Somehow he managed to get up, went upstairs still clutching his chest. Heavily gasping he rang the bell of Janardan’s flat. No one responded. He stayed there and kept on ringing just to see the end of it. After five minutes or so the door was opened. Mr. Lahiri saw Janardan drowsily looking at him.
Giving no chance to speak any word Mr. Lahiri said, “What’s the matter? Have you worn one boot today?”
“What do you mean uncle?” Janardan couldn’t figure out anything.
“For how long I have to stay awake clutching my heart in anticipation that here come the moment I could hear the heart-wrecking sound of your another boot? Please throw it right now and let me sleep peacefully.” He groaned.
Janardan looked at his own feet. The boot on his right leg was still there. Being felt dog-tired he could only manage to unfasten one boot and then he dozed off.
And that was not the end. After reaching his flat Janardan threw his boots in different directions in his room that also produced an equal sound of a bomb exploded right next to the ears of Mr. Lahiri. Through the entire process he squatted on his bed clutching his chest and prayed to god when that would end.
Sooner it became a day’s ordeal. But one night the thing took a bizarre turn. It was all the same. Janardan opened the gate. Then he thumped his boots 37 times. Went into the room. Closed the door. A little after there came the sound of throwing of his one boot. But there was a silence. No sound of the second one. One...two...five minutes gone. Mr. Lahiri waited still clutching his chest. Ten...eleven...fifteen. It was too much to bear. Mr. Lahiri’s patience ended. Somehow he managed to get up, went upstairs still clutching his chest. Heavily gasping he rang the bell of Janardan’s flat. No one responded. He stayed there and kept on ringing just to see the end of it. After five minutes or so the door was opened. Mr. Lahiri saw Janardan drowsily looking at him.
Giving no chance to speak any word Mr. Lahiri said, “What’s the matter? Have you worn one boot today?”
“What do you mean uncle?” Janardan couldn’t figure out anything.
“For how long I have to stay awake clutching my heart in anticipation that here come the moment I could hear the heart-wrecking sound of your another boot? Please throw it right now and let me sleep peacefully.” He groaned.
Janardan looked at his own feet. The boot on his right leg was still there. Being felt dog-tired he could only manage to unfasten one boot and then he dozed off.
