Tring - Tring, the phone rang. The entire home, surrounded by sheer silence was broken through by the incessant ringing of the land line. Sanjeev, in his late forties, was slightly distracted by the unwanted noise. He was a fine man with rigid beliefs whose principles no one dared to break. The round face which seemed a little sluggish was due to many grief stricken experiences but still it had that vigor more than that of many youngsters. He was busy in his laptop, making presentation for the next day's meeting. His mind vacillated on many questions which pierced his mind sharply. The ringing was getting louder as he approached the other room in which the land line was kept. He didn't want any disturbance while working, but after the demise of his wife, he was all alone.
The weather was somewhat inclement that day. He could see the mist hugging the glass windows making it difficult for anybody to gaze through. Sanjeev enjoyed his life living in tranquil, all alone by himself. Maybe that was the reason why he stood at a farmhouse alone where a family of ten would be less. Without waiting for the next ring, he picked up the receiver. No one answered from the other side. All he could hear was his own voice.
He put the receiver back on the hook and went back in his study room to complete the presentation but before that, he wanted to have a drink. He poured a little scotch on frozen rocks of ice placed impeccably in a fine cut glass. He always liked his scotch neat. With one single gulp, he emptied the first drink of the night. He felt heavy in the eyes. His body needed to relax. It was already quarter past eleven. He wobbled a bit by the vibrating sounds of the thunderstorm outside. He poured some more scotch in the glass. He knew he was high but he needed it to relax himself. The company was already performing poorly in the market. The board decided to have it sold off to a larger company like the big fish eat the small fish in the large pool. Sanjeev was strictly against the plan. He believed in turnaround strategy and was already making the presentation on the same.
Gulping down his fourth peg, he was just at the second last slide of the PPT; his preoccupied mind was again made to lose the concentration on the land line. Tring - Tring, the phone rang again incessantly. Walking lamely towards the weather beaten room, he picked up the receiver. This time it was not silent. The conversation lasted between a minute and two. He gently placed the receiver back on the hook, disconnecting the call. He strode back towards his study room, just to finish the half drunk peg. Gorging down the fifth and the last one, the ascetic man went back to his bed room. Placing his tired feet inside the quilt, he lay by his side. Soon, the farmhouse again echoed the silence.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda
