The same old story…

 

 

It was a silent night. The time was around 2 AM. I closed the book I was reading and started writing a story. I wanted to write about crime, money, and corruption. I chose myself as the main protagonist and started thinking.

In the story, I am a poor guy who lives in a small shed in the slum area of Mumbai. I have no work, I beg on the streets for my daily bread. One day when I am standing on the street, I see a car stopping. Three men stepped outside. After a few minutes, another car stopped right behind the first one. A man stepped outside from it with a big suitcase. He gave that suitcase to one of the three men standing and then he left.

The three men started discussing something and soon they were shouting. One of them pulled out a gun and shot the other two. The suitcase fell down. The third man was about to run with the suitcase, but some police officers came from behind in their jeep. The man ran leaving the suitcase behind and the police followed him.

I took that suitcase and looked around. There was an old beggar sitting on the opposite side of the road. He was looking all this while, I realized. But he didn’t react. I ran away with the suitcase.

That suitcase was loaded with cash. I, later on, became a businessman with that money and earned a name for myself. It was a stroke of fate that changed my life. I wanted more money. I started blackmailing and extortion. I looted big politicians and businessmen. I abducted the children and asked for money in return. One day I went to the same street for exchanging money on which I found that suitcase.

The beggar was still sitting on the opposite side. He was a lot older now. But his eyes were still the same. I took my money and left. With time I became more powerful. I decided to form my own party and work for the country as a politician. With the power and money I had, it was not a difficult task. Soon, I had power, money, and fame, everything that I asked for I got. I started feeling like a god. People came to me in thousands asking for help.

But from the inside, I was at my weakest. I was not able to sleep at night.

It was 2:15 AM. Only this much I was able to think. I didn’t know how to end the story. It was the same old story. I thought about it for one hour more. I didn’t find anything interesting. I closed my laptop. I closed my eyes and the only thing I could think of was that man sitting on the opposite side of the street.

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