Revenge

“But why?” Abhishek asked, as Natasha gathered her papers from the desk, carefully placing them in her folder. She looked at Abhishek. Directly, a cold empty stare. Maybe, there was a hint of contempt or was it disdain? or maybe loathing? He couldn’t figure it out.

“But…. Please understand. I moved out of my previous job, brought my seven month pregnant wife and old parents to this country because of this job. How can you fire me? Just like that? I mean… Why?”

“Sorry Dr. Sood, I am just the messenger. You signed all the documents and conditions of your hire. GaN corp is within it’s rights to fire you.” Natasha spoke, almost like a robot. As if, she had done this before. Crushed hopes and aspirations. Uprooted people, caused immense pain, instilled fear. All without raising a hand or moving a muscle.

Natasha stared at the drooping shoulders, the muscled, well shaped body, slump into the chair, head bent, as a very adamant tear seemed to flow down that otherwise masculine bearded face. She slung her beige Gucci handbag round her slim shoulder, got up, dusting an imaginary spec off her perfectly ironed red suit , unclipped her shoulder length shining silky hair and let them fall, pushed her spectacles up her nose and walked out of the room. The stilettos clanking to the swaying hips of a near perfect body, gliding away. Leaving behind an empty broken shell of a man.

As soon as she was a good distance away from the room. She circled back to the security office next door, swiped her badge, smiled at the security guard watching over the multiple screens, one of which was focused on the drooping head she had just left behind. She took out a bundle of 100 dollar bills and handed it to the guard as he slipped a pen drive in her hand. She gave him a flirtatious smile, a wink and signaled with a zipping sign across her lips. The guard nodded with a fake salute and Natasha left.

She drove to her hotel room, freshened up, changed into a pair of comfortable slacks and tshirt, changed her fancy handbag for a duffel bag, threw the stilletos away and put on a pair of sneakers. She collected her suitcase, checked out of the hotel, paid in another bundle of cash and hailed a cab for the airport.

Once boarded and settled into the comfortable flight on her way to Bangalore airport, she opened her laptop and inserted the pen drive the guard had given her. She picked and edited the close up shots of Abhishek’s disappointment and general despair. Edited the videos with the utter shock in his voice. She enhanced the insistent why’s and the incredulity and fear and anger that overpowered the otherwise polite tone. She made a folder with a few documents, pictures and the videos, zipped it and started typing an email.

“Dear Pooja,

Consider this a gift from a fellow broken heart and a well wisher. What goes around comes around. Karma is a bitch. And when she’s not around to settle accounts, I take on the fun task.

Have a good life. Hope this gives you peace.

-N”

And she pressed sent.

In another open excel sheet named “List” she crossed off Dr. Abhishek Sood. And went to the next row. Ms. Anushka Joshi.

She read the details that her private investigator had sent in. Modern corporate professional. Ambitious. Great looking. Accomplished. A management degree from IIM-A, a successful blog on self-development. Loved by many. Cherished by family. Well acclaimed in society.

In 2012, while doing her MBA, Anushka had supposedly “fallen” in love with the class topper, an engineering graduate from a middle class family and a caste much lower ranked in the India hierarchy than hers. At 23, she knew exactly what she was doing when she started flirting with this simple “boy next door” with a great aptitude for math. He did her assignments and coached her to clear the exams and prep for an interview that would make her career, while she acted the perfect caring, pretty girlfriend. Laughing at his jokes, pretending to be emotionally needy and making infinite promises of love and a forever.

As soon as the degrees got handed out and the offer letters, the class topper, who had already informed home and planned a wedding in six months, started seeing less and less of Anushka. His phone calls got missed, texts remained unreturned, dates forgotten. He had chosen a city to be with his “forever” and compromised on his career for her sake. Putting love before everything else. While she partied and grew up, he waited for her to come back. Till one day she didn’t. She texted him “Sorry babe. I think I fell out of love with you. It happens. Have a good life”. And that changed the man forever. The grief, sadness, questions, anger, frustration, questions, grief, anger that he felt from that point onward made him a bitter hopeless zombie. Living life in between work and alcohol. This lasted a couple of years, till one day his family interfered and brought him back to his small hometown. He started getting better. But his broken heart never healed.

Natasha had gotten his story like a thousand others from her dark web site named “breakingheartsisacrime.com”. She had started this venture after twice facing men who had left her without reasons that made sense to her. She channeled her bitterness and anger and failure of sustaining a relationship into making sure that those who could get away with breaking hearts got a taste of their own medicine. She worked on herself, started focusing on looking good. Gymmed her way into a near perfect figure. Worked aggressively to climb the corporate ladder and become rich. Transformed into a devious diva. Changing everything but her spectacles. Those she kept as a reminder of who she once was.

She started writing about heart breaks and her anger and unending questions that led to sleepless nights and a bitter insecure outlook to life. And her site gained popularity. As more and more victims signed up to share their trauma. This gave her a purpose. From her day job, she earned enough money to hire a PI firm that gave her an emotional and aspirational profile of her targets. She would find out what mattered the most to these heart breakers and then she would lure them with an enticing offer of the same. Each perp was different. Some desired money, others fame, others power. But as long as they had a need, a desire, Natasha had a plan. She would create tailored opportunities, in the pursuit of which they would make life changing decisions. And then she would destroy them. Like they did, her followers on her site. Each destruction would take over six months to a year from planning to execution. But she did two or three in parallel. And the angry retorts, slumped bodies, desperate eyes, bowed down heads, tears and questions were all the reward she needed.

She pushed her spectacles up her nose, reclined her seat, took a sip of the wine in the paper cup that the airhostess had just returned with and started planning her attack on the next heart-breaker Ms. Anushka Joshi, CEO, Bechtelle Properties Ltd.

*** This story is totally fictional. Aspirational maybe 🙂 But fictional. It was written as part of Write Club Bangalore’s session on “Secrets in writing fiction”.

Though the piece may sound very scathing and negative, it is more an attempt at humor than anything else. Any comments are welcome!

Published by Iris

I'm an aspiring blogger... Experimenting with poetry, fiction and self-help articles.

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