V for Vendetta
Parthasarathy took the horoscope and cash, and left. Varadaraajan was confident about the astrologer’s abilities. Afterall, his fortune had changed after the old man suggested Varada add an extra A to his name. Parthasarathy was good at casting spells too, something which Varada had tried on his relative years ago. In a week, his arch enemy Muthuvel’s fate would be sealed. Varada could already imagine the fear on Muthuvel’s face as the astrologer foretold the future.
The 35 year old Varada made piping hot coffee and sat down to continue work on his pet Saturday project. He maintained an elaborate journal, listing people, places and ideas for the important people in his life.
Bhavya topped the list, she was his long term plan. He stalked her obsessively, never letting her leave his sight. It delighted him every time her expression contorted into one of disgust or disappointment, reminding her of the power he held over her. He sipped some coffee and shook his head in delight at the prospects of cornering her every move or ruining things for her. He often imagined her looking distorted or disabled, living a life of disrepute. It was her smile Varada was after, that silly thing plastered across her face.
Next on his target was the carefree and wealthy Param, whose English was the most chaste thing he had ever heard. Varada could not wait to see Param’s calm face look paranoid, his sanity shattered … and that English speaking mouth of his completely shut. Param reminded Varada of his snobbish English teacher at school. Asshole, he muttered, as he wrote a story about a broke, young rowdy of a man, with the worst spoken English on earth. He named the character Param and drew a caricature of him. He imagined his wealthy neighbour’s family as beggars and wrote poetry about their cursed existence. He posted everything to his website and laughed heartily. Oh, how he hated these rich people!
Varada created stories and delivered judgements with his imagination, often gory, violent or full of shame.
The aunt who reprimanded him for stealing was mentally ill, the uncle who loved his family was depressed, the rickshaw driver who caught him in the theatre during school hours was a thief, the storekeeper who had seen him smoking was a drug peddler, his distant relative who had questioned his low marks died a violent death, his friend who had seen his misdeeds was terminally ill, his cousin who he hated was a courtesan, his friend’s mothers were always involved in a catfight … he punished everyone who offended him. It had all started with Barani, the kid he was always compared to at school. By the time they passed out of high school, Varada had tainted Barani’s name beyond repair. His first win. He never looked back after that.
“Moonji (face)!” he laughed sardonically, signing the page of his journal with a huge V.
V for Vendetta, Varada’s pet project, was a heady mix of adrenaline and dopamine.
