Innocent Contrivance -1

“Hey, you buy that while I get that painting from the corner shop. You got money with you? Okay.. I ll pay you through netbanking once I get home..

It’s a pity that shops close early in this part of the world”

Meet you before the corner shop in fifteen minutes Nehaa..”

And there she went into the pawn shop and me towards the corner shop which sold paintings. This part of my thought process seemed to have no grey shades.

Everything was working out.

I am not a person who takes things for granted. And NO assumptions. If it were to rule my life, I would never have been here, in the first place. It has been now years since I started planning for this. And luckily in execution, the big picture is turning brighter by the day. Neha had been here for 1 and a half years now and has been a nice partner in the joyous roaming I have had in London. She did find time for me on weekends and the days I get off from work. This was the first time I have taken her to this part of London. Well, I had been here several times before..I had to. Carefully picking up the stores we would visit, which would seem random for Neha and any one, who would be interested in watching me. I had visited this street last year, same season, and had taken down what it takes to get the things I wanted to lay my hands on. This pawn shop, which Neha is in just now, was under my surveillance for 2 hrs last year and for another 1 hour last week. I had deduced this time of the season and week would be the best to execute my plan.

“Gimme that black and white one”

“ Is it that one in the corner, mate?”

“ yeah, that’s the one…”

“ That would be £55, mate..its a good choice!”

Aaaaaah, these sales men.. they knew it wasn’t even worth £20… and inform us it’s a better piece than anyone in Louvre! I had the money ready with me. Didn’t ask for a receipt. I had no plans of returning this nor make the sales guy notice my face.

Got the painting wrapped in a dull brown paper, and quickly walked off the shop.

Was waiting in the corner when Neha showed up with a confused face. The shop was about to close and she had to plead to get what I wanted her to buy for me. Though she wasn’t amused at my choice, she asked, “ Where the hell are you going to display this thing off?” Well, she obviously did not need an answer because she didn’t press more when I replied back with just a smile.

I certainly knew that that shop was going to get closed at 4. and four EXACTLY for that matter. I visited the place with Neha around 2:30, while the place was swarming with people who wanted to get some cheap artefacts. ‘Pieces of history’, Mr Waggor, the shop owner boasts on one of the boards on the shop..

After pretending before Neha that I became genuinely interested in what I wanted which I had just then seen, I showed her a face of shock after turning to her and pointing at the price tag. She was also amused to see that item.

“ Not my cup of tea, Neha, its quite expensive”.

“Yeah, as if you would have bought it otherwise…”

Oh, that tone of sarcasm. She always gets it right. I smiled inside; she doesn’t know she is the part of a big picture plan here..and would never ever know.

“ Let’s find if there are nay paintings in this street, which would be okay for my purse”

I dragged her out of the pawn shop and walked down the street.

It took us more than an hour and 15 minutes and two ‘supposed-to-be-selling-art’ shops to finalise on a medium size black and white painting. One that I had earlier managed to fix on, but Neha never knew. I was growing confident by the minute that everything is going picture perfect and Neha did not have a clue.

She would be returning back to India after her MBA in Leicester Univ and would never ever know she had been a part of such a big plan. The only time she ever came near was when she asked me what my smirk meant while I was looking at the painting. An as always, another smirk quenched her thirst for an answer in words!

I had taken her to several places like this in the last one year and she wasn’t now amused at where I would take her or what I would buy. I had psuedo-shadowed a character who buys things which I leave behind for some reason and would buy it as if a bee stung me and I changed my mind. I did not want her to be surprised when my plan actually –today- works out.

So far, I was satisfied. As satisfied as I can be. I had two pairs of shoes and several items which I did not actually NEED in the first place, but had bought to make Neha think I had a changing mind in buying things. It has now worked out fine.

After finalising on the b/w painting, I dragged her out of the shop and almost ran towards the other end of the street while telling her that I thought there were better pieces of ‘art’ there. Then, after a calculated few minutes, and a few finger on the chin thoughts, which she was familiar of by now, I said “ I think we better buy that river and fort painting at the corner shop…” and walked back. She was, obviously, a little upset about me running through the street and never finalising on anything.

It was 3:55 by then. I had timed everything perfectly. And then I told her, “ I think I should buy that old gun we saw there in the pawn shop as well.”

And then, looking at my watch, and with a grin, told “ we don’t have time though”

And then, the conversation at the starting of this note happened.

I would now have the gun I wanted. It is from a pawn shop and there would be hundreds of cheap-buyers coming here in this time of the season. There was no tracing back.

I had noticed the gun down two weeks back. An old one, probably from the colonial time, but the best part was that, it would work and had 7 silver bullets in a small pack near the gun.

It certainly was a show piece. But can be handy when its in the hands of someone who knew how to use it. No traces back on to someone registered. No need of ID cards to buy that gun in a pawn shop. And if…. IF, somebody somehow traced it back to the pawn shop, even Mr Waggor, who himself is a sharp observant would not remember about an Indian guy six foot and two inches tall coming and buying a show piece gun. IF he remembers, it would be an Indian lady, who seem to not even look a the gun, but bought it without even fighting for a slash in the price. All the more, I had timed it so that Mr Waggor might not even remember anything ass he would be in a hurry to close the shop, at 4.

The only chance of knowing anything about it was on Neha’s side; which again I had timed so that any news of a show piece gun used to fire a silver bullet would not reach her since she would be in India by the time I put this baby to use!

It all felt nice. Neha thought my smile reflected the satisfaction of buying that black and white painting which I proudly carried. I had not taken any interest in seeing the small brown packet in her hand, with the gun.

We took a longer, new route back home by bus. It was my suggestion. I was in a mood to swap my hot headed thoughts with some calm scenic beauty of suburban London.

The bus turned on to another, even more isolated road. On this stretch the trees were replaced by denuded fields awaiting the final scrape of the bulldozers.

I thought about my plan again. Huh, I really needed to dumb those thoughts for a while. Until I get some break, I was not going to kill the beauty of it by overthought.

In a year’s time there would be almost as many homes here as there had been trees before, as suburban sprawl continued its push. Now the land simply looked ravaged, naked. And bleak, perhaps because of what was to come. In that regard, the land and the target of my plans were as one! I felt uneasy thinking about me involving Neha in all this. I had no choice. I had to prove myself. My theories. All my thoughts. All my efforts to perfect the plan. Neha did not know anything, and would never know. I consoled myself…..there was enough time…

Another winter passes by……

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retarded : forgive me for being naive; I will delete and stop once I get the negative feedback am expecting
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