Part A

‘Derrick Terrence Lobo!’ the man said, almost in a shout, which made an old man walking his pet mongrel cur to turn back, and whose name incidentally was Derrick.

‘Well, you can call me Derrick’, he said politely this time. But the second hand goods dealer had to laugh. Both at the incident and at the looks of his customer. The man was dressed in a black tee-shirt with words ‘Be Awesome! So, do I be polite to strangers?’ inside a glowing yellow bulb, ballooning from a cartoon’s head. It seemed that the man had never found the answer to that question. He was in his early thirties, his face smeared with a thin coat of beard that looked out of place on his baby face.

‘This is a fine piece sahib, and the only one left with me,’ the old man said wiping the dust off the 90’s model Television set with his sleeve. It’s been a hot summer in Bangalore, and the early autumn weather was windy, spraying dust on those miserable road side vendors and their goods.

‘But, you quote a high price for a second hand Television set. I can get it for cheaper online.’

‘If you get this very piece online, then, go buy it online. You are at your free will.’ The old man looked annoyed.

‘Hey! chill. Just doing some calculations, okay? I’am here to help remove that junk from your burden.’

‘Don’t you dare call it a junk, young man. You don’t know it. You don’t know what’s in store in such old televisions. It’s a masterpiece by our standards. The only one of its kind. You won’t find it in any antique collection stores or frankly, anywhere. Your vision is, I’am afraid, very poor.’

The man ignored the dealer. He was still calculating and analyzing whether it was worth. The junk. The model was a 90’s piece and surprisingly, still working.

With its big wooden box and sliding shutter-cover, it reminded him of a Television set seen the last time. During his school days, such a Television set could only decorate the drawing room of Ajit mama’s (‘mama’ because his daughter Aparna was his first ever crush in school) two storied house, which shook at the burst of fire crackers on Diwali. He watched Spiderman cartoon on it and also Aparna.

With his dad getting transferred to another town, so became Aparna and the Television set a memorable part of his history. Oh! how he loved history. He wanted to be an archeologist. But his adamant dad would not allow him. Like ‘VIRUS’ in the ‘Three Idiots’ movie, his dad wanted him to be a Doctor or an Engineer. He became none. Instead, he ended up doing a Diploma in Software Technology, which gave him a job as a Software Engineer at a software firm. Engineer at least. His dad would frown at that thought.

‘How the hell did it work even now? 30 years and strong.’ This was a thought which came to him a moment ago. But, the excitement in getting a working retro piece and a ‘Masterpiece’ (which was what the old vendor referred to, time and again, and he doesn’t seem to bore his customers at all), excited him.

He was a bachelor who recently moved to Bangalore from Goa. The first one week was spent lonely. A loner in a new city needs company, and its either books or the idiot box that promises company (unless he is a drunkard). He badly needed a Television set to watch the ICC Twenty20 World Cup at home. Now, this piece, as he believed, came out as a stroke of luck.

‘Look!’ he finally spoke. ‘I need this Television set, okay?’  

The old man smiled, revealing his reddish yellow teeth, colored by chewing years of cheap paan. ‘Good sahib. You’ve made the right choice. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.’

‘Its 3000 rupees for the TV set, and another 500 for the wooden box.’

‘What? I thought it came with the set?’ Derrick questioned.

‘That is a new box, sahib.’ The old man said pointing to the case.

‘Well, I.. err.. See, I can’t pay that much. Can I take it without the case?’

‘Arey Sahib! Take it for free. Tum bhi kya yaad rakhoge?’ the old man said, making Derrick feel uneasy and ashamed of having bargained for 500 rupees.

‘Where is Pitambar, by the way? He had told me that he would give up this job and settle back in Gujarat. Probably his farming.’

‘Yes… he handed this business to me sahib. Hope he would catch up with you soon.’

‘Oh! Is he coming back then?’ Derrick asked, handing over 3500 rupees, instead of the bargained amount. The old man’s eyes gleamed.

‘No sahib.’ Derrick stood puzzled at the answer.

The old man took the money and started packing his belongings. ‘My day is done here,’ he said.

‘Well, good luck to you then. My room is just behind your shop, so, if you need any help, just knock, knock.’

‘Thank you sahib. You are so kind.’ The old man said. Derrick looked relived. He had lived to satisfy what was written on his tee-shirt.

Part B

With great difficulty Derrick carried the Television set to his room. His room was not dingy, but, it wasn’t something that he took much to pride about. It was a one bedroom house, more like a studio. The hall was big, but, was in a sad state of negligence. It had cracks on the walls. A crack on the top was so big that the previous tenant had modified it to be used as a ventilator. The rest of the smaller cracks were covered with posters. Posters of cricket stars from the Sports Star magazine. He could not argue with the landlord either. In Bangalore, you get good rooms, only if you are willing to cough up some serious dough. Hotel apartments were expensive. Derrick wanted a settlement until he earns big bucks and move somewhere nice. Until then, he had to settle in this room.

Tired, Derrick sat on his bean bag. He checked his SMS. There was no message from the Technician, which means he might have to wait for another day, and that was not a problem as the T20 World Cup would only start a couple of days later, and until then, he could watch some good movies on it.

Derrick picked up his mobile phone and pretended it as the Television’s remote control. Back home, he had a Tata Sky connection. He remembered fiddling through the various channels using the remote control that his dad had covered with plastic cover. All dad’s do that, don’t they? The plastic cover hampered the smooth functioning of the remote, and he had once thrown the remote in disgust that it broke the battery cover. Now, they had a cello tape instead of the battery cover.

Just then, the mobile rang. The ringtone usually thrilled him. It was a tune of a song by ‘The Inhaler’. He had first heard it on Spotify, and it connected him to the days when he enjoyed listening to only music. It took him to his boyhood days. Although, such thoughts sounded daft now, but, living in the past is what men usually do. Even grown-ups can be daft sometimes. But, they can’t be blamed. A man’s past was always welcome anytime.

Moreover, his dad was a fan of ‘U2’, who had told him that Bono’s son had formed a band named, ‘The Inhaler’. There was an instant liking. Like father, like son; favoring their own bands of their eras. Moreover, Derrick had a strange case of teenage asthma, which was how ‘The Inhaler’ got its name. So, he liked them. A natural connection.

‘Hello?’ Derrick said picking up a glass of water.

‘Hi. This is the Technician, Bharat. We would pay a visit to your premises today at 6 P.M for the installation, if that is okay with you?’ Derrick had to laugh at the thought of his premises. All he had was this room.

‘Yes, please. I’am available,’ sounding sober, as if the Technician would believe that Derrick was a big shot. Derrick had to laugh again.

‘Thank You sir. Kindly Whatsapp me the location of your house, and we will be there.’

‘On time?’

‘Yes sir, on time!’

‘Okay then, I’ll send it right away. Thank You.’

‘Thank You sir. Good Day!’ The phone went dead on the other side.

‘Well, well, well. So far, so good,’ Derrick said smiling and looking at the Television. He placed the glass of water on its wooden set.

‘Wow. Aren’t you beautiful?’ he said sliding open the shutter-cover. The Television was of course an antique. With its almost perfect steel body, the charcoal white screen and the knobs on the right hand side, it surely looked like a vintage model.

‘This would cost someone a fortune,’ he thought. ‘Is it for real or did the old man gave me a modified version of an antique piece, just like the old telephone sets available for sale in malls?’

He checked the back of the television. It was all the same. He kneeled on the floor to look at any specifications sticker. There was a specification sticker attached beneath the set. It was dated back to 1992. Something called ‘Orbit Electronics’ was mentioned on the sticker, which was blackened in the corners due to age. He was relieved. It was an antique model.

‘So, you are an antique ain’t it? unique and yet so complex. The old, son of a bitch was right. You are a masterpiece. Better than anything that I have seen in your kind before.’

He plugged the television wire and turned it ON. The Television gave a shake and the glass of water fell, spilling water on its screen.

‘Shit! You spoilsport,’ he said.

Just as he was wiping the water on the screen, he felt something pass. He saw a movement on the screen. Somebody or something seemed to wave frantically at him from the Television screen, as if to get his attention. It was definitely not the reflection of his hand, as he had already pulled his hand away from the screen. He peered on the screen feeling silly of watching it from close quarters. His dad had always warned him for watching cricket matches seated too close to the Television at home. His dad never wore spectacles. Derrick would thank his luck that he too never wore one.

Nothing happened. He assumed that it was just his imagination. He was just about to drop his conclusions about ghosts, when he saw that movement again. It was only for a few seconds, a flash, but, he saw it this time. It was the same movement as if someone had been waving at him. Either saying a ‘Hello’ (he felt he was sane enough to think that someone had said ‘Hello’ to him at this moment of confusion) or pleading for help.

‘Pitambar!’ Derrick gasped. ‘How?… What is going on?… What is happening?’

The next moment the image and the movement was not there.

‘Hey! I don’t want to see this, I don’t want to see the damn thing anymore,’ he said switching OFF the Television set.

‘Wait? Am I hallucinating? I mean… why would I see Pitambar on a Goddamn patched up Television set? No. No. No… I think I’am being flaky.’ He walked to the window to see if the old man was still there. The street was empty and the evening sunlight was dimming the atmosphere.

‘No. I’am not going to turn it ON. The technician will arrive here in 20 minutes,’ he said.

However, his nerves got the worse of him. Fear makes people weak, so they say, and that is what was happening in Derrick’s mind.

He peered into the Television screen again.

‘C’mon Goddammit! Show me your tricks. You ain’t scaring the shit out of me,’ he said.

He could see nothing but his own reflection in there. Derrick began to smile first and then, laugh.

‘See what I mean? It’s just a hallucination. Dad was right. There is nothing to be scared of anything,’ he thought.

As he was about to close the shutter of the Television set, he realized that he had not switched ON the Television set.

‘Its OFF!’

As he was wondering whether he had to turn ON the Television and see the freak show, something moved.

‘Hey!’ Derrick shrieked.

Pitambar was right there. A faint shadow, with his curly hair and eyes that seemed to be drowned due to heaviness of some sort of unknown tension and that seemed to be lost somewhere. Pitambar or whatever he was looking at, had his dark faint hands coming out of the television set. Trying to grab him.

‘Help! Somebody help me,’ he shouted. Derrick knew nobody would come to help him. His fat landlord would be riding somewhere on his two-stroke bike with half of his buttocks hanging from its seat, and his family watching the daily soap operas shown on Television.

‘Not the word ‘Television’ again,’ he thought.

One hand caught him by the collar and the other hand caught his throat. Derrick choked. He tried to drag himself away from Pitambar, but, he seemed to be dragged into the television set. He felt a pain in his chest, on the left-hand side, as if somebody was poking a pen to his heart. He strained his eyes towards his chest. Pitambar was using one of his long fingers to put pressure on his heart, as if his finger was a key and his heart a lock. He was being taken in alive, as if a Hyena was eating a wild pig alive. His dad had never wanted him to see violence, even on National Geographic, as it would leave strange impressions upon him.

Then, there was a gush. Some heavy force seemed to pull away from Derrick’s body. As if Pitambar was sucking his soul. He seemed to blacken out and the last thing he saw was his mobile phone ringing. It was the Technician calling. Perhaps he was coming.

Part C

The police had a ‘CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS LINE’ yellow tapered line around the house. Many had flocked to see Derrick’s dead body being taken away to the Hospital for Post-mortem. Nobody knew the reason of his mysterious death.

Outside and in front of Derrick’s house, an old second hand goods seller was wiping his Television set with his sleeve. He seemed to be not too concerned about the activities happening outside. Instead, he was peering into his Television, as if they had broadcasted all this commotion on the Television.

Inside the Television was Derrick.