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Drinking coffee in the morning is a holy ritual for me. Like pooja, tapas, namaz . you get the idea. So quite naturally I was bugged when a neatly dressed individual sat before me. He made me very uncomfortable. He had neatly formed eyebrows, deepset eyes and a thin pair of lips. His hair was long and neatly combed close to his scalp. He had a sculpted nose with slightly flared nostrils. He had all the neat features .. and yet he was ugly. Ugly in a way that is indescribable. Ugly from within.

It was disconcerting when he began to speak to me. It was a deep voice and it seem to come from within me. My ears were tuned to all the sounds outside. The mans lips were moving and his voice was a deep echo within me. I didnt hear the first part of what he said. I heard, but it didn't register.

"What?" I said.

"I have a proposition for you.", he said.

"Who are you?", I asked.

"We'll come to that later. First the propostion.", he said brushing away my question.

"Im listening.", I said. As if I had a choice!

"Every morning, I will give you a very useful piece of information. In return I want a very inconsequestial thing from you."

"What kind of information?"

"Information of the most useful kind"

"You are being vague. Please be more specific."

He looked at me with those unnatural eyes of his. The silence nearly shattered my skull. He smiled as if he knew the effect he was having on me.

"Lets start from today", he said.

"Start what?", I asked. This was confusing. He went on as if he hadn't heard me.

"I can tell you this. What I tell you is valid for today and today alone."

"What?", I asked.

"You will not die today.", he said. I stared at him for sometime.

"What?", I asked.

"I can't put it in plainer words. You my friend shall not die today. Now tell you dont find that useful.", he said this and sat back with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Now what would I or anyone do with that piece of information . . if you can call it information!", I said. He looked genuinely surprised.

"You do not understand the significance of what I have just said. Tell me why you would find this information useless?", he asked simply. He was leaning forward gazing at me very calmly. I knew there was a lot more simmering beneath.

"Tell me . . .", he said again. His voice was icy cool this time.

"Well . . I", I really had no answer.

"Ofcourse you don't have an answer", he said."Noone does. You fools go through each day with so much confidence. You are so **** sure of everything aren't you?", He was very close to me and I could have smelt his breath only he hadn't any! He looked into my eyes and I stared right back and I found myself looking into an endless cave. Deep dark and forbidding.

"When will you die?", he asked. I felt my skin crawl. I said the most obvious thing that came off the top of my head.

"What?"

"Tell me my friend. When-will-you-die?", He spelled it out for me. He gestured with his hand with a chopping motion as he spoke. Stressing on each word. His actions were hypnotising. I was thinking furiously. There was no doubt in my mind as to the identity of the person who sat before me. Could I refer to him as 'person'? All the bookish knowledge I had accumulated about him was telling me to run. Run far from here.

I didnt budge from there.

"I dont know", I admitted. I was crestfallen. This conversation had started distressing me.

"No one knows when he or she is going to die. Quite logically this is useful information for you. Let me simplify things for you. You dont have to see me each morning. I will come to you a week before you are to die. This I will do for a little something from you."

"Waitaminit! What if I die earlier than that? How do I know you're not taking me for a ride?", I asked. Then, for the first time since our conversation began, I had a glimpse of his very very white teeth. The canines were just a little bit longer and the smile he gave was alarming.

"Well you just have to trust me wont you?", he said.

The subsequent laughter drowned out all the sounds in my ears and all the will in my body.

I was taken.

Copyright 2007 sarat
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