Non-erotic The Gamechangers by Trambak

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The Bungalow

The full family was on vacation. The bungalow, perched on the hilltop was a treat. When viewed from an angle, it seemed prepared to topple over right into the abyss if someone cared to give a decent push. But it stood there steadfastly since the British times and never ever tumbled.

Getting all four of us together was difficult and the notice was truly short. Still, things fell into place and here we were. We had three clear days of vacation plus two days of travel, up and down. Reaching the place by car in itself was fun and the view was astoundingly beautiful.

My husband promptly set up his old camera and started clicking. My freshly turned eighteen-year-old son inspected the contents of the mini-bar while his elder sister checked the internet connectivity. The broad smiles on their face conveyed a deep contentment.

The lawn in front of the bungalow was seated on a ledge, nicely encircled by a white wooden rail and a green bench facing the awesome spectacle. The mountain range with its jagged snow-clad features looked menacingly close. My son enthusiastically shouted aloud and the resulting echo confirmed the proximity.

It was nearing sundown and the snow had turned to a vivid orange. My husband showed me a picture he had just clicked and had it been some other time I would have bet that the colour had been photoshopped.

This ethereal beauty of the trident 'Trishul' peak was slowly encompassing our senses and even my son had become quieter. I looked at my husband; he was standing by the rail grabbing it with both his hands and leaning over dangerously. He looked perturbed.

The tea was served. The prodigal son summarily rejected the idea of drinking benign potions while the bar offered better prospects. He longingly looked at his father who smiled while my daughter offered a scathing look, enough to restrain the errant young man, for the time being.

The night was cool and the dinner was sumptuous. The tiredness of the long journey coupled with the flaming red chicken curry was devastating. The food that initially appeared extreme in quantity was wiped out in ten minutes flat. The poor waiter had to scurry repeatedly to the kitchen and bring back chapattis (a kind of Indian bread).

The interiors of the bungalow were equally impressive. The entire place was wooden with massive glass windows. An influential office colleague had arranged it for us.

And I, was sponsoring the trip.

FART was the acronym we played our games with. It represented Fulki, our daughter; Avik, my husband; Robin, our son and myself, Tanaya. During vacations and trips, we transformed ourselves into serious card players. We played 'rummy' with a double pack and complicated rules. Records of accumulated points were meticulously maintained, ostensibly to be converted into hard cash and paid at the end of the trip. Initially, we were solemn about honest payments but gradually the stakeholders (read losers) felt that there was hardly any point to pay back Avik, all the time.

Avik hardly ever challenged such unanimous decisions.

We settled down to play and the rules were reinforced, for the nth time. Fulki, the primary financial offender, instructed all of us to wholeheartedly commit to payment in cash, at the end of the game. As to the terminology called 'the end,' there was a slight bit of confusion. Was it to be calculated on a 'day to day' basis; at the end of the trip, or the 'cumulative end' of all pending emoluments since time immemorial.

We (again, the losers) decided that such 'minor problems' should not hinder the spirit of the game. Money was never a factor amongst us 'elite.' Avik, as usual smiled enigmatically. He looked thoughtful; something was bothering him! But that was him!

Unfortunately, the game turned out to be a drag; probably the fatigue of the long journey was telling on us. After three rounds, Fulki got up, exasperated and moved towards the window in irritation. Robin was fiddling with his mobile. Soon, she returned, her eyes sparkling!

She proposed a new game.

The Game

"Let's play a game," she said, "each of us will narrate one of his wishes. It could be anything; dark, funny or even atrocious. And, the rest of the three will interrogate him; ask questions and get to the bottom of it. There is no embargo on questions, anything would go. To make it interesting, marginal deviations would be allowed. In the end, we would see whose wish was the most workable and who just spoke through the hat. But the answers must be honest, okay?"

Robin looked at her balefully and snorted. She ignored the interruption and continued earnestly laying down the 'rules and regulations.' I thought that the idea was somewhat novel and deserved a try. Something was better than nothing.

"Let's try!" I said.

Robin turned back and said, "the moment I say something, you will all jump, I know."

Fulki was up to the challenge, "Ah! The volunteer! Are you prepared for the post-mortem after you have said your piece?"