“How about we play a game? Kabaddi is the name of the game. The guidelines are…”*
“Who’s there?!” * The shouter was the first to awaken. Upon acclimating his eyes to the faint illumination of a flickering tube light, he brushed off his coat and observed the worn furnishings of the old room, as well as rumpled garments strewn about like discarded rags. The other corpses were entangled in strange positions. He heard a recorded voice, followed by a sudden sting of music that sounded like a radio show’s intermission jingle:
“Let’s play a game…”
“Who’s talking? Present yourself! Who are you? * The voice on the tape ignored it. * “For the six of you, there are six bottles…”* it went on. Another man stirred slowly. Based on his attire, the first man assumed he was either a clerk in a large office or a manager of a mid-level department store. The first man moved forward a few steps at a time. A young woman lay curled in an awkward position behind the sofa. Near the door, a man in a T-shirt was lying face down. In a corner, a middle-aged man twitched slightly.
“I don’t know.” * “Is everyone dead?” Dusting himself off was not a concern for the second man. He sagged onto a chair, yawned, and gripped his stomach. He muttered, “Hey, where’s the bathroom?” without revealing his location or the identities of the others.
“How can I tell? “This is not my home!” *
“The condition to leave this room is…” the recorded voice continued to ramble.
“Who’s speaking? You bastard, show yourself!”* The second man’s mouth dropped open.
“That voice is recorded. It won’t respond to you. * * “How do you know?” * * “It’s clear. My name is Rashid. a Dhaka Superior College science instructor. I also have no idea how I got here. Do you have any water? I don’t see any basins or jugs. * * “Water? Something about water was mentioned by that voice. * * “Who are you?” * The first man sat on a sofa with caution. Before he could say anything, a raspy voice said, *”Ugh… damn… what the hell is this?” * The two men who were awake recoiled, but they were too tired to respond. A middle-aged man with stubble, dressed in jeans and a faded shirt, was the third to wake. He leaped to his feet, his eyes blazing at them.
“Who the hell are you people?” * * “Take a seat. Relax. You were experiencing a bad dream. * * “Am I still dreaming?” * Nobody responded right away. The first man untied his necktie and stood ready to talk.
“My name is Dipankar. Vinci Group’s owner. I was on my way to my duplex in Dhanmondi when I last remembered. Perhaps an accident—no, not one.” * Unable to remember, he trailed off. Was he jogging? Have you been to a supermarket? The last distinct memory he has is of his wife, Dr. Malati Devi, informing him that she would be late from a conference.
“My name is Rashid Khondokar. Superior College instructor. from Kushtia. “And you?” * Suspicious, the third man looked into his pockets. He couldn’t find what he was looking for.
“What are you looking for? A weapon? You’re a terrorist—I knew it!”* Dipankar instantly felt bad about what he had said. What if this man was dangerous?
“What do you want from me?” growled the third man. Why have you brought me here? * Rashid chuckled. Dipankar loosened up a bit. Neither felt compelled to provide an explanation.
The young woman and the glasses-wearing man woke up within minutes. Then an old woman came out of another room, looking strong but with bewildered eyes.
“You have two options,” the recorded voice said again. The first option is for everyone to share a bottle of alcohol.
“Oh… I remember now!” The others awoke in the hopes of understanding.
“Can you recall anything? Where are we? “Who brought us here?” * Nasrin Afroz, the elderly woman, babbled about going to Rajshahi and a wedding in 2020 or 2021. Ignoring her, the others went back to introducing themselves. Nusrat, a young woman of about twenty-five, shivered. She covered herself with a curtain since she couldn’t find a blanket. The third man, Montu, who was probably posing as Sagar or Sanjay, grinned.
“So, Nasrin Afroz, do you live in your village in Pabna or Dhaka?” * “No, I live in Gulshan.” My apartment… I instructed Sajal to feed my feline. Nipu, the young guy (BUET Mechatronics, 2nd year), interrupted, “We should listen to the recording.” On the floor, Montu spat. * “Who made you boss?” * Nipu paid him no attention. * “This is a game. as in motion pictures. Five of the six bottles contain water, while one contains cyanide. Five are allowed to depart. Option 1: Everyone has a drink. One person perishes, while the others receive five lakh each. Option 2: Hold off until someone is thirsty enough to drink. The door opens if they pass away. *
Hours went by. The temperature increased. Not a fan. They made an unsuccessful attempt to break the door. They were gnawed by thirst.
“I have a dry throat. I’ll have some alcohol. * Montu made a lunge. * “Look here! Select a bottle. * The elderly woman was stopped by Nusrat. * “Auntie, one has poison!”* * “If we share a safe bottle…”* * “Then what?” * * * Nipu yelled. There is hardly any water left—five bottles. Who will test the next one? “You?” * Rashid took a whiff of every bottle. All had a subtle almond scent, which is cyanide’s hallmark. They were all identically masked by the invisible orchestrator.
After four hours. Weary. No way out. Abruptly, the elderly woman reached for a bottle and took a gulp.
Montu laughed, “She’s not dead?!” “This is a sick game,” Nipu realized. One must die for the rest to leave.” Tensions erupted. Desperate, Dipankar offered crores to the person who killed Montu. Rashid paused. Then—CRACK! The elderly woman struck Dipankar’s skull with a chair leg. Blood gathered. *”Thank you for completing the game,” the recorded voice said. The body should be placed on the toilet. In five minutes, the incinerator will turn on. The door then opens. * They pulled Dipankar’s body along. collapsed due to fatigue. barely made it. The door opened with a creak.
The epilogue
Rashid, who is five lakhs richer, eats dinner with his family.
Nipu wakes on a park bench, finds 10 lakh and a card: “Sapludu: 1 Million.”
Disoriented outside a bar, Nusrat finds wads of cash in her purse.
In Kawran Bazar, Montu awakens while smiling at a card that looks similar. News headlines: * “Elderly Woman Jumps to Death in Gulshan.” No sign of Dipankar. The game’s true winner remains unseen.
by Dhrubo Neel