“isko maarne ke liye professionals bula rahe haiN.” (We are calling professionals to kill him.)
A voice piped up in the corridor outside the main door door of the flat (within a hostel/paying-guest accommodation) in which I rent a room, as I sat on the sofa in the hall, watching television last night. I stepped out quickly into the corridor to see the two young men who rent a room in the opposite flat (across the corridor) walking towards the main door of their flat. Obviously, one of them had been the speaker. However, when they saw me, they smiled, as if nothing had happened and they had not delivered the death threat that they just had.
Earlier yesterday, while I rode my motorcycle back after appearing for an entrance exam for government service from the far end of the city, there had been a variety of abuses and references to my ‘Moola’ thrown at me, especially at traffic signals or wherever I slowed down due to heavy traffic.
Two days ago, some one tried to break into my room by unscrewing the latch that holds the lock, while I was away at work. For some reason though, they managed to take out only two of the four screws before I got there. As it was rather late when I got home, I got it repaired only the next day.
Such is the desperation of the enemy now. It remains to be seen whether ‘they’ come as good as their word and send professional killers to attack me or not.