The Hacker


Hello, Folks! Here is a Short Story (1,350 words), to be part of MY NOVEL. Read this one for now, FOR FREE.

This one is based on Facts, something that happened very, very recently, in Rajasthan in India. For more, please peruse link below.

Now, to My Story, which is set in the 1950’s:


There was this fellow who was about thirty two years old,
actually quite handsome; dressed well, preferred white pants,
and had a little shawl thrown over his shoulder.

One fine morning he picked up his axe, and proceeded to the
market place, where he found a farm labourer who was about
sixty years old, and told him to come with him. The man
thought that he was going to get some work, so he followed

When he came to a half secluded place, the white panted man
coolly and calmy started hacking the labourer! He jumped
about, found the best angles to attack him with, and the poor
worker was literally hacked into pieces in a few minutes, despite his most piteous moans and pleas.

As the place was only semi secluded, there had been watchers
about. But, frankly speaking, very few people can handle a
man with an axe, and a berserk man at that. They remained as
mesmerised, gruesomely fascinated and helpless spectators;
not able to intervene, nor go away. And they found that the
event lay etched in their minds’ screens all their lives.

The hacker then wiped his axe and his hands on the other
man’s clothes as far as he could, and sauntered back to the
market place. He went to a tea shop, sat on one of the benches
provided there, and ordered tea, which was given him by the
shop keeper, who noticed the blood-stained axe, and then the
splatters of blood on the man’s clothes. The hacker’s fierce
looks and mocking smile said that he had not killed a goat

The tea shop owner, – it is all a one-man business,
the owner making the tea, serving it and collecting the cash,
besides rinsing, yes, rinsing, – nothing more than that, the
glasses. The last nobody minded. Indian stomachs are not too
afraid of germs, and Indian sensibilities can and do put up
with a lot worse.

But truth to tell, when the tea wallah went back to his spot
behind what can only be called the counter, he was urinating
there involuntarily. Yet when the people who had been
patronising the shop walked off trying not to show their
panic, it was not because of the strong smell of the urine.
Finding himseld alone with the killer, the tea shop’s owner
brain told itself to shut down, which it carried out by a faint.

The hacker finished his tea, put a some coins on the counter,
and went off home.

The whole town was buzzing, and the police knew that this
could not be ignored, which it would have preferred. So two
constables were dispatched to fetch the hacker. They went to
his place and told him that the ‘saheb,’ meaning the officer,
the station incharge in this case, wanted ‘to see him.’ The man
followed them.

When they reached the police station, the sub inspector got
up, and with bent head and downcast eyes, just indicated the
cell, to which the man went, which was locked.


After a few days, wonder of wonders, the hacker was seen
working in his garden. He brought his produce to the market,
which his usual customers bought, without any conversation.


Six day after the hacking took place, three unidentified youth,
with black cloths covering their faces, turned up at the
hackers little house and knocked; to which the fellow responded
by opening the door, and he did this without fear, albeit with
his axe in hand. The attackers seemed to have planned things.
The short stick, favoured even by many police forces today,
though in many different forms, was used immediately, for
the first blow, which did not give the hacker time to wield his

Then they dragged him to his garden, where they chopped off
both his legs just below the knees, and his right hand, right at
the shoulder.

They had brought a horse cart with them, without the animal,
which was not a war horse after all, and would have blanched
and refused to move in the presence, particularly of, human
blood. There were old gunny sacks placed there, by intention,
on which they loaded not just the man but also his limbs, and
took him to the railway station, and put him at a little distance
from the main entrance. Next they arranged all his limbs in
front of him, gave him a few kicks, – none of which he felt for
he was in shock yet, spat on him, and departed.

This was all witnessed only by the dogs there, as it was not
the time for any train to pass by. The dogs had barked and
howled a little, and that was that. As for the station staff, the
spot was out of sight to them.

Not so for the passengers and anybody and everybody who
would pass that way to the station the next morning onwards.

But in the meantime, the man had come out of his faint
induced by shock, experienced most funny feelings, saw
things in front of him, which, when he finally felt with his left
hand, he understood to be his own limbs. He fainted many
times after that, and upon repeated sight of his limbs, brought
up quite a few times.

He faced a particular horror as day light was dawning and as
he was coming out of one of his faints, when he found some
dogs dragging away his hand, which they started to make a
meal of some distance away. Reality was beginning to dawn
on him.

The first train was only at a few minutes past five in the
morning, and those who had come early for it thought of him
only as a beggar, the other limbs in front of him being not too
visible. Nobody paid much attention anyway.

But of those who alighted, the light increasing with every minute, the parents had to shield their children’s eyes from this horror, and later some women were telling their husbands, “Kuch karo na jee,” meaning, please do something. The men escaped with throwing a few coins in front of the man on the ground.

News of a person in horrible conditions reached the station
master’s ears. He came, had a look see, and sent for two
janitors. When they arrived they were told to bury the man’s
limbs, the hand included, which lay half eaten some distance
away, and later they pulled the man under a tree, for the
station premises are common ground for people, beggars

Sometime later a more generous man brought the fellow a
glass of tea from a tea vendor, paying also for the tumbler,
and placed it in front of the hacker who only glared at him.

At about ten o’clock, a kind Samaritan noticed the undrunk
tea, threw it out for it was quite cold by now, took the tumbler and brought some fresh tea, went near the man, and with a kind look on his face, squatted near him, and brought the tumbler near the man’s
lips. What he got in return was the hacker’s hand at his throat,
and it was a fierce grip.

People started shouting at this, which brought the lone policeman who had arrived for duty there, to the spot. He noticed what was happening, went around and positioned himself, raised his lathi and brought it down in a solid blow above the hacker’s elbow, on the upper arm. It is a bone that is easily broken, and it did. The hacker fainted once again, and the Samaritan was lifted and brought to a bench to recover and offered tea.

Both the hacker and society got enough time to reflect on
what had, and could, and should, happen to the evil minded.

The link: [Viewer discretion advised ]

PS: For a little sequel to this, please click here.


5 thoughts on “The Hacker”

  1. Dear Yesu,
    After I read the story, I trembled. It is far beyond my understanding. How could the people around the happening just stood there watching and let it be? Where was the police? What kind of world is this?

    Liked by 1 person

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