Some years ago a squelch was heard. It came from a wok which contained some minced goat meat.
I was the one prepping the meat. I added the salt, some turmeric, drizzled some ground-nut oil, the chili, fresh ginger-garlic paste and some curd to tenderize this mix.
With my gloved hands, both of them, I started mixing the ingredients together. That is when I heard it squelch. A sound that was so innocent but oddly satisfying and visceral to my ears. I loved the wet yet crispy sucking squelching sound that the meat made and I wanted to hear it on a loop.
Fresher the meat, better the squelch and so that is why I decided to become a serial killer.
But turning a career serial killer was not an easy task, this wasn’t the eighties. There were cameras everywhere, people’s locations and day long activities could be tracked with precision.
My second option was sourcing small animals like cats, puppies and rabbits. But their disappearance again could raise the suspicions of my animal-loving neighbours. But I had to start somewhere so I took that chance.
The pup that I took in was a small tenacious furball. It had pale ashen grey fur with a black nose and light browned eyes. It would playfully try to nip at my heels when I was trying to make friends with it by offering small chicken bone treats. I saw it from my apartment window maybe 20 days after it was born. It’s mother, a smelly grizzled bitch had been in our locality for a couple of years. So one day, acting upon impulse I lured the pup to my home with a boiled egg. He gambolled his way up the stairs, straight into my living room. Its mother didn’t follow and so it didn’t know that I had it’s pup.
My neighbour was happy when I got myself an Indian pariah pup. We discussed at length how this was a resilient breed, which was well-adjusted to the Indian climate and also was low maintenance. When the pup went missing the same neighbour raised her eyebrows. I am sure that she suspected something was wrong and I knew that she would keep an eye on my activities then on.
As the puppy played around my room, I was contemplating on my execution plan, by means of which I could hear the squelch. Ironically, although I was doing this to obtain a specific sound, in the process, I was afraid of another sound - a puppy’s shrill yelp. I had to be careful of that sharp sound, especially since my neighbour knew abt the doggo that I had.
I did not want to murder it brutally as torture was not my end game. I was just interested in listening to the sound that it’s innards would make when I had my hands full of them.
Finally deciding my choice of murder, I decided to drown the pup. It made sense, as any sudden sounds that the pup made would be lost underwater. At long last, I got my old 50 ltr plastic blue drum from my attic. It was a relic in our house, from the time when there used to be water shortages in the city.
With a strong nylon rope and a 20 kg weight plate, I made a sinking noose for that cute button of a pup. Putting the noose end around its neck, I let it frolick in the water a bit. Surprisingly, unlike other dogs, this one loved the water. And then when the pup was really enjoying itself, I let the weight at the other end of the rope sink in.
The pup was immediately pulled under the surface and I can remember its struggle while it tried to stay afloat… To breathe… To live…
I pressed down the lid back on the drum to avoid water spillage. And then went back to browsing my phone.
For those who think that somehow the tables turned and the pup survived, let me not keep you with that positive hope for long. I mean, what chances does a small almost-toothless puppy have in this situation?
An hour later, I opened the drum again, sure of the fact that the puppy would be dead by now The water inside had become a murky brown. I imagine the pup must have relieved himself of it’s body waste during its struggle.
Pleased with how my plans were shaping up, I got the puppy’s wet dead body out and laid it in the bathroom on a piece of tarp. I rushed to my kitchen to get my sharpest blade - A black obsidian knife which I had purchased months ago on a whim.
Turning the poor puppy belly up, I was about to slit a hole near its neck when I realized that its fur which was soggy may be too messy to handle later. It also felt kind of gross to touch the dead body even with gloves on. So I got a hot-air blower from my tool box to dry out the body.
Now completely dry, the pup almost looked alive. Its eyes had yet not lost its color and though it’s tongue hung sideways but it just looked like it had overeaten and was sleepy.
Then finally satisfied with my efforts, I got to the main job. In a swift smooth motion that my knife allowed, I managed to make a straight vertical cut from the puppy’s neck to its butt-hole.
The blood gushed out with some pressure and flowed beyond the tarp. I couldn’t do much about it now but I made a mental note to use a tub while cutting up the body the next time. With the pup now flayed open, I could see almost all his internal organs. I knew that with flesh that was so fresh and raw, a squelching sound could be produced easily.
With a smile on my face and with eyes closed I buried my hands deep inside the pup’s rib cage. I found a part which to me seemed like it’s heart and I pressed it hard in my palms to hear it go…
SQUELCH!!
Ah!! The glory of that sound!!