The cold air of early winter flowed in a modest manner. It was still early in the morning for a day such as Sunday. There were several people out, some who were already in their woollens, some who were feeling the cold but still for some reason known to them were still in their t-shirts.
A white hatchback drove by slowly on the road. Some people noticed it and some didn’t.
The driver of the car, 23 years old Tejas scanned the road, observing everyone very quietly, with an expression deprived of positivity.
The car entered an apartment building, the guard showed an expression of familiarity, and let him in.
Tejas drove the car to a particular part of the parking lot and parked it at a place where he could view a particular vehicle. Then he took out his phone and sent a text and then he quietly waited, focussed and serious. He was about to do something he had never done before. A drop of sweat trickled down from all the rushed thinking of what would happen. But he was ready.
Just then another person appeared, around Tejas’s age and Tejas slowly got down the car and along with him he took a bucket. The person went for the car but had a sudden expression of irritation on seeing the deflated tyres and then before he realised Tejas emptied the contents of the bucket on him, and the person slipped and fell.
“There is no escape today, if I don’t get what I am owed, then things could get a lot worse very quickly,” said Tejas
The man looked up startled, “I was going to give it.”
“No, you weren’t. Don’t lie. You were going to run off again when I sent you the text that I am coming,” said Tejas in a voice louder
“I need more time,” said the man
“You had all the time”
Tejas stepped forward intending to cause some damage, just then a woman came by walking and looked at both of them. She lived in the next building.
“Still hasn’t given his share of the money?” she asked
“No, he hasn’t”
The woman, Ekta, looked at the man, who was part of their group of friends, his name was Sirak. They all went on a trip together a few months back and Sirak was yet to give his share of the total expenditure.
“Ok, need help?” asked Ekta
“Sure.. any form of beating we inflict can get us closer to motivate him to pay,” said Tejas
Sirak looked at both of them and then to himself covered in some form of paint and oil. The immediate future ahead was unknown.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 
One response to “What was Owed”
What an engaging and cinematic short story by Anuran Chatterji — vividly crafted, quietly intense, and grounded in the small, telling details of everyday life. 🌫️🚗
From the very first line — “The cold air of early winter flowed in a modest manner” — the author sets a tone of restrained tension, drawing the reader into a scene that feels both familiar and charged with unspoken emotion. The pacing is deliberate, allowing each moment — Tejas’s observation, the quiet drive, the simple act of waiting — to build a palpable sense of unease.
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