Winter started early this year. I watched the snowflakes twirling in the air through a time-worn glass.

My black-colored hoodie and the pair of dark silver pants that extended to a pair of hard shoes failed to cover me from the biting cold.

I used to love winters. Decades ago, when summers had warm temperatures. Mumbai’s summers weren’t a joke, you know, temperatures going above fifty degrees Celsius. At that time, I hoped for snow, at least once.

Now, thinking back to that time, a low chuckle escaped my lips. Hell, that chuckle slowly turned into a laugh as I almost slipped from this twenty-four-story building.

“Fuck my craziness…” I cursed in a voice only I could hear. Falling down from this height might not kill a weaver, but sadly and funnily, I am not one.

“Tara, what the hell are you trying up there?” wailed a slightly panicked voice through my earphone.

“No worries, Patel, just thought of something funny.”

“From above twenty-four floors?”

“It seems so.”

“Sorry, Patel, you again sounded funny. Pate-el, dog-el in Malayalam,” I cringed at my joke.

“Dog-el? Why aren’t they here till?”

“Dog-el?” His confused words sounded cute. “Well, can we mortals guess the minds of those weavers?”

True. But we mortals could plan stealing from weavers. I pinched myself from laughing again. A cold snowflake somehow got into my forehead.

Now I hate winters. Shivering, before my hands reached that snow for a thwack, it melted into my skin. I really hate winters.

“Dog-el, why do they have to pick that thing in winter…” I am lucky to have Dog-el now; if that’s Ahamed or Roy, my ears should be bleeding now from their nagging.

Dog-el is cute in that area. Like now…

“I am not a fucking weaver! How would I know?”

I curled my lips into a smile. Looking down from here, I spotted a black caravan parked above an overbridge. One of the slick structures had to have better build quality than thousands of collapsed buildings around.

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Suddenly, I heard the sound of a helicopter. Ah, the weavers are here.

“They are here…”

“Roger.”

“Please don’t laugh…” That’s hurt Dog-el. I am crazy, I agreed. But I am not a fool. How could I laugh in a life-and-death moment? Don’t forget, I am going to steal from a weaver!

After today, me, Tara, would be known throughout Mumbai. Either as a woman who successfully stole from a weaver or a crazy woman killed by a weaver trying to steal from him.

Either way, I am going to be famous. I can’t wait to see my pictures painted on every wall in the city.

“Haha…”

“Not now, Tara! Please.”

“Roger…”

Two men climbed out of the helicopter. They checked the surroundings. I had to lay flat in the sunshade to barely escape their scrutiny.

Fucking army procedures! Even in these fallen times.

I saw a bulky man jumping from the helicopter. He had an annoyed expression, which I could guess a little.

It’s kind of funny, you know, a weaver having mortals as security. I urged myself not to laugh, not before the enhanced hearing of a weaver.

“Pinky Jain?” I heard a grunt from Dog-el. Pinky Jain, wasn’t he the famous non-violence murderer? I heard he was on the top hit list of Raakshas?

It’s kind of funny how power tainted a famous non-violence monk into a sociopathic murderer. His way of killing was interesting, though.

Without any violence, the victim died by locking a pinky promise with him. Haha, I wanted to laugh again.

‘But not now, Tara. Unless you want to see stars in the middle of the air.’

I looked up at the ever-changing line in the sky. I kind of missed the moon and stars. The sun too.

“They are moving down. Twenty-ninth floor…”

My eyes followed the dotted map floating above my wristband. Three points moved down in it, Dog-el explaining every move of them, which I could also see.

“I can see that too, you know.”

A slight pause from the earphone, then a gnashing sound. I stopped speaking. Men, horrifying when angry. It’s better to be silent now, lest I hurt his little balls.

Haha… I pinched my thighs again. Today, I am going to end all of this.

Myself as a thief. Myself as a poor. And myself as unknown.

I am excited for it. It’s kind of funny if someone were to know my state now. I didn’t even know what I was going to steal. But I am excited for it.

Even sex and drugs hadn’t excited me like now. Perhaps this is what my goal has been until now. To become famous, in a good way or a bad way.

I can’t wait. To steal from a weaver.

“Tara, get ready.”

“Roger.”

I held an iron wire, tightening the harness around my waist. I made sure my body was parallel to the building. With a push from one leg, my body slammed through the open window, the force pushed me to roll on the ground.

A box appeared in my sight with surprised gazes of three men in the room. They all looked at me, then toward the window, mouths agape.

“Hi…” I greeted them before throwing two balls that exploded on contact with the ground. A bronze fog filled the room. Only I had the glass covering, and so only I could see.

I skillfully took the box on the side of my palm, pushed it onto my bosom, and looked one last glance at the weaver and his two subordinates.

“It seems Roy’s confusion fog is no joke,” I said to Dog-el. But he was silent. I waited for him to speak, all while climbing down the building.

“Dog-el?…,”

My heart sank. Something was amiss. I was halfway when I heard a movement from my earphone.

“Dog-el, say something…”

“Oh, so you are that crazy woman,” a voice that sounded so alien and wrong, “you are too beautiful to be a crazy woman.”

And I hated that tone.

“Who are you? What happened to Dog-el?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about. I just pinky promised to him…”