The Gunshot at the Birthday Party (624 words)

 The Banquet Hall at the resort on the outskirts of the city by the seashore was ablaze with lights, festoons, and fluttering balloons. The large, multicoloured banner cheerfully proclaimed "Happy Birthday!" It was the 12th anniversary of the Girija Nagar Humour Club which day happened to be also the 50th Birthday of its Founder President Mr Sahayam. The club with about 100 members met on alternate Sundays for humour sessions or stand-up comedies. The Sunday gatherings were usually filled with fun, laughter and banter.

 About seventy guests, including a throng of young children, had gathered to celebrate the joyous occasion. Mr Sahayam dressed in a brightly laced sherwani and his wife decked in a glamorous Kanchi silk sari stood near the centre table, his proud smile glowing under the red balloon cluster hovering above. A well-decorated cake, its candles flickering, awaited the start of the celebration. The air buzzed with chatter and laughter, while a buffet table lined with glistening steel containers promised a feast to follow.

As the guests gathered around the centre table, eager to watch the president blow out the candles, a man in a dark suit entered through a side door. His face, except for his eyes, was obscured by black silk. His deep, commanding voice sliced through the festivities, snapping everyone’s attention to him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for this unwelcome interruption, but it’s necessary. This will be over quickly with your cooperation,” he said, pulling a shining gun from his holster.

A wave of uneasy murmurs rippled through the crowd as he continued, his tone growing more severe. “Do not create a commotion or you may get hurt. I have only one target; the rest of you can breathe easy. Now, every one of you raise your hands across your chest and clap when the president blows out the candles. No funny business—I am dead serious.”

He then turned his focus to the president. “Venerable Sir, start the party by blowing out the candles. Don’t worry, you’ll have your fun soon enough.”

Amid the tension, the lights turned dim, with all faces ashen and drenched in sweat, Mr Sahayam, half in fear and half in mirth, blew out the candles. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, followed by an explosion of glittering metallic streamers from the balloon above. The lights came back on as hidden speakers blared the "Happy Birthday" song. The dazed crowd quickly realized it was all a prank, orchestrated by the resort entertainer in league with the Secretary of the humour association.

Laughter and applause erupted as the entertainer, now without the black silk mask, handed Mr Sahayam a large, richly decorated gift box. The guests were amused, their earlier fear turning into joyous relief.

But amidst the fanfare, no one noticed a man standing at the fringe of the crowd, clutching his stomach, until he collapsed.

The crowd soon gathered around the fallen man, their faces twisting in confusion and fear. Blood soaked through his shirt, forming a dark purple stain around his hand. Who could have done this ghastly act? And why? Strangely, the security detail remained oblivious, even as anxiety spread among the guests. Some wrung their hands, others quickly distanced themselves from the scene.

To the bewilderment of all, the entertainer in the black suit slowly approached the fallen man. He nudged him with his shoe.. Lo, the man instantly stood up, pulling off a napkin from his stomach, and burst into laughter. The crowd, stunned, soon realised it was all part of an elaborate ruse that went well with the club’s activities, and they too began to laugh.

With the tension broken, the guests happily gravitated towards the buffet table, eager to indulge in the feast that awaited.