Thursday, December 25, 2014

What will you ask from your Santa

I know the concept of Santa Cluas is pure myth and childish. He is just a legendary character. Neither anyone has ever seen it nor has any evidence that would trail us to the place of Santa. So a big portly joyful man with pounds of beard covering his face, wearing red, laughing and singing, shouting ho-ho-ho and carrying a bag full of gifts, is  mere an illusion.

Yet, just for a while, keeping all the logics aside, let the child inside us imagine that there is Santa, who will come to you on the night before Christmas and silently slip something you wish for in the hanging stockings, something that you would have been banging your legs before your parents to bring. Then? What would you wish for?

Let me guess. A beach house, a month long vacation to some exotic place, a handsome guy or pretty girl, whichever is your pick, straight out of dream, a successful career, big promotion, name and fame. That’s what adults would wish for. By the time we grow up, our mind is so adulterated and disciplined by the societies need and our need that the only thing we see is ourselves. We are so busy to even pause a while and think back of what is going around before the destruction has inched in before us.

When I was around six years old and barely could speak Merry Christmas, I wished for a sister. A sister, with whom I would share my bed and my gossips. I would take her hand and walk her around. I would bring her chocolates of my share. I would spend in her choice of toy from my pocket money. I would warn her against the perverts. I would not let any boy make her cry. And if it happened the guy would not be alive to take another single breath. I would be the proud and fierce protective elder sister. I became an elder sister but to a cute lil boy. I won’t say I regret it but still, I craved for a sister.

When I was around fifteen years old, an age where hormones get a mind of their own and your brain becomes a complete useless puddle, I wanted somehow to bump to my then bollywood heartthrob. I wished to talk to him, impress him, surprise him somehow. I wanted to go out with him, pose before shutterbugs holding his hand, become a front-page news. Ah! What a silly wish. And I was so desperate that time that you can  replace all the ‘wished’ in the lines with ‘was dying’.

Now that I am twenty-two this Christmas, do you know what I wish for? I think you will laugh at me when I say my unrealistic wish. This time I wish from Santa to take me to a world, where no one will be killing someone else for their religion. No one will be shameless enough to say that a girl was raped because she was using a mobile phone and no one will be ridiculous enough to support them. No one will be butchered because they loved someone from other caste. No girl will be burnt alive because her parents could not afford the skyscraper demands from her in-laws. No child will be pumped in to death because some a$*hole doctor diagnosed its gender as female. And because I tired here. I am tired of accepting all these bullshit. I am tired of realizing this mindlessness of people and this imbalance between progression of science and contraption of people’s mind. I don’t want to be a part these people. I want to go away.

I don’t whether my wish will be fulfilled or not, but yet before going to bed I wish for this and hope that tomorrow in the eve of Merry Christmas my wish will be fulfilled.

On this pretext, I would love to know what is your wish for this Christmas? Please do comment.

P.S: The post was supposed to be posted yesterday night only. But I have a bunch of crazy friend who don’t think I should even write in Christmas. Hope this procrastination will be forgiven.

Source-Google Image

Sunday, December 21, 2014

P.K. Movie Review

Source- Google Image

Director:             Rajkumar Hirani
Casting:              Aamir Khan
                            Anushka Sharma 
                            Sushant Singh Rajput
                            Boman Irani
                            Sanjay Dutt
                            Saurabh Sukla
Screenplay by: Abhijat Joshi
                           Rajkumar Hirani        

This weekend was real awesome for me. At least it was not sulky like past few weekends. And all the credit goes to Rajkumar Hirani’s tolly. Yesterday I went to theatres to watch P.K which itself is rare. I was skeptical about it as it eats up lots of time to go to the theatre and I didn’t have time to check out the reviews of the movie and before I could do so, my friends had booked ticket. But the moment the movie started, Anushka’s voice floated in, a feeling of relaxation settled in and I knew I was not going to regret coming to theatre.

Well what I didn’t know was this movie will enchant me so much to blog about it. The story unwrapped smoothly around us, introducing a flappy eared Aamir Khan arriving naked on the earth from some other universe as a blank slate, Anushka Sharma gracious (except than her duck-like lips reconstruction surgery) in Belgium fighting for a concert ticket, Sushant Singh Rajput copying her and adding more charm to the scene with his constant smile and shayari. Boman Irani, Saurabh Shukla It was good only that the makers of the movie were very secretive about the movie, zipping everyone’s mouth and increasing the height of curiosity in the audience. And the waiting was worth enough. It paid real well. Aamir Khan dressed colorful, stealing here and there from dancing cars, with his weird yet genuine child like curiosity will glue you to the screen. Again his innocence, despair and dedication to the character will make you both cry and laugh at the same time. It really happened. Half of the time my friend was sobbing next to me. So better watch the movie with a big tissue roll.
Source- Google Image

Though it’s not as perfect as 3-Idiots(movies like 3 idiots happen by mistake, I guess. No one can go and make it), it took me more than 24 hours and several replays in my mind to come out of its charm and realize the bumps in the movie. Towards the end the movie was kind of unsettling. It could have been better. The story portrayed by Anushka Sharma is actually from the book she had authored and it is revealed at the end which is totally unnecessary. The role of Sushant Singh, Sanjay Dutt and Boman Irani is very much shortened and seems gulped up by Aamir and Anushka pair. Though it’s not a trouble as there won’t be a moment where Aamir will let you down. Still I wanted other characters to bloom more on the screen especially Sushant’s character.

Overall about the movie, it was a great satirical journey with handful of questions exposing the ugly side of our society. The dialogs are written with authenticity and are commendable. It must have taken a great toil of patience and observation. Story is smooth and floating with minimal glitches. The music is great and I am downloading them right away. You won’t regret burning a hole in your pocket for this movie. So what are you waiting for? Come on! Go. Book your tickets right away. If not now, then when?

Rating: 4 out of 5

Source- Google Image

P.S: I am no professional movie reviewer and it’s honestly my first movie review. So if I am wrong in anywhere, then you know what to do. Till then keep smiling. J

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

A Stolen Moment

Coutesy- magpie tales

I turn around,
For like hundredth time,
Thinking of your return,
Fooled by own desire.

But, hey, I see you there,
From the crack in crowd,
Staring at me that smugged smile,
Lapping against the chaos.

Oh no! I shout,
People are watching out,
But you don't care,
Like it's now or never.

You sway me in,
Swifter that whistling wind,
Your cool lips on mine,
Salty tear start to sting.

A stolen moment,
I clutch it tight,
Where do I hide it,
So they won't learn to fly.

This is an entry for image prompt of Magpie tales.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Things Itching At My Back

I was never a newspaper seeker. It was only written piece on the earth to get my sideway glance. I would prefer a mammoth book of 600 pages written in some obscure language than it. Nothing in those large papers ever made any sense to me. But unfortunately I am right now in such a phase of life where I don't want to look like fool. And after the alia bhatt incident in Karan Johar show, I am more scared to be an idiot. So I guess you are getting the point. Now I have started reading newspaper. Getting myself updated with fresh bits. Every day!

But to my wonder, I feel more stupid and lost now. It's like my whole brain has become foggy and the thin path from where my thoughts usually travel are now full with question bumps. I am tired of searching for answers, trying to console myself that this is how it is. Yet the question reverts back more stubbornly, why so?

I won't talk about Mr.Obama's  lunch menu on his visit to India or our President's friendly visits to those unfriendly countries. I will talk about very local issues that happens around me.

Was religion not enough to divide the country millions apart? Now it has come to race. Now a days you will see many silly incident where people are attacked just because they don't look exactly like the attacker. They have a flat nose and squinty eyes. They can't speak your mother tongue.  Yes! Those racial attacks. That brutal murder of young men who wanted bring revolution into our education. Tell me one thing. Where were you scoundrels when Mary Mom brought glory to our country. Where were your filthy mouth when Baichung Bhutia sweated in the ground to bring recognition to our country in the football leagues. You can cheer up Jackie Chan on screen. But the real life heros will be slaughtered. Go man! Get some humanity. I think you are the most ill bred person in this world. Go and jump off from some cliff. No one will even shed a drop of tear for you. Not even your mother.

2) Love campaign:
Another thing that adorns the front page everyday is two young college-kids kissing among a bunch of maniac cheering crowd. When I first saw it, I kept staring at it longer than I should have. There were two guys kissing each other,in the front page of a leading newspaper, sharing their boundless love., celebrating freedom. Kiss of love, they said, it was.And the only thing that worried me, do their family read the same newspaper I am read? If they do, then God save them from the humiliation. No! No! I am not against love or relationship. And I am morden too. But I can't even imagine to support such weird baseless things. Come on guys! Think. Use your brain. Do you think our society need this at this moment. I think it's sheer wastage of energy and time that will stir more chaos into an already dishelved society.

3)  Molestation Cases:
Last but not least disgusted, child molestation cases. It was around three months back that I heard about it for the first time. And almost suddenly something happened. It sprouted like a bunch mushrooms and for next every two days, it will be some school, some school teacher and some child who can't even spell molestation.

Be it a employee or a college student or a kindergarten, all the pages are botched with their names as victim of rapes. The recent being another rape in Delhi inside a cab. I won't go into those ridiculous details. If you haven't, then you must. It's really interesting. You will laugh your heart out at the irresponsibility of the Uber.

Well, about these three topics, have you noticed anything common? Let me help you. The common thing is that in a country of millions, why this is happening again and again. Isn't there any solution to stop this permanently? Instead kissing each other on road, can't we youth stand firm against all these issues? Okay. You did a commendable job in the Nirbhaya case. But all these promises made to you, are they kept? Has the situation changed a bit? Why that unapologetic co#$@cker still alive in this world after raping five girls? Is killing among each other just because they don't share similarity with you getting us anywhere? If you have an answer, then please guide.

P.S: This may sound really brash to some. But I defy to apology. I know I am not doing anything wrong. Your thought might contradict with mine. But you can't deny any of the above.

Monday, December 8, 2014

That Visit

I sit next to him, two feet across the table he is sitting. The evening is lazily getting darker. I stare hard on his smugged face. Undoubtedly under that hard mask life pulsated undetected.

"So how long?" My question interrupts him from his deep-inside-the-file state.

He looks at me in response, a steely glace through narrowed eye. He checks me out from tip to toe. Clearly his conscience holds him back from believing the facts splayed before him.

I cross my legs and lean over the table. Heat and itch both move crawling under those tight leather pants as they stretch with my new position.

Finally he sighs, nodding a clear disappointment upon himself. I want to release that smile of victory, but I hold it till he admits it himself.
"I told you. There is no end without me. You will be lost out in there. This is not your world played by your rules and integrity. I told you so. This is underworld, baby"

He doesn't react. He never did. Not to my dyed pink head or kinky clothes that I wear to show whatever I have.

"Any more questions?" I straighten on my place. Even a win as simple as this can give enormous strength.

I lick my lips before breaking the silence.
"The deal is still on the table, if you want."

He closes the file in silence, staring a blank look straight at me, boring a hole exactly where my heart is beating loudly. It's hard to decide whether he loves me more or hates me more. Anyway it's not good for any outlawed to mess with someone working under law.
I shake my head, get up and walk from there.

At the door, I pause a little. From the corner of my eyes, I could see that alluring once-in-a-while smile on his face.
I knew I would get that long expected visit from him today. I will be looking forward it.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014


She took out the finest and most elegant one of her wardrobe. It was a tailored black dress with fine lines of black sequins on the front that would have fell till her knee only if she could fit in there. Age has plumped her out. With Adele singing Someone Like You in the background, she sat together with the dress and sewing box and yanked out the stitches, careful enough not to ruin the material. It took her whole night to get the dress fit on her. She stared at her reflection on mirror, too long, watching the dress slowly settling along her skin.

At the break of dawn she started preparation. It was four hours of drive to the place and she didn’t want to be late. She had waited too long to forget what was that she was waiting for. No more wait. She was finally going to meet him.

The more time passed, the more distance she covered, the more anxiety and nervousness crept in her. How would it feel to wake up every morning with no more anticipation? For whose arrival would she be waiting upon every night, staring out of the window from an empty house? She clenched the steering wheel harder, trying to push these weird thoughts out of window and focus on the road. Did the trick work? It would have only if her lame mind was under her restraint.

Finally she reached there in time. The sun was still young in sky. Bird chirruped in unison. She parked her car in the lot. He palms were sweating. She took out the flowers form backseat, smoothed her dress, tucked the strand that had fallen from her tight bun, straightened her shoulder and silently marched towards the small gathering. The crowd tore apart upon her welcome, allowing her to grace the way. She put on a faint smile and walked towards him.

He was lying there, with a like always. She rested the flowers on him and sat next to him. It seemed age had reverse affect on him. He looked more calm and radiant.  She wished he would open his eyes and tell her how she looked in the dress. Fifteen years. For fifteen years she waited for him to come and talk to her. Every night of fifteen years, she wished that, it would be the last haunted night in her life, until two days back when she got this phone call. Finally a tear finally rolled down her cheek.
Everyone stood up in attention as the priest came upon. “It’s time my child,” The priest spoke politely to her. She just nodded, wiping the wet trail on her face.

Before leaving she laid kiss on his cheek and whispered, “See you again, My love. In that far land, beyond the restriction truths and lies, beyond the restrain of right and wrong, I will meet you there. Very soon. ” 

Sunday, November 9, 2014


He rushed into the classroom, afraid that he would lose the seat. But he was lucky. It was empty and he grabbed it before catching another breath. He sat there everyday, in the fourth row, second one from left in that east facing room. Winter evening breeze blew from those big windows at the back of the room. There was little time for the class to begin. The room had started to fill in with faces, hung out of boredom and tiredness as it was last class of the day. But he waited impatiently, his spine erect, trying to peek through the crowd. His eyes searched for only one face. Her face.
His best friend staggered in and took the vacant seat next to him.
“Come on dude! You are scaring the other kitten with that look!” His friend sniggered at him. For the umpteenth time. In the past also, his friend has tried to make him understand that the days are gone when you stare at a girl for hours and hours in classroom unable to speak your heart out, etch their names on the table, write anonymous love letters, still at the end the girl marries you. These days’ girls want hunks who come to their rescue, puncher down dozens of other guys on their way, sweep their darling off her feet and take them on long drive  in muscle cars. Guys with six pack abs and a height over six feet top the chart. Not the ones like him.
But he ignored his friend’s remark as always. He loved her truly but couldn’t gather courage to confess. He knew this wasn’t going anywhere yet he was too scared to talk to her. He thought what if she disgusts him and backs him off. And his friend’s words had worsen the situation, shook his confidence.
Class was about to start and still there was no trace of her. It was very unlikely of her. She was always punctual. She came with her friends and sat in the same seat in third row everyday. That made it real difficult for him. He had to come about twenty minutes before the class started, before everyone, just to sit here on the seat diagonally across hers. It was the safest place to watch her from, without any perturbation. To wonder over her angelic face and smile that could be muse to all the cosmeticians in the world. To keep staring at the blackish-brown thick strands of hair that tumbles down till the end of her back. They are so unbelievably smooth and shone like edge of silver sword. As on the last leg of day, when the room fills in with crimson-yellow aura and the far setting sun grins through window over that dark curtain of hair of hers. One would forget to breathe in moments like these. They are beyond beautiful. Ethereal.
Finally he spotted her coming towards the class. She walked in casually, with her friends.  Her head was covered with a multi-colored scarf. And she looked more of jovial, more of splendor, more of excitement and more of life. As if overnight she had grown wings. She laughed till her eyes squinted. Before slipping in her usual seat, her eyes met his for a fraction of seconds, and his heart stopped. For the first time it was any kind of reaction from him. Even though it could be just casual, but he didn’t care.
The class started, everyone settled in. His eyes were constantly on her, studying precisely as if she were a puzzle. She unknotted the scarf and loosened it over her shoulder.  And it was shatteringly shocking. He could not believe his eyes. The hair that he spoke of so fondly was not there anymore. It was shorn to a neat bob. Those butchered ends fell sharp next her jaw line in bunch. It drove him mad and angry. So much that he wanted to bang the desk off and run out of the room. How could anyone be so merciless to slash down such a beautiful thing? He wanted to go and shake an answer off her. But he waited patiently, gripping the edge of the table till the class was over and students started to leave the room.
As she got up with her friends to leave, he went over to her.
“Hey.” He spoke, fumbling out of nervousness.
“Hi” She smiled at him, her sweet smile.
He stood there, kept staring at her, unable to form words. The silence ensued. Their friends left them alone. Finally, she broke the awkwardness.
“You wanted to say something?”
“Hmm. Yeah. Hmm. New haircut? Good. Nice one.”
“Thanks.” Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“So. All of sudden. I mean it’s good but..” He didn’t know what to say next. His heart was aching. But he didn’t want to hurt her.
She watched him struggling with himself. He was so innocent. Like a child. It made her love him more.
“ Long hair was good. But demanded a lot of time. A lot more care.” She finished his sentence.
Not fair. He shook his head in disappointment. All the beautiful things needed time and care. Not a fair reason to slash them to death.
 “So I just cut them down and donated.”
The word caught his attention like the safety net in a free fall.
“Donated? I am sorry. I didn’t get you.”
“Well! It’s difficult to understand the partiality of the nature but there are many people in the world who are deprived of this beauty. It may be very trifle for people like us, just a matter of few months but there are people for whom it is priceless.”
Her words sounded more philosophical than his reach, confused him. But he didn’t interrupt her. She understood the ingoing turmoil inside him.
“There are few organizations who work over these issues, reach out to help these people, people who lost their hair  due to going through chemo, or suffering from diseases like  severe alopecia, trichotillomania, burns, accidents etc, etc. They take your hair, make wigs and brings smile to them. That simple.” She shrugged.
That simple? He thought.
He froze there. He doesn’t know what triggered what, how it initiated. Everything went blur and decelerated. It was like gravity shifted under his feet and time forgot to tick. Every step he took toward her was like taking a leap over one ocean. Five oceans on the earth, five steps till he reaches over, grabs her face and kisses her. Kisses her with all the adoration and love one can convey, trying to reach the inner beauty of her.
Now he was not afraid to speak anymore. Rather he was afraid that if he didn’t speak then he might lose her forever. The kindest soul and prettiest heart forever. The words came out by themselves.
“I loved you.” He said, tangled in her breath. “And I fell in more love with you after this moment. And I am still falling.”
She chuckled at him. “I knew. But it took six months of time, fourteen inch of my hair to make you confess. I expect you to fall little deeper for me, mister. So keep falling.” And with a mischievous she returned to their kiss again.

One of my adorable blogger friend donated her fourteen inch hair to an organisation called “Children With Hair Loss”. It is a big and commendable leap and needs lots of courage. Please do read her here. This post is in honor of her good deed.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Caught Hold!Got Stuck!

By the time she heard them screaming “Fire!Fire!”, it was too late as his mouth was where it should not be and his hands too. Her eyes forced open hurrying him off slithering on her and gathering the clothes that lay in astral direction. Her hand held the knob and turned it to open but…The door was locked and they were stuck in the bathroom till the fire extinguisher team rushed in to bang it open. The next day a fresh, spicy news sizzled the front of TV,

“Popular bollywood actress caught with her meditation guru in a hotel room.”

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

My Five Sentences Story for- 
Friday Frictioneer-Flame

Image Source

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Where was I?

It feels strange to sit here with my laptop in my lap and pour my heart out on MS-sheets. Long six months. Ah!

 Well! As they say whatever happens, it’s for your good only. You just need to hold faith and understand the undersigned boards of fate. For five months out of those six months I was away, locked in a guarded heaven. I am not exaggerating here when I say heaven.  It was truly a heaven from every angle and got a name too, that’s “Infosys Mysore Campus” – world’s largest corporate university. A sanctuary! An oasis!

Everything has a price and I had to pay it too. I was away from my dil ka tudka (piece of heart), my laptop and also from such sweet people like you guys! I can’t tell you how much I missed you all. I don’t know how many times I was desperate to blurt out everything , good or bad, dark or bright, sweet or acidic everything and anything like I used to. But writing a five hundred words of post on mobile was literally a pain in fingers. I tried for a while to write on mobile. But they were just small and brisker ones so that I don’t forget how to write altogether.

Now that I am back, it may take a while to build up that speed again. But I am sure that as long as I have you guys’ support and love I can cross any miles with smiles.
And now it’s time to share to good news with you that is starving to be shared from a very long time. A dream too good to be real has become my life now. After months of rigorous effort of moving from pillar to pillar or interview to interview for five months, finally I cracked into Infosys and also completed its hell-bent training successfully. Now I can proudly say that I am Infocian. J Yuppie!! And also I got posted to Bangalore DC and currently working for a US bank in Java domain.  So double Yuppie!! JJ

Now your turn. How were you? How happening was your life when I was away? Did I miss something?  Did you guys miss me? Will be waiting for your comments. J

Sunday, August 3, 2014

And it rained again!

And it rained again.
Just like it had the night when he had dragged her out of the house. Drunk till his senses floated, he had beaten her and her mother and threw them out of the house. The heavy rain and deep night gulped them in, opening the door to daunting uncertainty. She still remembers every minute of those three hours of deluge, the cruel way water sloshed on them poking fire to the fear inside them. The rain had come and gone away, but they stood undeterred. And now today as she entered their new house with her mother, it was raining again. This time it was more of pleasant and welcoming. Each and every drop fell in praise of the bits of courage and hope that little girl held in her tiny hands with her mother.

Image source- Google image

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend , an
initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Can you prove yourself?

In my life I have seen many instances where I have heard saying someone "How to prove that it wasn't me". If you are saying anywhere to anyone except than crime investigators then my dear you have landed in a wrong path on a wrong foot.

  Proving yourself! This thing comes when you love someone a lot and want them to believe you. You are afraid that if you can't make that random person believe in you then your life will be sworn to hell. Mostly it happens with someone you are in love(the kind of love with which you want to spend your life).

But at that times you forget that love and trust are brothers joined at hip. You can't separate them. If that person doesn't trust you now then he or she won't trust ever even if you bake him the best cake with his favourite recipe or you bring to her everything that is on her wishlist, you can't get an ounce of trust after running to this length. You can't prove yourself to others. It's stupidest thing ever, even stupider than running to catch a train that has already left the station. In real there is no emergency brake to pull and stop it.

And who am I say all these? 
I am the one who has travelled this road before, willingly or unwillingly I have broken my heart repeating the mistake, tore open myself where I wasn't suppossed to, cried till every part of my body was dehydrated and hydrating it I have cried again. Too stupid! Too stubborn!

And why am saying all these? Have I started counseling service?

Still then why am I preaching? 
Simply because even after working for twelve hours a day, beautiful quote by Maya Angelou somehow  managed to find its to me and I couldn't stop ramble about it.

Source-Google Image

What? You knew all these already. Then why are you here till now. Go out. Meet new people and explore. Make friends. Enjoy the eve. 

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Dawn Breaker

Four of them sat anxiously hovering over the phone. Virat poured out a bottle of wine and handed over one glass to each. Aisha denied considering her dietician has restricted her from high calories intake.

"Guys. Till when? It's taking toll over my temper." Kriti said rolling the slender glass of wine in her hand.

"Relax guys. My mom says patience always bears sweet fruits. She has told this one will be break through my career. " Sohail said blowing up rings of smoke up in the air and then inhaling back.

"What is your mom?? Film critic to comment on it. Weird tarot card reader." Kirti snspped back.

"Hey! You mind your business. If I start what you mother has done to make you actress then.." Sohail burst all of sudden.

"Hey..hey..hey..enough. Stop fighting like road side beggars. Sohail calm down. And you, Aisha watch before you speak. We all have given our best for this film. Now only that will happen as it is in our luck." Virat tried to control the situation.

Suddenly in this tense situation the phone rang heating up it more. Virat picked it up.

After a small greeting hello some nods followed by. He put the phone after two minutes and turned back with a sour face.

Everyone got stiffened with troubled assumptions. After all they all had put effort here till the last inch of their life. Aisha had lost a considerable amount of weight that put her lost career into lime light and also brought her this movie. Kirti had learned belly dance especially for this movie from some renowned African dancer. Virat was coming back after a dreading pause due to his sister's accident. And if this movie flops then it will be Sohails fourth flop in row.

They all waited for Virat to utter something, anything as it was eating then all. Finally he opened his mouth with a smirk. "Magic...guys. It's blockbuster movie. Housefull..." Everyone cheered up as finally and magically their hard work brought color.

 This post is for Write Over Weekend for prompt "magic".

Wednesday, May 21, 2014


Source- Google image

Little did he know that those tiny finger running after butteflies will be crushed. Little did he know those fluttering eyes once filled with innocence will become an abode of terror. Little did he know the laughter that once rang through their house will be muted within stone walls. How he wished he knew his doted daughter would be lost in that foreign land. He wished he knew this before giving her hand to someone the destiny brought their way.

This post is for Lillie McFerrin Writer's  five sentence fiction.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

The FaLL

The unexpected fall,
That is tangent and pungent,
Through the sharp shrill of air,
On her bare neck,
And the dream cracking cries.

Among the chaos,
She searches for one voice,
The particular one hushed,
Hot whispers in her ear,
Every morning before sunrise.

Alas! She finds none,
As the proximity is long gone,
Grasping the distance,
Transcending the space.

The sharpness of air,
Eases over her skin,
Into downy petal swirl,
Waits down there,
Heavensome bellows of water,
To invite the angel.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

A daughter's confession.

This time I have something to all and bare the burden I am carrying inside me....

There were times when you tried to help me and  I ignored you telling "you don't know anything Mama."

There were times when you cried upon my departure, I ruthlessly said "No need to be emotional."

When you wanted to advise me on my life and career, I rejected saying "Stop your teachership at home. Keep it in your school."

When you held to your silence to stabilize the situation, that's there I hurt you the most yell
ing "you are nothing but a useless piece of stone."

Still you loved me unconditionally, never leaving me in my ups or downs. I may not deserve to be your daughter but you are the best Momma in this universe.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggersby BlogAdda.

Monday, May 5, 2014

It will rain

Image- Google image

When I give you my hand,
Hold it tight and walk out,
It will rain then,
All the odds despite,
Be it from heaven,
Or my eyes.

Sun will shine
Through the water
Moon will ripe out shy
Behind the tree of fruits unripe,
Just grab my hold baby,
And walk out.

Thursday, May 1, 2014


He knew his son would carry on the legacy of politics like everyone in his family had. He had seen that sparkling shine in his eyes, galvanic command in his voice even before his son had the slightest hint of this future. Alas, little did he know that his son would go against the corrupt ways of him and join that wrecked withering politician of opposition fasting for resignation of his father.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014


He stepped out hurriedly into the outside world, trying to step faster but the city cold air impeded his aging knees inflicting with great pain. Pushing the bamboo cane mercilessly on the jagged road, he paced toward the end of the street. He coughed harder, lungs aching with each fit. This is what eats of half of his time in the morning. The coolness of early morning as freshening in the village as it is harsh in this city. He missed those days in village. He missed them more as he had no way back to there. He had to come with his only son and stay with them. Literally it was worse than any other phase of his life.

He pulled his wife’s sweater tighter around himself, pushing his gnarled hands deeper into the pocket only to having the middle finger slip through the hole in left pocket. He reminded himself to be careful with his wife’s last piece of tangible memory.

It took him bit longer to reach at the temple. By the time he reached people were starting to gather up. It was Thursday which means there will be more visitors today than any other days. He bent down to touch the temple entrance as usual to worship and entered praying Goddess.

Suddenly the temple priest came to him. “Where were you till now? Again late.” He hollered holding the arati thali.

“Not his fault. I have been getting late these days. ” He thought silently getting to his place near footwear stand.

“You know it right? New temple management committee is really strict. If you continue to do like this you will this job also.” The priest continued.

He looked at him through his wrinkle clouded eyes. It was harder to see his face properly even from that distance. He needed a reading glass, he knew it well but he kept delaying it thinking in next more salary he will get it. Now if he loses this job also, where will he get his food from? He doesn’t have any emotive strength to tolerate the accusal glances from his son or daughter-in-law and he has no other place to go after selling his home in village.

“I will come earlier.” He softly answered him.

“Okay. Okay.” The priest left him to work.

He nodded and started arranging footwear into the stand.  People came and wore their footwears and dropped one rupee in his hand. He clutched the money in his hand and evaluated that he has to collect at least hundred rupees regardless of what happens. He dropped in the pouch from where at the end of day committee will collect money happens and headed towards another day of struggle to keep his job secured.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Where We Are Heading?

Okay! I agree that the title is more fashionable for the post you are going to read below. After reading the post, you may think I am someone left behind in the fast paced life and writing this in frustration. But this is what I genuinely experienced and this is a place where I get to be what I truly am. Hard and rude it may sound to some but I am here to write the way I feel or see the world, not the way it fancies some individual.
It’s an experience I had recently, while traveling that out me into many to and fro with questions. I had to travel to Hyderabad for some purpose which needed my urgent leave. For the urgency and lack of time I had to do the travelling through bus as trains were fully booked. Before the journey I hadn’t slept well for two days. Hence I less expected this journey to be any exciting even if this was my first time long journey in bus. Even after providing all amenities including the leather bed they couldn’t offer the comfort to give me a goodnight sleep. Every time the bus would jerk a little and I would get up violently. Even if a handsome boy was travelling next to my seat, I was too exhausted to lay an eye on him. In a word I was despicably worn out to do anything.
I arrived in the morning in Hyderabad relaxed that I had no such fuss to regret later like vomiting through out the night. Hyderabad’s clear sky and filtered air was no new to me. They welcomed me warmly kissing my cheeks with the early morning warmth. Then I asked some people who generously helped me with route to HiTech city from the place. I never trust secluded public transports in unknown cities. No one should too. I took a bus and then got at a place from there took another bus.
On the second bus, as it arrived and before its wheels stopped people were running towards it. Most of them were school and college students. Luckily I got a seat in the front. I sat there securely cramming the luggage bag under me feet and trying to breathe some fresh air among the people who were half hanging and half leaned over me. Then all of sudden a heavy school-bag thumped on my lap. I was startled with the sudden action. I looked at them strangely as the girl who had thumped the bag on me zig-zagged in the crowd to her friends group. I might not have told anything but I could barely manage the journey without vomiting and getting choked in crowd. Over to that I had my shoulder-bag and another luggage bag. So I called the girl and asked to take the bag and said sorry for my inability to help her out. She took back the bag with a grim that didn’t affect me much.
I relaxed with lightness which lasted for two minutes barely as after that another bag, heavier than previous was almost flung on me which fortunately missed my newly stitched wound on face. I was more horrified and dumbfound. I sat there silently thinking what I should do. I gently looked at the school girl and told her, “Give her to someone else, please.”
She looked at me like she is my principal and I am defying her task. Then she took the bag with a loud “hun”  and dejectedly curving her lips in vice. I sat there prudently expecting something worse to happen as these days my fate is showing up with a black face only. Then I heard that school girl asking loudly to a friend standing next to me, “ Who is she? How rude?”
“Not from our college.” Her friend answered.
“Whatever. Aaj kal toh bus mein Samaj-seva hota hi nahin hain.” Then she elbowed her friend indicatively towards me, may be for next dialog. Then they whispered something to each other and laughed loudly, high fiving. Their gesture was clear toward me. It was bullying me in the bus.
My mind told me to get up and answer them well. But would have that changed anything in them? NO! They would have got more provoked and back-fire me which would have been totally stupid and unnecessary. So I plugged in some music and listened to it.
But the point of rambling 745 words is where our youth is heading to. Clearly I am five to seven years older than the girl as she is still in school where I have already completed my graduation. My experience and knowledge are as obviously better than her. Even I stand around half a foot taller than her. With her behavior she looked any intelligent than cow. Above from that she even doesn’t have manner to talk to elders. Elders don’t imply only people with graying hair and wrinkled skin. Elder means anyone who has the years in his life which counts more than yours. And you should respect them and their experience. Standing next to them, cracking jokes and gossiping about them won’t make you any modern. At least it won’t in my eyes. Instead it will make you imbecile and brute. I am not saying we shouldn’t help each other but we shouldn’t bully anyone in the name of help.
I have also seen the world, have stayed in fancy places that you can dream of, have used gadgets that you have barely heard of. I have Bachelors in Technology in Computer Science which means the thing that you proudly use everyday naming advance technologies, we have studied them. Don’t you think I am modern? I write boldly, about crime, love, relationship, sex and awareness. Am I not modern? But flanking behind the modernity at least I don’t cross the line. I know the limit. But do the young people know it?

Source- image

Monday, January 13, 2014

Perfect Deal

She sniffed a puff of the scent tightly clutching her husband’s shirt to her chest. For a moment all her resentment dawned into ecstasy. Expensive. The word rang in her mind like bells in hillside temples, far yet conspicuous through the perimeter. After years of saving a few rupees with discounts at some mart across the city, to where it takes her one hour on foot, all she could think of was how much the perfume might have cost? May be the whole ration of the month could be bought with that money. Or may be of two months as this was the most exotic thing she had ever smelled in her mediocre life. No doubt her husband was lured by this lady.

Then the second thought that flashed to her mind what would she be looking like? Must be like some top class model with brand name hanging even from hair clips. She must be ethereal. For a while she couldn’t blame her husband. How could she even? What did she have to offer than services of a maid and a tattered body torn and scavenged twice for two children? She never even smelled this good, not even in their wedding. And what’s the benefit of even confronting her husband. If he accepts the illicit affair and says that he wants to go with the lady then where will she go? To her mother who is in knee depth of debt with her father’s treatment? And what will their two children do? Where will they go? What about their education?

The ringing of phone brought her back from the complex land of bi-headed questions. She took the call and it was from her mother. She talked to her for ten minutes and from there she came to know that her father’s health is deteriorating and doctors are planning to start a new treatment. This new treatment was going to be very pricey with no doubt and she had no idea of how her mother will manage the money alone.

The tension seemed to weigh some mountain on her head. She didn’t know how to put everything in order. She wished, like a five year old girl that some magic will happen. But her rational mind denied it. Her husband’s question broke the silence in the room.

“You ironed my shirt?”He asked rubbing his body to dry after bath.
She handed him the shirt she had clutched the whole time.
“This one, I wore it yesterday. I told you I need my white shirt today. What’s wrong with you? I am getting late for office.”

She smiled at her husband and the impatience and obedience for that lady. “The shirt” She paused. “It smells good. Is she your boss?”

Her husband stunned into a stone statue there and his handsome face going pink to purple. She watched him carefully taking breath and framing the answer. “I…I don’t know what..” Her husband stammered before she rested his words with a firm hand.   

“It’s okay. I understand, at least I try to.”
“I am sorry.” His eyes were lowered with shame when he spoke these words. “I was to tell you. But..”
“But you were concerned how your family will react when they will get to know that their ideal son has done something like this.”
He nodded.
“Well. You don’t have to. We can keep up like this. I don’t have a problem till your pay the house bills. I just have one condition.”
“That I need some more money now. Around twenty to thirty thousand.”
“But this is a big amount.”
“The lie I am going to cover up is also bigger than the truth of our marriage.”
“But why do need the money?”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want it to squander like you. Doctors have asked to start a new treatment for Baba. I need money for that. “
“Oh.” He spoke stressing over the word.
“I need it now.”

Her husband marched toward the locker and took three bundles of rupees and threw on her that slapped on her chest and went on to take out the white shirt.

She gathered the money and put it in a brown bag and headed out for her mother’s place.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

A Bad Day

He trudged to the tail of serpentine line before ATM machine that seemed to snail 
like ages there only. He rubbed his hands and ensconced in the underarms but 
the hairy roots instead condensed more warm moisture. He looked at the people 
standing at them and was returned upon with a judgmental disgusted stare.

 “Not their fault.” He thought to himself upon their loathing glares.
He was wearing a vest that was torn and smudged in patches. His hands were dusty and his face was distorted. The few hairs on the crown those could be counted with fingers whistled in the swift breeze like tails of kite. His nose was numb like all other part of his ballooned body but he was sure that he smelled 
anything but pleasant.

After waiting for long time, gazing at the different shoes, heels and chappals, his 
bare feet finally moved into the ATM counter. As the line of people peered 
through the thick glass with impatience for their turn, he inserted his hand into the front of his pants. A repelled hiss seeped through the thinnest gape between doors.

  He sighed and slipped out an ATM card from inside of his pants.

“Secret pocket! Now I understand the importance.” He thought to himself while 
inserting the card and punching the numbers. A stiff note of thousand rupees fell 
from the wide mouth.
Grabbing the money from there and folding it inside his grip we came outside. 

The same kind of disgusting stare accompanied till he vanished into the city 

He went to a small shop where it was written STD & LOCAL CALLS on an old hoarding. A much corpulent man was sitting munching on some more snacks and watching some daily soap on TV. He went into the stop and handed the man the 
thousand rupees bill.

“No change!” The shopkeeper’s voice seemed coming far from a cave travelling 
through the layers of fat.

“It’s urgent. Whatever you have I am fine with it.” He grunted thinking even one 
thousand rupees is not worthy for making a call here.

The shopkeeper stared at him like some reptile intruding into his shop and inched away the phone towards the man who looked pretty much like some 
street beggar. May be got a clean hand on some rich! The shopkeeper thought to 
himself and kept silence.

The man looked at the number pad where the buttons were faded. If they weren’t arranged mannerly, they might have required some archeologist to unravel the 
numbers on them. He thought for a while trying to remember a number. These growing technology has thickened their skin so much that after people got 
hundreds of contacts saved into a small portable machine they even don’t bother 
much to remember any number.

He remembered his home number but there is no way he could do that unless he 
want more whirling ordeals circling like vultures on his head. He tried harder and after three trials he succeeded in calling to the desired contact.

The first call went unanswered as the second did too. On the third time call was answered with a persistent voice.
“Hello.” The irritated corporate voice answered.
“Hello, Viswas.”
“Hello, Boss. You were calling. I am so sorry. I didn’t know it’s you. So sorry.”
Viswas has always been humble, polite and more apologetic. That’s why he thought he could trust his secretary. Why to pay them for if they can’t help you out in a situation.
“It’s fine. How did the meeting go?”
“It was fine. The French clients were impressed and signed the agreement too. I tried to call you on your number after finalizing the deal but your number was out of reach.”
It’s out of reach from me too. He thought for a while. “Okay. I need you do something urgently.”
“Yes, Boss. Tell me.” His secretary answered promptly.
“Trace my call on GPS. Drive there as soon as you can but alone. And while coming bring me a Harris Tweed jacket along with shirt and trouser of my size. Right there.”
“Got you, boss.” The line went blank after that.
The man stared at the old phone again. The shop was small and smelled more like old and sticky fries.

Fifteen minutes later a sleek black limousine appeared before the small shop. The shopkeeper stared at car like some spaceship had arrived.
As the vehicle halted on the road, the man marched to there and slipped into its backseat. As per his instruction his secretary had came alone and the Harris Tweed jacket along with fine linen shirt and tailored trouser lied in there.

The secretary tried to tie his tongue but couldn’t stop asking the question. “Boss, you don’t look well. Are you okay? Anything happened.”
“Nothing just a bad day I guess.” The man answered as the limousine maneuvered through the crowd.