Silence

She was busy working in the kitchen.Preparing lunch and breakfast.
It was almost eight o’clock and Neha had to leave at 8:30.

She was having an exam today hence was not giving her mother a helping hand in the daily morning chores.

Neha was busy mumbling the formulas and concepts in her room when she heard her mother’s voice.

“Come downstairs and pack your lunch“,her mother shouted.

"Coming “,Neha replied back. 

In a minute Neha was standing besides her mother.Cutting apple into slices for the breakfast,still mumbling the formulas and concepts.

“Okay, now here’s milk and bread.Make yourself a cup of coffee and a pair of bread-butter.Then you can go.”  She had an exam in an hour! In an hour! And it ain’t was some school level exam! An engineering level exam.But Neha have always been a good daughter,an obeying all the order girl .

She took it as a pleasure to assist her mother in household work which is usually not the case for any of today’s age girl.She took this work too with a pleasure even though she had an exam.

“Okay.I am done.I am leaving“,Neha said,picking up the cup and the plate of bread-butter.She had made herself a cup of coffee along with a pair of bread-butter,with butter applied on simple plain bread.

Why are you eating plain bread?Why didn’t you make a toast?“,her mother inquired.According to her mother, bread eaten in raw form was not a very healthy idea.Hence she always used to insist on eating a toasted bread or an oven-ed bread. 

Neha answered,in a low voice as she knew the reason was enough to make a spark for a fight between her and her mother early morning.

“I have to study.I will eat plain bread only today”,she made it simple,not to include any repulsive words to attract any argument.

“Why don’t you say that you like plain bread that’s why you are having it”.

“No mother.It’s not that.I hate plain bread.I love toasted bread.I love it especially with butter.But I love it because you always make me that.And today I am not having it because you didn’t make it for me.”,she wanted to say.But she kept quiet.

Quiet because her mother had a rough start in the morning with her father on some issue and she just didn’t want to annoy her mother anymore herself.Hence she decided to leave in Silence !

Smita 

Red Daubed 63

The paper was still in his hands when he walked out of the classroom. He slowly walked down the stairs, a narrow passageway through the doors that followed to the road. He felt ever so great thinking of freedom from school but maybe he did not think that it was just momentary, for two days. He knew he would again have to suffer, and be scold by his parents because had again failed the mathematics test. But maybe he did see something change this time, a spark of light in the darkness of his mind, followed by a enormous chill of yell, of pain.

He knew mathematics was not for him, maybe because he felt that mathematics was finite. It was not that he hated finite beings but that he did not connect with those finite beings, though they would claim infinite and imaginary. As he rode on the bus, he grabbed a sit and thought why it would be called "imaginary number", a number that is ought to be imagined or maybe it was just that one did not imagine just as anyone else.

"Does that mean we have to lose our identity?" As he questioned himself, he did not realize that he was speaking aloud, quite clearly for the other rides to understand his words. But he felt that he had no existence just as anyone and that everyone coincided in their own locations, immovable. He did not want to believe that at all. Then he started to reason with himself, complicating the matters even further.

Mathematics was finite, too narrow for anyone to say that was that would bring humans happiness and joy. He reasoned because of mathematics, we know the difference between less than and greater than, causing panic among us when we learn that one gets more points that another. Do we not see a difference among ourselves because of these, and do we not feel jealousy when we see that? He asked himself why one was one, and why would one be considered less than two but the only thing he could think of was that it was how the human race perceived these. Maybe because one might reason that one has to be greater than the other, only that way there would be a "balance in the universe". But again he could not think what "balance" actually would be, and what "balance" would actually form into shape. He wondered upon his own self if he could ever find the answer to the question why one was one and why two was two and why two would be called greater than one. He needed to find the answer and prove to his parents that he had gotten a better grade, and that he had passed.

Maybe he could not, maybe we were ourselves programmed that way, programmed just as the numbers were or just as the imaginary number was.

"Why do they call this number imaginary when it is not what I imagine? Yes, yes I imagine it to be less than hundred whereas the student recognizes it as square root of -2. It is imaginary, then where is the imagination? He wanted to know why his answers were wrong, but contracted his heart every time he thought about asking the question aloud. It was all because he was full of fear, mixing himself with the ordinary world and how they would perceive the existence itself. He saw numbers differently because he saw how he was different from his mother, then wouldn't there be difference in the views also, in the different numbers that everyone tried to call the same.

The bus stopped as an automated motion, he walked out of the bus. He walked out quickly from the bus, swiftly amongst the other passengers that were leaving off the bus. Then he realized the mistake he had done himself and autonomously waved the bus again before it started to leave off from the bus stop. The bus driver would not stop and casually thought the student was trying to attain the attention of others in the street. As he started to pull away, the student started to run towards the bus, with his school bag fastened to him, onto the road. The bus driver immediately cautiously stopped the bus but the student did stop.

There laid a red daubed 63 laid on the road.

Good Deed Bad Deed

The two of us lay on the terrace on a clear night, both of us with a joint lit in our hand and stared at the sky. She suddenly broke the silence.

“People become stars when they die…”

I looked at her as her face reflected the orange glow of the lit joint. ‘Where did that come from?’ I thought. I figured being high on weed makes you philosophical so I put in my own two cents.

“They go to Heaven. The bad ones go to Hell.”

A trail of smoke emerged from my lips as I spoke and danced in the air, reaching for the stars.

“Who’s a good person and who’s a bad person?” she asked, her voice husky due to the weed, never taking her eyes off the stars.

I looked at her again. ‘Nope. She isnt kidding around.’ I thought. She was expecting an answer.

“Good people are good people and bad people are bad people…” That was all I could think of saying. “…you know what I mean?”

“I don’t.” she replied and took a deep breath. She really was high.

“Umm…good people are the ones who have done good deeds and bad people are the ones who have done bad deeds.” I explained and took a last long drag hoping the explanation was good enough.

“What is a good deed and what is a bad deed?”

“Can you stop the crap now? You are ruining the trip.” I said wiping off the sweat on my forehead and started rolling another joint.

She completely ignored my request. “Is smoking weed or having sex or fighting a sin?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So we are going to Hell?”

I kept quiet. She looked at me. I looked back. Then she went back to staring at the stars. My silence must have told her I didn’t have an answer. She was quiet for a while. Just when I thought the conversation was finally over, she spoke again.

“If I kill a man and I think I’m not wrong, then I’m right. I haven’t done a bad deed.” She paused to look if I was listening, then to her finished joint which she replaced with a new one and took a deep drag.

“…and if I haven’t done a bad deed then it has to be a good deed. I think smoking weed isnt a bad deed either…”

She paused for a few seconds and looked at me smoking. It seemed as if she wanted me to somehow acknowledge what she said. I was thinking about it anyway.

She continued. “…so that means there is no such thing as a bad deed. Then there is no one who goes to Hell. If everything is a good deed then everyone goes to Heaven. That means we are living in Hell.”

The fact struck me hard as if someone had punched me in the stomach. It was the deepest thing I had ever heard. ‘I am in Hell smoking weed.’ I thought.

“Okay. So you kill a man and you think it is right. So it is a good deed and you go to Heaven. This place is Hell, and everyone goes to Heaven. Agreed? But what happens if you feel guilty?”

The question made sense, I could make out by her expression. She twitched her eyes a little, then frowned. The question bothered her but only for a few seconds and then she looked up at the sky again, smiling.

“I think feeling guilty is a good deed.”

I asked for

I asked for Strength...
And God gave me difficulties to make me strong.

I asked for Wisdom...
And God gave me Problems to solve.

I asked for prosperity...
And God gave me a Brain and Brawn to work.


I asked for Courage…..
And God gave me obstacles to overcome.

I asked for Love...
And God gave me Troubled people to help.

I asked for Favours...
And God gave me Opportunities.

“I received nothing I wanted...
But I received everything I needed."

Now, I Move Up

[This is my Entry to the "Ascension" Short Fiction Contest in Clarity of Night]

[Entry # 87]

I came back to consciousness when I felt the soft brushes of the escalator touching me over my jeans. I was standing on the stairs and they were ascending. The earth always moves; but I never sensed it before. How dumb I was! I kept on howling and repenting on my times of yore, when I was stagnant and everything else kept moving – in its own pace. Nothing stopped for me; none stopped for me. I wailed, when I found myself abandoned in life. I saw my people moving ahead and felt left out. I cried. I saw my life stuck in debris of faults, mistakes and losses. I stopped dreaming and I stopped craving for realizing them too. I had no aim in life. I lost all hopes.


This is when I met him – the man of my thoughts. He changed my life completely. He took me by my hands and led me into the world that constantly rotates and revolves. I no more expect people to stop for me and say a few words of praise. Now, I do whatever it takes to materialize my dreams and acquire everyone’s eulogy. How I wish to have met him earlier! He lifted me from the ashes as this escalator is lifting me to the next level. Today is the day I have been waiting for. Today is the day of triumph. I just need to reach the apex and step into a life where the escalators move up – only upwards!

Ascension...

Two stories in one...! Folks, the post below has 2 stories, completely different ideas, by two different authors! Both written for the Ascension short story contest at Clarity of Night. 

Both have been inspired by this picture.

The first one by Rashi V:

Till Death Do Us Part

When I saw them, I knew where he had got his looks. He had his dad’s smile and his mother’s eyes. But the mischief was all his. That is what I had fallen in love with. He had asked me to marry him 3 days ago. And I was going to meet his parents for the first time today. I remember him getting down on one knee having only the waves and the stars to be witness of our love.

My heart fills with emotion as I remember us going hand in hand to the local Leopold café to celebrate. It was the same place I had met my English man. He was returning home after 7 years and wanted me to come along. “Be my bride in white,” he said. I remembered how he gazed into my eyes and brushed the hair off my face. I remember being jolted back to reality with loud shots. From behind a desk, I remember seeing a couple of gunmen a few feet away. His arms around me, I felt safe. As the mob disappeared, I remember saying my prayers. I remember seeing his ashen face, the shock and sorrow in his eyes. I remember seeing the blood at his chest.

As I step on the escalator, to receive his parents at Mumbai Airport, I remember the promise of making all his mine. Suddenly, I hear a whisper, his voice, “Not even till death do us apart.”

Soon, I’m going to England.

----------------------------------------

The second one by me, Leo:

Living For Our Dream

We were a family, always together. Just the three of us, in the small single bedroom apartment I rented.

I worked in a software company that didn’t pay much, but had managed to save every penny for one thing. She had not spoken even by the age of five, but doctors said that with surgery, an expensive one, we would hear her speak soon. It was our dream, something we prayed for every day all these years. When I got home from work, she would jump into my arms and smile. Yet, she could only write her thoughts on a sheet of paper. I would hug her and go to the verandah and sit there, crying silently, daily.

When she was ten, I got a good job offer, complete with high pay and perks, but I had to go abroad the next day itself. Even though it meant going away from them, I knew it would help realize that dream. I accepted. When I told her, she cried. She wouldn’t leave my shoulder, and I didn’t want to let go either. She held my hand all the way to the airport. Trying not to cry, I extracted her hand and walked away. I turned back to see her silently waving at me. I started to cry. After looking at her for what seemed like an eternity, I stepped on the escalator.

Then I heard the words…

“Daddy, I love you. Don’t leave me.”

We are a family, still together.

------------------------

Hope you liked both...! Comments and criticism welcome!

Family,Office and Love - 3

Read Part1
Read Part2


(disappointed girlfriend)

They both sat down at the park for some time. Parul stared at Ram. Her blue eyes and her pale skin would attract everyone. She reminded Ram of their first date.

‘Achha, Ram '

‘Tell me, what was I wearing when I met you for the first time,’ Parul smiled at Ram.

Ram was quite nervous about the project .He was worried.

‘No, sweety, I don’t remember,’said Ram showing signs of tension.

She came nearer to him,but he moved away from her.

‘How, rude. You don’t know how to talk to a girl,’ sobbed she.

‘Yeah, I don’t,’

‘Lets leave this place, I have more work,’ Ram was in a hurry.

‘Don’t talk to me,’ cried Parul.

‘You don’t deserve a girlfriend,’Parul said to him.

‘You IT geeks are like this,’said she.

‘You don’t know how to talk to a girl,’ she went aside

‘Yaar, its not like that,’ Ram said to her.

‘You know me for the past 2 years, I believed that you know me very well,’ Ram said.

‘I am actually tensed and nervous,may be that was the reason why I didn’t respond,’ Ram said with a gentle smile on his face.

This is the first time that such kind of scenario has taken place.They both know each other very well.Ram was very much aware of her behaviour.She loved him very much and always wanted to live a life with him.She was hurt to such an extent and it was the main reason that brought tears into her eyes.Human behavior are subjected to tensions,nervousness and various other factors which eventually upset them.Parul was very much aware of Ram’s mental condition at that point of time and that was the main reason why she asked him to go out with her.She cared and adored him.The very first day when they met each other,Parul started liking him.She accepted his proposal just because of his character.He was from a middle class family unlike Parul who was a businessman’s only daughter .

‘By any means ,I din’t want to offend you,’Ram said .

‘Am sorry,’ Ram said to her.

‘No problem dear,'Parul said.

They both left for their office.

After few hours ,they reach their office. Every one could see Parul’s face swollen red. She had cried like anything.

‘What happened Pari?’ Nisha asked Parul.

‘Leave it.Its between me and Ram,’ she said to her with a sad face.

The group members were working fast so as the complete the project within the stipulated deadline.

‘Woa,see how hard we are toling .It seems like we are scrubbing our asses ,’laughed Deepak .

'Look at Richa,Man What the hell is she doing?' Deepak said .

‘Shut up ,’ shouted Richa.

(to be continued..)

Family,Office and Love - 1

Ok ,This was actually posted on my personal blog.This is for the lounge members out here.


(All characters in this post are imaginary.)

'What is this, Ram? I need to talk to you regarding some serious issue’, Ravikumar said to Ramkumar with an angry tone.

‘What matter?’ asked Ramkumar.

Ramkumar was Ravikumar’s only son .Ravikumar (will be called Ravi from on) and Shyamala were very proud of their son Ramkumar.He was the biggest asset to them. Ram was their only hope to the family. Ravi and Shyamala had laid all hopes on him and were hopeful that he will take care of his sister Archana.Ram was turning 26 and his parents had some different plan.

‘Dad! What happened?’ questioned Ram.

‘I am getting late for office. Shall we talk later dad.’ smiled Ramkumar.

‘Sure son, but do come home early ‘Ravi said addressing his son.

‘Fine Appa, I will try’ said Ram.

‘bye Appa, bye Amma ‘Ram left.

‘Shyamala, can you get me a cup of coffee, dear?’ Ravi asked his wife, with Hindustan Times on his hand.

‘Seri (ok)’ Shyama went to kitchen to make coffee.

Meanwhile Ravi was reading Hindustan times.

The Kumar’s lived in a small town near Coimbatore .They were Orthodox Brahmins from Pallakad.Ravikumar was working in Customs .Few years ago, he took voluntary retirement for his son’s education. He took his VRS when he was left with 10 years of his service.

‘Take your coffee ‘Shyama placed the coffee cup on the table.

‘Umm, the coffee is sweet just like my sweet wife’ Ravi said taking a sip.

‘Archana is here and you should know that she is a grown up kid now’ said Shyama.

‘Shyama, you make me feel old .Who would say that I am a father of 2 children’ winked Ravi.

Archana was Ravi’s daughter and she was doing her 12^th class from Sri Kalyan College of Science near Coimbatore. As usual she was once again late for her lecture and was late for her Zoology class. Shyama was having a casual chat with her husband regarding their son.

‘Amma!!’ Archana shouted for once.

‘Where is my lunch box’ Archana shouted at her mother with an angry tone.

‘Take your lunch box and do come home early’ Shyama said to Archana with a straight face.

‘Seri Maa (ok mom)’

‘Bye Appa’ Archana hurried.

When Love Died

Based on true events.
Actual names.
10th October, 2003.


She was beaming like a solitary star in an inky black sky. Her hair shone like moonlight and sunlight woven together in a magnificent tapestry. I longed to run my fingers through its softness, wrap shining black strands of it around my fingers. I saw her eyes, blinking brightly, mesmerizing despite the shroud of tears that veiled her gaze.

I wished she would not cry. I wished I could make her smile instead. But that wish was beyond my reach. I realized that. Instead, if I could just reach out and catch her tears on the palm of my hands, free them from their onerous journey down her pink cheeks, my own heart wouldn’t hurt this badly.

“I’m sorry he hurt you.” I whispered, but she couldn’t hear me. Priyanka’s sobs retained sound and broke free from her in brutal, heaving bursts. After a while she hiccuped, but her cries ebbed, as if the faucet of her emotions was suddenly turned off. She sighed, defeated.

“I wish I could make it better for you.” I said. Priyanka still did not hear me, in the mild sighing of the summer’s night air amongst the persistent chirping of the crickets. I squinted, wishing that she would look at me, see me. I’m right here!

Instead she closed her eyes, long, wet eyelashes resting gently on her skin. She angrily, mournfully, pounded her small fist against her leg.

“How could he?” she cried in despair. She shook her head and the veil of her hair shimmered like starlight. She opened her wet eyes and gazed off into the starless night, at something I couldn’t see. The crescent moon hung above, wrapping its luminous arms around her in a comforting embrace.

“He doesn’t love you like I do. I would never hurt you.”  I nibbled miserably on my bottom lip. I shifted my position, as if to go to her, but a sudden shadow pooled over her frame. Priyanka looked up with glistening brown eyes, her mouth trembling. I sucked in a tortured breath, watching from the shelter of trees along the dark garden, as she stood to meet her lover. Their voices floated along the garden to greet me, mock me.

“You hurt me, Vinayak.” She said, bitterness marring the usual mellow timbre of her voice. She stood from the cement steps and turned her back on the tall penitent boy beside her. The boy gently laid a hand on her back and she seemed to melt into his touch. I choked back a sob from my hiding spot, desperate to get away, to not torture myself this way. My love was being touched by another. I felt as if my heart would literally shatter into a million shards, like fragile glass.

“If only I could tell you that I love you!” I thought desperately. “You wouldn’t need someone like Vinayak, who will only hurt you!”

“I promise. I will never lie to you again.” Priyanka looked up at Vinayak; hope skittered across her sweet face.

“You promise?” she asked, and a hesitant smile touched the corners of her lips. Vinayak nodded.

When they leaned closer, their lips touched and a strangled cry emitted deep down from my throat. The swiftness of it startled even me and I clasped my mouth with my hands but I was a moment too late. I froze in fear as the couple stared curiously in my direction.

“Who’s there?” Vinayak called out, his fists clenched at his sides, stepping towards where I hid in the canopy of trees.

“Oh!” Priyanka murmured as she noticed me. She furrowed her brow, and a look of disgust darkened her features.

“Vinayak.” she whispered. “It’s that creepy guy from school who keeps staring at me all the time.”

Vinayak moved forward to reach for me, but she laid a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him go.” She said and they stared at me and I stared vacantly back.

“Creepy? Did she just call me creepy?” A horrible, piercing hollow filled my guts and I clutched my stomach.

“My love, my light, thinks I am strange?”

“B—but I love you!” I blurted out finally, as if the mere words aloud could convince her of my sincerity. I pictured her in my mind, smiling at me, holding out her hands to grasp mine, her lips meeting my cheek. But instead, she snorted, “Love me? You don’t even know me!” She exchanged amused looks with Vinayak who no longer looked threatened but pleased.

“Go home, kid.” He said. “Leave this to the big boys.” And he winked at me. I struggled to breathe, feeling as if a burning hot knife had pierced my chest.

“She is laughing at me.” I thought, dazed. “What kind of a person laughs at another’s pain?”

“I—I’m sorry.” I muttered, backing away in haste. “I made a mistake.” I turned and fled through the bushes, ignoring the slaps and scratches of branches and thorns on my bare skin and the tingle of tears as they raced down my cheeks. I retreated, heart-broken, to the sound of Priyanka’s laughter, loud and cruel, and it was then that I realized that my love had died.

Missing her ...

“No, I’m leaving now.”

“Please stay. We have only ten more minutes and after that we can…”

She did not let me finish my words and stood up. She took her books, held them close to her chest and looked straight into Dr. K. P. Ranade’s eyes. He looked back.

“Sorry Sir, I need to go now. I’m getting late.”

Before he could utter a word, Gayatri was out of the class. He went (almost) running behind her as if to call her and raised his hand in anticipation. He was about to shout when he stopped. He came back with a dropped head and came close to the green board. He threw the chalk stick out of the window which got lost in the dark in a flash, and smiled; as if he was thinking of his olden golden days. He looked at me. I moved my eyes away from him.

“Class is adjourned for the day,” he said as he picked up the duster to clean his hand and the board.

Everybody looked at each other. This never happened in last two years here. We were used to Dr. Ranade’s four hours of class, two days a week and every week for the last two years. We were in dilemma, whether to move out or it was one more prank from this old prankster.

“Do I send you a card now? Get lost,” he shouted in the peak of his voice and the whole building shook. I felt my desk moving and we jumped from our chairs and went straight out of the class, into the lawn and out of the gate of the institute.

It is half past nine now and one and half hours for the schedule closure of classes. The watchmen looked at us in surprise. Does everybody know Dr. Ranade and his way of teaching? I doubt! I was amongst the first few who leaped out of the classroom. I got a glance of the old man’s eyes while leaving as if he was asking me to stay back and talk to him and help him out of his misery; but I was on my own hurry – and I rushed out to see if I can find Gayatri somewhere. I came out, crossed the road and asked Rajan, the shopkeeper to give me a light. I took one out of the cigarette box and lit it outside the dark shop. There was hardly any customer apart from us, the students of Prabhabati School of Business and Entrepreneurship. It was so dark that I could only see the main gate of our campus with the golden logo on it and the last part of the name of the college in silver.

“Did you see Gayatri around here? She came out a few minutes ago.” I held the cigarette between two fingers and asked Rajan, who went clueless. I knew he would not tell anything without any tip; but I did not have any to offer him. I went past the shop and crossed the road again and came closer to the gate. One of those ogling watchmen came running as if I was detonating a bomb there.

“I’m not coming in with the cigarette. Stop.” I held my palm up and told him. He stopped but strolled towards me.

“Did you see Gayatri, I mean, a girl in jeans and white jacket coming out of the class before us? She left just before us and came out. Did you see anything?”

“No.” He said and looked at me in anticipation. I took one more drag and left him stranded. A few of us went in their own vehicles and rest of us was waiting for the institute bus, to leave at eleven ten. I sat near the shop for a long time looking here and there, sometimes restlessly but could not locate Gayatri. She did not come till we left. The bus moved fast and I reached home in almost no time.

Gayatri did not turn up for the rest of the week. For some reason, Dr. Ranade skipped his next class too. Well, they say everything happens for the first time someday. We did not care much. I came back from school on Friday night and slept. I was tired.

“Sukanya, get up girl. It’s almost noon now. Your mother is waiting for you to go out.”

“Yes Bua, five minutes,” and I pulled the blanket and tried to steal those last moments of the morning sleep.

“There is news about your evening college. Some girl called Gayatri Ranade is missing for some days now and her father has advertised a callback. Check it when you wake up completely.”

Bua (My father’s sister) left leaving the paper on my bed side. The last few words rang in my head – Gayatri – missing – callback! I threw the bedspread and jumped on the paper, where I found the following note:

I could not read the number in full. My eyes were full of tears and Gayatri’s face appeared in front of me.

The Pugilist 2

(All characters in this post are imaginary)

My coach Mr Harwinder Singh always used to say that my fore hand punch is the most effective and has greater impact.I remembered my coach’s advice and started using the same trick that he taught me few years ago.

Sameer was trying to defend himself.My aggression increased and I started punching him like anything.I just wanted to defeat him and it was all in my mind.

The third round got over and the score was 9-6 in my favour.He failed to score any point in the third round.I wanted to take advantage of this situation.I turned round to see the girls reaction.She was praying and I believed that she was praying for me

The fourth round started and my aggression increased.I just wanted to punch ,punch and punch.Finally he fell down .He was badly injured and was bleeding profusely.The referee then called off the match and declared me as the winner.I won the bout match by 15-6 in my favour.Sameer ‘s match winning streak record was finally broken by me.

I believed that I had impressed the girl,but I was shocked.I searched for her.I then turned around to see Sameer.Later on I came to know that the girl was Sameer’s girlfriend.She was weeping like anything.

I felt like I was a subversionist who always hurt other people.Never in my life I believed that she would be his girlfriend.I ,actually had no sympathy towards Sameer ,but it wasn’t intentional.

‘Sameer ,please get up dear ,’ she sobbed.I was shocked and I felt strange.

That very night I could not sleep nor I couldn’t eat my food.I wanted to meet Sameer and wanted to apologise. He was severely injured and in a critical condition.He was admitted in Heritage hospital in Pune. I went to the hospital with a flower bouquet .I wasn’t surprised to see that girl with him.She was seated next to him.

‘Hello Sameer,’ I said .

‘oh hi Champion,’ he said with a jest.

I know he was hurt ,but he was in a joking mood.

‘I am sorry ,’ I said to him and also apologized to the girl.

‘You are a Brutus,cruel and an insane guy,’ She bursted her anger upon me.

It was an awful situation.

‘I have a wish and you have to fulfillit,’ I asked her.

‘what wish?,’ she asked.

‘I want you to smile for me,’ I said to her.

‘Are you a physcho,how can I smile at this point of time,’ she refused at once.

‘please,’ I pleaded.

She never wanted her boyfriend to lose future matches.She studied that I was the only threat to him in the boxing field.She wanted me to leave the college forever.

‘But on one condition,’ she said.

‘what?’ I replied.

‘You have to leave the college,’ she said.

I thought for a while and finally said yes.

I wanted to leave the place and boxing forever.That day I realized that boxing can hurt any one badly.I wanted to go to my home.I wanted to meet Esha.

‘Iwill leave,’ I said with a smile.

‘but before going you have to smile for me,’ I asked her.

She made a fake smile.This was different from the one which impressed me.

‘B y the way what is your name?,’ I asked her.

I knew her as a person ,but I really didn’t knew her name .I wanted to know her name before leaving Pune.

‘Esha,’ she said.

‘what,’ I was surprised.

‘Esha Bhatia’ she said.

Esha reminded me of my girlfriend.She was similar in almost all aspect to my girlfriend.I returned back to my hostel.The very day I called my dad and asked him to get admission for me in a Mumbai college.Later on I got admission in a famous Engineering college .

I returned back to Mumbai .I hugged my mom and my sisters.I told them how I loved them.I wanted to meet Esha.I have always hurted Esha.Now I wanted to continue with Esha.I loved her very much.

I went to her home.Later on I got to know that Esha had gone to US for her further studies.She would live with her uncle’s family.Esha’s sister Nisha told me that she wont return back to India for atleast another 6 years. I was upset ,I wanted to talk to her .I just wanted her to know how much I loved her.Nisha further added that Esha was angry with me and never wanted to see me again in her lifetime.I couldn’t believe that my Esha would have said it.I wasn’t surprised as I have hurted her to such an extent.

Now,I sit alone with no dreams to galore.Now,I just wait for her.Wait and wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Thank You~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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The Pugilist

(All characters in the story are imaginary)

I still wonder why people hate a pugilist. Its a disgusting fact that people welcome a boxer whenever he wins a medal otherwise they don’t even bother to look after them. People always believed that I am an unlucky person or I am not a lucky charm. I still remember those days when everyone used to stay away from me .Even my family members never showed faith and trust in me. Even Esha failed to understand me as a result of which we broke up.Apart from these factors,I was obsessed with one thing. It could not be washed away from my mind.I concentrated on my daily routine and a 2 hour compulsory boxing practice. It has taught me various things that my parents didn’t.

I always failed to perform well in studies as in my initial stages of my life I took boxing seriously. I have dedicated my life to this sport.Now,I feel that boxing is everything to me. My craze and madness for this sport could not secure an Engineering seat for me in Mumbai. Dad could have managed to get a seat for me in a famous Engineering College, but I didn’t want .I always wished to stay away from my parents and my two little sisters Anu and Ashu.I believe that my family members would prefer sending me in a hostel as they considered me as a useless weed. This was the first instance when I was staying away from my family. All parents would wish their son perform well in studies and I totally agree with it.But they would get angry when they see me with my boxing kit. I failed to cherish every moment of my life.I failed in the process of being a good son and a good lover.Now,everything between me and Esha is over.I once believed that Esha was the only one in my life who would cultivate the seeds of happiness for me. I still remember those conversations which I guess could not be erased from my mind.

‘I want you to leave boxing once and for all,’said Esha to me.

‘Go to hell, never in my life I would leave boxing ,’ I said with a vex.

‘Ok,fine I give you two options me or boxing, select ,’ said she.

I always wanted to be a boxer in life and I always wished to raise the level of this sport in this country. I wanted to win Olympic medals for India. I wanted to be like Emile Garry, Mike Tykson, Muhamad Ali and Vijendra Kumar. My mind was and is obsessed with boxing.

‘I select boxing,’ I said to Esha.

‘Fine then,Bye ,’ She said to me.

Not even in my wildest dreams,I could think of Esha saying that.I loved her verymuch.Esha Singh was everything to me.I shared all my personal problems with her,but to vain she left me with full of pain.She could have killed me instead of hurting me.I sometimes feel that I am worthless and winning gold and silver is not a big deal.I could not know what was running in Esha’s mind.Now,I live in a hostel with 2 room mates.Shayan and Darshan also featured in the under 19 chess championship event.I was happy living with people of same genre like me.They loved sports like me.

‘Rajiv! Why are you so sad and why is this agony dude?,’ said Anoj to me.

‘Leave it Shayan,’I answered him.

I was always agitated and disturbed.I wanted to change my attitude.I reckon that people hate me just because of my attitude.

Lectures were going on smoothly and it was my first Physics lecture.

‘Good morning students, lets Introduce our self ,’ said Patel sir.

‘I am Prashant Patel am going to teach you Physics,’ said Patel sir.

‘I am Rajiv Sukhani from Mumbai.I am attracted towards boxing.I have won many boxing competitions till now,’I paused .

I had no intentions of impressing any one.I loved to be a loner,a solitary life. Initially very few people spoke to me. They had to think twice before talking to me.I was devoid of the so called Marathi language and to vain,it was the communication medium.People find it difficult to digest that I am a boxer.I was glued to this sport since childhood and I could not think of any kind of aversion. Esha knew it.I wanted to be a good lover to Esha,but I would still wonder if she accepts me now.

I even nominated my name for the inter college kick boxing event,just because I am pretty much attached to boxing. My first bout match was against Stephen Anthony.He was the runner up in the previous year.I defeated Stephen by a score of 15-0 in my favour.

Every one applauded and there was scope for a hope.Now people knew my name .Very few people supported me.That was the day I was seeing her for the first time.As the referee raised my hands to indicate me as the winner,I could see a big smile on her face. She had an angelic and a magical face.I could not let my eyes off her. I could only see her lovely Voilet eyes.I could see my Esha back in her form.I wanted to talk to her.I was not in a hurry.Her smile said it all.

I won the other two matches in quick succession.By then, all girls wanted to be my friends and as usual I used to refuse.I wanted to talk to that innocent girl who smiled at me. I reached the finals of the competition. I was supposed to play Sameer Shinde in the final.I learned that Sameer was the defending champion and had won the competions since 3 years. He defeated Stephen by 13-8 in the finals in previous year.He was a true champion in his own way.

The day arrived.It was the final in the 71kg bout.Sameer was the clear favourite.It was 12:35 pm.We both were invited to the ring. The referee instructed us and the game began.It was a great opportunity for me to beat Sameer.I wanted to break his winning streak.I always start the game with a good defence.I was defending at first.Sameer’s forehand punch was most effective.I could not learn his tactics.At the end of 2^nd round,he was leading 6-2.

‘Sameer,Sameer!! ,’ Every one chanted his name.I turned around to see the girl and she was seated at the first row.She was surrounded by many people and policemen,since it was a major university competition.

After seeing her face,I felt that there was a sudden rise in my energy level,just because I liked her.Now I was eagerly waiting for the next 2 rounds to start.May be there was a sudden increase in Adrenaline .Now,I was excited.

(To be cont....)

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That rainy Sunday.

It was one of those rainy Sundays in July. It was raining cats and dogs. Ramu had gone outside to get some bread when it started raining heavily. It almost seemed as if somebody was pelting stones from high up there. As usual, he had no protection from the rain. Just then, a paperweight was flung at him and hit his temple. Ramu checked for blood. Luckily, he wasn’t bleeding though the throw was quite powerful.

Sukhvinder, in the house Ramu just passed by had flung that at his drunkard brother, who got drunk instead of buying medicine for his father. It was raining heavily and with floods forecasted, all the neighboring dispensaries were closed. Jaspal not only did not bring back any medicine, but also spent the money in binge drinking.

He noticed that Ramu was hurt and apologized for the accident. If it were any other person, the episode would have ended there. But Ramu was somewhat curious by nature. After Sukhvinder left the scene, he stayed on and listened to the dispute. The squabbling continued. Sukhvinder had little hope of saving his father. He was delirious with fever and the prescribed drugs were to be bought from a dispensary that was closed down early due to rains. The closest doctor too had left the neighborhood.

But then, something miraculous happened. Sukhvinder said out aloud the names of the injections that he needed. And by sheer luck, Ramu's grandmother had the same ailment some time ago and was cured by the very same prescription! Moreover, he happened to know that there was still a stock leftover from those that she was taking. Ramu made a dash home and got his grandma’s kit that had the same. Without any delay, Sukhvinder gave an injection to their shivering father.

That rainy Sunday will never be forgotten. It was a sign from Providence that Inderdeep had some years more to live. Ramu became more than a family friend and was now like a third brother to Jaspal and Sukhvinder. None could forget that how on that rain drenched evening this curious young boy had saved their father's life. With days, the old man got better. Jaspal left drinking after the incident and a month later, applied for a job. Sukhvinder, a farmer had a healthy harvest this season to keep the family going.

And they lived happily ever after.

Word Count: 398

The Day You Left

It rained the day you left, not the bitter squall of anger but the gentle drops of quiet acceptance.

19 words. Better that! :D

God Cried With Us

She didn’t know what to do. I was the only one she could share it with.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m just gonna go to God.”

“Obviously you’re gonna go to God. We already have.”

“I mean literally.”

“Shut up! Don’t say things like that.”

“I want to leave everything and come there, to you.”

“I wish you could. But we have to wait, remember? God wants us to wait.”

“He hates me.”

As she said that, there was a sound of thunder and I saw rain drops on the window pane.

“You know that’s not true. Remember everything, how we met, how we got through all the crap before this. Who do you think was helping us out?”

“Then where is He now? Why isn’t He stopping him?”

The sound of thunder echoed through the sky. Everything lost its color and tears fell from the sky. God was crying.

She got up and went out of view of the webcam.

“You there?”

“Sorry. I went to wash my face.”

“You’re crying? I’ll forever be sorry if this doesn’t turn out right. I hate myself for not being able to do anything.”

I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to show her that I was strong; a man. But seeing her in pain, I couldn’t control myself and a tear fell on my cheek and then another and in moments, I was drowning in them.

"Adi! Don’t cry! Please! You’re my strength! What will I do if you break down?"

“What else can I do? I feel so helpless that I can do nothing sitting here. You have to go through this all alone!”

Every word I typed was screaming in pain.

“This is exactly what he wants. You want him to win over us?”

I typed the weakest ‘No’ ever.

“Then stop. See I have stopped. I looooooooooooooove you!”

“Me too, but for what? There is not a single thing I can do for you.”

“All I need is for you to love me. But by crying like this, we are proving ourselves to be powerless. Are we?”

“Aren’t we?”

“No! God is with us!"

And then there was a great calm. I glanced outside. The rain had stopped; the sound of thunder was replaced by a peaceful silence. The clouds had parted and the colors had returned. I looked back at the screen. She was smiling.

(400 words)

Love Me, Love Me, Love Me

It was a cold winter night and the moon lay hidden beneath the clouds. Silence engulfed the air due to the lateness of the hour. I was on my way back from an old friend's house. I pondered over what I had witnessed there. Due to some unknown reason, Abhishek seemed very distant towards me. I noticed that much of his hands and face was covered in ugly scars. When I asked him the reason, he blatantly refused to talk about it.

I had been walking for what seemed like half an hour. Though I was quite sure I was alone on the road, I kept having the eerie feeling of being watched. I stopped and looked around but saw nothing unusual. I started walking again keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of unwanted company.
Within a few minutes, I was in front of the gate to my house. Just as I opened the gate, a cold wave of air swept past me. I felt a shiver run down my spine. I had never felt such coldness even in the severest of winters. I thought it best to get inside the warmth and solitude of my home and enjoy a quiet cup of coffee in front of the fireplace. I entered and proceeded towards the kitchen to make some coffee. As I was in the process, I glanced outside through the window. For a moment I felt sure I had seen the rosebush move even though there seemed to be no trace of any wind blowing. Just to make sure, I opened the front door and stepped outside. Ice cold air stung my face. Again I had an uneasy feeling of being watched. But somehow I was aware that I had nothing to be afraid of it, whatever it was. Maybe it was afraid of me. I smiled at the thought. How could something which I couldn’t even see be afraid of me? I spoke in the gentlest voice I could muster, "Don’t be afraid. You can come inside if you want to. It’s pretty cold out here." For a while I waited, hoping for something to happen but nothing did. I went back inside but kept the door open in case it changed it's mind. I sat down by the fire and waited…
Bright sunlight forced me to open my eyes. My neck was stiff since I had fallen asleep on the chair. It was about 7 A.M. I got up and closed the door. As I pushed aside the curtains, I saw something written on the condensed dew on the window pane, 'Love me, Love me, Love me'.
I got the news of Abhishek's death a few hours later. The cause of his death was uncertain. Before dying, he had scribbled a note on a piece of paper with his blood. It read, 'She was mine'.
The thing had definitely come inside the house. I couldn’t see it but I felt it by the coldness around me. It would turn up in every corner of the house. Till now it had never shown its bodily form. Many a times, I would find the same thing written at random places with blood, 'Love me, Love me, Love me'.
One night I was sitting by the fire after dinner reading the papers. As I put down the papers, I was taken aback to see a woman sitting in front of me. She wore white clothes and even her skin was as white as snow. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her deep blue eyes stared at me with deep anticipation. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I got up and went near her. As I extended my hand to touch her face, a cold wave of air swept passed me and she disappeared. At that moment, I realized who she was.
After this incident, she started showing herself more often. I would find her staring at me with those beautiful blue eyes of hers with what clearly was a smile on her face. But more often, I would find her sitting on her favorite chair; the chair I had sat the night she had followed me home. I started calling her Jynx. I would sit for hours in front of the fire at night, talking to her. I poured down my deepest secrets and desires out to her. I had no idea why I was doing this but something told me I had to, as if I had no other choice. I would go on for hours without a single word from Jynx. Eveytime I looked at her, a thought crossed my mind, 'I was falling in love with her, falling in love with a spirit'.
Weeks passed by without me getting out of my house. By now, I had got used to the coldness around me. It had become my habit to wish Jynx goodnight when I went to sleep. She would sit beside me the whole night and I would find her staring at me when I woke up in the morning. One night, I was sitting by the fire. Jynx, as usual was at her favourite chair staring at me. As I looked at her, the look in her eyes told me that she wanted me to come close to her. I walked over to her and extended my hand towards her. Then, as I had expected, she extended her hand and put it over mine. I felt my hand freeze. The coldness around me increased. My head started spinning. I fell down and as I felt myself losing consciousness, I muttered out the words – 'I love you'.
The next night, I invited a friend to dinner. After dinner, we were sitting by the fire. Jynx was sitting on her favourite chair, staring at Tushar.
"It’s so cold in here...", Tushar was saying.
"You look so tired. You should take a vacation."
"I...can’t go." I said looking at Jynx. "I have work here."
Jynx was still staring at Tushar.
"What happened to your hand?"
"Nothing. Just burnt it." I had tried to hide my hand but Tushar had seen the bandages.
"Well, I must be going now. It’s pretty late. By the way, do you have any idea what exactly could’ve happened with Abhishek?"
"I have no idea." I knew what had happened but if I told him he would think I was crazy.
"Well, see you then."
I closed the door and went back to Jynx. As I sat down in front of her, I saw a tear roll down her cheek. I knew the time had come. Jynx put her hands on my face. A piece of rotten flesh fell down to the floor. I knew that wherever she would touch me, the blood would dry up and the flesh would rot. But I was helpless. I was in love. Her hands slid down to my chest where my heart was. I knew in a few moments, my heart would freeze up, forever trapping my love for her. I felt my knees getting weaker and I stumbled to the floor. Somehow I made it to the window and saw Jynx following Tushar. I knew in a few moments I would die. As everything around me grew darker, I heard myself say, "She was mine..."

The Dream Or Was It?

I slowly opened my eyes. I was in some kind of a dark room. It was pitch black and there was no trace of any light. I had no memory of how I had gotten there or what this place was. I could hear voices but they seemed to be coming from all sides. I started to move, searching for some kind of a door. I kept going forward but I never reached any wall. It seemed as if the room was endless. I panicked and started running. Suddenly I tripped and fell in an awkward position, crushing my right hand under my knee. A surge of pain crept through my thumb. I got up and examined it. The nail had come off and my thumb was bleeding. And then I realized something much more daunting – my body was visible. Even in the dark I could see every inch of my body as if it was illuminated from within. It was then that I heard a voice.

“There is no exit,” it said.

It was a commanding voice like I had never heard before. It made my insides tremble with fear. It was the most self assured and cogent voice I had ever heard and the tone unlike any other. However, its source was out of sight, somewhere in the dark. I gathered up enough courage and spoke.

“Who are you? What is this place? How did I get here and what do you want from me?” I asked daringly.

“Your limited mind cannot grasp the location of this place and you perfectly well know who I am. Look deep inside your conscience and your dead soul and you will realize that I am the one who you have ignored and neglected your entire life. Intoxicated by your hunger for power and being lost in the illusion of your fabricated world, you ignored my omnipresence and supremacy. I have been watching you and observing your every move for every moment of your life. You declared me as just a figment of weak minds and did not acknowledge My power over yourself. Now you stand before Me and at my mercy. Need I say more about myself?”

I finally realized the situation and knew that I did not have answers to any of the accusations. Fear was a very small word to explain what I was feeling at that moment. I knew my end was near. I wanted to stay alive and so I decided to take an aggressive stance to buy more time. I spoke yet again in a voice full of false strength.

“I was born free. I worked hard my entire life to earn my place in society and the world. It was due to my own hard work and courage that I reached the heights of this world and earned respect. I deserved nothing less as a reward! But You are a dictator and your philosophy is flawed! You say that if we follow Your path of ‘righteousness’, kill our desires and dreams, sacrifice our wishes, be your slaves, we shall go to a heaven we have never seen and are not even sure of its existence. And if we follow our own free will and spirit we shall be punished and rot in hell? What is this? Why are we not allowed to lead our own life as we please? This is dictatorship! How was I to believe in You when I had never seen You, heard You, touched You, smelt You, tasted You, no sensory perception whatsoever! And You claim to resurrect me once I have died, once my bones have turned to dust, this is not only preposterous but also impossible! ”

There was a long silence. I was pleased with what I said. I knew I couldn’t have put it better. The reply came in that same secure tone which unnerved me.

“You are inches away from death and after that your destination, certainly, shall be Hell which, in any case, cannot be explained or described by a human tongue; it can only be experienced. From then on you shall suffer unfathomable torture and absolute pain through all of eternity, and yet you decide to stand up against Me? I pity your naivety and incompetence. You think that all that you have achieved in your life was due to your own genius and personal strengths? Had I not assisted you at every corner of your life through an invisible hand, you could not have dreamed to become the man you are today. You think I created you in this world so that you could earn money, become a rich man, live in massive mansions and drive long cars? You were unable to understand the very purpose of your creation! Or rather you did not want to understand it. You only get what you strive for. You strived for this world; you got the world. There shall be nothing for you in the hereafter. If you would have strived to know Me, to believe in Me, you would have got something wonderful beyond your imagination. You think I am a dictator? A dictator, a tyrant, would kill you the moment you went against his orders. He does not give you the time to correct your mistake or revise your flaws. I, on the other hand, have given you an entire lifetime! Have you ever considered that how many of my wishes, my commands you disobey in a single day from dawn till dusk? Have you ever thought for a second that all my commandments are for your own betterment? That if you do not follow them, there would be no difference between you and the animals? You will eat, mate and kill just like them! I gifted you with a divine soul. But you prefer darkness to the light. You prefer these few years of restricted life to an eternal one. You prefer a world that will perish, that will give you nothing but sorrows and pain over a land that will stay forever and is filled with joys your mind cannot fathom. I created this universe, this immense universe the boundaries of which your most modern science with its strongest telescopes cannot determine. And I created you. None of this was difficult. I created you out of dust the first time and I can create you out of dust yet again. It would be only too easy. You ask proof of My existence? This entire universe is a proof! Your modern science says that matter can only be molded not created. Yet I created this entire cosmos out of nothing at all. Isn’t this proof enough? You say that you have never had any sensory perception of Me whatsoever. All you needed to do was ask Me with a true and open heart. Look around you at this flawless world that I have created. Search for an error, a mistake. I challenge you to find even one fault. Look and look again. Surely your eyes will return to you defeated. Is this not proof enough of My ultimate supremacy? Yet you ignore Me. You consider yourself greater than Me. You, however, don’t even have complete control of your own body. Ask your brain to produce blood for you and your liver to think for you and your heart to breath for you and your lungs to digest food for you. Will they acquiesce? Never! They, like you and every inch of matter besides you in this universe, are under My authority. Look at you, even now you stand up against Me, thinking you can defeat Me. Open your eyes for once O’ mortal! ”

The words resonated in the blank atmosphere. My broken nail was hurting me but I had a much more pressing matter at hand. I stood there, wishing with every passing moment that I could vanish into thin air, somehow disappear or better still, wake up and realize that this was all a dream. I wished I could turn back time and undo all that I had done, start over anew. But nothing happened. I just stood there, feeling guilty and shameful at my stupidity and arrogance.

“I …I wasn’t a bad person. I gave to charity. I made tremendous donations to a number of organizations to help mankind. I also…”

“All those petty acts were nothing but a show put up for the world so that you could exhibit your fake generosity. They were carried out just to satisfy your burdened conscience. None of them was meant to please Me or done for My sake. They were carried out so that you could earn respect in your society, which you did. But you did not earn My respect or My honor. Your world was your god. Ask them to help you now. Can the money or respect you earned save you from the clutches of death today? ”

I was desperate now. I had no more excuses, no more answers. Then I did what any person in my place would have done. I fell down on my knees.

“Please forgive me! I realize now that I was wrong, I was always wrong. They say that You are a loving and forgiving God! I ask for your forgiveness! I repent! Give me another chance, just one more chance and I swear I will not…”

“Do you expect to be forgiven after all that you have said and done?”

“I am ashamed of my acts but not hopeless from Your mercy and compassion. Give me one more chance. Please.”

There was silence. I waited for my fate to be decided.

“The problem with you humans is that you forget too soon, too easily.”

And then a blinding light hit my eyes. I scream in shock covering my face with both hands and after what seemed like an eternity, there was solace. I opened my eyes yet again. Every inch of my body was drenched in sweat. I felt weak and could barely move, but now at least I could see. I blinked my eyes slowly and into focus. I was lying on my bed. I was at a loss of words. What had happened? Where had I been? Was it all a dream? It must have been because…

And then my eyes fell on my right thumb. The nail had come off.

A day in my life (Coming soon...)

Namaskaaram! Njan(Myself) Muthuswamy....Muthuswamy Nambudiri.

I came to Delhi with a distant cousin last year from Kerala in an attempt to find some odd jobs here and pull my family out of the claws of abject poverty it had got into. My father was a Mel Shanti(Chief Priest) at our local Bhagawathi temple in Krishnapuram. The menfolk of our Illam(home of Brahmins) were experts in Thantric(vedic and astrology bound) rites. It was not long back when our grandfathers used to practice rigid orthodoxy and sense of caste and purity (Shudham). We used to consider ourselves polluted by even the touch of other Brahmins[Embraan Shudham (by the touch of Tulu Brahmins), Eda Shudham (touch of Tamil Brahmins such as Iyer, Iyengar, Pattar which required us to bathe before resuming activities)], leave aside people from other caste. (*Nambudiri:Wikipedia)

Today, I share a shady little room in Mayur Sarai with Ibrahim, a Parsi guy who, like me, had come to the capital from Mangalapurram(Mangalore) in search of some job. You don’t fill your stomach by clinging on to old traditions and rituals. I would have been an outcaste in my Illam had I stayed with someone from the other caste back then. I still would be, provided I inform my father of the same. All kinds of Shuddhi rites will have to be performed before I get to lie down on my cot back home. For him rituals and traditions may precede an empty stomach, but not for me. He wont touch the money I sent back home after slugging it out in a small roadside South Indian restaurant picking up plates and cleaning tables. He would prefer to die and let the family suffer than accept this fate. He is happy to know that I am assisting a Mel Shanti(Chief Priest) at the Ayappa temple here. Let him remain happy. Let my family have two square meals a day, even if it’s on the expense of my lying……a cardinal sin for a Brahmin.

Catch me soon…Right here….As you live a day alongside me sharing my sorrows and happiness. See you soon. Ohhh…Table no. 4 is done with their meal. I have to pick up their plates and clean the table for the couple who is waiting…….Pinne Kaanaam Ketto(Will catch up later, Ok)

Back with a Bang - The Legend of Sandeep Malan

From the writer of "Blessing in disguise","The Fourth seat","Family,Office & Love","The Pugilist", and the "Campus Files", we present you with

The Legend of Sandeep Malan

He is a big cinema freak who aims at living life as it passes by.You are going to witness the insane cinema freaks life story .He is a big fan of a south Indian Super star and an Item girl.With his innocent looks and straight face,he tries to perform and master everything that can impress people....enna da rascala mind it......

Keep Waiting , the mussadi man creator Sandeep Malan is back with a bang

The Gift of Life- Blogisode 6

To read the earlier five parts of the story, please click on the links below:
Blogisode 1: http://weandwords.blogspot.com/2008/09/gift-of-life-blogisode-1.html
Blogisode 2: http://weandwords.blogspot.com/2008/09/gift-of-life-blogisode-2.html
Blogisode 3: http://weandwords.blogspot.com/2008/09/gift-of-life-blogisode-3.html
Blogisode 4: http://weandwords.blogspot.com/2008/09/gift-of-life-blogisode-4.html
Blogisode 5: http://weandwords.blogspot.com/2008/09/gift-of-life-blogisode-5.html

I started screaming once again at the top of my voice. Alaena was getting really impatient now. All my attempts of sending her to sleep were futile now. I myself was dying of hunger. I took some mud and started munching. I saw no other way to kill this demon of hunger that was surfacing within. Two mouthfuls and I could not help crying. I had ridiculed the Idli’s in the morning. God had taught me a very important lesson. There are many in this world that don’t even have the fortune of having one square meal a day and there are the spoilt lot like me who have food in plenty but no respect for that which God had bestowed us with. But what wrong had Alaena done? She was all of 9 months. Why was she getting this harsh treatment from the almighty? I cried when I tried to give her a little mud because her cries were getting intolerable. She ate a little and dozed off to sleep. I think the psychological satisfaction of having had something was what made little Alaena stop crying. I felt guilty. But I saw no other alternative to keep her going. I wanted to get rid of this hell. I had seen enough. Around 27-28 hours had passed since I first saw sunlight in full glare. I wanted to play with my friends once again. I wanted to run around the playgrounds. I wanted to accept the gifts that my friends would have brought along for my birthday party. I wanted to take in their greetings. I wanted to show off my new birthday dress to my friends today. I wanted to bask once again in the glory of the sun. I wanted to stay alive. I gathered all my strength and screamed again. I kept on screaming. I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I could distinctly hear the sound of hammers and cutters on metal. There was a lot of noise from these. I glanced at Stephen uncle. He was looking in my direction and smiling. That same wide smile of his flashing his dimples. He didn’t blink for a moment and kept giving me that smile. That gave me courage and I felt stronger. For the first time I smiled back at him. I could sense the feeling of hope that these sounds had created within me. I gathered all my strength and managed to scream aloud. I was crying for help. My cries were finally heard by a group of soldiers who were on the rescue act. When they pulled us out an hour later around noon on January 28, I was half conscious but jubilant nonetheless. Alaena was still breathing but with much difficulty and I could feel her move. I could not move my legs which were numb by now. A team of doctors rushed to give us medical attention and first aid. The first question I asked the army medical supervisor, Major Reddy, was, “Is an uncle named Stephen alive?” Major just patted me and told me not to think of anything else.


It took me a good six months to recover from the trauma and the physical injuries that the earthquake had inflicted on me. Alaena also recovered quite well, never forgetting to give her toothless bright smile (though now I could see a couple of teeth sprouting out of her gums). Those 28 hours had spun a special bond between us. Maybe later years down the line, she will say something. Or maybe she might already have told her parents in baby talk about what happened in her private hell on that dark day of January 26th. But I hope she forgets it. I hope we all forget it.

It was quite later when I learnt that Stephen uncle could not make it through and had died of multiple injuries right at the spot itself. There were many newspaper and media reports on the “Smiling Corpse”. He was found dead with a wide smile on his face. I could relate to that smile of his. I knew he had put on that smile just to give me moral support and strength. The thought that he was already dead when he had given me that last smile sent shivers down my spine. I felt guilty that he was not alive when I had managed to give him a smile back. I felt a great loss. He will always have the highest place in my heart for not what he taught me in that traumatic period, but for the birthday gift that he gave me that day. The best gift any friend can give. The gift of life.

THE END