Kids..... Ouchh..!!

I banged my foot on the ground thrice "bang .. bang … bang.." as I saw my neighbor, an old lady with her 8 year old grandson at the door. I drew the latch in ‘action replay’ mode, more so like the way old bollywood couples ran in slow motion before they hugged each other. As I opened the door, a breeze hit me and ‘warning’ alarms went off inside my head. The granny adjusted her glasses and smiled. I spotted her only tooth (well known as Gate Way of India) and recollected that it actually resembled- ‘The Leaning Tower of Pisa’. So many monuments inside the jewel box. Amazing! Anyway, my eyes then shifted to her grandson, who wore blue colored shorts, the size of my hand kerchief. He too had just one tooth visible in the 'Gandhi class' (I mean front row), as he squeezed through in-between my legs into the house.

“I’m going to the market now. Can I leave Pintu here for a while?” the granny enquired.

Granny always gave me an expression of someone like a modern Mother Teresa or something, and that sent a litre of ‘good will’ into my heart (take note- my weak point), hence I replied- “Go ahead. I will look after Pintu.” I mean, after all, normal human beings can commit blunders.

I shut the door and initiated a ‘search operation’ for this boy Pintu. ‘The period of time that Pintu is out of sight’ is directly proportional to ‘Danger’. Could you guess that I love Physics? Good. Anyway, I continued with the ‘search operation’, like a hunter. I rubbed my eyes twice and discovered that Pintu was sitting on my bed, both legs and arms folded and mainly SILENT. I almost saw Swamy Vivekananda in him, when I discovered something below him. I approached him tardily as if I was there to catch a snake. I stared hard at that thing, and realized it was my laptop. I zoomed my eyes towards it and got further horrified when I noticed his blue colored shorts reflecting a darker shade now. “Oh Lord, this guy has no ‘nappy’ and he has pissed on my ‘lappy’,” I screamed inside my head, not in a mood to adore the poetic skills in me.

It took me an hour for the entire cleaning process to terminate as Pintu sat and watched ‘Cartoon Network’. God bless the founder of cartoons. “Children are like God” I reminded myself and tried to be Mr.Kind as I went into the kitchen to prepare some ‘corn-flakes’ for my dearest Pintu. I heated the milk, put some ‘Kelloggs corn-flakes’ into the bowl and glanced at Jnr.Danger. He was trying his vandalism skills over today’s newspaper, but that was nothing, so I counted 1 to 10, took a deep breath and stirred the mixture. As and when it was ready, I brought the bowl to the hall but to find that my hero was out-of-sight. The physics equation resounded with echoes somewhere deep inside me. I crawled slowly into my room, but I was too unlucky, couldn’t find him. A few precious seconds wasted, I then walked slowly into the other room, stood at the entrance and scanned through the room but found no one. There was complete silence; life-threatening silence. Like a flash, as though like in the ghost movies, “bhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…” he screamed and jumped from behind the door to the front of me leaving me terrified and cold. I almost had my foot in my mouth for a second. “hahaha… you got scared..” he vanished into the hall.

I prayed to god, recited a few ‘mantras’ and proceeded into the hall and sat next to him. “Children are like God..” I controlled myself by repeating it again and again as though like a malfunctioning tape-recorder. In the meanwhile, he trekked over to me, stood over my lap and stared long and hard at my face like a scientist examining viruses. I stuck my tongue down and returned a few silly expressions. After his research he came uncomfortably close to my face and asked- “Anna (brother), why do you have a moustache?” and tried to pluck at it. “Aaaahhhhhh…” I howled, put him over the sofa, stood and shouted at him- “Shut up.” He looked with his eyes opened wide as I went on – “ Fold your hands………. Close your mouth…Don’t open that mouth and don’t move.. Just sit.” I slid next to him, grabbed at the corn-flakes bowl, scooped it with a spoon and held it before his mouth. My dearest of dearest Pintu wouldn’t open his mouth (as his master had instructed) .. damn… “You can open your mouth to eat.,” I said aimlessly. Once he opened his jewel box, I put the spoon into it but my hero wouldn’t close it (the instruction was to only open the mouth, remember). I didn’t cry, nor did I pull the hair off my head but just stared with hooked eye-brows at the ceiling.



Just when I thought I needed a trip to the brain doctor, my eyes got filled with the sight of a goddess glowing away through the window holding colorful flowers in her hands, ringing my door bell wanting to introduce me to the staff members up above. No, I just saw Granny. She walked in and said with a tooth-exhibiting smile- “ Hope Pintu didn’t trouble you,” and I almost began to search the number to call the brain doctor but decided to just return a simple smile. She carried Pintu, who was now having his corn-flakes on his own. damn kid..
The feeling of subtracting a ton of weight from my heart commenced when she said to her Pintu- “Say bye to anna..” The intelligent boy dropped the bowl of corn-flakes (which landed and splashed straight on my lap) and waved good-bye to me. Granny apologized and left taking away her thunder-like grandson. I headed to the bathroom for part-2 of the cleaning work. My shorts this time.

Children are fun and lovely, but man- “Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.”

Read more...

The World- It's magic..!!

The buzzing sound of the ceiling fan played a game called ‘anxiety’ amidst the playfield called ‘Silence’ as he laid down, cushioned right below it, circumferenced with ‘Darkness’. The clock ticked revealing an hour, by which he should have been fast asleep ; Dead for the day. An unresistable drop of tear trickled down to his ears, wetting the earphones which were respiring a few emotion-reviving-instrumental-compositions. He wiped the tears off his temples as his eyes transfixed itself glaring at the seemingly-infinite ceiling. He envisioned a hugely built entity, The World waging a stern battle against him. The World flashed accusations at his face which put him into a straggled stance in between ‘acceptance’ and ‘denial’. He was right or wrong, he couldn’t draw the line. For the moment though, the pain and the anguish in him sought for replacement as the oppressiveness tended to erupt its way out. His mind questioned- “Do I deserve this???” continued as though searching for something- “ God??”. He cleared his throat and heard his voice quiver- “ I’m hurt.” A growing silence (in his head) is all what he got in response.


The clock struggled to strike 6, but as it did, he grabbed a chair, dragged it to the window and sat resting his elbows on the frame with his fists supporting his jaws. The sun, his saviour, hadn’t made it’s entry yet. Alongside, he noticed a woman- his neighbour trace a colourful rangoli design over the wet, freshly watered entrance of her house. A distant sound of bells from a nearby temple caught his ears. The wind whistled across the branches, through the leaves to find his face as it slapped a quantum of freshness on his tear-wiped face. He exposed his head out the window, inhaled deeply, walked in and sensed the freshness of his toothpaste.




He retrieved his aged, unused bicycle and peddled along the silent street. Just like the good deeds of a silent man, the first rays of the yet-out-of-sight-sun hit the earth tailing off it’s darkness. The pleasant duskiness lured his mind unconsciously into a gallery of nostalgia. He cycled along ; noticed a milk van, an early ‘factory’ bus, the whitish-looking water in the lake and the peeping sun behind the bald trees.

He rested the bicycle on it’s stand and headed into a large expanse of greenery. He entered the park and glanced at the merely visible sky through the branches curving out of the tall torsos. He walked along the pathway advancing through the slides and the swings in the children’s play area to his left and a series of benches to his right. He strolled along until he found the bark of a tree and sat over the wet grass resting his back to the unready furniture. Now, the sun well out as it climbed up the tall trees, he could notice a whole lot of people in the park. The joggers began their run while the oldies in the 'laughter club' laughed their hearts out.



An hour passed as the bow on his lips switched directions. Though not a complete smile, he was sure his face got broader, his cheeks weighed lighter, his eyes opened wider, he respired deeper but couldn’t figure out why. He’d neither talked to anyone nor did his problem see an end. Only his unconsciousness-self cognized the magic that had bechanced. The very same- ‘The World’, which he had thought was waging a stern battle against him, exhibited it’s face- The face of ‘felicitousness’ ; It’s happy face ; People’s driving force. While all these thoughts wandered through his rekindled mind, a blue-jean, white-sweat-shirt clad old man walked up, sat beside him and threw his old arm over the young shoulder and cleared that little unsettled, what-so-ever feeling that he had. The old man went on in a cheerful tone-

“Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up knowing it must run faster than the lion or be killed.

Every morning, a lion awakens knowing it must outrun the slowest gazelle or starve to death.

It doesn’t matter if you are a lion or a gazelle.

When the sun comes up, you’d better be running.”

An old lady, probably the old man’s wife came by and completed –

“ Once you get into grips with this game, trust me you’ll be one hell of a runner.”

Read more...

Over A Cup Of Tea- Prats..!!

With a sleepy head I dropped in the first vacant seat in the bus, falling asleep even before the bus started and waking up only to notice i had missed my stop and the next two too ! Without a thought i got down at the very next stop the bus halted and weighed my options now - going home by bus or to walk back home ! It was then that i thought of the third option - to meet him, since he lived near by !

A call was placed and luckily you agreed to come. Starting with a cup of tea,followed by my non stop blabber, lots of smiles and a lot much of walking, we said Goodbye.

And i was glad i overslept a bit ;)

(from Arjun- And I was glad u overslept too. Thank you Prats!)

P.S - Hey guys, all of you are welcome to write a post here. Don't wait for me to ask you personally. Anyone of you ; Anyone. I would love it.

Read more...

The Evolution of the Snake dance!! - Stephen

Once upon a time in blogpur,an incident occurred which was scripted in history.This led to the emergence of a new dance form.It was the time when the humans and the beasts were amongst the best buddies.It was the era of friendship and where cultural civilization was too far .The time period encountered various events which is devoid to today's generation.This hasn't been mentioned in history .
In blogpur, humans and the snake community lived together in harmony.Snakes never hissed and humans never danced.This ancient historic event took place ages ago during the reign of Prince Arjuna,the great ruler of the Choudary kingdom.
Prince Arjuna had a special liking for dance and hunting.Dancing and Hunting are not directly related to each other .He was the only person who was skilled with the art of 'Nrutya'.He was modest and humble.He was benevolent.His ministry comprised of highly talented ministers like Bahadur Sunil,Vaidya Riya,Intelligent Richa and many more.Snakes were friendly and intelligent unlike humans.Saapo,the president of the Snake community was malicious and was against the humans .He didn't want the humans to mingle with the snakes.
"Prince Arjuna,I won't let you rule our dynasty," Saapo,the snake screamed in front of the snake community members.
"I'm planning an attack on the humans ,"he added.
"But, great , humans are supposed to be snakes' best friends, aren't they?," Junior Saapo said.
"I don't give a damn about it, my target is Prince Arjuna," Saapo was furious.

Meanwhile Prince Arjuna of the Royal Choudary family was getting ready for his dance classes.He bowed down in front of his mother to seek her blessings.
"Ammo,me want to develop unity amongst the snake and the humans," he said to his mother.
"Lord Shiva,bless me," he prayed to god.

Saapo overheard all this."Unity between snake and humans,my foot," he said.
He soon thought for a while and churned out a reason from his wicked mind.
"I will see you in Panchayat ,Prince," he gave a wicked smile.

The next day Panchayat was called and all biggies of the blog world including Chronic writer,Solitary writer,Busy writer,Pink Orchid and Yem bee Aye were called.
"May I know the reason for the panchayat,"Prince Arjuna asked Saapo.
"I don't support your selfish attitude," Saapo replied.
"What are you talking ,Saapo? make sense," the prince replied.

"I don't advocate this idea of yours," Saapo,the snake replied.
"Abhey Langoor ke aulad ," the prince got annoyed.
"Why don't you take our snakes with you and teach them the dance ," Saapo said.
"We want justice," Saapo added.

Prince Arjuna didn't have any answer for this question of Saapo.
The Panchayati Samiti soon arranged a meeting.Chronic writer,Solitary writer,Busy writer,Pink Orchid and Yem bee Aye attended the meeting.
"Well ,what is the appropriate solution guys?," Chronic writer said.
"We should ask Arjuna to teach the Snakes," Pink Orchid replied.
"Naa,wait ,We should have a contest between Arjuna and Saapo,a dance contest,"Solitary Writer said.
"I second Solitary writer,we should have some sort of dance contest guys," Yem bee yae smiled.
"But Saapo said snakes don't know dance," Chronic writer said.
"He is a liar Chrony,I've seen Saapo doing rain dance many times," Busy writer said to her team.
"So,there will be a contest between both the parties ,hmm,interesting guys,"Chronic writer giggled.
"Who will be our judge?,"Chronic writer added.
"Lets call Farah Khan and Saroj Khan," Busy writer winked.
"Naa,lets get some guys from our field,call our techie "Saif"," Solitary writer said with a smile.
Saif,the techie for the community was called.He was a scientist and his inventions were famous.It is said that few of his inventions were modified by Sir Isaac Newton as at that era there were no provision of Copyright and Patents.

Saif was made to get in few bloggers from the 21st century with the help of his time machine. The samitee decided to call Ste,Sandeep Balan,Priyanka and Bharghav.
They even called blog fame Leo and Aarthi to host the contest.
Both Prince Arjuna and Saapo agreed to the accord and contest dates were announced.

A week later the contest started. People from "Simply me" ,"Conjuring Kreativity","Pragmatic Utopia"," Illusions","More Orangee","Chemerical thoughts"," Where words are thoughts" and many had come to witness this unique event.
The dance floor was arranged.
"Guys ,its a unique battle between the snakes and the human community," hosts Leo and Aarthi announced.
"We have Sandeep Balan,Ste,Priyanka and Bharghav Saika as our judges for todays contest," Aarthi said.
"It's an important event guys,if humans win,then snakes will lose their ability to stand erect and speech.If snakes win,then humans will lose their ability to speak and think," Leo said.

Prince Arjun and Saapo looked at each other with anger.
"There will be 2 rounds.Fast songs will be played in the first round and Slow songs will be played in the second round.Each judge will give you 25 points and the game will be decided by the scores out of 200 after end of round 2," Leo and Aarthi said.

"Lets start the show," the judges said in unison.
Prince Arjuna came to dance. He twined his body in all possible directions. He danced for 5 minutes.

"Aila,man Arjuna dancing hip hop," Sandeep Balan said to the other judges.
The judges were highly impressed with Arjuna's performance.

"Arjuna,something was missing daa,I am still finding it out, so I give you 21 out of 25,"Priyanka said.
"24 for you da ,no comments simply amazing," Ste gave him a standing ovation.
"22 for you,as Pri said some elements were missing," Sandeep Balan said.
"14 for you ,no expressions,no entertainment ,no excitement," Bharghav said to the prince.

The hosts next called Saapo ,the snake.
The snake was dancing pretty aggresively.He was performing continous movements.
"God,the snake is doing rock and roll," Bhargav grinned.
"23 for you Saapo,you rock," Priyanka said.
"24 for you,superb expressions and aggresions Saapo," Ste said.
"25 for the cute Saapo,god bless you," Sandeep Balan said.
"25 for you.Everything was perfect.Had a perfect feast," Bharghav said.

"So at the end of the first round Prince Arjuna is 81 and Saapo is 97," the anchors said and everyone cheered for Saapo.

It seemed the human race was about to lose the contest.It would be a humiliating defeat.Everyone from the human community encouraged and cheered for their dance representative Prince Arjun.

The second round started and Prince Arjuna came to dance.
He was better than the previous round.He performed some dance.
"24 for you ,perfect fete for us," Priyanka said.
"24 ,you were dancing well this time," Ste said.
"25,I'm impressed ," Sandeep Balan said.
"25,was a delight for us,I will write a review about this dance of yours," Bhargav gave him a standing ovation.

Saapo was over confident and he slipped while dancing.This reflected in his marks.
"10,Sorry," Priyanka refused to speak a word.
"11,didn't accept this," Ste said.
"10,disappointed," Sandeep said with a straight face.
"10," Bhargav said.

"So total after round 2 is different.Prince Arjuna gets 179 and Saapo gets 138," the hosts smiled.
Prince Arjuna laughed and screamed.Saapo was clearly disappointed.His face exhibited his frown.The snakes lost their ability to sense and stand erect.Prince Arjuna rolled on the floor and gigled.
"Snake dance ,Snake dance!," The judges were stunned.

"And thats how snake dance came into existence," Arjun Choudary, the great great grandson of Prince Arjuna said to his other blogger friends.
Arjun Choudary was an expert snake dancer and he used to teach Sandeep Malan sir in his acting school.

"Wow!,so you guys created history ,eh!," the blogger friends said in unison.
"Yes,"Arjun said to his friends with pride.

----------End-----------

To Arjun,
hmm,finally I get to write something for my partner in crime.Partner in crime is what I call him.This is because we both are experts in this field of humour.We love and enjoy writing humour.You rock daa.You are "the humour king" . Hope you write more such beautiful posts and I will be glad to see you back in action.

(From Arjun - When you tell a crazy person to go crazy, wat happens? Such a post happens.. hehe :P ... Thanks for writing this piece bro. I've started Snake dancing classes at my place. You can join in if u r rich enuf.. :P )

Regards,
The Solitary Writer.

Read more...

Arjun - A Memory To Stay Forever!!

Hey,

I am so glad that ‘Rekindled Imaginations’ is touching the count of 50 very soon…

You have been such a great friend, always ready to help whatever problem it may be…
Bernard Meltzer once said –
“A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.”

I am the lucky one because I know that RJ is one such friend to me who knows that I am slightly cracked but still he’ll always be there by my side whenever I need him!
I have never been able to express what I feel for someone… I am really sorry for being so inexpressive whenever it comes to express what I feel for my loved ones. No words can do justice to my feelings… I am writing an acrostic for you – Arjun, The Humor King!

Awesome talent resides in you
Rekindling the power of imagination
Joyous we are in your company
Unbound faith in you we have
Never will you let us down

The darkest of times
Have been illuminated by you
Endless be this journey, I pray

Happiness and smiles you spread
Unbiased opinions you give
Many stones and gems are found
On this bed of earth
Rare are the precious ones like you

Kindness your virtue
In you I saw my guardian angel
Naïve and simplicity personified
God bless you!

May God be there by your side always… Continue making us laugh…because humor is not everybody’s cup of tea! You are a sweetheart…stay the same always!

Friends Forever,

Artz!

Read more...

Guest Post- Tara..!!

[ Tara says this is a piece of crap. Ironically though, it says a lot of nice things about me... hehe... Anyway Tara, thank you so much for writing this and being such a nice friend throughout. It's lovely ;) ]




There is this guy I know
who puts up a great show
Funny, witty and friendly is he
As patient as patient could be

Sometimes serious, most times fun
Everything is packed into one

He makes you smile in times of despair
Now that is a quality so rare
Ever ready with a helping hand
If you've fallen, he'll help you stand

He's rekindled imaginations almost fifty times now
And each time he made us go "Wow!"
May he always be there
to wash away the sorrow
And hey Mr.Arjun Choudary!
You better pay me by tomorrow!

Read more...

First Meeting..!!

( Hey ppl, jus wanna remind that the stories I write and the characters in them are completely fictional. It applies to all the stories I’ve written till date and so with this post. Please pardon me for the exaggeration (in the posts). Forget logics to enjoy. Enjoy)

7am, at my place.

“Today is your first day of college. College is a temple for students, you are not supposed to…..” my dad continued as I sat wondering which of my dozen blue coloured jeans should I be wearing. Dad went on, as I ran to the kitchen, had a mini breakfast and promised dad that I would follow all what he said, though I wasn’t sure of what he had said. I hurried to the college with a ‘suffocating to death experience’ in the crowded bus.

7am. Roshan’s place.

Flouroscent green coloured shirt, which he had bought for Diwali, a navy blue trouser, in front of a mirror, Roshan set his hair and said- “ Wah!” He ran to the white house, to finish his SOS call. “ Stomach upset? On the first day of college? Damn” he shouted at the walls. After duty, he walked back to his dressing table, combed again, flipped the comb away, feeling like a south indian hero, he announced- “Look out girls, I’m coming.” He jumped onto his ‘second-hand’ Scooty and sped to college, realising that his earlier trip to the white house ensured that he would reach college late.

At the classroom, 15 minutes into the first hour.

I yawned while Roshan entered the corridors like a vagrant, realizing that he was already running late by 15 minutes to the class. As he approached the classroom, he noticed a bald headed professor addressing the class. The professor announced- “Now that I’ve told you about this college and it’s history, I’ll tell you something about myself. I’m Prof. T.H Narayan.” I couldn’t hold back my itchy feel to comment- “T.H Narayan, better known as- Three Hairs Narayan.” Few girls laughed while a few nerds made faces of disgust. Roshan, from the door interrupted and asked in express speed-“Excuse me Saaar, Can I please get in Saaar?” and smiled like Shilpa Shetty. “Why are you late, my boy? This is the first class of your course and you are late?” Prof. T.H Narayan looked worried more so with his zany outfit. Roshan had a readymade answer- “ Tyre puncture Saar” not realising that the excuse was as old as ‘rotten bread’. Prof. Narayan, who was a BP patient, counted 1 to 10 in his mind, exhaled deeply and said out of helplessness- “Get in, but don’t repeat it.”

Most girls in the class recognized Roshan and made strange faces at his very sight. He found a seat on the third bench. “Dude, you look like a door-to-door salesman” my mouth was hard to shut. I continued- “ a salesman who sells socks?” looked around and winked- “ or frocks?” but anyway nobody laughed, so I realised it was a PJ and I had to shut up.



Roshan sat lost, dreaming about god-knows-what when he received another SOS call to the white house. His stomach started to churn. It was making strange grunting noises. The Professor continued- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house to show my…”

“Toilet” Roshan stood up. “Saaar, urgent toilet. Please let me go.”

Prof. Narayan counted 1 to 10 in his mind, exhaled deeply and calmly said- “Go. Get lost.” Roshan ran to the loo, while the professor explained to the students as to how the whole chain of his thoughts break if any one student interrupts the whole class. Anyway, after the small lecture, he began again with- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my toilet…….that stupid boy….…I am extremely sorry students…Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house”

“Can I come Sir?” Roshan asked sheepishly from the door. “I mean, can I come into the class, Sir?” he repeated. Once again, Prof. Narayan did his counting and cynically allowed him into the class. I couldn’t control my laughter nor my ever rattling mouth- “Fully downloaded uh?” i said and giggled away. Roshan did settle down in his seat but was feeling really uncomfortable. He was doomed to visit the loo all over again now. Prof. Narayan for the third time, again continued- “Last year, when Mr. Bill Gates was here, I invited him to my house to see my house. He knows my wife well because of her involvement in charity work and asked if he could take her along with him to my...”

“Toilet” Roshan stood again and said- “Saar, need to go to the toilet again.Urgent toilet Saar”

Prof. T.H Narayan who was a BP patient did no longer control himself, he almost pulled off those three hairs that was left in him, grabbed his ink pen, aimed and flung it towards Roshan and ran towards him.

Now, I wonder- That same fellow is Roshan, my buddy. ‘Fate’ was drunk when it noticed me, I guess.

Read more...

Oh.. Not Again..!!

One Sunday evening, on a Black ‘Ford’.

“Which one of the two routes, Sir?” the driver turned behind.

“Which one’s better? The one under construction or the one under repair?” I was interested.

“Both equal, Sir. Equally bad.”

“Ok. Take us through the road which would make passengers bump into co-passengers.” I winked.

Akshata, who was seated beside me, poked me in my ribs. The driver showcased his smile through the rear view mirror. Akshata peered through the window as the sun reached the top of the tallest building. I sat quiet observing her, unaware that I wore a thin smile on my face. She turned to me and said- “You want to tell me something, don’t you?”
She had flawless antennae when it came to sensing my emotions. I smiled and enquired the driver- “How far from here? The airport?”

“Another 15 minutes, Sir.”

“I asked you something mister,” she pinched me on my stomach.

“2 long years. I’ll miss you.” I said as she held my hand.

He ran across the street, jumping over dividers and pavements in search of another auto rickshaw. Those fifteen or so drivers, who had turned down the lift, threw glances of amazement- “You…… and … Airport??” He ran, ran and ran. He ran for his life.

I retrieved the not yet sampled newspaper from the front seat, and read out from the sports column- “Thumping win for India against the fighting Pakistanis.”

“I feel like crying.”

“Why? Are you a Pakistan supporter?”

“No idiot. I’ll be missing you and this place for the next two years. I wish I could stay.”

“Oh. Don’t worry, time will fly.”

He, on his mad run, hit a stone, tripped and bumped straight into a tall, thick mustached person. A kind of person who wears khakis and makes a lot of money- A Policeman. After some begging and some ‘wallet shaving’, he continued his run. He ran, ran and ran. He ran for his life.

Akshata attempted to pull this tried and tested game over me- “That guy, your neighbour. He’s hot man. But I noticed a wedding ring today, did you notice that?”

“I don’t notice such things.”

“You guys do it when it’s an attractive woman.”

“Nonsense.” But true.

He stormed into a florist shop, and selected a nice bunch of red, fresh, water sprinkled flowers. He shoved the flowers inside his jacket and scampered to the bus station in hope to find a bus to the airport. As he waited, he drew the flowers, rehearsed his lines and sneezed as the flowers tickled his nose. Minutes ticked, when he realised this was going to serve him no good and decided to run and run as though avoiding the electric chair.

Meanwhile I had a secret conversation with the driver, where I told him to retrieve the bouquet from the glove box, as soon as the car comes to a halt outside the airport terminal. Akshata trying to catch our conversation interrupted- “What does the driver want?”

“Your phone number.”

“Why do I ask you questions?”

“No clue.” I twisted my lips.

He was breathing heavily now, one, for the reason that he was running like he had ants in his pants and two, for the reason that the ‘Moment’ had arrived. He put an eye in search of a black ‘Ford’.”

The car cut across from the main road and headed straight towards a relatively empty airport terminal at this hour. As the car moved closer and closer, Akshata grabbed my palms and rubbed it soothingly mumbling words in a thin voice- “I’ll miss u dear. I don’t wanna go…”
The car came to a halt and the driver as instructed, pushed the flower bouquet into my hands and slid out of the car. Akshata looked in amazement, as I held her hand and moved the bouquet gently into her soft palms and said – “ Akshata, I think you know it. I’m madly in love with you. Love you da. Miss you baby.” I saw tears trickling down her cheeks as she grabbed me and hugged me tight with her head resting on my shoulder- “ Love you too da. Love you too.” She wiped her tears.

Just then, we heard a knock on the window, and on lowering the glass, we were exposed to a person, with a flower bouquet in his extended arms. He went on to say- “Sorry Akshata, but I love you. Love you, love you, love you.”



I bent down, to investigate the face of this new Mr.Spoilsport and got drowned in shock as my mouth went dry- “ Hey ..r.r.r…. Roshan..”

P.S - Okay, people new to this blog may not get the Roshan thing at the end. Apologies ;)

Read more...

Ranting it out..!!

Of late, I am realizing that I’m grown up and matured. I’ve started noticing social problems and general public’s feckless behaviour. Ok, what good does it do to me noticing apathy all around?? Answer to it would be - Nothing except maybe that I would end up branded as the youngest BP patient or something. This time its not about our government and their exhibition of neglect, but WE… The General Public. Small issues like Public behaviour, manners, etc…..

Just this morning, on my regular jogging routine in a park I noticed the same two girls who I guess are in their late twenties. The park is a rectangular one, with a walking track outlining the area. Generally, though not as a rule, people walk in the clock-wise direction. These two special beings, as me and my dad noticed since 3 months or so, walk opposite to the general way of walking thereby causing a break in the flow of many brisk walkers. Again, it’s not a rule that people have to follow the clock-wise cycle, but then if it’s only the RULES that rule you, it is sick.

My dad, for once made up his mind to inform them about it and he did so in these exact words- “ Hello… Excuse me… Wouldn’t it be better if you could walk the other way. You are obstructing other brisk walkers and joggers.” One of those girls hit back- “ Thanks for your advice. Mind your business,” after which, ofcourse an argument followed. I mean, how hard would be to say a simple- “ Okay” when an elderly person suggests you something, leave alone following it. Is it fashionable to be sarcastic? “Sarcasm, as long as it is for fun or for yourself is okay. Once you exhibit in public, its no more called ‘sarcasm’ .. Its Arrogance” was one of my point in the argument. Where has manners, simple general behaviour gone?? Is education all about scoring the passing marks or the ‘distinction’ marks?

I read an article in yesterday’s papers that it’s more for the fact that Indian people are very badly behaved in public, that they are being targetted in Australia. Right or wrong, I don’t know, but I’m fed up witnessing it here. On the roads, seeing a few people drive, I’ve got ideas of keeping goats as drivers and still it would make no difference. Yes I know, we as Indians in general are not into following traffic rules (reasons plenty.. government neglect, bribery, corruption….etc), but atleast certain basic unsaid things. Not a single second can a person spare on the road. Also in other general places- arguments, fights all around. Maybe the fact that, excess money into the hands of ill-mannered ( or rather, people unaware of a concept called behaviour.. or manners) are making matters worse. You can still be nice to your driver, your servant maid, a co-passenger, a waiter and end up losing nothing.

Anyway, thinking deep and worrying would take me where?? .. Nowhere .. And hey guys, I’m the same Arjun if you are still rubbing your eyes. I’ve never written such a post, but this was just long pending. Today’s incident just worked up the needed ‘driving force’. Just a request to all- Behaviour and manners go side by side with your BE, MBA.. so on. Thanks for hearing me out. Have a great Sunday.

Read more...

Train Companion..!!

“When I die, I want to go peacefully like my Grandfather did, in his sleep -- not screaming, like the passengers in his car.”

“Hoooo…hahahah..” laughed….. coughed……… laughed………. coughed harder… Man, I was having the time of my life.

It was a small town which was on view through the caged windows of the train, as it retarded in speed before coming to a halt. I resembled an asthma patient gasping for breath, with the company of this man sitting beside me. He’d introduced himself as- “ Mr. Prasad, a proffessor for class 12 for English” raised his glasses and continued-“One who talks while students are asleep” for which I had let out a bomb blast like laughter, terrorising people sitting around me. I’d then offered him some peanuts, for which he fixed a stared at them, examined them in such a way that it made me feel aweful that I hadn’t had a magnifying glass handy. He continued his contemplation, and finally, like a scientist, gave me some advice- “ Peanuts are to be well roasted. Then salted. Then neatly packed. Then thrown into the dust bin. I hate peanuts.” This time I didn’t quite jump off my chair nor did I laugh like a dinosaur. I had a distant feeling like that of - Kissing a Policeman.



Meanwhile, as the train was back in motion, a girl, whom I had named- ‘The Social Secretary of the Compartment’, came by carrying a small baby of some lady who was seated rows away. I mean, some people, in the name of socialising start pissing you off. She brought the baby close to me and whispered to the baby- “ Say ‘hii’ to uncle” and the baby started playing with my nose. God damn… Uncle?? Anyway, I drew the girl closer and whispered- “ Looking at the baby’s expressions, I feel it might piss any moment.” Needless to say that my plan succeeded and she slid out of sight in a nanosecond. Meanwhile, I observed ‘Mr. Professor’ busy reading ‘Chandamama’ as I tried my level best to shut up.

Anyway, after another two hour long, entertaining journey, the train touched Bangalore, which meant that Mr. Prasad had no other option but to give some rest to his mouth while I made a mental note to visit the doctor with my jaw. As the train and his mouth came to a complete halt, we fetched our respective bags, waved ‘good-bye’ to our social secretary and stepped out of the train as I began a ‘search operation’ for the one and only Roshan, who was supposed to be here to pick me up. I phoned him to find him on the other side- “ Heylo! When is your train gonna reach man? I’m in the third platform waiting for you.”

“My dear Roshan. Third platform from the ‘Front’ entrance not the ‘Back’ entrance.”

“2 mins.” ….Damn…….

In two minutes, I spotted him sprinting like Sharukh Khan ( without a bouquet of course) towards me as I turned to offer Mr. Prasad a drive upto his place. Like all professors, he shamelessly accepted the invitation. I mean, atleast a simple“ no, It’s okay” would have been nice. Anyway, we walked out of the station with Roshan leading us, as though escorting us. After a walk which almost tended to infinity, I spotted a huge, erect ‘No Parking’ sign board and Roshan’s car right below it. The sight, nothing new to me though. Talk about irresponsible citizens.

As we were about to enter the car, Roshan noticed a piece of paper stuck onto his wipers. Roshan retrieved the piece of paper, which said ‘ Parking Fine’. He got back to us and held it with enthusiasm, and said- “ Look at this. Parking Fine.”

The reflexes were enough for Mr. Prasad to reply- “When u find a slip – “Parking Fine” on your car… It doesn’t mean your parking was fine.”

“You dumb head,” I completed the sentence….. laughed…. Coughed… laughed… coughed harder…

Read more...

Murder..!!

(Okay, this is of a different genre, as 'humour' jumps into the back seat. Basically, leaving footprints all over. Read on.)

Room No. 301

He flash opened his eyes, as he heard a distant silencer of an idle motorbike. Turning over on his bed, he craned his head to catch a glimpse through the little window of his dim lit room. Pitch darkness, a far away and the only illuminated street light was all that his eyes could gather. His wrist-watch reminded him that the sun would rise in just about two hours. The sound of the motorbike diminished into silence: a scary silence. Charlie could hear his shaky, heavy breath. He could feel his heart pacing up and down. He closed his eyes to calm himself but in vain, as he heard human movements outside his door in the corridor. He locked his lips tight in trying to mute his breath. He browsed through his pockets for his revolver, with leaking hopes. The revolver was lost the day before, he knew it. Three… two…one…. “Knock knock” his door was knocked. Charlie said to himself, pressing his eyes- “They are here…Help me God…. They are here..”




Room No. 302 >

‘Deal Agreement, Mr. Vinod, VV & Co.’ Mr. Vinod couldn’t believe his eyes scanning through those words in the ‘Agreement papers’. He couldn’t help smiling. As if talking to the dark sky outside his window, he said- “ The sun has already risen in my life. You still have two hours of darkness.” He realised that the sun would be setting back home in India at that point of time, grabbed his cell phone, hit the numbers on them as his lovely wife greeted him on the other side- “Congrats dear. Got the news. I’m preparing sweets.”

“Love you dear. What’s a sweet if it’s not you Ani?” his smile almost touched his ears.

“ Oh come on ya. Waiting for you. Another 8 hours and you will be here. Just can’t wait baby.”

“Yeah. And hey, what’s my kitty doing?”

“She’s watching cartoon on tv. Hey can’t you reach here faster than 8 long hours?”

“Awee.. Love you baby. I’ll run even in the flight and reach soon. Don’t worry.” He joked as they cut the call.

Vinod, stood by the window, the soft carpet beneath him, the sky clearing, as a weak moon showed itself between the rolling red clouds. The silence was broken with a sudden thud on his door. It took him a long ten seconds to realise the sound and then hurried to the door, peeped through the view-finder but found no one. As though his brain was resting, he motioned his hands, reached the latch to open the door not realising that he was about to commit the biggest mistake of his life.


Room No. 301

Charlie, who didn’t respond to the door knocks, freezed to discover that the locks were being jimmied using foreign substances. He literally felt his blood rush inside him as he found his head go blank. It took two minutes for the door to be flung opened, thereby exposing two white men wearing black caps, holding a revolver each. They were revolvers fitted with silencers, making them appear longer than normal. Charlie, as a last resort, leapt out of his bed and tried to speed out into the corridor and it took no time for those huge men to grab him and let out a shot. The bullet pierced through his palms as it began colouring the carpet red. Charlie, acting entirely on his reflexes, stood and dragged himself as he covered some distance in trying to break away. Within no time he received another shot, on his shoulder this time, ripping off the upper part of his shirt along with a lump of skin. The uncontrolled running doubled with the gun shot led him crashing straight into another door : Door No. 302.

Vinod drew the latch and the door gave way, exposing him straight to the back of a wounded man (Charlie). Standing face-to-face to Charlie were two hugely built white men, with revolvers and sprinkled blood stains on their faces. One of them, with a forceful voice whispered, as he pointed his revolver into Charlie’s chest- “ You think you can get away?? Go to hell” and bhoom. The relatively silent bullet hit Charlie straight on his chest thrusting his body right into Vinod’s arms. Vinod, who, in a state of shock withdrew his hand allowing the body to drop vertically down over the soft carpet.



Mr. Vinod, the Founder of VV & Co., there he was facing straight into two gunmen, fresh murderers. His worst fears came alive as the hand with the revolver raised once again, this time Vinod’s chest the target. “No Evidence, no bullshit please. Sorry” said a voice, as the bullet sped and ripped apart a pure chest. The thud lifted his legs above the ground, dropped identically beside the dead Charlie. The air gushed out of him, the heart stopped as he breathed his last.

Certainly the sun was setting back home in India as the sun rose over Vinod’s dead body.

Read more...

Midnight Outing..!!

(Guys, writing after a long gap. Lost touch. But anyway (try to) enjoy it :) )

“Damn… These mosquitoes….. Dude, I'm not able to sleep at all.” Roshan almost cried.

“Think about your ex, think about the day you got your board exam results and the day your neighbour’s dog bit you…..” I went on like a ‘Reality Show’ judge..

“Shut up. Oh my god, you just ruined my night’s sleep.” Roshan sat up trying to forget everything that I had told him to recollect. He shook his head and continued- “Okay. Now tell me, how to get rid of these mosquitoes? Man, they come close to my ears and make stupid sounds.”

“You’ve got to take revenge on them man. Show them your man-ness.”

“But how??” Roshan said, though the ‘how’ was dragged so much that it sounded like a wolf’s howl.

I stood and marched to the cupboard to fetch my CD pouch, slipped out an audio CD from it and passed it on to Roshan- “Take this.”

“Latest Hits OF Himesh Reshammia?”

“Yup. What better way to take revenge on those mosquitoes uh??”

He kicked me hard after which he hurt his toe, howled like a wolf again and went back to his bed. I mean, any mad fan of Himesh would have done the same. All was well from my side, as eventually I had ended up irritating him more than those little useless mosquitoes.

An hour later……

I noticed Roshan sitting against me wearing one of those Shilpa Shetty’s fake IPL smiles. He growled - “You ruined my sleep you idiot.”

I returned a girlish smile, which pissed him off even more. He pulled my blanket out as if he was planning to strip me, but just said, rather ordered- “We are going for a ride. Get up.”

Cruising at a high speed, there we were, on the streets of Bangalore as the clock struck 2 in the morning. We rode along as the cold breeze tickled our ears, the silence around gave a becalming effect and the blood pressures raised with every turn he took. I yelled at him from the rear seat- “Ride carefully. I almost met god last time I sat behind you.”

“You are not on the pavement, so you are safe.” He yelled back.

I didn’t actually quite stab him but I was tempted to say – “Go to hell” but again, I was intelligent enough to hold it back realising the irony that it would present considering that I was sitting behind him.




Anyway, finally Roshan spotted the brakes and the bike was brought to rest. I realised that we had tripped 10kms in pursuit of a cigarette. His wafer-thin wallet had enough in it to afford a cigarette for him and a cool-drink for me. He gazed strenuously at me and enquired out of frustration – “When will you grow up?”

“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up smoking.” I smiled.

“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up reading.” He smiled.

I returned the stare like I had glasses slipping from the tip of my nose. He continued gazing at me, now like a devil with his face engulfed in smoke. I continued with my cool-drink, staring at the sky as he continued puffing away smoke staring at street dogs. Just as it was getting boring, a girl wearing pants which almost started from her thighs came by and asked Roshan- “What kinda' person are you?”

“Who? Me?” Roshan bulged his eyes showing excitement as he hid his tautness.

“Yes baby.” She smiled.

“I’m basically a diplomatic person.” Roshan replied in a way which reminded me of my class 10, slightly eccentric Maths teacher.

“If you think, completing your ‘diploma’ course is what is being ‘diplomatic’ then you are wrong you stupid.” I said clamorously busy staring at ‘nothing’.

The girl, an intelligent one I concluded, turned to me and asked me straight- “You want that stuff?” as she dug out a packet of a whitish powder from her bore well sized pocket. Roshan, who was aghast at seeing her with drugs, leapt on to the bike and threw it into ignition and rustled –“ Dude, come over. Fast.” I walked to the bike with one eye fixed to the girl ( like James Bond), said- “ Tell me if that powder doesn’t work, I have a CD of Himesh Reshammia’s latest hits” and off we went as Roshan played with the accelerator putting the lives of street dogs into jeopardy.

As we reached home, Roshan went into a mood where he sounded like a retired senior citizen, with his ears being fed with some ‘latest hits’ of those silly mosquitoes. He went on and on with his morality talks, which reminded me of a line – “If electricity comes from electrons does it mean morality comes from morons?” Anyway, that’s when I realised that there are worse things in life than death, spending an evening (sounds better than ‘night’) with Roshan.

Read more...

Polit(r)ic(k)s..!!

( Hey guys, sorry, have been away from blogging. As they say- It's so difficult to be doing nothing coz you never know when you're finished. Anyway, in the meanwhile I thought I would repost a few small quickies that I had written long ago. Would come up with a post soon. hehe ;) .. cya)

In a congregation, at a small constituency in rural India.

Person1 - There’s been no supply of tomatoes into our town since last week. What is the matter?

Politician- (smiles) I know. I’ll look into it.

Person2- No supply of eggs too. What about that?

Politician- (smiles)I know. I’lll look into it.

Person3- You haven’t visited our constituency since the day you were elected into power. Now, all of a sudden, what makes you come here?

Politician- (smiles) You people are ‘God’ to me. I’ve come here to seek blessings from you. As you know, elections are coming up. Please vote for me.

All the gathered people, with crimson red faces, scanned around themselves in search of anything that could be hurled or pelted.

Politician- (smiles) No tomatoes?? no eggs uh???

Read more...

Straight out of the Chemistry Lab..!!

Arjun- Yuck! What is this dude?

Sandeep- (vomits) Some kind of a liquid. Smells like an insecticide. Someone is trying to kill us, man!

Arjun- I had a fight with my neighbour last night. Is it him?

Sandeep- I fought with my driver this morning. Maybe him.

Arjun- (looks around) Yeah. Now I get it. Can you see the chemistry lab there, to your right? This one seems to have come straight from there.

Sandeep- Your neighbour or my driver? Come on, lets find out

Roshan jumps from behind excitedly and asks- “ Hey guys, how was the ‘ Special Masala Tea’ that I sent you?

Read more...

Inauguration..!!

“Arjun…Arjunnnnn….. hey idiot Arjunnnn…….” I heard at 7 in the morning as my alarm clock had exhausted it’s battery life. As usually I was in the US, sightseeing with Mr. Obama. I mean I was in my dreams. “Abeee Oyeeeeee” someone screamed again.

“Who the hell is that nut head??” I wondered, rolled and dived like an Olympic Gold medalist into the ground bruising my forehead over the floor. I stood up rubbing my head to realize that I was in my bed room and my trip was over. In other words, the night was over.

“Dabba nan magane (useless fellow)…Arjunnnnnnn…” I heard again. I walked to the front door and opened it to find Roshan with his jogging gear on.

“Hi da, what’s up?” I asked which pissed him off like crazy.

“Bloody damn ass. We decided to go jogging today… Don’t you remember?

“Did we? Isn’t it late now? Can we go now?” I enquired in an American accent.

“Yes We Can” he announced like Mr.Obama.

I walked back still rubbing my eyes convincing myself that I was awake now and I was in India. I too put on my jogging gear on, banged the door behind me and said to Roshan who was tying his shoe laces- “Don’t delay man. This is what I hate about you.”
He found a stone and pelted at me. Anyway, we finally hit the road, jogging along towards the park. As we jogged along, we discussed matters varying from national issues like- “If it was NIKE or REEBOK that was pelted at our Home minister” to local issues like- “The best Bunking strategy for the next day’s class.” He then noticed a street dog to his right and hence immediately shifted his position to the left of me. Anyway, we jogged along talking about this and that, though we were occasionally distracted by either very good looking girls or either very bad ones.

As the jogging had come to a halt and we were both puffing with our hands on our knees, we found a huge gathering a few meters ahead of us. The banner said- “Inauguration Of Nirmala Public Toilet.”
At first we thought, Mrs. Nirmala was the owner of this toilet, but then realized that ‘Nirmala’ meant ‘Clean’and not a name. As we read further we learnt that it will be inaugurated by a local MLA. And the most exciting and funny part was that free breakfast would be served after the inauguration. I was picturing a scene on my mind where Roshan runs to the toilet and asks- Is the breakfast ready?



Roshan who was standing with his eyes fixed to the newly built public toilet was lost in thoughts. I dint want to disturb him, so went to check out as to what was getting prepared for breakfast. Nice hot Kesari Bath was getting ready and I returned to Roshan to convey the good news. Roshan still stood staring at the public toilet as if he was staring at an ex-girl friend who’d ditched him. He finally, slowly turned to me and said with a low voice- “Dude, now I really need to go to the toilet.”

“Just by seeing a toilet??”

“Yeah man. That’s my weakness.”

“How tragic!!”

“I’m going in. Urgent” he said and walked towards it. People were tying the ribbon which the MLA was supposed to cut for the inauguration. He pushed a 10 rupee note to a cleaner and entered the toilet from under the ribbon. Meanwhile I walked to the dining area and enquired as to when the breakfast will be ready. Meanwhile, the MLA had arrived and Roshan was still inside the White-House. I climbed a nearby compound wall and watched the scene.

The MLA cut the ribbon and a loud round of applauds made its way. Just then, with ultimate grace, like in a fashion show, Mr.Roshan was seen walking out from inside and everyone looked with their eye brows hooked in amazement. The MLA gaped astonishingly and disgustingly at him in confusion. Roshan mustered a shameless smile and even more shamelessly said- “ Nice Toilet” smiled and hurried out like a sheep.

Anyway, finally we had the Kesari Bath and coffee after which I had to visit the White-House. Later, as we were ready to leave, I announced- “We have just ‘inaugurated’ a public toilet in the true sense of the word. I’m proud.”

Read more...

A Rendezvous, Unique and Special..!!

(I've posted this on WL, dint want to post it here, but then this is one of my personal favourites. I loved writing this. Again, an attempt made trying to drift from humour..!! Thank You.)

Darkness engulfed the horizon, enveloped with dull red clouds throwing an impression as though the stars were hibernating behind the red blanket when a small thunder erupted, and the first drop of rain raced on its descent, as it splashed on Mr. Aravind’s forehead. Withdrawing his legs from his recliner, he stood right there in his small garden and threw a pale stare at the red sky which was beginning to cry. He snatched his glasses and his half sampled novel from the rain, and headed back to the door into his simple little home for dinner. His cook, a man in his sixties, the only other person who lived with Aravind, rushed to him to inform- “Sir. You have a call on your phone. It’s from London.” He passed the phone and evaporated into the kitchen.

“London? Shriya! Who else would it be? I don’t know anyone from there. And Shriya would never call, she vowed to never call me again. What the hell is this call for?” he began to disturb his mind. “ Or, maybe it’s Mr. Singh, Shriya’s only family friend and a mentor.” He thought. He unwillingly drew the receiver into his ears and said- “Hello.”

“Hello Aravind. I’m Mr. Singh calling from London.”

“Oh, Mr. Singh! What made you to be reminded of me all of a sudden?”

“Aravind….” With a small pause surrounded by the sounds of heavy breath, he continued- “ Shriya.”

“What about Shriya? She’s gone. It’s been 10 years since our divorce Mr. Singh. What about her now? What’s her problem? Tell her that she doesn't deserve me anymore.”

“Sorry, but she is actually dead Aravind. Last night. Called to inform you that.”
Aravind felt a cold shiver run through his body. He dropped himself onto his bed and mustered his voice and said-“ Okay.”

“One more thing, Aravind.”

“What?”

“She has a kid, a boy of 9 years old. And more importantly” he paused and continued-“He’s your child too.”

For a moment there was a silence across both sides of the globe. Aravind was stunned beyond speech.
“Aravind, are you still there? Hello.”

“Yeah. What on earth are you talking about?”

“I know you must be shocked by this Aravind. But it’s true. It came to light just after you both separated. Shriya insisted in not letting you know about it. But now, I feel, after being her only confidant, it’s my duty to tell you about this.”

“Okay.”

“ Aravind. She’d never had too many known people around here. What I mean to say is- would you like to keep the boy with you Aravind?” Mr. Singh asked shakily.

“Mr. Singh, I’m just hating myself, her and you for this situation. Why should I believe you that he’s my son? Even if I do, I’m not responsible…………..” He stopped without saying anything further. “No thanks Mr. Singh.” He said and cut the line.

One week later, at the Bangalore International airport.


Aravind was pacing back and forth in the Arrivals’ Lounge of the airport waiting for his son’s arrival. After a hard battle between his mind and his heart, he had finally called Mr.Singh to convey his agreement to guard his own son. And here he was, in the airport waiting for his son’s arrival. He was told by Mr. Singh that the boy was never informed about Aravind as his father. “I’ll take care of that. You don’t tell him anything.” He had ordered, replying to Mr. Singh.
The announcement was made that the Air India flight from London had just landed. A crowd began to form around the exit area. And suddenly Aravind felt nervous. He had been too distracted to allow himself to think what he might feel when he would actually see his son in flesh and blood.

He noticed that people began coming out into the exit area as he began craning his head to catch a glimpse of his son. A minute later, he noticed a young lady of ‘Air India’ approaching, along with a small boy, holding his hands, towards the exit area where Aravind was waiting. Aravind approached her, confirmed her that he was that Mr. Aravind and the lady obliged, kissed the little boy on his cheek and walked back. Now, suddenly, the two of them were on their own. Aravind, glanced down the boy. Does he look anything like me, he thought.

“Thank you, Sir, for offering me to stay with you awhile.” He said in a cute, British accent.

Aravind felt his blood rushing. He had just heard his son’s voice. “Yes my dear.” He smiled and tried to carry the little boy but in vain and said with a smile- “oops..You are a strong boy! What’s your name?”

“Sorry sir, forgot to tell you. I’m Aryan.”

Aravind couldn’t help a smile as he clasped the boy’s luggage bag with one hand and held the boy’s, his son’s, little hand with the other and began to walk to the parking bay.

“How far is the Taj Mahal from here, Sir? Can you take me there?” the little boy asked.

Aravind couldn’t control a smile as his eyes began to become moist, said- “ Surely. I’ll take you to all the famous places in India. Alright?”

“Thank You, Sir.”

They reached their car, put the luggage behind and took the front seats. As they were about to leave, the little boy asked- “ Sir, Singh uncle told me, you were my mother’s best friend? She was my best friend too.”

Aravind controlled himself, held his palms on the boy’s little cheeks and said- “ I liked her a lot, Aryan.” He smiled as a drop trickled down his eyes.

“Sir, can I catch some sleep here? I’m sleepy. Would you mind, Sir?” he said again with his cute British accent.

Aravind couldn’t control it anymore, he grabbed and hugged the little boy tightly, kissed him on his forehead, then on both his cheeks and said- “Aryan. Dear, I’m not ‘Sir’. Call me ‘Daddy’”


They headed home, drawing a lovely picture of their rekindled future.

Read more...

Sita-Sene..!!

(Recession everywhere, damn, even in my comments page (“_’). There’s no one in this world except me, who would have shooed away their readers by posting so called thriller series (hinting at Tara). Anyway, trying to get back to normal, which means some sensible crap, whatever that means. Enjoy)

Reading the newspaper as a first thing in the morning isn’t a great idea, trust me. It was a lovely morning that day, the 14th of February, a day of profits for the ‘Archies’. The previous night, I was enlightened by a business plan. In pursuit of anything red and resembling a heart, my eyes almost popped out like popcorn onto my ex-pillow. On a mission- “Steal the knife from the kitchen”, I crawled into the kitchen, but was late to realize that mom was as sharp as the knife. My business ambitions were pounded into the gutter. Anyway, that’s a long tragic useless story. Back to the present, I picked up the newspaper and read on- “ Sanjay Dutt enters politics.” In India, you can commit a crime and have grandchildren before you’ll be punished. My ever-vigilant mind began picturing a silly court scene inside my head- “ In a courtroom, the lawyer asks- “What were you upto on that fateful day on the 23rd of March 1960, Mr.X?” Mr.X replies- “ I was playing ‘ball’ with my grandfather, Sir.” The judge intervenes- “ What were you up to last week when the notice was sent, Mr.X?” Mr X coughs and replies- “ I was playing ‘ball’ with my grandson, your honour.””

Anyway, I moved onto the next headline- “ We will marry off any couples found together in public today- Mr.Muthalik, Rama-Sene chief.” I began to think about concepts like ‘Time saving’, ‘Money saving’, ‘energy saving’ and so on, but then I kicked myself, passed the paper to mom and breezed into the bathroom to get ready for college. Came out, found a T-shirt on which some nice words were intelligently written- “fcuk.” If I was as brave as I appeared to be, I would have changed it to- “fcuk muthakil.” Anyway, as I finished breakfast and was jumping onto my bike, my mom came and told me- “ Why not skip college today? We can go out somewhere.”

“What?” which appeared more like a joint question of- ‘Why? Whats the reason? Whats wrong? It’s not April 1st today….’

“Just simply. Getting bored.”

“No thanks mom. Go out with your lovely daughter. Cya” I sped away.

I reached Roshan’s place. That damn fellow was like the ‘kanjoos of the millennium’ types. I had to take him to college though he had a bike, but because his bike drank a lot more petrol. Anyway, I entered his home, his mom smiled at me though I wasn’t sure if that was artificial or genuine, I found a seat and the same newspaper. “What’s the weather forecast for today dude?” Roshan screamed from his room as if he was preparing for some ‘Mission Impossible’. I checked it to find- ‘Clear skies. Avg- 32degrees’. I screamed back- “Carry your Rain-Coat, dude.”
After his ‘dressing-up’, he came by and sat next to me to finish his coffee. As always I wondered if he had taken bath with water or perfume.

His mom passed me another cup of coffee and said to Roshan and me- “ Why don’t you guys skip college today and stay back at home. I’m preparing carrot halwa today.”

Roshan replied with the same- “What” exactly the way I did to my mom. When did parents in India start saying things like– ‘Bunk College my boy’, I thought.

“No ma. We have an important presentation to make today. Can’t skip.” He replied like Mr. Scholar.

“What presentation, Roshan?” I asked with a tone.

He came close and whispered- “Fuck you. Just shut up.”

Meanwhile, his mom was getting vexed and said- “ you both are staying back, that’s all.”

“No ma” our scholar replied again. Roshan walked out of the house like how a disappointed boss walks out of a staff meeting. As I too began to walk out, his mom came and enquired softly- “Does he have a girl-friend? He’s acting weird nowadays.”

“No aunty, don’t worry.” I said and walked out perplexed to the bike and we left. Only as we rode along that I could paint the actual picture. I could now come to terms with the weird behaviour of both our moms. The moms didn’t want their sons to come back home with wives. Just then, I got a call from my mom.

“Hello. You reached college? Just called to find out.” She enquired innocently.

“No ma. Someone from ‘Rama-Sene’ it seems. They’ve caught me and a girl who was with me. Now they are taking us somewhere ma.”

“What? Where are you? What the hell? Whats happening? Dint you go to college? I told you to stay back…..” and another billion questions pounced on me at a time.

“Relax mom. Just kidding. I don’t have a girl friend.”
She got the point, laughed and then we disconnected. I explained all this Roshan but he could understand it only after three repetitions. He called up his mom (of course with my phone) and tried to play the same prank I tried to play with my mom, it became a perfect flop show as his mom exhibited her verbal skills and it finally took my intervention to claim calm and peace.

At that very moment, Roshan announced- “Dude this is unfair. We all have to do something. Something soon. We shall organize dharnas, strikes…..” he went on. And finally he said- “ We shall start an organization contradicting Muthalik’s ‘Rama-Sene’. We shall call ours ‘Sita-Sene’.” So ‘Sita-Sene’ was formed and inaugurated by yours truly and as expected it lasted for less than half a day.

One hour later, a ‘spark-plug’ resembling Roshan had lost all his spark as he feared to even talk to girls that day making them wonder if his head was alright. By the end of the day, he resembled a punctured tube as his mom sighed relief that she was lucky enough to not meet her daughter-in-law yet. I, in the meanwhile, like Mr.India spent my evening in a temple with my paranoia struck mom.

Read more...

On The Highway..!! - 3

An untidy man of 6 feet height, clad with dirty clothing and long messy hair motioned his hand on spotting a small green scooter approaching him, as in to ask for a drop further down the street. The person riding the scooter who looked equally dirty and messy obliged for the drop. “Thanks for the ride, Sir. I’m Ghani” the man announced. “I’m Rajesh” cutting across to the left trying to avoid a speed-breaker, he replied. They rode along at a steady pace.


Mr. Ashok put the polythene bag of ‘cut-off’ human fingers back into the fridge, patted on Syed’s and Vishal’s backs and said- “ Give me the torch.” They creeped by the walls into another room, which when illuminated revealed a name- “Geetha” written with blood on all four walls of the room. “Now this is getting real easy.” Mr. Ashok announced contemplating the writings on the wall. They then, found the back door and walked out through it, the path of which seemed like it was carpeted with blood. “ So. GEETHA…hmmm..” Mr. Ashok exhaled and continued- “ Okay, we should go to the village limit police station now.” As they were about to leave, a local police constable arrived and saluted, as Mr. Ashok ordered him- “Stay here. Lookout for anything suspicious, Okay?” The three headed back to their ‘Qualis’ to drive to the Police Station. What they dint realize was that the wooden sign and the metal barricade that had vanished was put back in its' original places.



The scooter puffing away smoke steadily moved along. Rajesh enquired- “Where do you have to go?” but he could hear nothing except Ghani’s audible breath. “ Where are you from?” he asked again, but still experienced no reply. With every passing second, Ghani’s breath only got louder and faster.

At the police station, Mr. Ashok learnt that Geetha had committed suicide a month ago. “Her post mortem said, she was raped before she died.” After a silent gap, the village inspector continued- “ though that was kept secret due to pressure from a higher authority.”
“Was there an investigation held to find those rapists?” Mr. Ashok asked looking a bit upset.
“No sir.” He dropped his head.
“Okay. Now about Geetha. Her personal life. Go on.”

The scooter came to a halt, when Rajesh saw the wooden “Dead End” sign and a metal barricade blocking the road. “The road is blocked” he said. Ghani stepped down, walked forward to face Rajesh.
“What shall we do now?” Rajesh enquired.
“I’ll tell you.” Ghani replied, pulled a sharp knife from behind and pushed it right into Rajesh’s abdomen.


“ She was reportedly in a love affair with a person called Ghani when she died, Sir.” The inspector informed. “ Ghani somehow knew the fact that she was raped.” He continued-“ Ghani came here everyday in the beginning pleading to take up the case.” He dropped his head again and continued- “ But we were helpless.”
“Okay. So it is Mr. Ghani, the killer.” He stared at the inspector and went on- “ A disgrace to be a policeman if some bloody higher up wants to play his cards on us. I want the name of the person who influenced you, but before that, we need to catch Ghani. Inform everyone. Make it fast.”


“You will now join your other two friends in hell. You bastards raped my darling, my life- Geetha.” He screamed pushing the knife further into his abdomen, cutting off nerves like wires. “Go to hell, you bastards.” He screamed as Rajesh, now a dead-body fell on to the ground. He grabbed Rajesh’s hair and pulled him along towards the house. “You fucking policemen.” He said to himself as he saw a constable at the door and pounced on him.

“Put the constable at the house on line, I want to speak to him” Mr. Ashok ordered the inspector. The phone rang, but it only rang. They repeated calling him twice, thrice but no reply. “If this is carelessness, I’ll see to it that this will be his last day at work. If it’s not- he is rather killed by now.” Mr. Ashok said with restlessness. “Lets move. Fast.” He said and everyone got back to the ‘Quailis’ and Syed hit the accelerator as they flew to the spot.

As he slit the throat to death of the constable, he continued to drag Rajesh’s body into the house, closed the door behind him and dragged him further into the small room. He dipped his hand into the flowing pool of blood and wrote- “GEETHA” on all four walls. Then, he sat next to the body, and drew out his knife again.




The crew arrived and Vishal alarmed- “ God! The wooden sign, the metal barricade, it’s back here.” Mr. Ashok heard him, but ignorantly jumped out, drew out his pistol and breezed towards the house followed by the rest. They observed that the dry, withered leaves on the ground were disturbed. “Somebody was dragged from here” Syed indicated. They began sprinting and as they reached the door, they found the body of the constable laid dead, flat across the door. As Syed dragged his body to the side, Mr. Ashok broke the door and hurried into the dark little house.
As he reached the room, he was shocked to witness a person cutting off a dead body’s fingers. Meanwhile, Ghani realized that the police had arrived. Mr. Ashok observed his face closely only to discover a freshly attained glow on his face instead of an expected fear. Cutting through one of the fingers, Ghani smiled and said to the police- “ Two minutes Sir. These bastards raped my darling. They killed her. With these bloody same hands. Wait for just 2 minutes sir. This bastard is the last.” He cut off the fingers, put them into the polythene bag and screamed as he surrendered- “ Geetha, I love you.”


2 Days later –

At the restaurant at the “CrossRoads Inn” Vishal and Vijay ordered two taps of beer as Vishal lived the moments all over again. As and when he finished and as they were about to leave, Vijay remarked- “ Sounds cinematic. But it’s proven- ‘Love rules the world’.”

The End…

Read more...

On The Highway..!! - 2

His friend, Vijay arrived at the “The CrossRoads Inn” and walked briskly through the parking lot. He tried to spot Vishal’s car, but he didn’t. “Bad sign” he said to himself and continued breezing through. He pushed through the front doors of the in-built multi cuisine restaurant. The restaurant was less than half filled and it dint take long for Vijay to realize that his friend wasn’t here. Pushing through the doors once again he walked into the reception area and waited for the elevator. The elevator arrived and he entered as it rode to the third floor. Searching for room number 305, he brisked up. Finally, as he found the room, he knocked at the door for which silence was the only reply he got. He slipped out his cell phone and dialed Vishal, but it wasn’t reachable. He ran back to the elevator, descended into the reception area and asked the Receptionist- “ Where is the person in room number 305?”

“Sorry Sir. Our shifts changed and I’m on duty only since 5 minutes. I’ll check the records.” She turned some pages and said- “ The room got vacated 15 minutes ago, Sir.”

Asking too many questions wasn’t going to help his case, so he walked out into the parking lot, approached the watchman, counted out two 50 rupee notes and asked- “What happened to a silver coloured Ford that was here? KA-05 MB 4248.” Trying to get the watchman out of his ambivalence, he slid the money into the watchman’s pocket and gently patted on his back- “Please.”

“Police.”

“Shit…..” Vijay let out a frustrated kick on the hotel gates.

==

==

At Perambadur Police Station

Inspector, Mr. Ashok (Crime Branch, TN) crossed his legs, sipped his tea and said in his crisp voice- “ Why should I believe you?”

Vishal, with dignity replied- “ All I can do is tell you what I know, Sir. Incidentally that is what the truth is. And I believe that’ll be very scarcely helpful to you.” He wiped his sweat and continued- “ I offer to be helpful, now that you’ve spotted me anyway.” He smiled.

Mr. Ashok played in his hands, with the toll receipt paper through which he could discover Vishal’s whereabouts and fixed a long stare towards him. It took him a long minute to change his stare into an almost invisible smile and then stood up, clapped his table and announced- “ Okay. Vishal, you’ll be accompanying me and my assistant Mr. Syed to the spot. You’ll show us the house that the victim pointed towards before he died.” Trying not to sound too nice, he continued- “ Until then, remember you are under custody, your cell phone and your car will be here.” He finished his last sip of tea and warned- “ No tricks. No funny business. Okay? Lets move”

An hour later—

“This is the petrol bunk where I refilled petrol last night,” pointing towards the bunk, Vishal informed Mr. Ashok and Syed as they almost reached the point where the body was found. In a couple of minutes, Syed applied brakes to halt the Qualis, as they had arrived at the spot. The place wasn’t dense with people as Vishal had expected it to be, but it was empty as the post murder procedures were done with and only a constable remained at the spot. It was almost noon, but with the surrounding heavy woods, the sun hardly penetrated and that made the atmoshpere cool.

Vishal scanned around the place and was startled to find that the wooden- “Dead End” sign wasn’t there anymore. He further glanced along the road, gasped when he dint find the metal barricade that had blocked the road that night. On learning this, Mr. Ashok informed Syed to enquire with the highway Patrol Police and the local village police if the two sign-boards were detracted by them.



“That’s the house there, that the victim pointed towards before he fell dead, Sir.” Vishal informed as he pointed towards the old, tile-roofed, modest house. It was about a hundred metres from the road, with no particular pathway. They walked through the trees, the path layered with withered dry leaves towards the house.
“There doesn’t seem to have been any recent human activity here.” He said to Syed, looked at Vishal, turned back to Syed and continued- “ But with these winds, it’s hard to conclude.”

‘knock..knock’ Syed knocked at the door, as Mr. Ashok held his right hand on his pistol. Without wasting any more time, Syed broke opened the weak door and the three entered in. The house was dark and empty. With the help of torches they moved in slowly by the walls, alert to any human retaliation. The room smelt filthy and a bit different from most unused houses. “Sir, bloodstains.” Syed pointed out to Mr. Ashok. The blood stains continued along as a path into the back door. “Somebody was dragged out of here.” Vishal said astonishingly with his heart beating in a hurry.
“Don’t talk. Shut up.” Syed replied with an irritated whisper. “A refrigerator.” Syed illuminated it with his torch.
In a deserted house of a supposed killer having nothing, not even bulbs, spotting a refrigerator, Mr. Ashok knew it was never going to be an auspicious discovery. He could almost paint the picture now. Syed hesitantly stepped forward, clasped his hand on the fridge door handle, looked around and pulled it open gently and the three were exposed to a horrifying scene. Vishal, held his throat, ran to the window, pushed it open, coughed hard and vomited. Cut-off human fingers in a polythene bag.

To be Continued......

Read more...

On The Highway..!!

(Hey guys, fed up of humour, I tried a different genre. Talk about experimenting..!! I've posted this on Writer's Lounge already. Okay, brace yourself and get ready for a thrilling drive.)

Refilling petrol into his Ford, Vishal swung into a small, silent, lifeless lane. He turned on his music player and threw a glance at the dashboard clock, which said- 8pm. It was starkly dark as he drove steadily ahead in search of an entry point to get back into the highway. The road became narrower and darker as the surrounding woods got denser. He could have touched the highway by just retracing the route by which he had come from, but somewhere in his adventurous mind, he thought- “Lets explore.” But now, as he passed well through the village limits, he wondered- “ Do I need this?” He noticed a hitch in his voice and repeated loudly to himself- “ Do I need this crap? No right?”



Suddenly the head beams illuminated a large wooden sign attached to a tree, and Vishal stopped the car. He stared out of the windshield into the old, dirty, bedraggled wooden board and noticed a familiar word STOP. The rest of the sign was incomprehensive, but he could notice another similar word- DEAD END.” He observed his head beams illuminate a small metal barricade about 50 metres in front of him, which blocked the road. The road looked perfectly fine ahead, which made him contemplate as to why such a board was put up. He surveyed the glove box on the dashboard, in search of his torch. He dug out a small piece of paper, which was in it and read it with the help of the torch. It said-“ Toll fee- Rs.35.” He entwined and crushed it, threw it outside and stepped out with the torch in his hand though he had kept the car’s head lights on.

He walked tardily as the dry leaves on the road made crisp sounds as he stepped over them. He reached the barricade, scanned around the place with his torch and found nothing to apprehend the wooden sign to. ”Somethin’ fishy” he said in his mind. With feelings of ambivalence, he started his walk back to his car, covering his eyes from the glare of the car’s powerful head beams. With silence surrounding him, he could literally hear his breath and the crisp sounds of the dry leaves as the wind blew. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked- an unfriendly bark, he decided. He got closer to the car with just ten strides away from it- one… two…three…. four…five..and he froze. A human hand rested on his shoulders with blood dripping through it and a struggling male voice cried- “ Hey….Hey….”

--

--

--


His dashboard clock read 8:30 pm and his speedometer read 110 kms/hr. He was back on the highway, he screamed at himself- “fuckin speed-breakers” and jumped over one. He was sweating profusely, though the car’s air conditioning was switched on. He noticed his music player was still playing, and turned it off in a flash. A milestone read- “Chennai – 98kms.” He found another, the third ‘toll-booth’ on the highway so far and stopped to pay and then proceeded. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, luckily it could catch the network signal and he dialed his close buddy Vijay, whom he was supposed to meet in Chennai. Moreover, he had to confide in someone close to him, preferably a good crony.

Vijay- “ Hey bro..!! You are late. I’m waiting. What’s up?”

Vishal- “ Hey Vijay.” He cleared his throat and continued- “ Listen, I need to tell you something. Something dangerously important.”

Vijay- “Buddy, you sound tense. What’s wrong?”

Vishal- “ Yeah. On the way, I had to enter a small village to refill petrol after which, I headed along through the village road in search of the highway entry point, where I found a ‘dead-end’ sign. I got down to check out and man… shit” He pulled out the small water bottle from his glove box, emptied it in one go and continued- “ A person, a middle aged person, with blood stains all over his body came to me and tried to say something. All he managed to say was- “ Hey.. Hey…” and directed his hand towards a house at a distance and fell dead right in front of me. I think someone stabbed him with a knife. Oh man, in trying to be stupidly inquisitive, I fucked up everything.”

Vijay- “Holy shit. What else?”

Vishal- “ Nothing. I dint know how to react? So, just hurried out of that place. Now, I fear the police would put me into hardships regarding all this. All unnecessary bullshit I got into. Don’t know what the fuck made me go there.”

Vijay- “Okay, cool down.” He paused and continued- “ Okay, do as I say. Reach Chennai, and ‘check-in’ into “The CrossRoads Inn” Leave your luggage in the room and walk out into the public, maybe a restaurant. I’ll meet you there.”He paused and continued again- “ Remember, you are not the culprit. So head held high. Okay? We shall take the bull by the horns. See ya.”

Vishal- “Yeah. Thanks” they cut the call.




He continued driving at a constant 90kms/hr as the road was wide and smooth. He glanced through the rear-view mirror and his heart stopped for a second. A police ‘Qualis’ was following behind him. He hit the accelerator, as the speedometer needle rose to 110kms/hr. His heart raced along. The police car behind him, was no less, it too maintained good speeds if not it was faster than Vishal’s Ford. The Qualis swung to the right, pushed ahead and was now head on parallel to the Ford. Vishal threw a hesitant, nervous glance towards the driver, a policeman but realized that he wasn’t returning the look. Vishal released the accelerator trying to abate and the Police-Qualis moved on without cooking up any kind of a storm. Vishal exhaled deeply relieving himself. He turned ‘on’ his music player in an attempt to vanquish his fears.

In an hour, he entered the familiar, Chennai and drove with no confusion to the hotel- “The CrossRoads Inn.” He parked his car in the parking space, checked in into room number- 305. He tipped the helper who showed him to his room and locked the doors. He went in, had a shower, ate some fruits that he had carried and noticed the wall clock, which showed- 10:30 pm. He messaged Vijay over his phone to inform the room number and typed- “ Meet you at the restaurant.” As he was putting on his shoes to leave to the restaurant, he heard the ring of his ‘door-bell’ and two hard knocks on the door. He swung to the ‘switch-board’, switched off the lights and headed to the ‘peep-hole’ of the door. He peeped optimistically, but to his shock his worst fears came true. He saw three men in khakis, waiting at the door. The Policemen had arrived.

To be Continued....

Read more...