The Quote -

"Nope, I don't really have anything new to say. but then, I always have something amazing to tell about things that you already know!!"


Friday, August 24, 2012

The Goose That Laid the Golden Eggs - Fiction (Aesop's Retold)

The snap-

The fiction-

All the hay, alfalfa and the dried grasses made for quite a comfortable spread, just warm enough. The smell of fresh dug earth wafted strong, its musky odors pulled up by the light drizzle drumming against the newly patched tin segments of the roof.  He spent the next few moments taking care of each and every single detail to the letter, of what he had learned about making her comfortable.

 “God help us all”

He sighed to himself. Of course, him more so than others; considering his recent venture. Quite an ambitious one, if his opinion might be allowed; Perhaps, tad greedy as others might put it but then the world was not made by people who are content with what they already have. Right??

May be his counterpart was not all wrong as they depict him, when he tore open the stomach of his goose, expecting to find the mother lode of the eggs, those golden eggs that it laid one by one each and every day. Foolish like him or not, being satisfied with whatever you have in life is not going to get you anywhere. How more pathetic an idea you can put forward? Bollocks. Complete bollocks. How can people believe and spread crap like that in fables?

“Simple minded fuckers, God help ‘em all”

He murmured to himself again as he slowly got up leaving his goose to her task; roosting alone, trying to breed a bunch of her ilk for him; a bunch of geese that lay golden eggs.

Author’s note-

Quite some while ago, I wrote short fictions that retold some famous Aesop’s fables that were taught in kinder garden. I have retained the spirit of the narrative and twisted it to suit a different moral scenario. Do let me know, what you guys think about them.
And also do check out the other famous Aesop's fables- retold likewise in the following links.

On a side note-
On 22-8-2012, I booked for an accidental warranty service with Dell around 11.30 am, (My friend dropped his laptop accidentally, damaging it's screen). I was visited by the service engineer on 23-8-2012 at around 12.15 am and had the laptop's screen changed immediately. The response was quite swift and the service was precise and friendly. Honestly I am not just satisfied but impressed. I wanted to share this info, so that it might help people who are looking to buy new laptops.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Of fair women & fairer men

Disclaimer –
The following is just the author and his friend shooting the shit together and is not intended to establish any credible facts with regard to anything. It’s just another day with two argumentative Indians talking about some crap but then who says shit ain’t interesting. : P

The Snap -

Myself- Do men actually fall for that bull shit. John Abraham all smiles and muscles, asking people to care for your skin. Pathetic.

Kishore- hmhm….. It always cracks me up, the way they usually show your skin color getting fairer in a very short period in such ads. Imagine the world if that one was really possible, there would not be a single fellow with dark skin.

Myself- Oi…. Don’t say that. Our skin is our identity. I like its brown color. I just can’t understand the idea of men trying to get fair.

Kishore- Yeah, but then you speak for yourself. I know people working with me who use that men’s fairness cream.

Myself- Dude- Seriously! Oh god. I think that men are losing the idea of what it’s like to be men actually. Men are supposed to be worldly, funny, burnt from all the roaming in the sun. I mean, not all of us market our asses to wine and dine, only a few like Abraham-ji get to do that.

Kishore- I think, that all this has to do with- love for white skin. I think it’s rampant even more so, than when we got our independence. May be some mind set that’s left over from our colonial era.

Myself- No, that really isn’t it. I think that corporate work is making pussies out of men. What kind of men wants to be groomed and fair for his girl? You want to be strong for her. You want to be funny, yeah intelligent but fair. I can understand that it’s in the nature of women to be concerned with their looks. But men! I find that hard to digest.

Kishore- Now, you just being a sexist asshole.

Myself- yeah, I am if it means to save the last piece of honor left for men. Hey, did you know that Miss.World this year is a Chinese girl.

Kishore- hmhm…. I remember this mock group discussion we had in our UG days. The topic given was whether all these beauty pageants were doing any credible good or just a waste of time and resource. I remember this guy’s argument. He was quite convincing actually. His assertion was that all these beauty pageants are but vehicles for all these skin care and cosmetic items to enter in to the country. He did have a few valid points. Like how, after Aishwarya Rai was crowned Miss.World, the influx of all foreign cosmetic brands in India increased exponentially. It was like, she gave credibility to them. And I think that, it’s pretty much the same with all the countries.

Myself- Damn…. That’s one heavy argument to make. Yeah, it’s pretty hard to defeat that argument. Even if you say that, the selection process is democratic and everything is done for world peace, you just cannot avoid the fact that it’s just a great publicity vehicle not just for the girl but anything brand, industry or life style associated with the girl.

Kishore- If you ask me, all their concerns about the world, the way those girls talk about poverty, and peace and any other issue dressed up in their cleavage arresting designer clothes is pretty much a satire in itself.

Myself- hmhm…. You got that one right. It’s like KarunaNidhi suddenly caring for the Lankan Tamils now. Pretty much BS. And hey, did you know that he has started an official twitter account.

Kishore- who? KarunaNidhi. No kidding. Hey, I think I am going to open a twitter account just to follow his tweets.

Myself- hahaha…. Do that. You don’t want to miss the BS of the master of BS.

Author’s note – 
We had this conversation this week end. Though, we talked about a lot of things, Like P. Sainath’s lecture at a Kollam university (which we buffered it on YouTube), the immense stupidity of the movie my friend saw (battleship), the prospective market and the features for the new counter strike global offensive, about some music and some politics. I limited the exchange to general issues so as not to bore you guys. Hope, the shit was worth shooting.

And yes, Mr.KarunaNidhi has started a new twitter account @Kalaignar89. You can get your daily dose of BS in just 140 characters.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Good bye my love - A poem


The poem-

Oh! I will forget, just like them fingers in my hand, babe-
As they strum thy guitar strings
Rapid strokes of mambo jambo-
To the rhythm my heart rings.
A single solo I sing,
Of a man gone hollow-
Breathing sorrow- with each and every ping!

Oh … Yeah!  We danced around with words, babe;
Of the few that were said;
One or two- here and there; Nothing more than that;
Too much a-bare; too much to bear;
Like the distant stars in a lonely sky;
We scattered them too much-
And in darkness, they were.
Waiting for you, girl- Just waiting for you.

To reach out with your hand- babe, them five member band;
Thy strumming; ramming at my heart;
For with each and every move, your warm eyes tend to move;
I root alone for me- for you to look at me
And say something- girl.
My jumping parts are praying thy lord;
Say something girl; Just anything, my girl.

Oh yeah! I am just a fool;
Laying in my pool of a few bitter tears- dried long ago,
My last words to you- a simple song for you;
Hewed broken sods- just if you may;
Just before I leave, somewhere away,
Ahoy in a sway!

But my girl- Don’t you worry,
I am never sad- Nothing’s ever bad.
My love for you will always be there; so bitter and so sweet;
Not that I notice- my own parts; of those young and jumping sorts,
Just like I forgot the fingers of my hand,
Strumming along with me,
Humming alone with me,
Good bye, my love –
One last good bye, my love.

Author's note-

Last night as I was listening to Bob Dylan, It stuck me how simple and lucid his lines were, yet so sharp and honest that they carried his pain, anguish, thought across. And hence I was inspired to write the above poem and I dedicate the same poem to his legend. I tried to model the theme of the song around one of my own favorites "Don't think twice, Its alright" by Bob Dylan. I kept the lyrics quite simple. Hope you guys like it.

And for people, who haven't listened to Bob Dylan, Guys, you just don't know what you are missing. Bob Dylan is the guy who gave the lyrics not just meaning but soul. His songs "Blowing in the wind" and "Times they are a-changing" are anti-war revolutions. The man is a cultural icon, his music an ode to the times that there were, the times that will be. Do listen to him.


Well, I have tagged - New technique, since I wrote the poetry more as a song to be sung rather than a poem to be read and yeah, I tagged the same with social problems. I mean what's more than a social problem than a heart break nowadays. What say?? :P

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Soak no more !! – a short fiction

The Snap-

The fiction-

“But mom, I just wanted to save you time.” A tiny voice justified.

“So, you soaked the clothes yourself.”

The rain drenched kid looked up with pride. “Yes, yes, just like you do before washing”

 “Yeah” she said with a suppressed grin “but I usually don’t wear them when soaking…”

“Okay” her kid said quite obediently. “Next time I will remember it”

It was then she burst out laughing. 

Author's note-

I wanted to write a small but a sweet fiction for - The Surf Excel Matic #soaknomore Contest. And I wanted the kid's gender to be ambiguous so that more people can relate to the fiction. Hope you guys like it.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Saving the Sun – A short story.

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 30; the thirtieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
The Following fiction won the Silver at Blog-a-ton 30. A warm thanks for everyone who voted for the same.

The Snap-

The fiction-

“Papa papa, the sun is drowning….. The sun is drowning…”

Shouted the small girl as she came in tears, her outstretched hands searching for him. Her pink frock peppered with wet sand tussled around making way for her tiny feet scrambling forward. Her tussled hair swayed around, flirting with the roaming swirls of wind.

He bent down to greet his five year old, his calm fluid gaze meeting capturing her exquisite child eyes. Eyes that right now were filled with concern, a whole hearted concern tinged with passion, an intense burning passion, a kid’s passion held with all the abandonment in the world. Her voice tumbled out of her in parts, not waiting for her to get her breath back.

“Papa….. Papa…….. The sun’s drowning. The sun ………. drowning”

She paused and raised her tiny arms towards the coast.

“We need to do something.” She turned and looked at him. “Don’t we??”

He moved a few loose strands of hair away from her eyes and stuffed them in her easy braids, dried her tears in his neatly pressed shirt sleeves, lifted her of her chubby feet and started to walk following her hand’s direction.

The evening beach was a multitude of activity. A few late joggers plodding across the sand, quite a few bunches of kids playing, some along the coast running with the waves, a few industrious ones building sand castles, some just chasing each other, a few teens playing football with the goal posts marked in sand, people just sitting, relaxing taking in the dusk, it’s simmering colors washing along each rushing wave’s frolic and froth, ample echoes of laughter and joy mixing with the warm wind and it’s moisture laden fingers, the beach was brimming with life spilling at its seams.

And amidst them, he reached to where his daughter was leading him; a few teenagers sitting around in the waves, joking among themselves, laughing at the world, at themselves, at anything and everything, that picked their flight of fancy. Their pretty beach shirts stood out, vibrant and playful, a bold display of their gay and festive mood. They turned around just in time to see the girl say in her voice laden with anxiety.

“Look papa…… The sun’s drowning. It’s sinking, sinking slowly into water”

The youngsters sitting around started to laugh, seeing that their prank on the kid was working just fine. One of them teased.

“A sad day indeed, for the sun to drown.” A few wild guffaws followed.

The kid shouted back. “I have brought my father.”

“Oh Really!! And what’s he going to do.” They challenged back her innocent claim.

“He will save the sun.” his daughter’s chirpy voice sounded firm and decided.

He looked across at the shimmering expanse of water. The sun was indeed in its last phase of the day’s travel. A shower of orange hews silhouetting the world against itself, a lavish splash of shadows running along the line of the coast. The last embers of the sun’s ring were resonating from the other end of the horizon, from its drowning depths perhaps.

He looked at the people teasing his daughter and herself stout & defiant making her stand against them, holding on firmly to him. He couldn’t help but smile to himself and iterate to her in a calm voice.

“Yes, my girl we will save the sun.”

He calmly looked around at everyone laughing and repeated the same slowly, tasting each and every syllable, relishing at the mighty sound of its absurd claim.

“Yes, my girl we will save the sun.”

“But, how shall we do it??” he quizzed her.

His daughter replied determined. “Lasso it papa……”

“Like wonder women”

“Yes papa”

“Hmhm……. For that, we need to bring the sun closer to us, to reach out and lasso it.” He paused thoughtfully for a few seconds. “What we will do is dig a large pit here, so that the water will flow towards us, creating a slant and the sun will roll towards us along with the flowing water and then we will get a chance to lasso it, once we get it near enough. Okay” He asked her.

His daughter hanging on to each and every word of his, his confidence, his easy charisma voiced his full consent. “Okay Papa, we do it.”

He settled her down, loosened his tie, rolled his shirt cuffs and pants and set down digging with his bare hands. His hard fingers furrowing through wet sand, shoveled up large wet lumps of earth with each and every hearty scoop. His daughter joined him at his side moving the earth her father’s digging up away from falling again into the pit.

At first they laughed. The youngsters who pulled the sun’s drowning prank on the kid stood around the toiling father and daughter and laughed heartily. A few even teased. Harsh comments on the silly charade. And then after a few minutes, they simply stood there, witnessing this strange spectacle.

A crowd started to gather.

All the small kids playing nearby joined in the effort, their laughter splaying over the wet sand, just for the fun’s sake; Someone who was building castles nearby supplied with a few bucket and small plastic shovels; People gathered entranced by the sight; stood around captivated by the strangeness of the tall tale; A father and daughter trying to drain the sea in an effort to roll over the sun towards them, so as to lasso it and save it from drowning; Utter ludicrous; a preposterous attempt to pacify a kid; a grown man behaving like a raving kid;

Many just stood gaping at the effort the father was working up with his daughter, the multitude of wet sand flying in all the direction, the pit growing in leaps and bounds with each and every passing second, the sheets of water rushing into the pit, the unfaltering faith that the kid showed on her father, half her anxious eyes set on the drowning sun, half on her valiant effort, her small hands going about their formidable quest, the sun ever so slowly sinking, gently suffocated and smothered by the expanse of blue water despite all their herculean efforts.

“Papa…. It’s gone.” Her voice wavered. “It’s …….. gone.”

Everybody fell silent.

Her father sat down exhausted, looking at the rapidly darkening horizon, an empty horizon, his breath still coming in spurts with all the hard physical work.

“We have to do something papa” she shouted, her voice broken and shrill.

All around, people stood stupefied. Not knowing what to do, not knowing how to confront the honest chagrin in her voice, not knowing how to explain to her it’s all but a ruse to have fun on her innocence.

He stared ahead thoughtfully and said. “It did not work.”

His daughter nodded; her eyes still staunch, too stubborn to cry, to whimper.

“Are we going to give up” He asked, touching her flushed cheeks with his fingers.

“No” she shouted back with an animal ferocity. “No, we are not going to give up”

“Good” he said calmly nodding. “There is always another chance.”

His daughter looked at him, each and every single of his words etched into the solidness of her heart. Nobody in the crowd dared to breath. A few last passing sea gulls were heard, their cries clear reaching out to their fledglings. Even the kids playing with the sand stopped to listen. Parents, teenagers, joggers, picnickers, people who were just relaxing, A couple of old men in their evening walks, each and every one of the motley group that had gathered leaned forward, not wanting to miss anything, anything at all.

The kid’s father continued. “The earth, in fact is round, we can go in the opposite direction and save the sun from drowning from the other side” He paused waiting for his daughter’s reply.

She stood up from her father’s lap, pulled him up, dusted the sand off him with her tiny hands and said in an urgent voice “papa… Let’s hurry.”

And as the crowd slowly parted, allowing the couple to continue on their adventure, the kid stopped.

“One minute papa….” she told her father and turned back and went straight to the teenager who first put her to saving the sun and said in a clear crisp voice.

“I will save the sun.”

And then the father and daughter left, their walk vigorous, unfaltering, towards the sun.

And yes, for those who are still wondering, on whether they saved the sun or not, rush out and see the rising sun. If you look close enough, rally hard enough you might notice the lasso around the corner of the mighty sun and the sun itself being slowly pulled out of the distant horizon. And of course the father and daughter, if you are lucky enough.

 Author's note-

I loved thinking up and writing this story. I am thankful for the image and Blog-a-ton for putting me up to this.  And this story is for my sister, who is always the first to hear all my flights of fantasy. 

If you loved this short story- then you might want to try reading another one of my similar story - The spring. Both are strongly dependent on nature to bring out the theme of the fiction. 
Have a great day. :)

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. I’m thankful to BLOGGER NAME, who introduced Blog-a-Ton to me, and I debuted in XX edition.
Credits Image - Shades of Orange by Harsha Chittar Courtesy - Curious Dino Photography via