The average everyday - Reality Fictionized

Her primary Colors- A set of 55 fictions

2011-12-05T21:14:00.001-08:00

The Snap-

The fiction-

His deliverance- (the blue story)

“Go on…” she nodded.

A few shadows turned back shocked at the dry nonchalancepouting from her voice.

He left. Not once did he turn back.

Perhaps guilt finally saved him from her burning eyes.

Tears poured along her remaining tatters but then she wasnot going to build her family on another one destroyed.

The snap-

The tail/tale of the giant asshole- (the green story)

“Go on…” she nodded.

“That’s it” He retorted.

She sighed. Men can be giant assholes at times. Perhaps theyare all the time. It just misses getting noticed.

“No” she calmly replied. “There could have been more butthen, didn’t we just find out you have a wife. Now get lost. I am nobody’s substitute.”

The snap-

Cookie jar delicacies- (the red story)

“Go on…” she nodded.

A kid caught with his hand stuck in the cookie jar. Heblinked at her and his wife standing at her doorway.

“What’s happening?” His voice wavered slightly.

“Oh, I called her. Nothing personal. It’s just that” Shepaused. “I hate it when men play women for fools.”

Author's note-

Some time back, I wrote a similar set of 55 fictions, with the same starting theme but ending in different ways. I tried the same with the idea to write responses of women on finding out that the guy they were seriously dating was already married. I wanted 3 of them, so that they will each represent different reactions based on primary colors, hence the name of the title. I wanted the endings to be bitter sweet, not a totally morbid one.

Practice makes a (Wo) man perfect - A 55 fiction

2011-08-11T22:45:00.000-07:00

The Snap -

The fiction -

It ended abruptly. No scratching, snarling, rank abusing, tearing of clothes, pulling of hair, biting, nails trying to plough through skin like any other cat fight.

A single blow to the jaw was all it took.

“You can ….. Really Punch” The spectators stammered amazed.

“Yeah” She shrugged. “I have an elder brother to practice on”

Author’s note -

Quite a while back, I asked my sister what she will do in case someone’s trying to hurt her, really hurt her. She thought for a while and said that she will use her nails on him. But then, nails won’t really do much damage and it will never save anybody in case of a physical skirmish. In fact, I told her that the only thing long nails are good for is to look good her. That’s when I talked her into learning a few basics of self defense and how to punch.

The easy part was teaching part - how to make a strong fist that will direct the punch, not divert it, how to maximize the force of the punch and so on, the hard part started when she started to practice on me and from there it went to worse and worse as she got better and better. And nowadays, when I anger her, she sweetly lets me know with a sharp punch or two. Courtesy - of course my own selfless punching lessons.

The 55 fiction was hence inspired.

But then, jokes apart, I think basic self defense is something each and every woman should know. No need for full blown karate or kung fu lessons but it does not hurt to know how to throw a good punch. You never know when it will need it.

This post is dedicated to all sisters and brothers. A very happy Raksha Bandhan to one and all of you guys. Have fun.

In darkness, we smile -- A series of short fictions

2011-07-30T07:05:00.000-07:00

The snap -

From under the Bed- (7 Sentences)

“You there” His thin voice resonated; pealing of from its lucid ring, a few unheard echoes leaped, bouncing off the lonely bed room walls. Slowly, very slowly, as deliberate as a dancer on spilled oil, he edged towards the end of the bed, it’s pearl white mattresses frowning, its face folding a million myriad lines, scorning at his easy gullibility, the trustful innocence of any 9 year old.

A dry pair of lit sockets from under the bed moved along with his small fingers, grappling at the edge of the cot- a fuzzy ball of disheveled hair tentatively poking out followed by a juvenile pair of eyes, curiosity and hesitant fear in competing dips. What really is under the bed of a 9 year old, of any young kid, too flustered to scream, too manly to call out for his father, a bit too frightened to confront for himself, as he uncertainly chews his lower lip, sweat salt and fear lining his forehead, his perked ears hearing his own booming heart trying to break his ribs with each pushing thump.

The answer to all this and to some more, looked eagerly into the liquid eyes of the kid and barred its teeth; its lips, a thin line curled, trying to grin and bringing out rather dull reclusive smirk.

“Peek A A BOO” It screeched. “PEEE …. KAA …. BOO”

“Hush” the kid rebuked “You… IDIOT… you will wake up mom!!”

The Snap-

His last request – (5 Sentences)

His back arched in pain, raw scalding pain, cutting through his senses like a knife slicing through rancid butter, exploding white dots singeing blank the borders of his vision, his shrill voice squealing, hands flailing around her neck desperate to get a decent grip on the soft protrusion, fingers wild in a murderous frenzy, in a mad struggle to squeeze the life out of her. Blood, it’s warm, sticky trickle, his own blood, dripping down his neatly pressed trousers, drawing fine lines of crimson red along the creases and crinkles of the smooth fabric, its warm fingers seized him in a sudden panic jellying his quivering bowels, farting out in haste the morning’s breakfast – a generous slice of ham tossed with carrots, beans, two extra large omelets finishing off with an good portion of fresh orange juice, now nothing more than a wet nauseous stench, one that filled his crotch.

And then it snapped, just as his nostrils picked up the reeking damp stink, his mind finally snapped, trying to make sense of his rapidly spiraling world, one thread at a time, shredding raw his reason and logic, the vortex pulling him down as he scrambled desperately to get a grip, a grip on anything – anything to sane himself. It was then that the knife, sharp and serrated, finally found his hand that plucked the same with monstrous ferocity and started hacking away at her again and again, blood spilling and splashing in a free flow bid, his, hers, theirs, pieces of hair caked with mud bloodied, bits of skin, shards of mutilates, bits of broken bones- all flying in the air, in a few moments of Technicolor visceral fountain.

Next day, when they found the two carcasses spooled in a pool of dried blood, the face of the women hewed featureless, the man’s under belly cleaved by his own knife – a few hundred gnats buzzing around in the sodden smell, relishing the retch of death, they couldn’t help but notice her teeth were still tearing into his vitals- Sucked him dry, that she did, just like he requested when he cornered her at his knife’s point.

The snap -

The good bye – (3 sentences)

The floors flew past her in a scrambling charade of random images, vividly colorful – a pandemonium of jumbled scenes leapt at her face, her father’s office- the top floor executive suite with the gleaming mahogany table where he liked to walk to and fro when deep in thought, the posh blue interiors of her play room, a few forlorn toys lying around in disarray, thrown around probably during her last tantrum, her mother’s photo, her warm smile encased in a cold frame, long dead by the time she was long born, her nanny for now calling out, shouting for her, as listless as any other in the long list of nannies that have attended to her, too many rooms to search, always empty, like her nights always spent lonely and like everything in her life, this too started as a childish thought, a prank, may be a attention grabber, but once she had jumped, there was no going back, just swirling eddy of her own misplaced thoughts.

No, she did not really scream, like a deer caught dead looking at the head lights of a speeding vehicle, she looked at the grey building that has been her life until then, until today, her last day probably and her last second probably and in those few final few moments, some part of her couldn’t help but wonder, Will her father ever notice that she was gone??

And just about when the ground swelled up to kiss her good bye, her eyes saucered with exultant cheer, noticing someone, someone who had actually took the time and energy and was waving at her, really waving at her- falling down and just about when she hurriedly cart wheeled her arms to return the good bye – splat.

The Snap -

The meal – (1 Sentence)

“It is okay to be lonely” he repeated aloud to himself, may be just to break the silence sinking him, maybe to reaffirm the callused fact – with words like touching a dead wart, maybe he really wanted to just feel okay and may be even hear himself say the same in his own unwavering voice, but then before the sound of his own chords reached his ears, the television box grabbed and ate him up.

Author's Note -

Quite a while back, I once tried to write a few short stories, reducing the number of lines gradually in each one of them. And, for some random reason, I wanted to try the same once more. Have I gotten better!! Now that's something that I rather would leave it to reader to decide. Do try my other story of the same idea at - link.

The stories – all have a common streak of dark themes, inspired by Stephen king – to whom, I have begin to take an instant liking- his broody themes, philosophical ranting, dark ideas. Wow... I hope, I have done justice to the genre.

Of all the stories, I kind of wanted to expand on the first one alone. In a way, I am curious to see how the story will take shape, what the kid is trying to do, whats actually inder his bed, whats the dynamics between the kid and whats under his bed... My mind like scratching an itch, is still pondering over the same. May be, I will do a write up of the same fiction – and finish the story, just hang with me for a wnile.

The second fiction, is inspired by the coloumn I read, on a magazine about how – Women being subjected to physical & mental harassment, how trust is becoming a rare thing to find in people nowadays. My story in a way, is a hit back to it - to the part about women being abused.

& yeah, I know, I have not been a regular blogger – And Still you guys have stuck with me. A sincere thank you and Yup, Will post more intersting stuff real soon.

See you guys in my next post. J

True Beauty- The urban myth

2011-05-22T07:49:00.000-07:00

The Snap -

True Beauty??

The Post -

“True beauty”

After a mild chuckle, my sister repeated the words slowly – rather relishing, pronouncing every single syllable of the word separately.

“True beauty.”

“Yeah! True beauty” I nodded. “So what do you think of it?”

“You want a honest answer” She shot back.

“Yeah! Just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.”

“Hmhm.... OK.”

She nodded. Her thoughtful eyes wandered outside the window, probably pondering on the subject at hand. The road, lit up by the evening sun stood empty other than for a few mosaics of dry leaves & bits of scattered scrap. Week end holidays always leave them, the roads- lonely. None of the rush hour traffic and noise. The frenzy of life takes a back seat, the front ones mostly unoccupied. Rarely of-course, some may break the trend, a newly married couple perhaps- probably lost in each other too much & may be a few boys with cricket bats scouting for a game, the rest peaceful in the closure &comfort of their homes, glued to Computer screens & television sets.

The Question !!

“Hmhm.. You know what” My sister’s voice echoed through.

“What?”

“I don’t know!” she said in an almost mellow whisper.

“WHAT??” I blurted out.

“Yeah!” She calmly told to rather to herself rather than tome, as if she just comprehended the enormity of the truth that she has discovered. “I don’t know what true beauty is? ”

“Hmhm... Really!!” I sighed, clearly disappointed with her candid answer.

Her face lit up with a quirky expression- eyebrows raised with a broad grin.

“Why? What were you expecting me to say?” She asked.

“Hmhm.... Like.... Something along the lines of Mother’s love, Baby's smile & such stuff.....”

“You are not really being fair to the women, who are not mothers... Are you?" She paused "And please - with the baby's smile - how more cliche' can you get??"

“Hmhm..... Yeah! You are right....” I remarked. “I never really thought of it in that way. OK... How about a women in love?”

“Once again- you are limiting true beauty to a segment of women? So, What you are meaning is that women who are not in love- aren't truly beautiful.”

“No, I did not mean it like that.." I looked up at her completely baffled. "Then what is real beauty - REALLY” I asked.

“You see.” My sister calmly stated. “Real beauty is elusive. It’s ephemeral. Something that's only possible in fairy tales or so..... I mean... All of us women want Real beauty. In-fact we dream about it. even fantasize about it.” She paused.

“Nice! But of course – Then you don't know... what you guys really want...” I couldn't help grinning.

“Ah.." She smirked "Thank you, for the observation- Genius. I am leaving you with your post. I have got some work to do.”

Before I could think of something to say, she left.

Simple things are the most hard to figure out. I sighed to myself as I looked out of the window.

The evening was at it’s climax.

The damsel dusk flowing across the blue pavilion in her last tango. Her dramatic finale. Her satin gown dipping & diving on the azure’s sly. A turn, a twist, a trot; Fingers entwined in an embrace eternal, the orange sun’s last embers- infernal fingers, lingers behind in warm cinders. Amidst the sporadic splashes of spectra- the million minions of colors- cyan, magenta, yellow & black- Interlaced in-between white streaks of light laces strut along- dimming delights of hues - honey coated.

The dusk in adieu – on an blue evening’s sky. Full of warmth & life. A free hug from Mother nature.

I sighed to myself. True beauty without boundaries. Full of love & spurting with life.

"So, have you got the idea for the post" My sister came into the room throwing around her warm smile. Her easy smile- Full of life & warmth.

& then it hit me. The simple meaning of true beauty.

It’s a women’s warmth. It’s manifestations- a million.

A mother whose face creases & crinkles with a overflowing smile in every line of her face, when she first sets her eyes on her new born; A daughter’s gift to her unsuspecting father – a simple play of crayon on a scrap of paper; A wife’s warm smile, as she greets her husband returning exhausted from work; A pregnant women’s jubilation over her baby’s first kick; An old lady’s toothless grin; A little girl’s joyous cry when licked by a puppy, she reached out to pet.

Give or take a few careless freckles & wrinkles. It doesn't really matter.

The warmth of Women

She is always beautiful. Truly beautiful.

Real beauty. Reaching out at arm’s length.

Just her. In her own smile. In her own skin.

Glowing in her own warmth.

Just let her be.

Let her glow.

Author's Note -

Guys, this post is a submission to the blogging contest on IndiBloggger.in-

On the topic - What does real beauty mean to you?

I hope I have stuck the right chord. I am waiting for your comments.

Also, do check out Yahoo's real beauty Web page.

PS - The photos that are used - are from http://www.shutterstock.com/
Do note the watermark in the images.

Short Stories - Topic "Thy Exam, Thy Fever"

2011-03-08T03:50:00.000-08:00

Author's Note -

Quite a while back, I experimented with writing short fictions based on a same theme. I just wanted to explore the same in a mildly different way- Different faces of the same issue. In this case exams. This being the exam season, hope you guys find my fiction relevant.

Short Fiction 1 - The reason to smile !!

"Whats the big smile for?"

The hall examiner asked as he was collecting the answer sheets.

"I just remembered the answer for a question."

"hmhm... But It's of no use. You just submitted your answer sheet & I am not going to give it back to you...

The Student shrugged.

"Yeah I know - But the irony of it .... I cannot help but smile."

Short Fiction 2 - A season of tears

Suddenly she suffocated.

One silly mistake.

Her centum has been ruined by a single silly mistake.

Far once, she felt helpless.

Tears surged. Her vision blurred. Uncontrollable sobs slowly shook her.

Never once - did she cry foul against the education system, that has made her into the memorizing machine that she has become, nor did she find fault with the monstrous emphasis - that has been laid on the exams.

Piece by piece, she slowly broke down. Alone.

Short Fiction 3 - The single right guess !!

The question paper stared back at him.

He gave out a calm sigh.

At peace. At last.

No surprises there.

Of course he knew- he was going to fail. But then, thats no reason to fret.

After all, he did guessed today's subject right. Didn't he???

Fin -

PS- Do try out the original experimentation for short fictions of the same Idea at

http://average-everyday.blogspot.com/2009/04/short-stories-55-fiction.html

A few lapses of Recognition-

2011-01-26T05:36:00.000-08:00

The Snap -

The Story-

"I wonder why people from cine field can get recognition & national, state awards so easily. I mean, I have nothing against the industry. In fact I love good movies. It’s just I know so many people who are so good, dedicated & selfless at what they do- in other fields, like engineering, medical, social service and what not."

"I mean, why should actors & actresses be called stars first of all. Acting is a job like any other."

"Why should people listen to their interviews on festival days? What kind of sense does that make? I mean, they are professionals who just portray what’s given to them. I respect them for what they are. But, why I ask, are they given undue importance."

"I love movies. I love the movie industry. But, don’t you think – Most of the times, recognition that is met out to people in the industry aren’t always well keeping in line with their achievements. People from other walks of life deserve more? From the public. From the government. Don’t they?...."

My father shrugged with a calm reply- “ Well we asked them.”

“You asked them.”

“Yeah.” He replied. “When I was there to get the president’s award, which was quite a while back, we were told that, the president was busy & so we will have to receive the award from the junior dignitaries. For once, I was ruffled. I know I have worked hard for what I am going to receive & I deserved to get the award from the president. At least I am entitled to a better answer than the president’s busy.

I blurted out – "But will you do the same if some actor or cricketer is receiving the same award?"

"Do you know what I was answered ?"

My father had a dry smile as he quoted their single worded reply – satirical scar from a wound long forgotten.

“Revenue”

Author’s Note –

There are usually ample reasons for the president to give awards to celebrities by themselves.

Bad publicity,

Criticism from Fans,

Money factor,

Close watch of such issues by the Media –

Are a few of the concerns….. But anyways, it does not really stop me wondering…..

But, people from other fields deserve – better recognition. Don’t they??

PS -

The image I used- may not be exactly in tune to the topic. But It had a few Iconic movies, such as Sholay & I guessed nothing could be a better attention grabber.

Do note that, I am quite a movie buff myself- with Christopher Nolan & Zack Snyder topping my current interests. Counter arguments & opinions are welcome.

A wisp of a wet smile – A short Fiction

2010-11-20T23:47:00.000-08:00

The Snap -

The Fiction ---

“SShhh… She may be sleeping…”

He persisted. “Then I just want to hear her snore”

“Oh Really!!”

He did not reply. Instead, he bent down & held her.

Silence tangoed with love.

Nobody moved. No legs shaken. No trumpets Blown. But the dance floor burned with passion red.

A few seconds melted; Warmth coated.

She whispered “So, What did you hear….”

Holding her pregnant belly, he mouthed “Her smile ….. She is smiling in her sleep”

Author’s note –

I still remember – when I first started my blog, the rush of happiness, I feel every time, I saw a comment on my Page & it still is the same. Your comments always put a smile on me. I just really wish my stories & posts – do the same for you.

It has been quite a while, since I posted my last Fiction. My sister always used to say, I can rarely dish out a simple story – without much of philosophy or dark themes. In a way, I can agree with her. If you would go through all my stories that stretched more than 150 words, you would realize most of them tend to have a dark streak.

So, I wanted my come back fiction to be warm, simple & short.

With this fiction, I would like to thank you guys- for going through my sporadic posts. You guys make my blog – What it is.

Thank you.

Getting Bored in love – A Short Fiction

2010-08-28T04:38:00.000-07:00

The Snap-

The Fiction-

Cuddling in his warmth-

She suddenly asked “What if … What if, sometime in the future- we get bored of each other”

He looked at her. “You tell me!!!”

Her lucid eyes; cupid’s pies;

Spilled & sparkled – as she sighed with her retort to herself “It must be fun getting bored of you, with you”

Fin.

In Search Of A Smile-

2010-08-21T23:45:00.000-07:00

The Snap-

The Smile-

The sun, mellow with the dews of the left over drizzle from the Rain Goddess who just kissed and kindled his domain- lit me up with warm evening rays. Colors a million in-between the chaos of the Billions. Streaks of Gold and Silver – slithered amidst the vast carpet of the blue sky. Earth, raw brown after its day out with the shower, breathed life into Greens- a sipid wave of vivid virility. A litany of noise, A cacophony of voice- Vehicles stampeded on their gravel tracks. Life glowed breaking down all it’s barriers. Even the dark ebonite road, reeled in the rainbow in the skies- A wet reflection- A lover’s distant embrace.

A few silent seconds passed unnoticed leaving me alone to take in the loveliness of her highness. Ah…. All I would ever want from a girl- If only I could court her - Princess Dusk. Warm, Caring, Beautiful, Exciting, Unpredictable and always Dependable. May be, being single has its memorable moments. I sighed to myself as I walked past the milieu.

It was then, that something caught my attention. In an evening, as lively as this- Nobody smiled. People drained from the day’s work- seemed rather keen on getting to their destinations than on enjoying the moment- or rather than to share a smile.

Are people really that lost in their everyday lives, that they do not even have time to share a smile. What a weird world- In a world where everyone wants to smile and be joyful, Nobody cares enough to start a simple smile.

Does our personal life blind us from the people around us? I think we cared about what’s around us more when we were kids than now. Somewhere along the way, when we learned to stand for ourselves, we must have lost the zeal to care and love for life around us.

May be, this is the reason- people love kids- who have the innate ability to smile at everyone for no particular reason. Genuine happiness – Explicitly spread.

In getting to know things about life- In growing up and facing things that life throws at us, I think we have lost the ability to be spontaneously happy.

Hahahaha…. Now, that’s what I would like to call a - Precarious Predicament – A smile – mostly satirical in nature escaped from me. Mostly a natural gesture- an end product of thinking too much- May be.

But… But….. Hey wait… I think the old lady who just passed me returned my smile.

Hahaha….

Finally, I smiled. So what are you waiting for? Share my smile.

Author's Note-

It has been quite a while, since I blogged. So I wanted to post something warm & lively. I really hope my Post put a smile on your face....

PS-

On the Snap of the girl's smile- While was searching for an image- I saw her & I was so caught up with her smile, that I did not have the heart to search on further. Wow -- What a smile !!!

Raavan – A Review – What went wrong??

2010-07-01T18:10:00.000-07:00

Author's note- Strictly for people, who have already seen the movie Raavan. The review contains spoilers and critical analysis of several scenes.

The snap-

The chat-

"So, did you see the movie?" My sister threw me the question as soon as she heard my voice crackle over the phone.

"Yeah, yesterday night…" I replied back.

"So, what did you think?" Her warm voice, brimming with expectation prodded me.

I took a deep breath- "It could have been better.. Much better.."

"Hmhm.. I thought exactly the same…" She paused for a second. "I mean when the character of Hanuman – depicted as forest guard, asking Sita – Whether She would allow him to carry her back to Ram – It was not just silly, it was so awkward. I mean what was the director was thinking!!"

"Yeah, but you know what’s even more silly.." I remarked. "Trying to show that a forest guard (depicting Hanuman) can find Sita just like that. I mean – Even though the movie is based on the legend of Ramayana, only when it’s grounded in reality it will strike a chord.."

"But, hey it’s hanuman you are talking about. He has to be powerful.. Right !!"

"Yeah.. But Hanuman in the actual epic played one of the most important roles. Trying to fit in such a humungous character into a three hour frame has not only robbed quality time that could have been utilized to increase the ambiguity in the characterization of both Ram and Ravanan. And also, the character of Hanuman has been severly underutilized, So why bring in the character in the first place ?"

"Hmhm.. And the character of Raavan's brother is too dumb. I mean.. what kind of a fool it would take to confront someone who wants to kill you in the first sight !!"

"Yeah.. Mani just used him as a trigger that would start off the violent climax." I answered back to her thoughtfully.

"Talking about the climax, what a disappointment. – Right when the character of Ram questions Sita about her chastity, you start to guess that, he is just trying to use her to get back at Raavan & the climax would have at-least been more appealing if Sita also got shot along with Raavan. I mean... With so many people shooting Raavan with all they have, it was like a miracle that Sita was not hurt by a stray bullet even though she was right in front of him." She paused.

"And It was so not like the wild Raavan to tell Ram that his wife is still pure and he should take her & go-- when they are both hanging from the bridge for their lives. Raavan should have been shown more as character with more unpredictability and girth. He should have told Ram, that- He did not deserve her and He should have ridiculed him.."

"Hmhm.. Yeah you have a point" I agreed with her. "but I was most disappointed with the fight scenes. The scene where Raavan’s men bring down the vehicles by using sugar in the diesel tanks upped my interest. I was expecting more in the next confrontation, but what a let down. I mean, what kind of a dud climax, it would be to show Raavan’s men just dashing into the camp, without any preparations. I mean, for god's sake its a military camp, we are talking about.. There would be regular patrols and guards on look out. Emphasis should have been given for the way in which the climax fight starts…"

"& Don’t get me started with the fight on the bridge. Yeah.. It was interesting & the camera work along with the stunt made it look exiting, even exhilarating.. but-- Was it brutal enough to be a fight between Ram & Ravanan. No way & come on.. Do you really think any one could survive a fall like that, even if they are holding on to the bridge. Bull Shit !!"

"You know what I personally thought" I paused for a second. "The fight would have been much better if, the would have clashed on the land. Real brutal. Both of them going at each other, with everything they have. Blood pouring out of their wounds. Ram, in his usual self- trying to bring down the evil Raavan. Raavan with his insane grin, going against Ram with abandon. & just when they are fully exhausted with no more in them, Ram should have got a gun by chance…"

"And it is then, when he slowly aims the trigger to put an end to Raavan once & for all; Raavan still not perturbed staring straight into the barrel of the gun; Sita should have interfered. Tears pouring, She should have pleaded with Ram, not to kill him. Now would have been the best time for Ram to question Sita...

On her chastity.. Why she is crying for the villain.. What has happened between them.. On whose side, she really is??

Who really is good & who really is bad ?? For whom does really her heart beat for??

The situation, if properly played would have been a defining moment in Indian Cinema..

Ram, who just realized that his own wife, for whom he has come- has ambiguous feelings for Raavan..

Raavan, in bliss- insane smiles lighting up his face seeing Sita standing up for him clearly in the open for the first time…

Sita, who just realized that she cannot clearly judge with her loyalty and love lies with.. Looks torn and broken between Ram & Raavan.

This situation would have been highly dynamic and could have given rise to any number of poignant endings. Like Ravanan Being blown of by a freak bomb into the ravine still smiling looking contently at Sita trying to protect him.

Ram, who just lost his own faith in his wife- walking away slowly away from Sita.

Sita, just sitting there- staring into the nothingness of the Ravine, Lost for both words and her soul..

I personally think, Mani Rathnam could have made a modern day epic.. But then he settled for much less, just a simple experimentation."

"Hmhm.." She replied back thoughtfully "Yeah.. In a way, the movie could have been much more.." I could feel my sister nodding her approval at the other end.

"I thik the main mistake that Mani Rathnam did was to stick to the original tale too much & also he should have elaborated more on the character of Ram. And Whats with that Romance song choreography between Ram & Sita.. It was too made up & dumb. Something that you would not exept from Mani Rathnam. You know what.." I told my sister. "I cannot believe that it’s the same man, who made Thalapathi based on Mahabharatham. What a Gem of a movie that was…."

"May be, Mani Rathnam is getting old." My sister replied with a hint of a laugh.

"Haha… You think so... hmhm yeah, May be. Even his last film – Guru did not really get my heart pumping.

"But then, Raavan did had it’s moments.." My sister hit back. " Like the scene, where Raavan raids Ram's military head quarters, the scene where Sita falls from the tree branches with a worried Raavan chasing behind her, Sita rebelling telling Raavan that her life is her own before jumping off the cliff.."

"But with an Ace of a director like Mani Rathnam, I would expect more than just a few good moments." I replied back.

My sister sighed. “yeah, you are probably right..”

Author's note-

My sister and I love discussing movies, after seeing them. And the above is the most of what transpired between us after Raavan. I purposely left out, what we discussed about the portrayal of the characters by the actors. I think- The audience are intelligent enough to know who did not suit the role & who breathed life into their role. I was more interested in how more the director could have made the film more tangible, more memorable, more of the epic that Ramayana really is....

Anyways, I have taken a few critical pot shots at the movie. I would love to have alternate opinions & critiques of my own ideas.

Guys, do leave back- your thoughts as comments...

The murderer - A 55 fiction.

2010-06-01T09:27:00.000-07:00

The Snap-

The Fiction-

"I did'nt kill her...."

"hmhm hmhm"

"Really! I am innnocent...."

"hmhm hmhm"

"Ofcourse, You do not believe me!!!"

"You think so."

"Afterall, instant refusal shows guilt. Doesnt it???"

"Probably."

"So you think that, I am the murderer. Dont you not???"

"No! I dont. But you do know something about who killed her. Dont you? Tell me now or I will kill you too."

Author's Note-

I wanted to write a crime fiction in just 55 words or less. & I did not want the fiction to be something predictable or dull. So, I took this idea of a dark comical twist to a murder fiction and expanded on it. I hope you guys like it. Will soon post more on the same idea. Do leave back your comments & criticisms.

See you guys soon.

The rabbit and the tortoise- Fiction (Aesop's Retold)

2010-04-23T09:32:00.000-07:00

The rabbit and the tortoise-

The snap-

The Fiction--

Nobody can call the tortoise a slouch. Nor can anybody criticize his efforts.

Sweat poured across his face; drenching his soul, as he plodded along the race path, one step at a time; each harder than the earlier.

Every minuscule molecule of his might, exhausted. A dry throat gasping for breath; battling with the heat and exhaustion – dieing to give up. Just give up this unjust race already.

Of course, his opponent is tough and obviously faster. It would be a child’s win for the rabbit to win. But then, all the odds staked against him, made it the more important, more important for him to win.

And no, the chance for the rabbit to fall asleep, once again- after the Aesop’s race would be, like the Americans say; a fat chance. But then, it was his dignity that’s at stake. He took a deep breath and sighed. Sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. With a rebuilt resolution, he plodded on.

Just then, just for a flash of a second, he couldn’t but help think that – Maybe, his claiming reservation was not a bad idea at all.

Author's note-

Like the last post, this one too is retelling the Aesop's in relation to the modern circumstances. Hope I have made a interesting dent to the story.

Regarding reservations - I do not intend to support nor oppose it. I merely would like to rethink reservation depending on circumstances. Isn't that all democracy about ? To decide for ourselves, whats to be done to ourselves. So, tell me guys, what do you think about reservation? and it's implication - both in the story & in real life.

For those interested, the original Aesop's tale- can be read at the following link.

The fox and the grapes- A tale retold.

2010-04-07T18:39:00.000-07:00

Retelling the Aesop's Fables-

The snap-

The tale-

A royal purple, rich & ripe the grapes smirked at the fox. But then, at a height it cannot reach, the only thing that the fox was able to do was stare at the juicy fruits with a calm disdain. A few seconds passed & along with them, a few wise cracks by those hanging safely high up in the branches.

After all, they were sour. Weren't they?

The fox turned around & started to walk away from the grape tree. Cheers rang out from the celebrating bunch of fruits. They wont be eaten by the likes of such failures.

But then, they didn't know did they, that the fox was already thinking of what story to weave to the elephant to make it mow down the tree holding them.

Author's note-

A homage to the Aesop's fables. An alternate version of it, with it's own untold morals with a bit of twist from my own stables. For the original story, please visit the following link. & do visit again for another one of my attempts on retelling the Aesop's.

A few tweets tweaked-

2010-03-25T16:56:00.000-07:00

Guys, these are a few tweets that I tweeted over the past week. Its part thoughtful, part gibberish and part satirical. Hope it entertains. Do leave your opinions on them.

The snap-

Women’s reservation –

Of course, I 22 want women’s empowerment but then with numbers alone in the house (& tat 2 of the elite), can U really guarantee it ??

Reservation within reservations– am happy 2 see tat Indian politicians still have their sense of war intact. If U cant win, at least assure ursef a piece of d pie.

Politics ?? -

Mulayam Singh says- If women belonging 2 affluent families were elected MPs, they wud be “whistled” at by young boys. I say- dude 1st of all, Do you know 2 whistle.. :P

US vice president joseph biden says- this is a big fucking deal 2 Obama during signing of the health care bill. I say- ah, so good 2 know tat they 2 know. :D

Alagiri says- I cannot accept anyone as leader after Karunanidithi. I say- Good that U cleared that up b4 that fellow kicks the bucket. So U 2 in the run for future CM :P

Sports-

Waugh says- T20 is seductive. I say- Hmhm… good 4 U. Afterall it’s the new money spinner & u 2 deserve a few swings. Don’t cha.. :D

Tiger woods says- I was living a lie. I say- no offence dude. I can see tat u r saying stuff 4m ur heart but after reading abt ur liaisons, I realized am 2 living a lie.

The lighter side -- :P

Did U see headley’s pic. Crap. I mean He luks like a villain straight out of bond movies. & still our police force missed him until the last second. God save India.

Katrina kaif luks so hot in the new Panasonic fridge ad. Argh.. I hate those AD photographers, coming up with new ways 2 make me want a girl frd. :(

the next best thing other than being bored is being bored and being able to share it with people on twitter.... :)

Its easy to inspire me. Just tell to me -- tat you love me.. :)

Author's note-

If you guys do like my tweets, you can follow me @aarthycrazy - & do trust me 4 hot & sassy tweets.

Short of choices - A short fiction

2010-03-04T16:23:00.000-08:00

The snap-

The Fiction-

He looked around. His eager eyes searching for company. Some soul company. But then not are blessed.

He sighed & looked back into his question paper. It stared back at him with just the questions or rather the answers,he did not study.

Perhaps a cruel twist of fate. He took a deep breath and raised his hands asking for extra sheet.

Fiction writers can't always have choice on the topics they write about. Can they??

Author's note--

The month of march. A month of exams. Every school goer suddenly gets attached to his until now neglected books (much like Mr.P.Chidambaram talking about calling back Mr.Hussain after Qatar recognized him for what he is). But then the question paper does have a mind of it's own. Don't you think so. (esp when a topic is left without studying, automatically the probability of it to show up in the question paper raises up. :D )

This story is in a way, dedicated to my own memories of attending school exams and my best wishes to everyone attending their board exams.

A cultural chaos- An expedition of feet & the mind

2010-02-04T19:10:00.000-08:00

The Meenakshi Amman Temple- The majestic entrance.

The post-

Someone said that due to some accident or something the buses in the route are being delayed. A collective groan rang out from all of us waiting for the bus.

A possibly long night. Or may be the start of a long morning. The clock had just stuck two. Tired and exhausted to the bones, I watched as a cold winter morning, with damp drifting winds complete; soaking my already sweat drenched shirt. Drifting in and out of the grey regions of slumber, I looked around.

Being a busy route, in no time there was quite a crowd waiting for the bus. People wanting to get to their homes to their loved ones; every one lost in their own version of life; Strings of thoughts throwing multiple shadows in the crevices of their own urgency and need. Just like a heap of gooseberries poured from a sack, a myriad of people sat around scattered with their eyes expectantly looking out at the entrance of the bus stand.

Almost four hours of waiting was starting to get to everyone.

A few mothers were trying to calm their children, pulling the red worn out muffler over their exposed ears; a couple of old men more wrinkled than the quilts that they dug into with their skinny hands blue veins protruding, laid low huddled together; a group of farmers tried to best the chill and the wait chewing their pan squatted around talking among themselves. A handful of working men restless, probably returning home for the week end were heatedly engaged in critiquing the transport system. And of course a few lost souls like me were passing time by watching the entire milieu unfold. Every bus that came into the bus stand was rushed into by us, only sadly to realize that not even one of them were en route to our destination.

The gargoyles leaping out-

The Impulse-

Just then, a bus slowly moved out of the bus stand, the dull lights of its interior painting up the destination board that read – Madurai. My eyes popped out. The bus was almost half empty and my legs were yearning to take a rest. On an impulse, I got on the bus. Of course I wanted to get a bit of shut eye in those warm inviting seats but most of all, I was simply giving in to my sudden urge to visit Meenakshi Amman temple of Madurai.

Meenakshi Amman Temple –

A place that I last visited almost 10 years ago, when I was in my 6th standard. Memories of the school excursion flooded my half awake senses. Nostalgia closed in. My school friends, the unforgettable bus trip, the dance that we did as we stepped into each other’s legs while travelling in the bus, a piece of laughter that was shared, a trip that was cherished and remembered almost a decade ago, a child’s memory with it’s own nuances and sauces; I fell asleep.

The earth was slowly warming up to the kiss of the sun’s early morning light and the birds were making a delightful ruckus in the trees around the temple. A few peddlers selling flowers and incense to the devotes who have arrived early to avoid the rush, A old lady was busy sweeping the yard in front of the road side stalls, someone was decorating the front of the temple with a rangoli, a couple of foreigners were asking for directions from locals, the air was warm and inviting. A good day to have come to visit the temple, I thought to myself as I looked around standing at the entrance of temple. It’s Gopuram (Temple Tower) as majestic as ever stood above the environs basking the glory of its own regality.

I walked inside the temple drinking in the serenity.

The temple was almost empty and in its void, I felt perfectly peaceful. After all you don’t need to be a theist to feel the aura of a temple; you just need to listen. After spending a while, taking in the freshness of the atmosphere, I started to wander about lost with the purpose of being lost.

Beside the Porthamarai Kulam (the sacred pond)-

The perfect symmetry of stone pillars, the exquisitely engraved statues, the walls with tepid stories painted with vivid colors untainted, Stone gargoyles with fangs menacing leaping out at the edges of the walls, spacious corridors well laid, ceilings brush stroked with beautiful geometric patterns, the Thirukkural (Tamil poems) that have survived the passing of time etched into marble walls, the temple towers purple and mighty with their brows looking at the sky; The entire place is a standing testimony to the brilliance of the architecture of the Dravidian*(ie the Tamil) culture.

I took a deep breath and felt glad that I responded to my impulse and took the trip; a worthwhile expedition to put my camera to good use.

I started clicking away.

A detailed design on a pillar-

A temple is a whole new level of stage where people act out their religion. Sometimes stern faith, sometimes even absurd faith – instilled by blood.

People were busy praying, completely involved in their poojas, trying to catch a glimpse of the holy deity, sitting around eating prasadham (blessed food), some singing hymns in praise of the lord, everyone in their own way practicing religion just they way their parents and their parents before them would have done, no questions asked. A local was explaining to a curious foreigner – the culture of the south as he saw it- the customs, practices and the religion.

After standing around listening to him for a few minutes, I found myself trying to wrestle with a few questions.

What is culture?

Is our culture defined by our religious practices, the customs of matrimony and other such practices we surround ourselves with?

Is it our language? The way we express ourselves – the phonetic finesse of our evolution.

Is it the way we relate ourselves to our caste and to our own creed?

Is it a collective dictum of India as a nation?

The ambiance filled emptiness-

With every one brandishing their own version of culture – from the thakareys, the self proclaimed saviors of Marathi culture to KCR in telangana, the self anointed political reviver of Telangana culture-

The word culture has been interpreted in a million ways or may be even more- After all, political parties keep at it everyday- bringing in new meaning to the word itself.

I stopped wandering and sat down. My mind alone still lost with a purpose, searching for an answer.

I gave out an involuntary sigh. The more I sought for a clear definition, the more ifs and maybes cropped up. The vaguer, my own idea of culture became.

May be- Culture, though defined as a collective prerogative of a group of people, its outlook with regard to every specific individual has to be decided by that individual itself.

May be- It is in the “variety of interpretation of culture with regard to passing time” - the evolution of the social and the political society of tomorrow depends on.

May be- Culture is in taking pride in what we are, rather than in politicking what we are.

May be- Culture is about accepting people for what they are with their short comings, tears and laughs.

May be- Culture is what that makes us believe that we are one as a society, a human civilization.

Too many answers..... Nothing specific.... But everything related and bonded with each other- moving in cohesion with the chaos of humanity.

The paintings on walls-

Sitting amidst alternating dance of shadows in the the Thousand pillar hall, I finally seemed to have realized the source of it all.

It's in pride.

The pride of what we are. What our forefathers have achieved. Our sync as a civilization.

Every one wants others to know and acknowledge, the richness of their own past, of what they have achieved and the potential they hold within themselves.

That's why, people get ruffled when talked about culture. After all, blood is thicker than water.

But, then...

Doesn't real plume, pomp and pride shows off without any effort.? Just like the way, the great temple of Meenakshi Amman has astounded me, putting me in touch with the architectural culture of my forefathers.

Just like the way India stand as a edifice of meditation, yoga and spiritual without anyone advertising it?

Like the way, every time- you hear an exquisite poem in your native language, you get your blood pumped up and your heart revved up. You can feel the beauty of the words, blooming with the poem.

For me, that's culture.

Nor I have the need to barter it. Nor do I am too insecure, to protect.

I am content just to take pride in my culture of what I am -- a lineage of people who strive to be themselves, establishing exquisiteness in things they work towards, thereby leaving a piece of themselves behind for the future generations to take pride in.

Inside the thousand pillar hall-

I see the temple as a standing testimony to that.

Ha... Ha... May be even my blog is a part of me. Something I leave behind. A part of my culture, challenging you to think for yourself.

To believe in yourself. To push and break your own boundaries.

Now... About your own culture..... I leave you to decide...

Author’s note-

I visited Meenakshi Amman temple a few months back and this post was written with the frame of mind, I had during that visit. The post goes along my own flow of thought process and impulses.
The snaps that I have posted were taken with a Nikkon Coolpix- P5100. I have reduced the resolution, for easy uploading.

PS-

My sincere apologies for such a late post guys. I just hope, I have made it up to guys- my inspiration as my readers.... that this post, along with the snaps-- makes up to you....

(& also, I was not able to upload all the good snaps I took, so If you guys would like to have the original snaps with high resolution, do ask so, I will mail you. & people who are interested in knowing more about the temple - do visit this link- () I have purposely avoided telling too much about the temple as that data can be obtained from web.)

See you guys in the next post.

Another girl; Another day; - A short fiction

2010-01-13T02:57:00.000-08:00

The Snap-

The Fiction-

" What are you going to do me... " Her voice trembled.

" What else... " He smirked. "than to raping you.. "

She tried to get up and slipped, falling on her face. Her jaw broke in with a sick thud. Blood poured. Her legs refused to respond, torn at the shins, they begged her to forgive them. They could not save her anymore. She cried. A broken brook of agony, the cold pain of what's to come.

In between the tears that flowed mixing with the gutter and blood,he noticed she was mumbling something to him.

He smiled and bent down, trying to listen to her last words. The last begging for mercy always gave him the best hard on.

He whispered to her. "go on dear... I am listening... " .

Her voice was faint but stern. "Please can you kill me after you are done with me........."

A few silent seconds paused. Somehow he was not able to hear her crying anymore.

Nor was he feeling anything when he walked away from there. Just emptiness. Dark, bleak and grey.

Author's note-

Well, I was actually planning to write a 55 fiction but fiction grew without restraint into more than 55 words. Hope you guys enjoyed the piece. And Wish you guys a happy Pongal - the south Indian harvest festival.....

A perspective war-

2009-12-28T04:23:00.000-08:00

Author's note-

A few sketches of random Dialogs often hit us in the face with some fresh perspectives. Sometimes silly, sometimes outrageous, sometimes even unacceptabe but then, don't perspectives make the world what it is?? :)

This post, guys is a conversation I had with my friend a couple of days ago.

The snap--

The dialog-

Pari- "How about you muthu. Will you take any dowry."

Myself- "Nope. I think that dowry in a way degrades the man more than the women. What kind of a man will take money from the women he promises to love and care for."

Pari- "hmhm.... but didn't you say that you want a working girl."

Myself- "Of course, yeah.... I paused for a second.....Why??? Whats wrong with that.. "

Pari- "Well... she going to bring her earnings along with her for life. Isn't that dowry enough."

Myself- "But...... " I paused, my mind scampering for a proper reply and returned back empty handed. I thought aloud. "I have never thought of it that way"

"But then..... " I retaliated. "A marriage is not a buying and a selling issue. You are going to share your life and I wanted a married girl coz I want the girl to be somebody on her own, have a passion of her own, a story of her own."

Pari sighed. "Yeah... yeah... yeah... but then you could not really refuse my argument head on. Could you...."

I replied back. "It's just perspectives my friend. Just perspectives.... "

I had no other reply.

PS-

A happy new year guys. I hope that every single one of you have a great year ahead, do what you guys always wanted to do, get everything that you guys always wished for.

& I wanted to see where the Telangana issue is heading before I write about it as a post. Since this issue rises a lot of questions of rather uncomfortable in nature- I felt it would not do justice unless I write a complete trilogy on the subject. My last trilogy which indeed was my first was a self satisfying, in a way self questioning experience. So, I look forward to write this. Do give me some time.

(If you do wanna try out my Trilogy on sex and society :- Do chk out- the links are- part1 , part2 , part 3 )

See you in my next post guys....

Of lives being wasted. -- A fiction.

2009-12-16T21:16:00.000-08:00

The snap---

The fiction---

He spoke with a vested passion words pouring out of him. Anger coated, pulsating with agony.

"A pure waste. How can people throw away their lives so easily. In a world where even the hungry and the beggars choose to live..... Teenagers molesting themselves is just too much to bear."

He paused and coughed. The cigarette was at it's end. Todays 12th one.

He sighed. At least he was taking the longer route to meet his maker.

Author's note-

I am kind of in the middle of preparing a post on the telangana issue and it's taking time coz I want to be as simple, lucid and non judgemental as possible. As far I can see in the internet, there are people venting out their passions about the issue rather than studying it prespectivey. Hope my next post would fill that void.

In the mean time. A short 55 fiction to think about. :)

See you guys in my next post.

Welcome to heaven- A 55 fiction.

2009-12-02T06:53:00.000-08:00

The Snap---

The fiction--

"Welcome to heaven...." They greeted him warmly.

Luminescent halos,
flowing robes,
floating angels,
beautifully divine: Everything a joyous shade of crystal white.

Suffocated with cascades of escatasy he blurted out "But what did I do to deserve this..."

A kind voice answered him back

Of course you deserve this. Afterall Arent you coming from the planet earth???

Author's note-

In this story, I have left the ending open so as that people can draw their own conclusions from the vague but slightly leading ending. I would like to know your views on this write. Do humor me on your thoughts.

Cheers...

Until next post...

A city that will get to you - Hydrebad.

2009-11-23T21:25:00.000-08:00

The snap--

The tale--

The dark night's landscape sparkled with a million electric fireflies as maruthis, Hyundais and Accents rushed past, tiny but still luminescent adding flavour to the crisp coldness in a warm distant manner. The sky was filled with heavy clouds that looked down empathetically at the miniscule humans rushing about in the chaos commited to keep themselves fed and comfortable. A few pigeons tired after a day of searching for trees in this concrete maze of a city had settled on some rooftop corners, complelled to be satisfied with whatever that left green in the city, even the green paint of the nearby walls.

I always love heights. Seeing things from above puts everything into perspective- your own life, your commitments, your own heart and the world buzzing around you. And standing at the 7 th floor of my hostel, the paranomic view Hydrebad gives, always astounds me. I look back at the last 50 days of my stay in hydrebad. Quite a few days and yeah, quite a few emotions that the city has put me through.

A city where I got my watch stolen, A city where I found friends whom I could cherish for life, A city whose zest for life has thrown me offgaurd, A city where someone had the dare steal my mobile which was under the pillow with me sleeping on it, A city whose hot biriyanis and spicy cusine- I have grown to love, A city where I am learning a lot, may be a bit more than I bargained for, A city where even beggars compete for your money, A city where your everyday pedestrial activity on the road becomes quite an ordeal with all the vehicles trying to run you down, A city where the same local newspaper boasts about some achiever everyday while the last page of the same news paper carries the sad news of some young fellow taking his own life.

A multi- dimentional spectrum of a million colors, A girl who will always remain a mystery to you. An engima. A quest. The more you try to get to know her, the more she throws at you twists & turns that you never expected.

A city which you can never love completely but then you cant even hate her completely.

A broken glass -- a lost cause.

A kaleidascope -- of broken glass.

I took a deep breath and turned back slowly tracing my steps towards my room. I need to rest. Who knows what the city is planning for me tomorrow.

Author's note--

This is a way is a short reminescense of my stay here in Hydrebad. In a couple more months, I will be back at my home with ample time at my disposal, then- I will sure write in detail about the varied experiences and people that the city shared with me.

The honors-- A short fiction

2009-11-14T21:34:00.000-08:00

The snap-

The fiction--

She welcomed him with a sad smile...

"I was waiting for you... What took you so long...."

"Really" he prodded. His rusted voice visibly surprised.

"It's just that I dont have the nerve to do it. Can you do me honors..."

Freddy shrugged before ripping her apart.

Killing rampages on Friday 13 does have it's wierd moments....

Author's note-

Guys, I am writing 55 fictions and short stories a lot nowadays coz I dont get to be online for a wholesome post. Hydrebad, I must say is too intense a lady who keeps me busy most of the time. And this particular story, I wrote keeping in mind the last Friday which came to be on a 13th.

An arabian tale with a twist - A flash fiction

2009-11-07T21:30:00.000-08:00

The snap --

The tale -

"Is that all you want?... "

"Yes"

"You sure"

With a calm voice Alladin persisted - "Yes... I am sure of it.."

The genie frowned completely puzzled. Nobody in it's history has placed such a weird wish. Gone were the days of simple minded guys who wanted to become rich overnight and court the princess of their land. But then people do change with time.

A second or two passed with the genie lost in thought, at the end of which it shrugged & asked it's master --

"OK.... done- So you want her with fair skin, blue eyes, dark flowing hair, melodious voice, red lips, ample bosom, accommodating and sweet personality,luscious cleavage and of course she should love you to death. Do you have any other calibration changes in your jasmine."

Alladin beamed. "Nothing more"

The genie sighed as it started to create the girl.

The best things in life do come customized.

Author's note-

This fiction is my own satirical dig at how all most everything nowadays is being made available customized. The story itself was inspired by the movie Alladin -- starring the BIG B as the genie -- which was severely disappointing to me- failing miserably to retell the age old Arabian tale with any new twists. But then what else could you expect from a film industry where originality is becoming a rare commodity.

The second life - A 55 fiction

2009-11-01T20:54:00.000-08:00

The snap-

The fiction-

"So, Did you name your daughter after me...."

"No.. What about you? Did you name your son after me..."

"Do you even need to ask... Of course... No."

They both chuckled.
Dry humor, as always....

Just like the old days. A cool breeze swept past them as they inquired about each other health and family.

Living on with a broken heart isn't really that bad. Is it??

Author's note-

I wrote this story after reading in a daily about how a lot of people end their lives because of broken hearts. I believe that love should make people live & enjoy life rather than the opposite.

The last Parody - A 55 fiction.

2009-10-23T22:40:00.000-07:00

The snap -- A final prayer--

The fiction-

Nothing was lift behind,
but ashes & death....

Humans were finally extinct.

& all it took was a few true Indians, Pakistanis, Americans, Chinese, Palestinians, Iranians and other country brands -- all heavily nationalistic and armed.

But one couldn't blame them.

Finally a nation did prevail. With brown wings, they flew around eating away at the unblinking human eyes.

Author's note-

Regional feeling, Nationalistic feelings are good and an important part of our society & but then when the same feelings are taken too deep into the heart, it becomes a fanaticism that does not accept anything other than it's own kind.

The same is the reason for India's heavily region specific politics & also this sense of regionalism is the reason that every country is trying to develop it's own technology, wealth & arsenal of weapons - without any consideration for others.

If there is to be an apocalypse, then possibly, it will be at our own hands.

Randomness - a few selected dialogues-

2009-10-14T21:59:00.000-07:00

Of a random lot of people we get to talk to and of the chaos of conversations in our daily lives, a few do stay with us. Having it's own sense of sense of humor and satire, even a mild bit of romanticism included, this is a summation of a few interesting conversations that I had with the guys I met over here in Hyderabad.

Of girls and future partners-

Deepak - "I want a nice cultured gal. A girl who hasn't been introduced yet to the fast life style of the modern society, preferably a village girl. Perhaps a bit cute and bubbly. Imagine all the fun, I will have taking her to all new places, looking into her eyes when they go wide with awe as she looks at all the new things to which she hasn't been introduced to in life."

"Ahh... It will be a total blast. I want my marriage life to be an exploration for her. May be, I will convert her into a village girl into a modern girl."

He paused. Took a deep breath taking in the bliss of his dream. After a second or two of silent reminiscence, he turned & looked at me.

"What about you? What kind of girl, you want?"

"hmhm, I want a modern girl. Someone who knows about everything. Someone knowledgeable and yeah, She should have a great smile"

"A modern girl" Deepak retorted.

"Yeah, Perhaps someone who has already been in a relationship..."

"What" His voice punched me back.

"Yeah, someone who has already been in a relationship. Someone who knows the value of what it is to be in a relationship. Someone who knows that relationships are more than sharing SMSes and flirting. Someone who can be mature when I get silly, Someone who can see me beyond all the facade of hormones. Someone who knows, what it is to be heartbroken. Someone to share life with."

"But, in that case, you won't be the first love for that girl, Muthu. They wont be fresh for you." Deepak looked at me questioningly.

I calmly answered back - "That's OK. I never said that I am fresh either."

The snap-

Of Morality as a life issue-

Harish- So you drink?

"Yeah, Occasionally & when I do so, I prefer vodka."

Harish did not reply anything back. He just sat there looking at me with a mild smile.

"What da?? Do you think that drinking is that bad?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Of course, It's bad. Right?"

After a second of silent thought I replied- "Depends on how you look at it..."

"Really, & what do you mean by that?"

"Well, lets say, you are a guy who always has stood for what you think is good. Righteous. Always living your life by the norms of the society. So you get a good job, get married to a good girl, create a good family, leave a good legacy behind. In the end, what do you think you have achieved. You have achieved nothing. You have just followed the road that was taken & still being taken by countless Indians, who live their lives not for what they desire but for what the society desires out of them."

"People will say - Accept today's pain for tomorrow's happiness. That's the most silly piece of advice anybody can give you. You can never enjoy anything that you did not love doing. It's no different from school education, we study because we are told that's what everybody does. A bunch of sheep following another bunch of sheep. So, you work hard to get accepted by the society, what next. After you have achieved, the so called public acceptance, what are you going to do? Is your life that all... Trying to gain the approval of someone doesn't even have a face to be identified with."

"I live life the way I love it. Maybe, it's not in accordance with the morality that's usually defined. But I do not disturb anybody. I just want to live life for me, do things that I rejoice, Be happy for what I am. I wont be appreciated for that after my death. But then by my death, I would have millions of cherished memories. So what people are going to say about me, now or ever- doesn't really matter, Does it??"

"& anyways only when you love what you are doing, the spectacular best in you comes out... Right??" I challenged him with a questioning smile.

"You are dangerous guy da. I should try stay away from you" He replied back.

"Really!!" I laughed. "Why??"

"You almost had me convinced there.."

Of Love & Marriage --

Mukesh- "What about you da... love marriage or arranged marriage."

"Hopefully, Love marriage da." I replied.

"Really, do you have a girl friend now"

"Nope"

"Then...."

"Well, I think, I will fall in love in the near future."

"What if, you never fall in love da"

"That probably wont happen...."

"I only asked, what if??"

"Then probably, I wont marry...."

"What?? Really" He asked me incredulously.

"yeah, a marriage for the sake of marriage is a waste of everything da.."

After a second of thought, he asked me back-

"Then what about your sex life da??"

And for once I did not have a wise retort to answer him back. I looked at him blankly for a moment before changing the topic with a mild joke. But then, It did make me wonder- Do people really get married so that they can have legalised sex.

Author's note-

This post is not an attempt to criticize anyone's point of view but I wrote it, so as to bring the variety of opinions that people can have with regard to everything and anything in life.

A Romance; Eternal - A Poem

2009-10-07T22:02:00.000-07:00

The poem -

An evening's eve
Orange light in sieve.
The sky majestic,
Loudly artistic;

-the vibrant spread of blue
Red, yellow & white in hue;
A renaissance painting,
The dusk's lovely setting.

A fleeting stage,
For the last act;
Of a love's pact;

A romance eternal;
A passion Infernal-

He-

He looked at her,
A warm look;
-his charm's brook,
Gushing care &
lust a bare.

He looked at her,
his love; his heart,
his spirit set apart;

She-

A fairy; fair,
A beauty rare.
In a sari white,
Gracefully light.

A classy lady,
His eye's own candy.

With coy blush; her face,
-A pink flush;

She looked at him.

Her love's knight;
Her night's light;

An angel regal;
Simmering passion-
Her love's paralegal;

She looked at him.

The love-

Time halted;
It's chime thwarted.

Nothing was spoken &
Nothing was needed to be; When

Silence was heard &
Silence was all that needed be.

The end of her lips,
Cringed & crooked.
The bend of her smile,
Singed & sparked.

As drunk he was;
Of her beauty
He got drunk more-

-in her love,
In her love for him.

They rushed.

They hugged,
their lips locked.
Nooks & corners,
caressed and kissed.
Million stories,
shared & cherished.

Sweat & semen-
Wet in heaven.

No- body moved;
No- thing was seen;

Love alone moved;
Love alone was seen;

Seconds were savored;
By two hearts love favored.

The parting-

Like every sublime
second,
that moment too passed.
Like love, time too
doesn't fall nor
does it falter

A moment had; unhad.
A love had; forever had.

He kissed her hand &
took his leave.
Bidding him adieu,
She smiled - exquisite.

They parted their ways,
Still lost in each others rays.
Still red, the warmth of the brace,
They parted their ways.

A Romance eternal.
A passion Infernal.

Never did they show
the tears they swallowed

The sun and the Moon ----

Author's Note -

I dedicate this poem to My blogging & online chat friend Richa, who got married recently. Girl, I wish you with all my heart - A blissful married life. & a love as divine as between that of the sun & the moon during the dusk.

Guys,you can wish her at her blog -- http://anglic-butterfly.blogspot.com

About the Poem, I have tried to bring out the love that I felt between the sun and the moon in the passing moment they shared in the sky during the dusk time. & Since I wanted it to be special for Richa- I took my time to write and post it. Hope you guys like it.

Will meet you guys soon..
With more of my experiences in Hyderabad.

Until then...

cheers.

Of humans & humanity -

2009-09-24T02:49:00.000-07:00

The city-

A city that was found on the banks of the river Musi, A juxtaposition of the magnificence of the old and trendiness of the new. A city whose development in the last decade is not just astounding but mind boggling. A city that still reeks of a rustic charm with the edges of sophistication and refinement creeping in. A city that once courted the Nizams. A city where the beauty of the language Telugu flourishes along with lavishes of Urdu and Hindi added. The city of pearls, of lakes, of a climate red hot and of girls hotter than that. :D

A city which will be my home for the next three months -- Hyderabad.

The snap-

A chaotic hub of activity welcomed me when I arrived here, at the junction of Secundrabad one week ago. The buzz of rushing human life played around me, always constant and engaging. Dozens of stores with a million goods of every sort; T shirts, bags, flowers, combs, locks, fruits, trousers, Remote control covers, Cushions, Cushions covers. A multitude of things that were being haggled over for better prices by both the seller and the customer.

Auto Rickshaw wallahs looking out for everyone and anyone coming from inside the junction for a prospective passenger. People with pale shirts clean and pressed rushing over to their destination unknown, offices probably to confront whatever the morning has prepared for them. Students with ties and a twinkle in their eyes hurrying past the milieu, their heavy bags lugging behind their backs. A few teens fooling around; A couple of men in lungis* sitting in front of closed shops reading the news papers; Buses, taxis, Autos and what not zooming past loaded with people and their early morning concerns; A haste of activity, An onslaught of life.

And as I stood there, a kid enthralled by the flurry of whats happening around him; I saw her.

She-

White wisps of hair; greying in the frays probably from the dust billowing from the road, dry and lifeless, a sad shine in it's last days in those old eyes, clothes beaten and faded; colors long forgotten, A face wrinkled blue more with the worry of hunger than of age, A poor old women looking around for someone who would be her savior today; giving her a few coins; winning her today's bread.

And of all those people who moved past her in haste or of even those just loafing around, nobody seem to even notice her. They were too lost in the maze of their own life that they have just become a bit too immune to see the pain and sufferings that's at their door steps.

As I stood there waiting for my bus, I really wanted to see someone help out that frail figure of an old lady. But alas, even though the explosion of activity increased ceaselessly along with the trickle of time and the blooming of the sun, nobody, not even one seemed to mind her. The hunger in her eyes,her dry, parched lips, the streaks of her tears; dried.

A lost soul amongst a million lost souls.

Humans if needed may learn to eat humans to live. But can we be called humans then?

A few more moments crawled by. The lady lost all her hope that she will get to eat something today and sat down with hunched shoulders trying to bear another day of her drab life.

May be I was destined to buy the lady her morning food. I smiled to myself. Quite a destiny.

I gave the lady some money and asked her to go and eat. She looked at me with those silver eyes with mixed emotions. I moved away before she could thank me.

After all, I was just trying to salvage the reminder of the humanism and kindness in my heart & for that, sorry but you don't really need thanks.

Author's note--

This post is but what I felt when I looked at that poor lady & by no means, do I credit the city for the plight she was in.

And Guys, I am having quite a time in here in Hyderabad. Will soon post about my wanderings and experiences here. :)

PS--

Guys, Since I am staying here in Hyderabad in a hostel and doing my blogging from a nearby net cafe, I am not able to keep up with your blogging. So, so pardon me. Will sure catch up soon.

Until then... Cheers.

Forgetting you

2009-09-16T23:28:00.000-07:00

The snap-

The poem-

A child; My mind
jumped with glee,
Two feet in air-
Joy abound & bare.

Two wings unhinged
lunged; lupine,
A sky lark's dance-
Of a forgotten romance.

Of kisses; salty,
& tears; saltier.

Of memories; sweet,
& thy pain; sweeter.

The pain of my love;
An angel lost;
eons past;

In a
Lucid tone; of
A lurid atone-

My mind's lark rejoices
And harps,
Rambling drunk;

Soaked up &
exuberant that,

it has forgotten you,

You, my girl

Fair lady of thy lot;
The thumping melody of my heart;

Tangerine-
The rhyme of
her clear crystal voice.

Aquamarine-
The shine of
her sheer liquid eyes.

As in bliss
as my mind may be,

Singing out, of
forgotten you;

A pity it is-

It also forgot-
Even for the ecstasy of forgetting you;
It needs you-

You; my love.

An angel lost
eons past.

The chocolate – A short story

2009-09-09T13:24:00.000-07:00

The snap-

The fiction-

“Please mom” pleaded the kid. Her 8 year old eyes were yearning for the milk chocolate that was sitting on the window sill of the shop in a beautiful glass jar. It had a royal blue wrapper with silver letterings that stood out claiming the chocolate to be “Richer smoother & milkier”. The wrapper even had a gold lining that caught the dull light of the sun shrouded by the rain clouds and dazzled. The small girl would have given anything in exchange to have a piece of that chocolate. Anything – anything including the best of her toys, the color ribbons that she loved to play with, to the Mickey and Donald cartoon stickers that she enjoyed sticking on her note books. She was lovelorn with that chocolate. And that was enough to push her to desperation.

She tugged at her mother’s sari* and once again pleaded with all her heart thrust into her voice.

“Pleeeeeeeease mom”

Her mother gave her a smile and a 5 rupee* coin to get the chocolate and resumed her gossip with the other mothers who have come to the school to take their children home. The school was one of the most recognized in the city and most of the locality children studied there. It was a magnificent building with a white facade, airy corridors, spacious well lit classrooms and it housed a large playground that was bordered by shady banyan trees. The success of every single market is based on the factors of nearness and need for their products and the variety of shops, stationeries and malls that outlined the school made the best profitable use of that basic fact of consumerism. It was in one of those shops that the milk chocolate was taunting the kid’s eyes.

The girl jumping with glee the moment she got the money in her hands. Her feet raced her to the shop and with a smile a mile; she gave the shop keeper the money and pointed to the chocolate. The shop keeper shook his head returning the money saying that the chocolate costs 15 more rupees. Hopes dashed, the kid stood there for a moment not knowing what to do. The kind shop keeper leaned forward and with a warm voice said “why don’t you get me 15 more rupees and I will keep one chocolate especially for you” and gave her enthusiastic wink. The girl renewed with energy went back to her mom who was just finishing up with her gossiping.

The kid prayed that her mom won’t make a fuss about the extra money. And just as she reached near her mom, the dark clouds started to spew warm drops of scattered rain.

A beautifully stunning virgin of a drizzle that laughed, sang and danced around the skies with the splash of spectrum trailing along on its tail came rushing to the ground lost in the lovely moment like a girl rushing out to meet her man returning from the war. The dry, virile ground proudly jutted out to embrace the warmness of the touch as the cold fingers of the drizzle drenched and soaked its surface with love. Blatantly orgasmic was the plethora of colors, tastes, senses and pleasures as the rain and the earth held each other in their arms cajoling with one another, fighting with each other, peppering one another with baby kisses, losing themselves in the sensuality of holding and being held. The beauty of their union was splendidly fantabulous.

But alas like everyone else who scattered away when it rained, the girl and her mom too rushed off to their homes missing the orchestral performance of the century. The girl’s mind still hung over the chocolate of which she was determined to ask her mom when they reached home. The drizzle hit her face pretty hard as she sat behind her mom holding to her tightly as her mother sped the scooter towards home. After a few minutes of driving and tussling they reached their destination. The small girl got down from the scooter, ran to the door and shrieked in delight. Her father who obviously did not share her exuberance waiting there completely sodden by the rain. The kid disappointed with her father’s response sat there long faced trying to get off her wet shoes.

Her mother opened the door and both her parents went inside. Her father who fell upon the couch the instant he got inside the hall started to remove his tie.

“Why the hell did you not give the key to the neighbors when you went out???” He shouted at his wife. “I have been waiting here for almost an hour getting drenched in the rain!!!”

“How was I to know that you will come back home today early? Am I Houdini or what?? His wife answered back in a calm tone. “And don’t you blame me for this. You forgot your keys this morning and so you stood out. Period”

Her father frustrated and angered with the attitude from her mom tried to forget it by immersing himself into the sports channel in the television. Her mom helped her to dry herself and put on new clothes. The girl was pulsating with the urge to tell her mom about the money she needed for the chocolate but she knew that it was a bad time to do so with her mother busy doing chores and her father absorbed in his sports. So she waited. She waited until it was dinner time. Until they were just half way through the dinner and then told them about the chocolate.

After patiently listening to her, her mother assured her that she will get her the chocolate when she comes to pick her up tomorrow. The girl completely satisfied slept sound that night when it rained cats and dogs outside.

She just couldn’t wait for the next evening to come and to have her hands on the chocolate. She was on her best behavior in the school, did the home work during the interval itself, helped the teacher to collect the notes, she even tried to be good to the boy who always teased her. Her mind was preoccupied with the chocolate and the evening that it gave her the heart to be her best. The day wore beautifully – the teacher had put an “excellent” remark in her note, she had the best time playing with her friends, she had even picked up a pure white pigeon feather that she always wanted from the playground and she was going to have the best chocolate in the world in the evening.

Life couldn’t be more beautiful. By the evening she was feeling completely exhausted.

But she was too happy to notice it. She is going to get the chocolate. She marched up to her mother and held out her hand with a flourish. Her mother’s smiling face disappeared as she felt her daughter’s extended hand. It was burning, burning with fever. She scooped up her daughter in her arm, seated her on the scooter and accelerated towards the nearby hospital with a speed and concern that only a mother could rival. The girl was torn apart as she saw the receding figure of the shop and the half empty milk chocolate glass bottle disappearing in a haze of human activity as the vehicle sped along the road.

After checking, the doctor diagnosed it as viral fever and advised hospitalization for a couple of days. He assured that she would be fine as the disease was at the starting stage and if treated properly she would be back to normal in a couple of days. Her father and mother sat beside her bed holding her hands trying to whisper into her ears that all would be well soon. As agonized they were at seeing their precious little daughter lying helpless and prostrate on the hospital bed but they tried not to show it to her. The night fell in solemn whispers as the cold evening wind blew its way past the hospital.

The little girl laid there on the bed dreaming. Milk chocolates were falling from the sky all around her but kept vanishing when she tried to pick them off from the ground. She kept at it for a while until she was exhausted. She was almost in tears. Then suddenly the raining stopped and out of the blue came the half filled chocolate jar. It laughed at her taunting her to catch it and however much she tried to catch the jar, it rolled out of her reach and with each of her failure to catch the jar, one chocolate disappeared from it. She felt cheated, disappointed and utterly let down. She started to cry.

Her father noticed the tears first. He checked her temperature. It was still a bit high. He slowly woke up his daughter caressing her cheek. She woke up with a start and seeing her father in front of her, she hugged him tightly. Her father held her stroking her back with his calm voice reassuring her – “It’s just a dream honey. Nothing more………….. It’s just a dream.” She drifted back to a dreamless deep sleep.

After 4 days at the hospital, she returned home with her health completely restored. She went to school the next day and when the evening came she begged her mother to give her money for the chocolate. Her mother was reluctant to get her the chocolate keeping in mind their last episode at the hospital. But the girl won’t hear of it. It has become an obsession to get her hands on that chocolate and she was not going to give up easily. She pleaded with her mom who gave in at last after she promised not to eat the chocolate until tomorrow. She will just get the chocolate now for keep’s sake.

With the money tightly held in her hand and her mother walking beside her, the kid in the best spirits walked towards the shop. Finally she was about to get the chocolate.

Then as she neared the shop the kid saw that the jar was empty. Oh no….. She started to run towards the shop with her eyes on the jar. Yes….. Yes…… Yes…… There was still one single chocolate in the jar. She increased her pace. But ……. Oh my….. Oh my…… Someone else was buying it. She was at her wits end. Her heart was pounding and her feet were aching. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It couldn’t end like this. She loved that chocolate. She wanted that chocolate. She reached the shop and with tears streaming down her eyes, she looked at the empty jar and then at the last piece of that chocolate as the one who brought it slowly walked away. The kid stood there crushed and battered. It has been too much for her.

She did not cry out loud nor did she try to make a scene. She did not care. Tears swelled and flowed glistening across her pinkish face.

Her mother sat down beside her not knowing what to do. She tried to calm her. But the girl was not listening. She was simply staring at the empty jar. Her mother stood up, went to the shop keeper and asked about where else she could get the milk chocolate. Then she asked the shop keeper to look after her daughter for a while and rushed off in her scooter to get the damn chocolate.

God has his fun playing with you when you least expect it and when you are least equipped to face it. He taunts you, piles up problems in you, blocks your every exit pushing you to your extreme limits. No matter how much you pray, no matter how much faithful you are, no matter how many times you have played the Good Samaritan, no matter whether you are a Catholic or a Protestant or a Hindu or a Jew or a Muslim or even an atheist for that matter – he rarely cares. May be he is just caught up a bit having too much of fun or may be there isn’t even a god for that matter. But who cares. It feels good to have somebody to turn to when things become too heavy to bear.

After searching for almost forty minutes without any success, her mother in her mind was praying for such deliverance to no avail. Her mother just didn’t have the heart to return to her empty handed but had no other choice. She didn’t really know how she was going to face her daughter. She didn’t really know what she was going to say to her to console her. She drove her scooter slowly towards the shop with a heavy heart.

When she got there, she parked the vehicle and entered the shop. She had no idea how what she was going to say to daughter. She was then quite a bit shocked to see her daughter squealing with peals of laughter. In her right hand she had a large candy and with her left she was trying to stop the shop keeper from tickling her belly. Her face lit up when she saw her mom and came rushing to greet her. She bobbed up and down as she told her how the shop keeper has taught her a new game that was so cool, how the new vanilla candy the shop keeper gave was very very sweet and showed with flourish the brand new Mickey Mouse stickers he had given her. The kid was deliriously drunk with happiness.

She never did get the milk chocolate that she so much yearned for.

But still she survived. Enjoying her most to say the least.

And life went on.

The end.

An Everyday Tale - A 55 fiction

2009-08-29T15:56:00.000-07:00

The Snap-

The Fiction-

“It’s the same everyday. What’s the problem with you? Don’t you know how to cook anything else?”

The Television resonated with resentment.

The couple stopped eating, looked up at the television anticipating the wife’s reply.

--- Blip ----

The dining room was thrown into darkness. A power failure. The couple sighed to themselves, lost in their own thoughts.

Author's note-

PS- I left the fiction to be open ended so that people can draw their own conclusions from it. What I have written below is my own general observation.

Sometimes I wonder, Why is that everyone gets married at one time or another. Is that the only course of life thats available or to put it in more blunt terms, the only course of life thats possible?

I have nothing against marriage. In fact, in a way I am happy that the majority of the society still goes along with it. I was born because of it & it does give a sense of order to the society that would otherwise become a chaotic fist fight of which guy gets which girl.

But what completely eludes me is that why do couples who learn that they don't get along with each other after marriage, still prefer to be together.

Maybe, they are afraid of their own loneliness that they choose to live on with their partners, cursing fate for the predicament they are left with.

People are such fragile creatures.

Will meet you guys in the next tale. (I am planning to write a fable next time. :) )

Until then,

Cheers.

A satirical silhouette - a few thoughts tweeted

2009-08-19T10:32:00.000-07:00

Guys, This is another collection of my tweets. I have made an attempt at satirical tweets. A few brutal ones, a few silly ones and a few even rhetorical as always.

The Quote -

It is when we learn to laugh at ourselves, we get to know what it is to be ourselves.

--Muthu

Morality -

There is no good & bad. Just a Grey area of uncertain morals. People paint them definite colors with their own prejudices.

Nobody wants to hurt any1 unless of course they don't know about it. After all gun makers don't cry over the victims.

Of course sex is the most natural thing in the word& that why people's faces usually turn red when U say anything about it.

In a way all humans are masochists, even though life has shown us it's painful face more than once we still learn to enjoy life.

There is no such thing as a clear conscience- It s a myth like tooth fairy. U make it up 4 kids who still believe sex is kissing.

The snap- A wicked definition.

Out of the box--

When sum1 asked me 2 inspire him fast. I slapped him hard& "boom" he was inspired 2 slap me back. After all hate 22 inspires.

Some1 said real beauty is skin deep& am still searching him 2 kick his ass. Wat really is d use of having a beautiful pancreas.

Of course all guys are jerks and shit heads. How else do U think we manage to fall for gals. :P

Bathing everyday is just a reminder 2 let U know tat- there is space 4 improvement everyday-

Wen people say they don't have regrets, they just don't want to accept that they could have done things better. Its OK 2 regret.

The snap- Sometimes it's fun, even inside the box.

Of Politics & Society-

Sharad Yadav says- Pass d women's reservation bill& I will consume poison& die- I say- Thank U Sir, Indian govt could really use your early retirement

Comedians are not politicians but of course U cannot always say d same about thing about politicians being comedians.. :D

Politics is of course a potty hole of shit- but then we do need to keep our toilet clean. Right??

Lalu says- d society is adversely affected by gay sex. I say-Of course Lalu ji-Ur wisdom trespasses all boundaries just the way ur family size has.

Why does Lalu think Gay sex is a crime- He is afraid that some guy might make a pass @ him. After all he is the father of a dozen children :P

Of course everybody watches rakhi ka swayamvar - It feels good 2 know tat even Rakhi has competition for her hand. :P

My mom is totally against same sex marriage. She think tat its against nature. But then mom- even dressing is not natural Y should we do it?

The snap- Too much thinking can also have adverse effects. Do be careful-

Author's note-

Satire is one of my favorite genres. To ridicule with wit is the basic idea of satire. The tweets posted in the political section are a bit old in the time line(Since I wanted to post them as a collection, I delayed the post). & also these tweets are not absolute truths(they are variable with difference in opinion) and If you feel different, do feel free to spar words. After all it is the difference in Ideas and Ideals that makes life chaotic and beautiful.

If you liked the above, please do try the quotes of Woody Allen. He is my own favorite satirist.

Definitely Dowry – A Short Story

2009-08-11T07:36:00.000-07:00

Dowry - The definition –

Money, goods or estate that a woman brings to her husband in marriage. It has a long history in Europe, South Asia and Africa. Being a conditional gift helping the husband to discharge the responsibilities of marriage, its practice more or less disappeared in Europe in the 19th and 20th century. However the practice grew in South Asia where in some cases delayed or insufficient dowry has made some young wives the victims of torture and sometimes death by the in-laws.

The snap-

The Story:

He slowly opened his eyes, waking himself out of the final traces of slumber and found his hands instinctively reaching out to his side to his newly wed wife. The warmth of her sent a tingle through his skin and just as he lifted his head of the pillow to see whether she was asleep or awake, he felt her hands ruffle through his hair and simply smiled. The room was bathing in the morning’s golden sunlight- warm and lustrous thrusting life into every thing it touches. She got up, walked up to the window and stood there looking outside, the light bounced on her and exploded into a million rainbows. He took a deep breath savoring the loveliness of the morning on his wife and thanked his lucky stars that he got married to this lovely lady, as he got behind her and slightly brushed his lips against her cheek kissing her.

It looked to him as if she was deep in thought and like any new husband ready to impress his wife in a jiffy, he asked her what was on her mind. She looked into his eyes, gave a slow sad smile, then said “Nothing, it was just something I was thinking”

“Something huh???”

“Yeah it’s ok. It’s no big deal”

He stood there looking at his wife ordering some tea through the room service telephone, totally bewildered and stumped, unable to understand why she just blew him off without any answer. He must have stood there for a while; she looked at him, tilted her head as she always does when she questions him and quipped “What?? Why are you staring like that??"

“Nothing, it’s just that I was wondering whats keeping you so lost in thought…….”

She simply sat down at the tea table without showing any intent of responding to the question. What are men supposed to do when they met with such indifference while talking to a girl? After all men are logical creatures, who would rather understand quantum mechanics than the workings of the mind of the fairer sex. Without an inkling of an idea on what to do, he did the right thing, he simply waited for her to answer.

Exasperated with the long silence, he started to contemplate on breaking it with some idle prattle, just then the tea arrived. Eying his large tip, the room service who brought the tea pot gave a big smile and after making sure that the couple did not need any other thing, he left the room as deftly as he entered. The tea was tepidly warm and refreshing. He inhaled the aroma and started to sip it. It gave him something to do rather than to stare at his wife who doesn't seem to acknowledge him.

“Have I been sold to you darling??”

He chocked. Her feminine voice, so calm yet sharp in an morbid manner churned up his insides, rattling him. The tea along with the words and the tone that she delivered them, it couldn’t have been more bizarre. When kicked in the balls by a girl, a guy though in pure torturous pain rarely responds violently instead he simply stands there wondering what in god’s holy name did he do to deserve this. It was in such a state of poetic pity, that the newly married husband was left with.

Women are invariably comfortable with monologues especially when they need to speak their heart out. They just need someone who would listen. Someone who would listen to them seriously, then chide them with a smile and a kiss for thinking things in such a silly pretext.

“It’s the dowry that keeps bugging my mind. I don’t really see the need of it, in the least the reason behind it. Well, it’s not like we are in medieval ages, it’s the 21st century and for heaven’s sake I earn as much as you do. It hurts me plenty to know that I have just been sold to the best bidder. How else can I put the money and property that you and your parents got out of mine? How more pathetic my father could have been blaming the society when I asked the same question to him – Am I being sold?”

She then gave a sardonic smile and brushing away a few strands of hair that were falling to her gloomy eyes; she looked at him and quipped like saying the punch line for a bad joke. “And you know what the real fun part is, not even a single soul understood me, even barely listened to me”

After a second or may be two, he stood up from the tea table and went to her, laying his hands on her shoulder he kissed her forehead, and looking deep in those dark raven black eyes, he said in the most empathizing voice “I understand”. Blossoming flowers drenched in dew were put to shame as her eyes turned moist and she kissed him as if it was the most natural thing to happen and overwhelmed with gratitude, she quipped “Thank You”. He couldn’t have been more understanding.

After a few cherished seconds of cuddled warmth, she gave him a peck on the cheek and went to the bathroom to shower. He moved about to the balcony and after a few seconds of thought, rang up his father in law from his mobile and was greeted by his sleepy voice. After the usual chit chat, the newly married son in law stammered more than a little bit trying to find the right words. “Actually……..I called to confirm……… whether you credited to my account ……… that money you promised”

“No, not yet. I was thinking of transferring it to you in a couple of days. Why? Is there any problem? Are you guys doing OK?”

“Yes of course we are fine. Well, the thing is……. It would be good if it’s done by tomorrow and please don’t let her know that I requested this of you. I mean………. you know her. It would upset her”

The father in law answered with the most empathizing voice “I understand”

The son in law was so overwhelmed with gratitude, that he simply quipped “Thank you”. After all he couldn’t have been more understanding.

The Guidance--

2009-07-27T22:08:00.000-07:00

The Snap-

The Fiction-

"Papa, He took my ball...... took my ball...."

The child came whining at the top of her unbroken virgin voice.

"It's your ball. Right??"

The six year old looked up at her father and nodded.

"So, What are you going to do about it??"

The sharp question put the child to silent thinking.

Her father just smiled.

Author's note-

A child is an individual with it's own thinking, capabilities and creative intuition. More often I come across parents who feed their children on what to do, rather than kindling their own child's problem solving quotient. In a culture like ours, where kids stay with the parent until almost they get married, I think parents guide their children a little too much.

After all, how many times have we heard parents saying- "I made all the decisions for her till now. I care for her. So wouldn't it be appropriate for me to find her a good suitor."

Parenting is a gift, a bliss. To see a child make it's own mistakes, it's own choices and to take part of it's tears and laughs in it's life is a privilege in it's own right.

Rest In Peace – A short story.

2009-07-19T12:07:00.000-07:00

The Snap-

Even the most daring of the prostitutes, avoided that alley, not because that it did not have customers with deep pockets and weird fantasies to be fulfilled but because it was a bad omen. In better words, a suicide wish. Death was blatantly splashed across the walls like cheap paint peeling away at it's frayed corners. Life just decayed there, breathing into the environment it's remains, dark, damp, putrid smell of rotting soul. A better stage could not have been asked for, for the drama that was about to happen.

It was inhumanly cold like the silence that cloaked and drank the alley in it's darkness. The three men stood there staring at each other, daring the others to make a move. One of them, a dull red shirt was the first one to make the move. He rushed at the other two with his knife, eyes full of murderous intent, no wonder he missed the misgivings of the ground below him. He tripped and fell down with a dull thud. He laid there on the bare lifeless gravel, with his own life slowly ebbing out of him along with the blood dripping out of his broken forehead.

The other two looked at each other and exchanged a smirk. “What a shmuck!!!”. Fucking died; without even putting up a decent fight. One of the standing two, the sadistic leader slowly came forward, with measured steps, eying the red shirt for any last signs of life. After all they will have to confirm the kill but what really is the fun in rushing things. After all, the fun has just started. Hasn't it?? .

He tried arousing the dying man with his feet, which answered with no response. “Shit!!” He thought. He never got his arousals until he heard them cry and beg for mercy, to just finish them off and when people went out without that last cry of anguish, it enraged him. He kicked with his heavy soles into the abdomen, the victim cried out in the bliss of the pain. The tormentor grunted his approval with a malicious grin that lit his face in the dead darkness of the alley. He turned and looked at the face of his partner and beckoned him to join the fun.

It was then that fate started to cast it's own dice. He felt pain, sudden succumbing pain. A knife stuck into his shin was so hard, it ruptured a few veins that blood didn’t just ooze out but slowly flowed to paint the alley road a dense dark crimson. Instinct took over all his senses and be simply bended over holding his leg. A mistake and just as he realized that the knife was all the way through his left eye, tearing apart the softer tissues of the brain. He fell down dead.

Exhausted with his vengeance with the knife, the dull red shirt laid there panting and fighting for air in the cesspool of blood. The third guy now shivering and white faced enough to term him a corpse slowly edged towards them; dead and the nearly dead, and stood there twitching in fear not knowing what to do. Must have been a bit of a gutsy guy for his first murder, he slowly knelt down to check on his comrade and just then, it happened. The red shirt in his attempt to breath through all the gathering blood opened his mouth and started to choke in his own bloody mess. He died, giving gave away his last breath;A ghoulish guttural.

That low haunting sound broke whatever remaining guts, the third guy had. He started to run as if he was possessed. Not just out of the alley but he ran until every single muscle in his soul was totally exhausted. His fear washed away with the remnants of his sweat. He did not want to be there. He wished he did not see what he just saw. He did not want to stop running. He just ran.People, when they fighting death after putting up what they think it is their final struggle, simply surrender themselves to it without even trying. Maybe that was why, when the third guy realized that he had stopped running in front of a speeding truck, he didn’t even try to dodge. He became one of those hit and run casualties, dead even before hitting the ground.

The sky slowly darkened in mourning and the sound of the rain drops mixed with the sirens of the ambulance and resonated all along the alley as distant echoes.

Three were dead. There was no relation or any similarities that were found between them in investigation except of course in the burial ceremony, where all the three were said to be the children of god who were pure in soul and though good in character, had been corrupted and forgiveness was asked, for the almighty is all forgiving and benevolent.

And the dead could rest in peace. For after all, the dead rarely lament.

Amen.

Author's note-

I have always loved dark stories & I think that this is just my own version of a very short murder story. I wrote this a while ago. I just thought it would be apt for posting after editing a few parts of it. Hope you guys like it.

I am a bit busy traveling and may not visit your blogs regularly. Please do bear with me. I will catch up with you guys soon.

Cheers...

The tag- A few books that have stuck to me.

2009-07-10T12:31:00.000-07:00

The Tag-

A couple of days ago, I got tagged by pranksygang to name 15 books that will always stick with you in your memories. Thank You for tagging me girl. I am a voracious reader (both fiction and non fiction). I love to try out new genre of writing, new authors and after almost a decade of reading a whole lot of books- I found it funny that, my most memorable reads were just a few(have written detailed description of them).

The Books-

Don’t stand too close to a naked man- Tim Allen

An outrageously funny, truthfully bold, satirically sincere book by Tim Allen. He talks about men, women, the differences, the quirkiness, the compatibility issues and everything else in between. Even his silly rant on sex seems to have a mild philosophical edge to it. A bawdy laugh-out-loud-book that I guarantee will sure tickle your humor ribs.

Men look at women the way men look at cars. Everyone looks at Ferraris. Now and then we like a pick up truck, and we all end up with station wagons. -- Tim Allen

The day of wrath- Sever Gansovsky

A book that I caught my attention when I was going through aimlessly at a garage book sale. A book that cost me just Rs.6. A book that redefined my entire perception of what science fiction should be. A book that was not only original in idea but also revolutionary in what it incited me to think. A book that I am addicted to read whenever I feel down.

I researched the author after I read the book & found out very little information about his work. Most of the articles were in Russian & there was not much in any encyclopedias either. I was a bit disappointed. Why is that people who are doing research thesis in their post graduation studies always choose the much treaded path like Shakespeare to work on. Why can’t they take an initiative & work on much less recognized authors like Sever Gansovsky. How else will people know the geniuses that are lost in the treading of the time?

Pillars of the earth-Ken Follet –

Not just a novel, A epic. Not just a story, a memory. Not just words, but lives. Not just plots, but people. Not just cathedrals & churches, but history. Not just faith but love that eats up eons on its path.

Such is the intensity of the Novel by one of my all time favorite authors. And also it is in this novel – that Follet brings to life the fictional girl who I will eternally pine for.

Ellen -- A rebel who defies the orthodoxy of the medieval church. A free thinker who stands up against every form of oppression, a beauty with a passion for life that will burn even the sun, a virago with a tongue that can sting & curse with vengeance when scorned, A lover with a zest for love that will throw you off guard, a drizzle that wets you to your heart but, still somehow her warmness refuses to wash off you.

The Sicilian – Mario Puzo

Yes, Of course- Godfather is the holy grail of all mobster novels. No questions. The perfection of the plot, the staggering visual display put up by the easel of Puzo’s words, the bluntness of the violence and gore, the twists that always keep you on the edge – It has no rivals.

But I think “The Sicilian” has something more. It is not perfect but unlike Godfather, it has a rawness to it that attracts me. It has poignancy to all the blood shed. A dark deep satire in the plot that wretches the soul. People lost in a way of life that reeks of greed, money, freedom, fiefdom, beauty, love, violence, governance and a lot and lot of Sicily, so fresh and sunny that U may smell the olives that are grown
over there.

The other books that I seriously recommend reading are

White out- Ken Follet ---

One heart gripping page turner that has so many twists & surprises that take care, you don’t fall down as you read along. :)

Air Frame - Micheal Cricton ---

The world’s best science fiction writer gives you a bite of what it is that makes a aero plane fly all the while keeping you on the seats edge.

The timeline- Micheal Cricton ---

The most perfect snap of history to be done by an author with strong characters and a story line that leaves you wanting more.

The life of Pi- Yann Martel ---

My most favorite booker prize winner – a book that treads between the realm of reality & fantasy. A fairy tale set in the modern times. Said in words that will not only make you believe but will make you doubt what you imagine as real.

Angels & Demons – By Dan Brown

The da Vinci Code – Dan Brown

The horse Whisperer -Nicholas Evan

If tomorrow comes – Sidney Sheldon

Faking it – Jennifer cruise

Lord of the Rings – J.R.R.Tolkien (Strictly for people who love epics with verses.)

Mahabharatha – Vyasa (Again strictly for people who love epics with verses)

Happy reading guys--

am kind a working on a short story-

Will post that soon.

Until then. Cheers.

Poems tweeted-

2009-07-03T10:19:00.000-07:00

The snap-

Her smile-

The curve of her smile- The crescent moon's isle; The sound of her laugh- a few flowers broke, bloomed & coughed- love is bliss.

My love-

In the silence of the night, I am in bliss. The symphony of her voice - thy music. My love - the crescendo of thy orchestra.

The rant-

No I am not a poet. It's just that my heart overflows with so much love seeing her smile that it cant help but rant a bit.

The soul music-

The curve of her rainbow earlobes jingling with the dance of the dew drop earrings is music,life,reason & treason to my soul.

The difference-

My love is a solitary lass. Wither it will not; Tethered with hopes; I will wait; a few seconds or a few centuries makes no difference.

The dawn-

Dew drops few; on the green leaves new; grinned 2 yew; with sun shine skew; Just born dawn sparkled & smiled.

Art-

It drizzled & then drenched- rainbows rained- She blushed & brushed spectra amok. Picasso's & Van Gogh's failed miserably in vain.

Author's note-

Guys, these are a few poems that I tweeted a while ago. & no these do not form any rhyming patterns. They are just a few wild thoughts put together. Hope U guys like them.

Cheers.. :)

A few single lilies - A poem

2009-06-25T10:39:00.000-07:00

The Snap-

The Poem-

A few single lilies - lost in her locks

Sparkled; laughed with delight;
Sparked; broke a few rays of light;

Scattered a few rainbows
Splattered were a skew of Spectra-

Of the seven colors known &
Of a dozen few unknown-

A few single lilies - lost in her locks

Danced along with the rhythm of the wind;
Salsa & Tango; with a bit of
foxtrot thrown in.

Waltz & quickstep;
Zinging it up with-
the east coast swing.

A few single lilies- lost in her locks

were blessed & kissed

And as stars they were christened.

Their laughter & twinkle immortalized.

In curves of her hair;
swaying with the breeze-
playing in the bliss
of eternal despair;

Her flowing hair-
Her beauty's lair;

As dark as the night's sky can never be-
As dense as love will ever always be-

A few single lilies - lost in her locks......

The Elegy of the coitus- A short story

2009-06-22T06:21:00.000-07:00

The snap:

The story:

Note: This story has two plausible endings like taking two different routes to come to the same finale. One is the shorter route “The Slap” and the other one is the longer one “The Kiss”. The slap has a very abrupt ending and leaves a lot for the reader’s own deduction and understanding. The kiss has a long and fully explained ending giving the reader all the facts of one possible assumed ending that the story can take. As the name suggests, the slap may be offensive, but do read the kiss and then comment.

The Conversation-

You know something….

What??

I….. I have always wondered….

Wondered??

Well if you hear this, you may think I am bit of a freak. I know this kind of thought is rarely expressed but I think that all the married girls will at least think about it, one time or another.

Hm hm…

The thing is I really don’t know how to start it. I am afraid I am going to be blunt with you. Is that ok with you?

Ok..

Ok, here it goes… I have always wondered what it would be like to actually have sex in a physical sense and then get pregnant as a result. Not getting impregnated with sperm from your husband’s removed balls. In my case your ……………removed balls.

Huh???

Well it’s not like I don’t like doing it with you. I love you. I love making love to you. But its just that I kind a don’t feel it right getting pregnant artificially. You know what I mean, don’t you??

Kind a!!

The thing is ….. Can’t you keep a check over the population by using other contraceptive stuff ---condoms and ? Do you really need to go this extreme as to making all men seedless on their marriage and storing away their balls in a cryogenic freeze??

But..

Yeah, I know we humans don’t have enough living space and the population has been in control after implementing this system but I really think that its odd, to have a technician say to you that you have been artificially impregnated and you are pregnant. It simply lacks the surprise and the pleasant anxiety of waiting for the doctor’s verdict of your pregnancy.

Hmhm…… yup..

Ending 1 - The Slap:

More than that, you know what I think ………. I think that when we alter nature, it has its own side effects on which we can have no control over. Of course, we always know the probability of things that are to happen, perhaps like the toss of a coin but what if on the toss, the ceiling falls down and no ones left to see the result of the toss.

Huh???

Yeah, that’s highly improbable with the advanced neural networks looking after the sequence of our daily activity. But I do have my qualms after going through chaos theory in detail. Taking in hand a theory that says anything can affect anything and using it to predict everything is quite contradictory. Don’t you think so?

May be….

Yeah, it is….. It is a clear case of conflicting interests.

Baby, just a second….

What??

Can you just turn over please…… I want to do it in your anus now.

Ending 2- The Kiss

More than that, you know what I think ………. I think that when we alter nature, it has its own side effects on which we can have no control over. Of course, we always know the probability of things happening, perhaps like the toss of a coin but what if on the toss, the ceiling falls down and no ones left to see the result of the toss.

Huh???

That’s highly improbable with the advanced neural networks looking after the sequence of our daily activity. But I do have my qualms after going through chaos theory in detail. Taking in hand a theory that says anything can affect anything and using it to predict everything is contradictory. Don’t you think so?

May be….

Yeah, it is….. It is a clear case of conflicting interests.

Baby, one sec….

What??

I think I am done.

Oh, ok then. Let’s get dressed up. By the way do you really think that these experiments and reports will do any good? May be, will help us to get back what we have lost or in the least understand what we have lost.

Frankly, I don’t know.

--The report:

Experiment no- 4561; Experiment code- d beta; Date- 12-10-3045;

There is still no available practical proof of why our ancestors practiced the act of sex or coitus other than to create their own progeny. The material evidence suggests that the coitus must have been quite a pleasurable experience to undergo for both the male and the female. But the experimental evidence suggest otherwise. Further research into the dead end theory that suggests “hormonal changes that must have resulted from the complete birth control technique implemented a century ago must have done irreversible damages to several primal hormones destroying the sexual drive and the coital pleasure of humans” is advised.

The End-

Author's note-

I have used the idea of chaos theory in this science fiction. Chaos theory in simple words can be said as a theory that suggests that every random happening in turn causes another random happening that may in essence never be related. For example, the flutter of the butterfly wings in California may cause a cyclone in Sri Lanka (hence the theory is also called the butterfly effect.
A lot of movies & novels have been based on this Idea. Eg- The movie Jurassic park & the novel- The lost world on which it's based. The movie- Butterfly effect. For more information on the theory- try this- [link]

This is one of the first science fictions that I wrote long time back. I have tried to give a fiction that forwards itself just by the conversation between two individuals. The idea of an alternative ending was inspired by Jeffrey Archer's short story - One man's meat, that had 3 different endings. Though I am not a serious fan of Jeffrey Archer's short stories, I found the idea worth a try. I myself love short stories(science fictions) of Sever Gansovsky, who is my soul inspiration as a short story author. His stories have not just awed me but have always left me inspired and thinking. I just want to achieve the same with my stories.

PS-

I am a bit sick with fever, running cold and infected throat guys so I was not able to blog for a few days. And thats why i am posting this story that I did a while back. I think I will get back to my usual cheery self in a couple of days. Will sure post a few stories that I am mentally working on.

Until then-

Cheers..

Muthu

A few Tweets- A light delight.

2009-06-15T10:54:00.000-07:00

Guys, I have made a composition of a few tweets that I tweeted in the past month. Usually my tweets are the results of a bored mind rhetorically rambling about whatever it fancies. They can be silly, sometimes profoundly thoughtful or may be sometimes brutal. But then they are just tweets & as tweets Do enjoy them.

Satire-

What do u do when twitter bores- u realize u just reached d ultimate destiny of every modern kid. cheers. ;P

Whnever i feel tat i cant sleep cant rest my head,I dont despair- 4 I still hav my 10th civics book & readin it always puts me 2 deep sleep

U are never alone, at least until u give up on urself & get married. :P

Blaming is fun at least until u run out of people u can blame... :P

Humans are a failed species- u see the more we live the more- we find problems with ourselves & everything else.

The fairer sex-

Compliment gals not coz it will get u into their pants or hearts but just to see her smile- bloom seeing that u hav noticed. ;D

It is OK 2 get slapped by a gal as long as she is angry wid u. But if she s angry with herself & she slaps u, then thats supreme trouble

Really guys suck when it comes to understanding gals & all u gals wanna do is- play around with this weakness. U cruel heartless ladies.. :P

Every man is a stud at least until some women marries him & knocks some sense into him...

Love-

Love is of course insanity but gal once u smile, insanity is bliss.

Love is like smoking -addictive & If ur gal still refuses to get addicted to you may be she is allergic 2 ur brand.

Please don't ask me if am interested in sex Of course I am but I think love would really spice up the mix. So am waiting. ;P

Of course U will get a cool gal, but knowing tat doesn't really help u when u r single & wondering where the hell is she. Does it??

Sex-

Sex is lovely, divine & beautiful - and no I haven't yet done it. ;P

Why is that people are always interested in sex- coz they wanna know what they are missing.... :P:P:P

Unconvincing as it may sound, we males do not want 2 have sex all the time. We also believe in foreplay yaar.. :P

Thoughtful-

A friend is 1 who has d patience 2 listen 2 every shit tat u did & d heart- love u even more after hearing & give u space 2 do more shit :P

Suicide point- kodaikanal renamed as d green valley view. thats dumb. after all everything things green & of valleys in kodaikanal. :P:P:P

He loves dreaming.. thats why even in his dreams he only gets 2 dream & nothing more.

U cant really blame guys 4 not listening to gals. After all its gals who mean one thing & say another. :P

PS-

I thought of doing some light post after the trilogy that I did on Sex & the society. And since I have been traveling around a lot for the last month, I plan to make a few posts out of my experiences. And as a start of those upcoming uncomplicated posts, I have posted a collection of my tweets. Do tell me- What do you think about them.

Will soon post about my travels.

Until then.

Cheers. Muthu.

Sex & the society - Last part of the trilogy

2009-06-10T21:56:00.000-07:00

Warning-

Highly Adult content. The post discusses sex, men and women, so people who think they are not mature enough to read about the subject please do not read any further.

The Snap-

The quote-

If People can understand that women too are human beings with sexual desires like everyone else, if the segmentation of sex alone can be defeated, the entire system of prejudice and misunderstanding will take a heavy dent.
And that dent will be the start of a more liberated and dynamic society in every single way.

--muthu

I thought I had all the answers – All the answers to all the questions that would be raised on this particularly controversial topic of sex - a need & a pleasure for both men and women.

A society that has the ability to question and break away from a century of sexual prejudice between men and women can achieve anything. It will be a learned society that will be intelligent enough to question the makers of politics to the brokers of economy. I want to be a part of such a group of people. People who would listen to reason and love rather than to bigotries and hate.

Yeah, but the final question boils down to the singular level. How much do we want to be a part of that society? How much radical are we willing to be? Where will we draw the lines of acceptable and not acceptable, if we are to erase those present now?
How will you react to the situations of controversial nature that may rise in the future? How will I react to the same?

And the question that the Bondgal_rulz posted in the comments section of the last post was right on the bull’s eye.

The kick in the balls -

Bondgal - As we go on vehemently discussing here about issues such as sexual discrimination, sexual liberation, need for people to recognize women too as sexual beings---
Think 20 years down the line. You are a family man, who has a say 19 year old daughter. Will YOU be comfortable enough with her partying out in the night and boozing with her friends?

Muthu- *Scratches the head* *Clears the throat* *After a distant thoughtful look* I think I need time to think.

I feel like I have just been kicked in the balls. Courtesy- Bondgal_rulz. (Yeah sure she rules).

The singular questions-

The question bondgal asked was the beginning of a fresh batch of questions that rose in my mind & every single of those new questions that had a singular trait to them. They questioned me as to how I will react to the scenario on my direct involvement in the prospective future.

--- Will I dominate my wife with my comparatively strong male physicality on subjects our opinions differ rather than trying to convince her of the merit of my stand?

--- How understanding will I be if I am extremely horny and my wife refuses me in the bed saying that she is not in the mood?

--- How much liberal and understanding will I be to my wife on the aspect of her past sexual relationships?

--- How will I react If my daughter says to me- that she is thinking of moving in with her boy friend after she has become a major?

--- Will I be able to accept the fact that my daughter may want to have sex with the guy she is going out in the future (that is when she is major)?

--- Will I be ready to accept and appreciate my daughter or son, if their sexual orientation turns out to be homosexual?

--- What will be my advice to my own daughter on sex, on the ethics of sex, on what the society thinks about sex?

The answers-

I believe myself to be a liberal leaning heavily towards the radical. My opinions have always been blunt and pointedly progressive on the aspects on sexual equality, discrimination based on sex, color & creed. I believe you need not be a supporter of women’s right to see what’s wrong and right. To see what’s prejudiced and what needs a change desperately. But propagandas and beliefs aside, we are all humans who go around with our daily activities.

How much can we be -what we think is right.

I am not going to make statements about how radical I am going to be with my wife & daughter. This after all is not any election campaign. It more of a search of how much I really am of what I propagate.

And the search I believe is infused in the blood and soul of my everyday activity as is the case in yours. In every of our decisions and actions, we express what we believe. And it’s not going to be easy to do things as to say them.

I want to love my mother, sister, future wife, daughter and every other woman I meet without any prejudice or predetermined beliefs. I will desire to give them space and faith that I myself would expect in their shoes. And in that desire I will hold my spirit of seeing the society change for the good.
(And yeah bondgal my daughter will party if she wants to and the only thing I will want to make sure is that she knows what she does. I will want to allow her to make her own decisions, her own rights, her own mistakes- After all it her own life to live.)

The lever of change-

Education is learning from others. And whatever is learned from others will always have a part of them, a part of their own system of values, a part of their own beliefs, prejudices that are passed along. Education will never solve social problems. The only salvation is to self questioning. Self realization.

Every one of us of every segment of the self segregated society that we are, are born to be rejoiced and celebrated. Not to be discriminated. Do you think the child that passionately hugs the bosom of its mother and quenches its thirst suckling knows that what its doing can be also classified as vulgar & not as divine? Our ideas of chastity, sexual morality and concept of discrimination are learned behavior.

And it is in this learned behavior- that we learnt eagerly without questioning its merits and its basis, we have allowed the roots of prejudice and bigoted discriminations to bore deep.

Society in understanding is nothing more than a herd going along with the stride. It would not just be a monumental task but impossibility and a suicide to social life to go against the society.

But of course, the least you could do is to question whats right & ethical rather than to choose to go along with the herd.

And that you can do.Cant you??

Author's note-

The above is the third and last part of the trilogy series I have been writing. So please do read the other two parts to appreciate the conclusion given in this last episode.
Part 1 [link]
Part 2 [link]

In this concluding post, I took the line of what drives each of us individuals personally rather than relying on statistics. Of course the statistics says that In India alone once on two hours one girl gets raped. Two women are subjected to house hold violence. In the course of writing this trilogy, I went through a lot of info on the web about the every aspect of discriminations in every nature that people face.

And I realized something, it isn't ignorance that makes people go along with these prejudices & bigotries but people choose to just follow the crowd rather than questioning things as to why should they be done so in the way they are being done now.

Please, all I ask is to question things. Make it a habit. Inculcate questioning attitude in kids. We are born perfect & all the answers to the questions are within us. But the only way we are going to find those answers within ourselves is though questioning.

PS-

Sorry guys, I took almost a week to publish the concluding post. Unexpectedly, I got stuck in Chennai for almost 4 days and also this is my first time writing about such a heavy topic as a trilogy. Please do leave back your comments and criticisms on my attempt. I have tried to cover every aspect of the problem and people I bow to your comments as they showed me the different perspectives of the problem.

And lastly I sincerely appreciate people who inspired me by reading this trilogy and commenting on it.

Thank you guys.

Will soon post the poems i wrote when I traveled. (I always write when traveling)

Until then.

cheers.

Sex & the society - Part 2 of the trilogy

2009-06-03T23:28:00.000-07:00

Warning-

Adult content. Please do not read any further if you think you are not mature enough to discuss about sex, men and women.

The Quote:

It is at the moment we start to talk about equality between men and women; we unknowingly acknowledge that there is discrimination between the same.

-----Muthu

Are you a feminist – a supporter of the women’s liberation movement?

For People who don’t know about the feminist movement-
Feminist movement – The definition. (Courtesy- Wikipedia)

The Suffrage movement (also known as the Women's Movement or Women's Liberation) is a series of campaigns on issues such as reproductive rights (sometimes including abortion), domestic violence, maternity leave, equal pay, sexual harassment, and sexual violence. Feminism is a struggle against sexist oppression. It is necessarily a struggle to eradicate the ideology of domination that permeates Western culture on various levels.

So, now that you know about the feminist movement- tell me-

Are you a part of it?

Do you want to be a part of it?

Do you know what I think? I think feminist movements can never be a lasting solution for what we have in our hands. And what we have in your hands is a society – with manifestations of century long prejudice not only in habits, customs, religion and culture but the depth to which things are predetermined is so colossal, that even the language that we speak has its scars.

How else am I to explain why people when afraid are termed as pussies? Or the fact that people when they behave idiotically without any consideration for others are called as a prick?

Sexual discrimination like any kind of discrimination is a sword without a handle. It doesn’t really matter whether men use it against women or women use it against men, both will always end up hurt.

I am not heartless & insensitive because I am a male nor any girl is gutless just because she is a female. Grow up. I ask for how long are you going to believe in those age-old agendas.Agendas that are too silly to say that things like them even exist – Like,

---If married people can have sex and unmarried people cannot, then “Is Marriage - a publicly punched license to have sex?”

---If women who are good to look & are sexy create the desire in men to molest them, then “Are men, such wimps that they don’t have any control over themselves?”

---If divorced women always finds it hard to get remarried than divorced men. Then “Does marriage tarnish women but leaves men alone pure?”

Bollocks. Complete bollocks.

I believe fighting for feminism or for the cause of women is not going to help anyone in the long run.When someone campaigns for a feminist cause, they in all their good intentions do the devils work for the devil. They separate men and women in the name of feministic ideologies. Feminist supporters and opposers make a war- a war of debates, ideologies, arguments and controversies.

And the only thing history has taught us always is that war does not yield much. Be it peace or a solution to a stigma of century’s long discrimination.

Do you really think a feminist movement---

--- Can change the attitude of a male who wants to lose his virginity before marriage but expects his wife to be a virgin waiting for him to deflower her?

--- Can make every man realize that rape is not a crime against women by against the entire fabric of humanity?

--- Can assure a married girl that her husband will love her enough to give her space for her to grow as an individual?

--- Can go save every girl who at this second, as you are reading this post is being harassed physically or emotionally?

Of course, they can’t. The Feminist movements and NGOs how much ever they want to make a difference do have their limitations. But my billion dollar question is rather unrelated to any feminist movement. It is rather simple.

------ Do girls really need saving? Or is it the rest of the world that needs to wakeup?

The question I would try to battle with in my next and the final post in the trilogy.

Author's note-

This is the second part of a trilogy. So people do read the first part to completely appreciate the second- [Sex & the society - Part one of the trilogy]

Guys, I took my time in writing the second part of the trilogy to make the argument strong and also crisp & pointed. Also I did not want to take the line of bashing up the existing system as it would rather get rhetorical as the list of discrimination and bigotries existing are endless. I wanted to question ourselves as to whats the solution to this and that I hope I have done that well. And I am not against the feminist movement. Its just that I believe that it cannot make a lasting solution. It cannot change the mentality of the all prejudiced people and thats what we immediately need in the present scenario.

PS-

I want to thanks for all the comments posted on the first part of the trilogy esp the comments of Keshi, Shakthi, Srini, Vinnie, Rajlakshi, Diya, Preposterous girl and one anonymous. I hope my second post have given you a depth of the corrupted bigotry of the society that has become ours. The comments not only gave food for my thoughts but also have raised a lot of questions in me. Guys do go through those comments in the first part of the trilogy for I think the comments gave a lot of new angles and problems we will have to counter. And I assure you I will try to find the answers to those questions & also to the questions I myself have raised in the these 2 posts in my final post for the trilogy.

And I am off to Chennai for a couple of days for an urgent work guys. I will be back by Monday. And will post the last segment by monday evening.

Cheers.

Until then.

muthu.

Sex & the society - Part 1 of the trilogy

2009-06-01T09:34:00.000-07:00

The Warning –
Highly adult content. Please do not read any further if you think you are not mature enough to discuss about sex, men and women.

The Quote:

Men when they fuck around, they say they do it for fun. Coz they are after all males & it is in their genes to spread their seed. Fucking for fun is not new. Men do it all the time.

So what’s up with women? After all they too are entitled to have their fair share of sexual pleasure. Right??

------ muthu

Guys, if you find the above quote unacceptable, brutal, hurting and blasphemous. Stop reading this now. I repeat. Please stop reading this now. For this post is nothing but an answer to the question I posed above. And it is my opinion and so as always it is the truth as I see it. And the truth in its nakedness stinks a lot.

For others, hang on to my words, for may be, I will throw light on a few rarely discussed topics or may be I will pull you more into the obscurity in which I always wander. Will show you how much we never bother about the preset prejudices that are passed on to us as it has been passed on for generations. Will give you not only some food for thought but I will, may be if you allow me – will muddle a bit with your thoughts. Will show you the best of the bigotries that sex alone can provide. Will give a reason to defy if that’s what you want to do.

All Bigots are welcome to read, but trust me, this post of mine will sting. So better be prepared.

The Inspiration:

I saw the movie DEV D yesterday night. I am happy. The Indian film industry is finally coming of age. A mature movie that deals with love, ego, sex, pain, drugs, booze and salvation. And a hindi movie at that. I was amazed. Apart from all the crap and masalas that bollywood has become, I am glad that movies such as DEV D are made. I am not going to tell more of the movie and spoil it for those who haven’t seen it.

But how about a few questions – a few questions that the movie touched about.

The questions-

Like why is that when men fuck around, He is called a stud.

And when a woman does the same she is called a slut.

Really…. Is stud the male word for slut?

Well, I searched the dictionary- It defines slut as “A promiscuous or disreputable woman” and however much I went through the web and the dictionary there seems to be no male word for slut. So what the dictionary really means is that males being promiscuous are either ignored or celebrated as Studs but alas when the same is done by the fairer sex, she becomes disreputable.

Wow. If you ask me – that’s a load of crap. But what’s even shittier is that this crap seems to be the generally accepted norm.

If men have the right to go around having sex for fun, then why not women I ask. And no, I am not a feminist but you don’t really need to be a feminist to see the logic in this, you just need to be just a normal guy who thinks straight. Are you one of those guys??

No, I am not arguing that women should also go around fucking nor am I a liberator of women to satisfy their sexual needs. Do not be silly and ridiculous. Grow up. All I really want to ask is –

How can we be so bigoted and prejudiced in the most basic issue of all? That is sex.

Where from did we learn to discriminate between women and men as sexual beings?

Where from did we get the guidance and inference?

The general answer to this question with which people would respond is

“We follow the norms of the society”

“It is the system of life that is prepossessed with ideas and we just move along.”

Ok, let me ask you, do you think that you are not a part of the system that is prejudiced and bigoted to its core. Sorry to break it to you my friend. But how more wrong can you be?

You are the system. I am the system. We are the system.

We are those people who have no qualms when passing that MMS of that gal who was caught on tape naked, without any thoughts as to how it will ruin her life. We are those people who listen and gobble up every single word of gossip about the local gal who sleeps around and then comfortably call her a whore. We are those people who do not care about the free navel show and glamour shower that Bollywood is so much associated with but raise questions when an intelligent film about sex is made.

Bollocks. Complete bollocks.

Do you know, what I think is the reason for all this-

I think we are developing a sexual culture of escapism. Nobody wants to confront the facts. Set things right. Be bold for once not caring what other people will think about it. The sad fact remains that sex is not talked about much as much as it is done. And no don’t tell me, I am wrong. Our perpetually growing population supports my hypothesis.

And talking about how to do sex is not what I mean when I say to talk about sex. You do not need an Aristotle to point out what monkeys and apes do without any second thought. But really- Have you ever thought about how the idea of sex is prejudiced, for example. Or how much you are open minded about sex, that is do you want your future partner to be a virgin?

Now that question opens up a whole new can of worms. Doesn’t it?

A can I just got inspired to make a dish of in my next post.

Author’s note-

In the above post, I have not tried to pass any judgments nor express any already formulated opinion. The post is more like a few of my questions-

And my own attempts at answering myself.

I am planning to do this post as a trilogy- this post being the first of it. I welcome your comments guys and your take on what I have tried to express here. On what you think is right and on what you think is wrong. On what you think is prejudiced and on what you think is silly. Your comments will feed me along with my own thoughts for my follow up post.

If you think, one of your friends would have a good opinion about this post, please do give them the link. And I invite opinions that don’t go along with what I have expressed. I want to know- where we stand as a society.

I would like to see how people react. I would like to get a variety of opinions.

PS-

And for people who haven’t seen the movie DEV D, what are you waiting for? Its one of the most mature movies I have ever seen in Hindi. Chalo yaar, See it soon.

And yeah, guys I had a great time in Kodaikanal.

Lovely weather, yummy chocolates, green valleys, hot and spicy road side corn, flowers of every color imaginable, Roses red enough to take your breath away, a slight drizzle that keeps the chill in the air-
The place is paradise my friends.

Will post about the trip as soon as I am finished with the trilogy. :)

Ciao.

Cheers until then.

Muthu.

Alone in the crowd – 55 fiction

2009-05-29T09:13:00.000-07:00

The Snap- The sport

Attempt 1- Sweet.

She was suffocating on the air she was breathing.

The jostling crowd around her, the cacophony that was soaking the stadium, the final match of her favorite club – every single thing that had her attention till then, faded away obsolete.

She felt alone & was in bliss. Her love was on his knee.

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

The Snap- The crowd & cacophony-

Attempt2- Sour.

She looked around bored.

The jostling crowd, the cacophony & the stupid match - everything bored.

But she did not care anyways. She was there.

Better to be alone in this crowd than in her room, whose four walls of late have been complaining too much about how they never get their privacy.

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

Attempt3- Salty.

“I miss you- alone without you in this crowd” She typed & sent the message.

“Me too” came the reply.

She smiled & then joined in the rhythm of the match cheering with the guy she was with today.

The message did not even transcend towers. After all both the mobiles were inside the same stadium.

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

The Snap- The cheering & jeering-

Attempt4- Bitter.

Up & down she went,

Jumping & shouting with the crowd around her, her cheers lost in the cacophony of the stadium but she did not give up.

A few tears flew in a few directions.

Her lone voice broke. But still she shouted. If only her son wasn’t stillborn on that day, he would be here now shouting with her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's note-

The following 55 fictions are all based on the same Idea -Being alone in the crowd(Inspired by Keshi when she commented about it in my last post.) So i dedicate this series of 55 fiction to her. Gal, I hope I did justice to your Idea. :)

I have tried to bring out the different tastes that can be involved in the same scenario playing around with the four basic tastes. Sweetness, sourness, saltiness and bitterness. Guys, do tell me- how did you like my recipe.

If you like this kind of playing around with 55 fictions dealing with the same Idea but having different tastes, then- You should try out my previous such attempts.

-- About a girl crying[link]

-- About prostitutes[link]

PS-

Guys, I am actually pretty much in the middle of writing a pretty much bold, aggressive post. A post about gender and what I think is the most bigoted issue of all thats affecting us as a sexual being. I want to make the argument in the post strong, so I am taking my time. Will post it soon.

And yeah, I am going to kodaikanal - A hill station in TN this weekend with my family. So I will be out of blog ville for a couple of days. Will catch up with you guys when I get back most probably on Monday. :)

The lost emotions of love: - A short story.

2009-05-26T13:32:00.000-07:00

He was dull. That’s it. You simply could not think anything else about him. Even roadside tramps might have had an once in a while happy face to wear and prance about but not he. May be the color grey was defined after seeing his face or after his face. Such was the bleakness that soaked and dripped from the ridges of his face. There just wasn’t any other expression, any other expression other than his nonchalant sigh, a sigh that seemed to be his answer to all the questions that might have lost their way and found him.

People never knew what he did for a living; let alone did he do anything at all? - Was a question that was seldom speculated because people rarely knew he existed.

Days passed into months and years and one day he too passed away like they all do one day or the other. Fate always has its mockery in the weirdest ways. He died in a spectacular road accident. So spectacular was the accident, So much huge was the traffic pile up caused by it, So much effort and time it took to clear the impaired traffic, that everyone was amazed to learn that he was the one and only fatal victim of the event.

The publicity generated by the single victim carnage was so enormous that the authorities thought that it would be a bit of a promotional material to find his living relatives and hand them over his remains. The authorities as it can be guessed found no living relations, friends or any living soul who in the least knew him. This baffled them and when the media got to know it, they made a bit of a circus out of it.

“Can someone be in such isolation in today’s crowd of a society?”

“Don’t people need other people to enjoy life and to cherish the thought of living?”

“Even in today’s age of nanotechnology and robotics, can the spontaneity of joy in other people’s company be replaced?”

“If not for love, what’s the purpose of keeping on living?”

----Excerpts from the Digital edition of the magazine - Life dated 12-10-3078-----

Experts in human emotional evolution say that this incident in a very odd way has become an eye opener for the people who have simply lost their touch with the human feelings of isolation, loneliness and forlornness. In an attempt to capture the public opinion, on the spot questions were put to the passerby on a busy street.

--College student: Let me tell me tell you something man. After I got my hand fit with the molecular mobile, you know the kind that uses your own bio- energy and your thought process for its other functions like dialing and other things; I am 24*7 in contact with my friends man. It even has inbuilt MP3 music. But you know what’s kind a funny. Nowadays I rarely take time to visit my friends or to greet my fellow passengers on the fly bus. My grand father used to say that his grand father told that these things were cool creating real human bond. But anyways man like him, I too never tried it.

--Doctor: May be I should have mastered in psychology. Those Psychologists get more patients calling than me, a diabetic expert. Patients nowadays simply send me their digital urinal imprint via mail and ask me to mail their medicines. Totally ridiculous. With total physical care supplied by the corporations who ensure you with 80 years of healthy life, what can doctors like me who are practicing alone accomplish?

--Rushing share market expert: Pardon, Oh sorry I have no time for any comments.

--Retired psychologist: I think that people are a bit more preoccupied for something so spontaneous like love to be expressed and to be expressed to in our present society. Totally preoccupied with how to run life that it’s simply easy to forget the simple things that really matter like perhaps to kiss your child good night.

--Road side tramp: Yeah, as I always say to my friends, the worlds gonna end my boy, the worlds gonna end. For sure. You can trust me. No not nuclear war or anything. Just humanlessness. Let me repeat - just humanlessness. Yeah I discovered that word “humanlessness”. When was the last time you went and saw someone just because you felt like it? Answer me you young man?

--A twelve year old on the way to school: The guy was dead and there were no relations or friends to cry over him!! I……..I am really sorry for him.

The responses that were obtained on the street were varied and gave considerable insight into the subject in a rather subtle manner. The technological leap in the past century may have made our life easier but what the humans in an emotional level need may not always be the easy way through says the EQ (emotional quotient) Expert of our magazine. Having a work book idea for almost everything single problem, not only provides an immediate remedy but also isolates people. In fact too much technology eliminates the need for other people.

So next time, you are about to take your digi dog out for a walk do consider buying yourself a natural dog. Of course it pees on the couch but it can also surprise you with an unexpected loving lick on your face.

----Book beforehand for your next edition and get to know the ideas our magazine doctor suggests to find your lost emotions of love. All the ideas have been tested and the experimental results have also been established. Zero chances of random events happening.

---The End---

Author's note -

Guys, I jus arrived from Coimbatore. I cleared the GD and I think that I did the PI reasonably well(the results will be announced in 20 days.). Thank you guys for all your wishes. They made my day. And a lot of really interesting stuff happened at the PI. Will blog about it in my next post.

And this is the first story that I wrote so it may have a lot of holes in the plot. And I am happy guys, happy 2 know that I have really come a long way from writing a poat and praying to god that someone would read and comment on it. Thanks to the inspiration that you guys have always been, I love to write 4 you. :)

until the next post.

cheers then.

muthu

Tweets & Taunts -

2009-05-20T10:33:00.000-07:00

Guys, the following are a few one liners that I myself enjoyed tweeting. Most of them are sardonic, satirical and are deliberately provoking. Do not take them seriously. They are just tweets that were born out of boredom and random thoughts & so read them as tweets.

And if in a few tweets, be warned - I may go overboard with my thinking. Too much brain work always has a few side effects. So I may get quirky, do bear with me.

Philosophy -

when bored- slap urself once and remind urself - you are the one boring yourself. :D

waiting 4 luv is as silly as baiting for it.... if u luv some1 better go out tere and fight 4 it. nothing worth having ever comes easy... :)

Attitude -

Who said loners don't have a social life -We are too busy playing with ourselves to engage others dude & no jerk not sexually.... :D

oh... tweet me something intelligent, funny & witty. If u cant really, that s OK, jus send me another 1 of those stupid porn links :P

Satire -

honesty is not just d best policy, its fun-- Imagine telling your gf- Really u don't look that great but I just cant stop looking at you :)

And yeah b4 using my lines 2 ur bf, better check out whether she is following me on twitter. :P

Sri aurobindo says- the darkest nights r followed by the brightest dawns... I say- Yeah sure dude, If you are awake until then... :)

when badly bored tweet about it, some1 more bored than u will tweet u back, u will b surprised, then feel good& continue to be bored

Mushy -

every random thought of mine makes sense but of course dont try 2 fit them together -- they will fall apart like my heart does thinkin abt u

"Night is more beautiful than the day, for i paint the darkness with the dreams of my love......"

I hate people loving in front of me, It always hurts to see what I am missing right then.

Women -

Sometimes i think u need 2 b born a women to know a women but then what would be the fun in that... really...

God created man in his image was not satisfied so created women in even better image tats when he got kicked out of earth he neva returned

Political -

But just now they said chidambaram lost & after recounting he is declared victorious they recounted not reverse counted right?

Of course i voted, thats why i spend time watching the election results. jus to know how much i have messed up

Varun Gandhi says- people luv me coz i look like my father. I say- tats great dude but ur father is Mr.er.hmhm..????

Brutal -

Eating a lot 4 taste is like fucking a lot for fun. Be warned

Everybody fucks everyone either literally or physically So why is the word F**K so very offensive...

Author's note -

And yeah, I am totally into twitter. What else is more fun. People actually read and comment on your silly rantings.

And Guys I am going to Coimbatore for my GD and PI rounds tomorrow. Do pray for me. I will be out of blog ville till I return.

until then.

Take care -

muthu

The spirit of sports - An experimental story.

2009-05-18T22:44:00.000-07:00

The snap -

The dignity game – (7 sentences)

The match was dense, intense and heated up with hormones, sweat and energy scorching like sex for the first time in all its magnificence. Both the players were equally skilled, well matched and played with their own heart and soul on the line. Even the table tennis table must have sweat ed a bit along with the four walls – the lone spectators, losing themselves in the tension of the game. The ball was served for the game point, the last point and ball bounced on the table along with the heart of the two lone men fighting with each other and with themselves for to lose was unacceptable to them.

Damn Once again draw, draw for the 7th time in a row.

The tired players decided to take a tea break at the club cafeteria. The tea must have been too good, for they never returned to finish the game.

We are men - (5 sentences)

Nobody knew who started the fight nor did anyone remember who cheated at the game first. But that doesn’t really matter as what has happened has happened and there is no going back.
After all a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. A few broken bones, bruised knuckles, scars, scratches, cuts, a few drops of crimson blood shed, violence and fighting.
Of course they won’t be playing for a while but at least they made sure to show they are not pussies.

The credit - (3 sentences)

The jubilation and the celebration of the victory, a well deserved victory flowed and flooded the room – hugs, slogans, shouts, embraces, teases, friendly punches, shoulder slaps, smell of sweat, glory and victory.
“The winning ball goes to” the coach paused with the ball in his hand raised for all to see.
Expectations soured sky high, wavered with expectations and then bloomed fulfilled when the couch with a sparkle and a smile shouted out “the team”.

The loser – (1 sentence)

He lost the game but people respectfully made their way for him as he left the stadium, for anyone can win like a winner wins but only the real sportsmen, men who laugh, cry and break along with the sport can lose like a winner; for they alone love a sport for what it is and what a sport is is just love unconditional.

Author's note -

Sports is something that not only unites men but it is like a bond among us. I remember the fights, the fun, the wins, the loses when I used to play football for my team in college. This post in way is like a dedication to all those moments and those moments that await to put me in bliss in the future.

Guys, This is one of my experimental stories. I have started with exactly 7 sentences and reduced them from story to story to reach 1. I have not taken into account the word count as long as I can limit the number of full stops I use.

I would really love your take on my attempt. And If you loved the above then you will also love my other attempt of the same experimental kind that I wrote a few weeks back - the topic of my stories being the darker shades of women. You guys should try it out.[link]

PS -

And guys, one of my political tweets got featured in a BBC article. Check it out. My tweet is above the first picture - the one with the congress supporter with coolers[link].

I was so in seventh heaven when I came to know it. Nothing like recognition of your own words to boost you. Hariprasadm tweeted me about this. Thank you so much dude.

Cheers then guys...

until later.

muthu

Alone – A poem

2009-05-11T22:06:00.000-07:00

The snap -

The poem -

Mad moments few,
Will be drenched in dew
Lost in the darkness; my wry laments;
Just a handful
A handful of bitter tears;
Deeply blistering tears –
Scarlet scars painted; on
Crimson cheeks tainted;
Of pain;
Of love slain;
Like Cain;
Of Abel slain;

An elegy;
Of a love lost.
An orgy of a melancholy;
At a hearts cost.
Anguish; Ache;
Vodka; Sake;

I cry alone every night,
Dipping and drenching my shattered soul; in
A handful of bitter tears;
Deeply blistering tears –
I cry alone every night,

To remember the moments I spent laughing with her.
The bliss; the heaven;
The kiss; the Beethoven;
My love, my bow;
My Soul, my Spirit;
Lass of an angel;
In the bass of love;

Oh…. I lost her, I lost her
I lost her, I lost her……

Please do not disturb me; When

I cry….. Alone every night.

Author’s note –

The above poem also is based on a Tamil poem that I wrote while travelling to Coimbatore a few days back (I haven’t posted the Tamil poem but if you guys want to read the original Tamil poem, I will post it later). My sis says that I can be pretty depressing with my words sometimes. The above poem according to her is one of them. I don’t really agree with her. I think that pain in love is the ultimate salvation in life.

PS –

I actually am posting this poem from a browsing center nearby my home. The broadband connection in my home has been having a lot of problems lately and I have not been able to tweet or to blog regularly because of that. I have registered a complaint and I think that those BSNL guys will take a couple of days to look into the problem. I will be offline till then. Really funny things have been happening lately and I do have a lot of smiles to spill to you guys and will do so once I come back online. :):)

Until then.

Cheers….

muthu

Me, Myself and horror movies - the deadly fiasco...

2009-05-08T13:56:00.000-07:00

The snap -

I love seeing quality horror movies, movies like the ring, 1408, the silence of the lambs, saw part 1 (the other parts lacked the good screenplay and descended into mere blood and gore). But I have one problem – I cannot, I repeat I cannot watch these movies alone. I need company to hold hands and get scared with. To shrug at each other and laugh it off once the movies is over.

Usually when I see movies or do something that I am interested in, my external sensory perception abandons me and I get sucked into the vortex of what I am doing. And in the case of movies, I get so into them, that I can get jolted for simple surprises.

Like in Jurassic park movie series, of course I know that some creepy looking reptile is going to jump on the guys from any side now, especially when they put that really creepy music and it’s going to chase them with the protagonists escaping within hair’s breath of a distance. Absolutely predictable. Really... absolutely predictable. Nothing new. But I can’t help it anyway, my mind goes haywire calculating the possibilities of the reptile emerging from every nook and corner of the screen that when the animal finally arrives, I literally jump out of my seat sweating like anything.

And this anxiety of mine easily creeps up to those around me and people watching horror movies with me usually have their worst times and best scares. Paradoxical but also memorable are those moments. Man I still remembered the way I and Ram (a friend of mine) freaked out seeing the movie sixth sense (esp the girl ghost with the noodles like stuff flowing out of her mouth), the movie “saw – part 1” when I almost went through a death and rebirth phase when that guy in that weird white mask comes to kidnap people (By the way, both are absolutely good horror movies).

I can really freak the shit out of myself and out of the people who are watching horror movies with me.

-------And now I have had this 1408 horror movie with me for a long time (for almost a year)and I never saw it for I did not get any company to watch the movie in my home(My sister hates horror genre and father and mother aren’t really into English movies). I avoided watching the movie at all costs almost till then but I couldn’t quite bring myself to delete the movie. Having heard from my friends that it’s one good scare and a meaningful scare at that (a horror movie with a good plot), I was too damn curious to just scrap and delete the movie. So I kept it.

And every time, I came across that movie folder in my PC, it would silently mock me and I would just put my head down and would try to ignore it pretty much like the way we people ignore the politicians kicking up each other’s dust and disasters during the pre – election campaigns.

But then on one fateful day, I was too damn bored to care about anything. I was too reckless if I remember exactly. I started to see the movie alone.

I steeled myself. I had to see the movie someday I reasoned. No use, postponing the inevitable. I had to do it. I must confront my fears. Face what has to be faced. I have the guts to do it and I am going to do it. Yeah, in a way I think talked myself into it.

And the movie started. It was completely wicked. With every passing scene, as the tension and the complexity to the plot increased layer by layer, I started to sweat around my neck. My grip on the arm rests on my chair tightened a bit. The idea of the story was so evil that all my insides were slowly quivering scared for the hero. I just wanted to stop the movie, shut my PC down and get outside into the sun but I was held rapt by what was happening on the screen that I could hardly move.

But somehow this time, though I was watching alone; I was determined not to lose my cool. That is... my exterior cool. I am a grown guy and I am going to take it like a man. But the movie was challenging my solidarity.

Each and every twist was so evil and cruel, that each time I consoled yourself that the movie couldn’t get any possibly worse, it outdid itself. It was like trying to run away from a horrifying ghost, only to find that the more I ran, the more the ghost got closer to me. And the climax was even more twisted when the last knot of the story was unveiled at the funeral of the hero. It was like finding that until now I have been running on a treadmill whose remote has always been in the hands of the ghost that was pursuing me.

The funeral of the hero - Hurrah. I have finished watching the movie. Oh yeah, I have finished watching the movie. The statement was so dense that I had to repeat it to myself to fully understand it. Fully comprehend the meaning of it. I have just finished watching the movie. And that too alone. I did not need company to watch the horror movie and nor will I anymore. Oh…. Yeah. I am the man.

I relaxed. Took a deep breath. Loosened my grip on the arm holds. I was having those thoughts of proud self appreciation and bravery, which guys usually display on completing some task of heavy challenge or mortal risk.

And then it happened.

How can I forget it? How could I have let my guard down? The ghost always comes back for one last scare. My quick euphoria on my completing the movie without getting jolted must have gotten to my head.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The last and the final scare got to me. I was severely jarred and visibly shaken. I was left speechless.

I think I am going to need company when watching my next horror movie.

Author's note:

Guys, I just returned from Coimbatore.

A few highlights of my travel, if you ask me - it would be - 2 haiku s, 1 poem(I always write while traveling - will post them later), drank a lovely glass of mulam palzham* juice (*Tamil for musk melon, in Hindi - kharbuja); the drink was so lovely, I am salivating just thinking about it, and I realized I am slowly getting addicted to blogging. :D

Hey, and I just got the results for the first round I attended. I cleared it. the second round of GD & PI is on 23 rd. :)

PS -
Guys, several things happened today, like I was at the extremes of my most depressed self and also my most euphoric self today. I wanted to write about it but I am just not ready to publish about it. I wrote a post and saved the draft just to keep the feelings raw. I will post it as soon as I have kicked myself enough 4 being a jerk to my sis and mom

Cheers then. Until later.

Muthu.

The thread - A poem

2009-05-04T15:22:00.000-07:00

The Snap -

The thread - The Poem.

Sacred and Scattered;
Along and across the long lonely nights
Spent pinning,

Are the blossoms of my dreams,
Of you my love; of whom I love -
With all my heart; my soul apart,

And of from those blossoms and buds that lie;
Lie across a million miles,
A million miles across my heart -

To garnish a garland for you, my queen,
A beauty, even moon cringes to face -
And wanes away into the night -
Wading away with shame at it's plight;

I search a thread to thread my love,
From blossoms, blooms, flowers & shoots;
Of a million miles -
A zillion times....

But fail and falter;
Every time;
Every attempt.
The more i try the more i fail;
Remorse rains, remains & drains
My pain, failing to find a worthy thread;

A worthy thread to thread my love,
As flowers and dreams it lies scattered,
My love for you.

In your eyes, then i see....
A strand of light,
A twine of delight,
As the embers of your eyes sparkle when you laugh,

Oh.... I stare mesmerized
And hypnotized,
With rejoice and joy infinite,
I stare.....

At your love, my dove;
Your love for me
That spindles threads out for me...

As the line of light
In your sight....
That jumps and twinkles out of your eyes.....

I love you.

Author's note -

Guys I usually write poetry in my native tongue Tamil in which I am spontaneous. The above poem - The thread is my first full length poem in English. The idea of the poem is based on tamil poem of the same name that i penned a year ago. I have posted the tamil poem as an image for you guys who know tamil. I would love to have your comments on my venture into English poetry.

The tamil version of the poem -

Tamil is a beautiful language that was tailor made for poetry. It is the soul of my inspiration as a writer. You need not think in tamil, words will flow in tamil. I love my language with a passion so fierce that when i write about it, I am overwhelmed with love for my language - tamil. I dedicate this poem to my mother - mother tongue - Tamil. May all praise go to her for seeding in me the germ of poetry.

PS -

Guys I am going out to Coimbatore to write a exam(Do pray for me.. :):)). I wont be back until till the end of this week. I am going to meet my friends over there, catch up with them, roam around a bit, loaf around a bit, see a movie may be. Make a few memories and stuff. I will be back with a few snaps and a few smiles shared. See you guys next week.....

Until then,

Take care. Ciao.

Something to die for – A 55 fiction.

2009-05-02T14:09:00.000-07:00

The snap -

The Story -

“If I am death, will you embrace me…?” She asked.

“Things may go wrong, our parents may curse, make things horrible for us, our relatives will downcast us, the society will cook us into gossip, we may have no support in life tomorrow, may be we will suffer the worse.” She paused and said in a strong decided tone “But I love you.”

She stood there waiting for his reply. His brown eyes were unfocused lost in thought.

Please say yes… She thought...... Please say yes….. please say yes….. please…. Her insides were shaking... What is he thinking? What is there to think? I am ready to take the leap. Please let him just say the word. I love him, love him more than I ever loved myself. Does he know that? I love him. love him. Love him. Love him. Please I beg you god, let him say yes…. Let him jus... And then her thoughts hit a wall and her mind went blank.

He had hugged her………. hard.

Note –

Guys, I thought that the original i wrote first spontaneously was good and did not have the heart to cut it down to 55 words. So I left the story as it was though i have labeled it 55 fiction. (all the bloggers were writing something mushy, chronic writer, hopeless romantic - after reading their posts, i got inspired and wrote my own contribution to the mushy fest.)

PS -

Guys, while i was searching for images of couples hugging, the pictures i found at pro.corbis.com were so good; I felt like i suddenly needed a hug in the middle of the night. Pity I didn't get one. [:P]. I chose the snap that best resonated with the story.

The link of the snap - http://pro.corbis.com/search/searchFrame.aspx?txt=%22Arm+around%22+%22Hugging%22+%22Romance%22

Sleep in peace - A 55 fiction.

2009-04-30T14:10:00.000-07:00

The snap -

The story -

“You asleep”

She turned and looked at her husband. “No. You”

“No.”

The ticking sound of the second hand filled up and emptied the room.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

"Really… Then why aren’t you asleep?"

“Just wondering, what’s in your mind to keep you awake this long?”

Her husband sighed. “huh, I was thinking the same about you.”

Author’s note:

This story occurred to me when Vinnie teased me not to try any fiction at about 1 - 30 am last night (sorry today morning). So as she was my inspiration I dedicate this fiction to her.

The story has about 61 words. If the line about the sound of ticking is removed, then it can be made exactly a 55 fiction. But I thought that that sentence emphasized the slowing of time and the restlessness in the bed room. So I decided to keep the line.

So what do you think about my story guys....

PS - The image i borrowed from - http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-446836/Why-I-sleep-wife-.html

Who cares, who screws….

2009-04-30T03:05:00.000-07:00

There is just only one thing that can make me really angry, really, really angry and terribly depressed. And that’s when someone is intimidating my sister and I cannot do anything about it. But it never happens. You see guys….. I have always nurtured this fighting tendency in my sis that almost all the guys studying who knew her have had a bite of and thus they never mess with her. And rarely when they do, I sit down and tell her how to kick their asses (I myself being one of the proactive male species, I just know right how to handle them).

So I never almost have any reason for me to get really angry and depressed at the same time. Almost. I repeat. Almost.

Almost I say because my mom knows me a bit too much, and when she is angry with me, she shows it to my sister to get to me.(She can’t make me angry otherwise.)

I hate these situations. Really really hate them.

And that's exactly what happened today morning when I refused my mom when she asked me to accompany her to her sister’s home for a couple of days. She showed her anger to my sis.

Like you can guess easily, I was upset. Upset, depressed, angry, cast down, dejected, demoralized. Do add more similar words of your preference to the list and trust me whatever words that you add, it would never do justice to what I felt.

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My mom left for my native with my sister in the afternoon.

She called me up late night to tell that she has reached there safely and as we were talking, she suddenly slipped in a sorry.

“For what?” I asked.

“Just that I was angry with you and made you feel so bad”

“That’s Ok mom. No big deal.”

“Really I am so sorry. I felt so bad, when I thought about what I did when traveling”

I hate to see my mom apologize.

“You did nothing wrong mom, what you did was absolutely natural and I am cool. Ok.”

“Ok…” She paused. “I will never do it again.”

“Mom, you did nothing you shouldn’t do and stop talking like this. This isn’t you. And let’s stop talking about this. Ok.”

“Right. Ok” My mom answered back.

And then after a few minutes of consoling and cajoling my mom and another few minutes talking about other mother son stuff like lock the back door when you go to bed, do not over load the washing machine while washing clothes, bath daily, brush daily (spare me the rest - its too embarrassing.) etc….. she allowed me to go back to what I was doing.

Damn women. I was the one who was depressed and was in the need of some consoling. I was the one depressed and was feeling like shit. She was the one who must have been doing the prep talking.

But everything happened vice versa. I ended up trying to cheer her up. Some tough luck.

The philosophy – It never matters who screws up in the first place, the girl or the guy but it always ends with the guy trying to cheer the girl up.

PS:

The photo is of my sister and was took while i was experimenting with my camera, when i first brought it.

The case of the independent canditates -

2009-04-25T14:36:00.000-07:00

I actually wrote this as a comment on Ms.De's page but after writing it, I noticed that it has a larger relevance to the Indian political Scenario, so I am posting the same a bit edited and rearranged.

Why should we vote for independent candidates if we think they are worth it?

Our Indian politics is slowly becoming a family business. Every single party this time is putting forth their own family members sons and daughters usually to contest. What they want is to singularize the democracy and to monopolize the ruling institution.

What would be the reason for democracy if each and every time the majority party is going to win the election? If we are not allowing someone like an independent candidate to win the election for once, we will never know how much worth the majority party is or how much of crap the majority party is....

Ok, lets try being more specific. Lets take Mr.Modi for instance.

I am not against Modi. In fact I appreciate a lot of developmental efforts he has put in gujarat. Under him, almost all the sectors and the industries of the state have been considerably developed.

We are educated or atleast we claim so... Think you guys... how do we know how much any government is doing good unless we have a measuring stick and how are we gonna get this measuring stick by always electing the majority party.....

Many claim - Mr.Modi is a lot better than other CMs. He has done to his state a lot more good than a lot other people have done to their states.

Yeah, I too accept that Modi is better than his counter parts in the other states.

But think, you guys,the other CMs being such wastes doesn't make Modi any better... Modi himself is not the God or something... He is too human and he can be improved upon... and Politics desperately needs fresh blood
(and by fresh blood, i do not mean younger generation - if thats the case then varun gandhi would also be fresh blood - Is he???)

By fresh blood I mean, People who can speak for themselves, People who need not hold on to a party propaganda to get elected, People who do get their kicks by throwing words around, People who believe that this country needs to improve a lot and people who would rather embrace new things rather than sticking with the "India has as rich culture and we need to save it" shit.

Modi is of course better than the rest of the CMs. That goes without any questions but what i appreciate about Independent candidates like Mallika is that she is trying to take a stand against the system. The system that has made us cynics, by not ever delivering us what it promised.

Are we here voting to get the best of the bunch. Aren't we a bit too short of choices. Why is that people who try something new are shunned(like independent candidates.....).

Our culture is represented by we people and does not require saving, (hopefully we will look after it) but what abt our country....

We need people like kamarajar in TN. When my father says how he never campaigned but got elected every time, I get goose bumps all over me.... He was so dedicated to people and never cared aboutt himself that he only had 2 pairs of dhotis....

He took the government bus where ever he went and he stood in q at the ration shop.

and all this happened merely three and a half decades ago... I am flabbergasted, what went wrong in these 30 years.....

I am not asking 4 the dedication of kamarajar but at least we people can be true to his soul and provide opportunity one or two new guys..... just to let us know... what we are missing......

So I appreciate from the bottom of my heart the efforts of Mallika and people like her. If she is reading this, let her know there are a lot of people like me supporting her....

India damn sure needs a hell a lot of women like her.

PS :

This in a way is a reply to Ms.De's post on supporting the independent candidate of Mallika. What is written above is just to raise a few questions and not to establish any facts. As I have said before I myself have always loved Modi's dynamism and progressive ideas. But anyways asking a few good humored questions do not mean any harm. Right????

The prostitute - A 55 fiction

2009-04-25T08:07:00.000-07:00

Warning - The following content is of abrupt sexual nature, so people who would rather not read this are advised not to read it. Please do not read it and then blame me for not warning you.

The story:

“I think 55 fiction comes naturally for me.” I said to my sister.

She looked at me with her eyebrows raised “Really…..??”

“Yeah, Wanna hear one I thought of, when taking a piss in the can….” I looked at her with challenging eyes……

“hmhm……. Ok… Go on..” She replied.

Story 1 – The making:

The prostitute returned his money coolly “it’s on the house baby…….”

“Really, Did I fuck that good? Wow this… this was my first time” He said.
She gave him a satisfied wink and went off.

She later said to her pimp “His father paid double for him. Said something about making him a real man.”

My sister gave me her worst frown… “That’s a sick story.”

“But it had some meaning I suppose” I shot back.

“hmhm….. yeah some meaning…” She replied to me skeptically.

“K, wanna hear another one as I craft it. Hot on spot……”

“Go on…” She said.

Story 2 – The difference:

The prostitute crooked….“No baby, I don’t even want your money this time. You were so good.”

“You have got to take the money. I insist.” He said thrusting the money in her hands.

“Why??” She asked.

“Then how am I going to differentiate between you and my wife” He replied back in his nonchalant voice.

This got to my sister. “That’s even sicker and shittier. You degrade women.”

“No, my stories are always meant to ask questions. I never decide upon things.” I paused. “The stories are just perspectives and you need to know what shit happens to appreciate the good things you have.”

“hmhm” My sister was silent.

“And such situations may be happening somewhere…. We just want to ignore them.”

She was still silent.

“Ok, wanna hear another one…..”

She looked at me with those accusing eyes, which seemed to blame me for every single bad thing ever done to the feminine race.

“Trust me….. This will make you laugh” and I started to craft another one as I went on.

Story 3 – The choice:

The prostitute said in a as a matter of fact attitude “I have just upped my prize….. baby. You have gotta pay be 400 bucks extra for my services from now on”

“What……. No way….. I always pay my regular amount…”

She smirked “Bigger money bundle or bigger cock …….. your choice stud…”

And on hearing this she started laughing and I thought to myself ----and god finally saved the world from the wrath of my sis. (Jus kidding ….. she is reading this as I write you see….. :))

Then I went back to what I was doing before and not long after my sister laughed to herself.

“What?” I asked.

“What what???” she shot back.

“Why are you laughing???”

“The story… I just thought another one.”

“Really….. Let me hear it.”

After a bit of cajoling and persuasion, she told her version.

The final story - Story 4 - (Idea of the story – My sister.)

The prostitute asked with an idle curiosity in her voice “You are paying me more than my usual amount. Any special reasons????”

He stopped wearing his pants and looked at her, then with a casual shrug he said… “Well, you did not ask me whether the grocery bills are paid when I was coming. Did you??”

After the story was told, we both cracked up laughing.

Author’s note:

The above is a fictionalized account of what myself and my sister were chatting on Saturday afternoon, celebrating her return from our native. :)

And Please don't mind the following philosophy..... It's just the way I am. Always getting kicks out of saying something philosophical. Damn, I am pitying my future kids... They sure have a lot of philosophizing and advising to hear from me in the future. LOL...... :)

The Philosophy -

I believe in openness and in discussion whatever the subject matter may be. Only when we talk about things, we will get to know how we feel about them. Sex, Religion, Culture, Marriage, politics, death – I think are a few of those topics on which every one of us have their own strong opinions and we prefer to keep it to ourselves rather than discussing them. We protect these opinions like we protect our own eyes; we get angry when people with a different set of principles express their views.

What we forget is that, it is these basic opinions that we hold dear to us, define us. Make us into what we are. Hard to believe….. but it’s the naked truth. So all I ask from my readers is that please keep an open attitude. If else you may miss more than you think……

Take care guys…. Ciao.

The Spring – A short story.

2009-04-22T15:40:00.000-07:00

The Story -

“Every single soul in the fight knew that the battle was unevenly matched to a horrendous extent and they were going to need a miracle to win. After all it was going to be a battle between giants and midgets. A battle between titans and dwarfs. A battle between the winter and the spring.”

The old man stopped the story and leaned towards his grand daughter “A battle between winter and spring”

“Like in the seasons, grand pa” the girl asked.

“Yes, my child, just like in the seasons. That was a long long time ago, when all the seasons were sworn enemies then and fought against each other to gain control of the climate of the earth. The frost, The snow, the ice pellets, the blizzard, polar bears, sea lions – cold, brutal, merciless were the warriors of the winter. The warm gale, the swallows, the lilacs, the rabbit, dears, cats, the other birds and animals soft and warm to the core were the warriors of the spring.”

“The land, the skies, the water – no place was spared – the war both bloody and intense, raged on with heavy losses on both sides. But soon the tides started to turn, the winter having the stronger army started to gain advantage and the battalions of the spring were slowly starting to scatter. The warriors of spring started to lose their heart and things started to look cold and bleak for them. It was suddenly as if the fighters of the spring would rather end their misery by their deaths than to go on fighting. It was then at that crucial moment somewhere among that thousands and thousands of warriors, a single tiny swallow’s voice started to sing.”

“To feel the wind on my chest,
---I will fight; I will fight
To sing in the sun at my best,
---I will fight; I will fight
Tearing all the tears in me,
---I will fight; I will fight
All I want is love and joy,
---I will fight; I will fight.”

“Suddenly the fleeing animals stopped, the clear voice of the swallow seemed to clear their minds. With hot tears of fury and pain flying from their eyes, and they finally became brave enough to die for what they thought was their right. They started to sing, every one of them, the wounded and the healthy, the poor and the wealthy, every single one of them started to sing and they all marched forward like the warrior poets that they are. Their collective voices echoed through the vast blue skies, the thunder shattered and the puny clouds scattered. The sun came out moved by their raw spirit and shone hard, shone hard defeating the winter.” He paused and took a deep breath and with a flourish in his voice averred “The winter was then banished from the fairy land forever.”

“Grand pa, Grand pa….. Sing poem one more time” pleaded the child.

And just when he was about sing the song again, his daughter entered the room and said in a caring voice.

“Oh not that spring story again, father you are spoiling her too much. Come on you too need your rest. Now go to your bed.”

“Oh, I will sing to her one more time darling and then I will go to bed. I promise.”

She sighed “Ok, make it quick.”

She returned to the bed room, sat on her side of the bed and looked at her husband sleeping on the other side of it. She just sat there staring at him for a while. Then she got up and walked up to the window. The night’s sky was empty. Empty of the stars, the moon, the clouds and all that stared back at her was the dark and void. She took deep breaths. No, she was not a child, a grown up women with responsibilities, a child to look after, her mother to take care off, and her own career to think of, so whatever the pain she has to bear it. She leaned against the window sill and closed her eyes. The cold wind blew past her ignorant of the emotional tides and the pereniality of the aguish that it is crossing by.

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She woke up with a start. Shit…… She thought. She must have fallen asleep lost in her own thoughts. Her daughter was tugging at her pajamas crying “Mommy, Mommy……… Grand pa is shaking”. She didn’t hear the rest; she rushed towards her father’s room and found him having a convulsing fit. She immediately called the ambulance.

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What will people be thinking when they are waiting for the doctor’s verdict on the health of a loved one? What is that, that keeps them occupied with straight faces when the anxiety of the unknown is burning in their hearts? How do they hold on to their sanity until the doctors with their monotonous faces call them in to hit them with the results?

She shut her mind. Shut her mind to every single thought that came up. Blocked all her senses of time and emotion and concentrated on a lizard on the wall. Nothing but the lizard -

Which was now slowly, very slowly making its way towards a moth that was sitting nearby. One step at a time with a honed ease and skill that must have been gathered over a century of evolution, the lizard was getting closer to pounce on its kill. The moth blissfully unaware of the mortal danger it was in, remained there as if in wait to get caught by the awaiting jaws of death. The lizard tardily crouched its entire body, ready for the final act – the leap and the capture. The drama of the hunter and the prey was at its final show down.

Suddenly out of nowhere, she felt deeply sorry for the moth. A delicate creature unaware of what it’s getting into. Oh my god, she has to save it. It’s going to get killed. She has to save it. She quickly got up and raised her hand to shoo the moth away.

“M’am, the doctor will see you now.”

Distracted by those nonchalant words of the nurse for a second, she stood there and watched the lizard catch the moth in one swift athletic leap. The moth wriggled in pain, trying desperately to escape from the cold jaws of the reptile but the lizard bite by bite gulped down the moth with a relished satisfaction n its face. She closed her eyes, not having the heart to see the helpless moth die.

“I am coming” she replied in hushed tones and followed the nurse inside the cubicle of the doctor.

The doctor nodded to her to sit down and leaned forward with his hands folded and resting on the impeccably neat table. She started to get the feeling that she was not going to like what she was going to hear. She ignored the mild pleasantries and consolations from the doctor and numbing herself to the extreme, she asked.

“The facts, Doctor – just the facts as they are…. Please”

The doctor allowed a silent second to pass before answering.

“His problem has gotten worse. We will have to keep him under 24 hour hospitalized care from now on. I am sorry. You cannot keep him at home. It’s too risky.”

She simply nodded staring past the doctor.

“Can I see him?”

“Yes, but can you try not to strain him.”

She nodded.

His once ebullience that always took stock of the situation without losing his unique stride seemed to have left him. Seeing him lying there in the white hospital gown, frail and flimsy, her heart went out to him. His face was slowly returning to its original color – a pale hearty red. The IV line looked as if brutally stuck into his delicate hands that once held her as a child, protecting her from the nightmares and the realities of the world, rocking her to sleep with his fantastical stories. His dull eyes seemed to have lost in some distant memory until she noticed his daughter standing by the door.

He beckoned her to come and lean over him.

And once she did that, he in his diseased small voice mumbled into her daughter’s ears.

“I am so sorry, my dear. I should have never forced you to” he stopped and took a deep breath “marry him”

“Father, Please stop” her voice wavered.

“Please forgive me. Please”

“Father, don’t do this” She said and turned her heads side wards trying not to look at him. Fresh warm tears were streaming over her face wetting her dry parched lips.

“I am sorry I did not listen to you” her father continued in his feeble voice. “I will never forgive myself for the pain I put you in.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “Promise me to get out of there. Relive your life. Promise me, I will die in peace.”

“Father, you are hurting me. Why are you doing this? I don’t need this now.” She bit her lip hard trying not to cry out loud.

“At least, cry darling… Please… for me.”

It was then that something broke inside her and she gave herself into hysterical sobs bending over him. She cried, cried, cried and cried some more. The pain, the failings, the harsh disappointments, the fighting’s, abuses, the rebukes, the wounds, the humiliation, the emptiness, her life – she cried even more. Her tears dropped from her face on her father’s forehead who said in a broken voice.

“That’s Ok darling. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Hearing the sound of the weeping, the nurses rushed in taking hold of the situation.

She slowly came outside and cried, cried every single stored up tear in her tear ducts. Every one of the tears that she had managed to swallow and smile to bear her marriage. She silently got, settled the bill and requested the doctor to proceed with the necessary formalities to get her father the care he needed and then left the hospital.
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The sun was at its zenith when she reached home. She called and checked on her daughter at her baby sitter’s house and assured the baby sitter that she will be there in 2 hours to pick her daughter. Then she started to pack her things.

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“What are you doing” He asked as he entered into the home and saw all the packed materials.

She did not reply.

“You are leaving. Aren’t you?”

She still remained silent. Her daughter was playfully reciting something in a low voice unaware of the drama happening.

“Where are you going to go now? You are fucking clueless. Ain’t you” He chucked maliciously and added “Go on. Let’s see how you are going to survive without me.”

She suddenly felt her knees trembling and her throat felt like being chocked. Her legs felt terribly weak, wobbled with her weight. Her stomach churned and jellied inside her and she felt like vomiting. So long caged she had been that her subconscious mind still longed for the safety and refuge of that cage. Her mind ran a thousand directions at the same time, gagging herself taking her nowhere.

She was breaking down again in front of her husband. She knew it. She knew it. She must have been doomed to be shackled forever and forever. Wait, May be she can still fight on. May be she still had a chance. May be…. May be she knew it all along that she will never make it. At least she tried. But she has failed. No, she is failing now and she is not able to do anything about it.

“You ain’t worth shit. You know that.. don’t you?” He folded his hands and stood there looking at down at her with contempt.

She crouched down, breathing hard trying to collect herself. Then she heard her daughter’s clear voice reciting…

"To feel the wind on my chest
---I will fight: I will fight.
To sing in the sun at my best
---I will fight: I will fight."

Hot tears of fury, pain and shame started to flow from her heart wetting her face. The calm innocent voice of her daughter shook her soul until her teeth rattled and her vigor returned. She is no innocent moth to be crushed and killed. She can fight. She can fight for herself, her daughter, her life, for her father. She has to fight. The clouds of reluctance and fear scampered away like the rats they are feeding on the rotten, the broken and the unused. She will fight.

"Tearing all the tears in me
---I will fight: I will fight.
All I want is love and joy
---I will fight: I will fight."

She took a deep breath and ran about in her mind’s space trying to gather all the broken pieces of herself. Her father always took a deep breath when he was to say something important. Her father….. She closed her eyes….. Please father, give me strength and courage for what I am going to do. No more conflicts, no more bitterness, no more suffocation, no more ignored ignominies, no more lies, no more surrendering and no more an hollowed existence. She had neither any tears nor any more fears left in her.

She got up with a resolved mind, clear and crystal like the carbon in the diamond. She will never ever waver anymore. She walked out on her husband holding her daughter’s hand.

Outside the evening sun was splashing around buckets of its mild orange melody of light. There were fresh lilacs blooming everywhere and the earth smelled of a new born baby with new shoots and green heads peaking about every where. The breeze dallied around kissing and flirting with every touch on everyone. A few street dogs chased the some cats up the trees and the swallows that were already resting on the crowns of their wooden abodes rushed about disturbed by the feline intrusion and added to the bliss of the cacophony.

“Mommy, Mommy the spring has arrived” jumped the girl with joy…..

Her mother nodded. Yes... The spring has finally arrived.

The end.

Author’s note:

This is my first story that has spanned more than 2200 words. I feel glad to have written this and I am obliged to thank 3 people in specific for helping me out....

-----Introspection, for giving me such a chance to write something 4 her. Smile today and forever, for from now on its spring my dear.

-----My regular readers and people who follow me – Guys you are more than an inspiration. Every time I see your comments and opinions on my posts, I feel exhilarated. Vinnie, puneet, rajlaxmi, raaji, anu, saxena, amal bose, introspection, nimisha, sujata, nandhini, Dogwood, DQ and every single one of you………. Thank you guys…. You are the best of the best. No questions asked. I love you guys….. :)

-----And this story is dedicated to one specific girl who replied to me thanking my compliments… (Guys, if you are not understanding this, then you haven’t read the story, Romance: Enigmatic). Trust me yesterday morning, when I was about a quarter of the way through the story, I was in my worst spirits – (will blog about it in my next post), it was as if everything around me was conspiring against me, then I got the reply from her and you know what….. I was soon grinning like a silly filly. She lifted up my moods so much that I finished of the story in a single sitting. I will write about it later on sometime later on….

For now signing off…….

Take care…… muthu

PS – After a quite a bit of searching 4 an appropriate snap, I took this one from flickr.com from the following address. - http://www.flickr.com/photos/mundojo/3451588846/in/pool-mujerwoman

The pitch of perspective – A short story

2009-04-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

The story may contain a very few common place hindi words and the meaning of these words are given at the end of the narration.

The Story:

When he first laid his eyes on the idol, he simply couldn’t understand how people could stand the sight of such a hideous image, let alone pray to it considering it as a holy deity. “The female god of motherly love” was what the temple priests had said when they invited him into the temple. But nothing prepared him for what he would later recall to his friends as “the most ungodly image ever to be prayed as god”. May be he thought to himself being a tourist who is just passing in and out of India without actually dipping his hands into its daily life, it may not be just on his part to judge anything. But praying to a life sized deity of a hideous black faced hag fully smeared with blood,her tongue hanging out grotesquely, with a garland of skulls and a girdle of severed hands around her neck as decoration was a bit too much for him. Goddess Kali – even the name sounded ominous and bleak to him.

And to think that all the crowds around him were jostling about in frenzy like hungry hyenas fighting over the last piece of meat to catch a glimpse of this horrific and ominous deity was really above his comprehension levels. Soaked in sweat in the compressing inner chambers of the temple he started to have second thoughts about his decision to come into this temple. It took a good load of hard shoving, pushing and stumbling across for him to get out of the inner chamber where the deity is housed. He must have been more than relieved when he sat on the much sparsely crowded outer part of the temple and relaxed stretching his arms and legs.

It was as if he was sending out a homing signal to the poor and the needy kids who always frequented the temples of India trying to catch the eyes of some rich guy who would have the heart enough to drop a few coins in their bony arms. He always had a soft corner for children. He placed a ten rupee* note on the hand of the child and saw with satisfaction as the brown eyed girl walked away from him with a gleeful smile and with a purposeful gait. In a few seconds he realized his mistake when the girl returned with a bunch of other kids all desperate for some cash from the kind foreigner. May be if he would have walked away from them at that instant he would not have set into motion the chain of events that was to follow. But fate and god had their own agenda in their minds.

He distributed among the children the few coins he had not knowing he was causing quite a ruckus in the middle of the temple. It must have been in jubilation when one of those kids in his jumping glee tripped and fell down with a helpless wail. It was then that all pandemonium broke loose and before he realized what was happening his bag with his visa and passport was snatched. In a desperate attempt to catch the thief he started to chase after the pick pocket who was running with his bag.

The streets were crooked, narrow and were marked by sharp bends and angles that were so much a characteristic of Indian roads as class and caste to the Indian society. The bustling crowd rushing past him towards the temple immersed in their local celebration compounded to his problems as he tried to keep up with his bag. The sight of some country punk making away with almost all his cash and his identity documents must have sprung some hidden reserve of resolve in his mind that ignoring his heaving lungs that begged him to stop and the pain in his legs that craved for some rest he plodded on. He had to get his bag. He was not going to lose all the cash he had on him in such a fashion. He had to get his bag.

Then suddenly as if in response to some divine command from out of the blue his feat simply refused to obey him and he slowly came to his knees feeling a slow excruciating pain radiating from his chest and just as it dawned on him that he was having a heart attack he collapsed unconscious.

People die everyday, every single hour, minute and second someone is grieving with all his heart and soul over a lost loved one. Life in retrospect can be pretty bleak and uninviting if not for the joy of seeing tomorrow. May be tomorrow it will rain, May be it will snow or even hail, May be it will bring us joy unbound or perhaps it will shut us in eternal gloom. Nobody knows for certain but everyone still looks forward for tomorrow with a word as preposterous as hope in their minds.

And hope was the very last thing that came to his mind when he came awake drenched in his own sweat and fear. He tried to open his eyes and failed – the lids felt heavy like the petals of lotus and his body numbed and weakened pleaded and bargained with him resisting his every attempt to sit up. He heard a jumble of sharp sounds and noises that were too much shrouded in the daze to give any clear idea of where he was. He thought he picked up the clear voice of his 9 year old daughter which slowly faded into the distant racket of a lot of people moving about, a small child crying in hunger, the shrill voice of some one shouting out “help” which slowly melted into dark embers of his sub consciousness facade.

He for once again fell unconscious.

Skeptically speaking, helplessness takes on a complete new meaning for a patient who is at the mercy of doctor to save him who like any of the other working professionals works for the money that is being paid to him. He is not working for free or doing social service for that matter. Then why should anyone feel they owe their life to the doctor for doing his job? But alas the human mind becomes so feeble when it comes to face it's own death that no such thoughts leap up into the mind when you get up from the hospital bed after a close brush with Yama* and realize that the doctor has saved you. And of course it was nothing different with the foreign tourist either.

The bleak wall stared back at him as his eyes tried to focus and the pungent smell that is so much a characteristic of the hospital assaulted his nasal faculties when he rose back to the world of the living again. He felt much better through thoroughly exhausted as he looked into the eyes of the doctor who was checking his vitals. The doctor gave him a calm reassuring smile and said in a gay voice “welcome back”

Funny the course voice of the doctor sounded to him like the sweetest baritone that he has ever heard. He for a second felt like jumping with joy, thanking everyone around and relished the feeling of feeling alive. It must be the effect of almost losing something that he cannot bear to do without – his life perhaps. The doctor, who now seemed to have finished with him, got up and seeing his desperation to know where he was calmly averred “Do not worry. You are safe in a hospital. You have had a minor heart attack and you need to rest. We have notified your embassy and they assured they will send their representative over. I have given you a sedative so now try to relax and go back to sleep”

It took a couple of days for him to regain his strength and vitality and by that time he had learned that he was saved by a rickshaw walla* who seeing him collapse on the road had brought him to the nearby hospital where they identified him with the papers they found in his pocket and treated him. Arrangements were made by the embassy for him to be transported to his home country once the doctor gave his health a clean chit and pronounced that he was fit to travel.

It was as he was getting out of the hospital lead by the doctor, thanking him profusely for saving him he saw a middle aged guy wearing a blue lungi* looking at him with curious eyes. The doctor with a smile said “I just did what I had to. If you want to really express your gratitude then thank the rickshaw walla over there. He was the one who brought you here in time to save you.” He turned to see the middle aged guy giving him his best smile with a the sparkle in his eyes. Despite his worn and dirty clothes, prematurely wrinkled face and bare feet on the blistering hot streets, he had the warmth of life clinging to him.

The foreigner rushed forward, caught the rickshaw walla’s hand and with his eyes moist with emotion and voice trembling with gratitude said “Thank you, Thank you. I owe you my life”. The rickshaw walla was embarrassed not used to such open show of appreciation and racked his very very limited English vocabulary to give the foreigner some decent reply. After a few seconds of desperate thought the rickshaw walla folded his hands with extreme reverence and said to the gaping foreigner “Jai Kali Devi*.”

The end.

Rupee* - the currency of India.
Lungi* - a local garment used by the working class.
Yama* - The soul taker at the time of death in accordance to hindu mythology.
rickshaw walla* – one who drives a rickshaw(a pedaled vehicle) for a living.
Jai Kali Devi* - a slogan in the local language Hindi meaning – all the praise goes to the goddess Kali(These words are mistook to be partly English by a lot of locals.).

Author’s note:

Legend says that Kali Devi or Goddess Kali was once a very beautiful lady who was so fond of dancing and also good at it that Lord Shiva – the ultimate god of death, destruction, nirvana, meditation and dance took her to be his pupil. And once when Lord Shiva was sleeping, Kali Devi stepped on his chest too lost in her dancing. Lord Shiva in his temper cursed the one who stepped on his chest to be as horrible looking as one can be. When he got up and realized his mistake, he gave Kali Devi the power to become a destroyer of evil as he could not take back the curse and thus was born the God of motherly love and paradoxically also the destroyer of evil. Silly as the story may sound but every culture in the world has its own belief systems which when viewed by someone outside may be too much to understand.

If you would like to read more of my stories, do try out my older posts which include a collection of stories as well as my own experiences, memories and my take on various issues from marriage and love to reality television. Do use the Label's Menu for navigation.

The Image of the Goddess Kali that is displayed at the top,is taken from Wikipedia. Author -Richard B. Godfrey, Source - LACMA.

For further information on Kali Devi ...Visit - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kali

Words and Politics :

2009-04-18T22:44:00.000-07:00

How more trivial and how more silly can politics be played –

At a time when the politicians should be giving good future plans and assurances that would solve the various tangles India seems to be perceptually lost in, they are playing blame game in the most childish manner. How more can a important national leader Mr.Advani degrade our entire political system by calling the present Prime Minister of India, the weakest PM ever. Of course he has the right to give criticisms but he should be critiquing the flaws in his plans, activities or on his agenda. And what’s more worse, The PM crediting his words by replying him.

The above is just a pint of the gallons of words that are thrown by the politicians on one another. There is no need to write those cock and bull stories and glorify them like the media is unconsciously doing so now by publishing every crap that gets thrown around. One can never become better by calling others names.

Good politics comes only through respectable politics which every single politician in our country seems to have forgotten, a country which has cradled the best of the diplomats and leaders - Gandhi, Nehru, Anna, Patel to name just a few.

May be Respectable politics is a bit too much to ask, so how about decent politics. Is that too hard for people who are campaigning today (assuring free TVs and stuff on their agenda instead of a good futuristic plan to boost the country) to contrive.

I remember the quote from the movie –

V for Vendetta –

“While the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation. Words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning and for those who will listen the enunciation of truth and the truth is there is something terribly wrong with this country, Isn’t there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerability and depression……….. How did this happen who is to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than the others and they will be held accountable and again truth be told if you are looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.”

Brutal may be the above quote but I believe that naked truth in it is what makes it so brutal. Remember Chanakya’s words the country goes into ruins not because of the action of the bad people but because of the inaction of the good people……

So spread the word to vote for those people who will act responsible, form a public opinion on who would be the best candidate in your area, Look into the history of these people who ask for your votes, don’t get off track listening to people having word battle, you have a more important job in your hand than them – selecting them, I still strongly believe……

Words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning and for those who will listen the enunciation of truth.

So spread the word……..

The chocolate – A short story

2009-04-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

“Please mom” pleaded the kid. Her 8 year old eyes were yearning for the milk chocolate that was sitting on the window sill of the shop in a beautiful glass jar. It had a royal blue wrapper with silver letterings that stood out claiming the chocolate to be “Richer smoother & milkier”. The wrapper even had a gold lining that caught the dull light of the sun shrouded by the rain clouds and dazzled. The small girl would have given anything in exchange to have a piece of that chocolate. Anything – anything including the best of her toys, the color ribbons that she loves to play with, to the Mickey and Donald cartoon stickers that she loves sticking on her note books. She was lovelorn with that chocolate. And for her that was enough to push her to desperation.

She tugged at her mother’s sari* and once again pleaded with all her heart thrust into her voice.

“Pleeeeeeeease mom”

Her mother gave her a smile and a 5 rupee coin to get the chocolate and resumed her gossip with the other mothers who have come to the school to take their children home. The school was one of the most recognized in the city and most of the locality children studied there. It was a magnificent building with a white facade, airy corridors, spacious well lit classrooms and it housed a large playground that was bordered by shady banyan trees. The success of every single market is based on the factors of nearness and need to sell their products and the variety of shops, stationeries and malls that outlined the school made the best profitable use of that single fact. It was in one of those shops that the kid found her favorite milk chocolate being sold.

The girl jumping with glee the moment she got the money in her hands, ran up to the shop and gave the shop keeper the money and pointed to the chocolate. The shop keeper shook his head returning the money saying that the chocolate costs 15 more rupees. With dashed hopes, the kid stood there for a moment not knowing what to do. The kind shop keeper leaned forward and with a warm voice said “why don’t you get me 15 more rupees and I will keep one chocolate especially for you” and gave her enthusiastic wink. The girl with renewed energy went back to her mom who was just finishing up with her gossiping.

And just as she was about to ask her mom for more money, it started to drizzle.

A beautifully stunning virgin of a drizzle that laughed, sang and danced around the skies with the splash of spectrum trailing along on its tail came rushing to the ground lost in the lovely moment like a girl rushing out to meet her man returning from the war. The dry, virile ground proudly jutted out to embrace the warmness of the touch as the cold fingers of the drizzle drenched and soaked its surface with love. Blatantly orgasmic was the plethora of colors, tastes, senses and pleasures as the rain and the earth held each other in their arms cajoling with one another, fighting with each other, peppering one another with baby kisses, losing themselves in the sensuality of holding and being held. The beauty of their union was simply splendidly fantabulous.

But alas like everyone else who scattered away when it rained, the girl and her mom too rushed off to their homes missing the orchestral performance of the century. The girl’s mind still hung over the chocolate of which she was determined to ask her mom when they reached home. The drizzle hit her face pretty hard as she sat behind her mom holding to her tightly as her mother sped the scooter towards home. After a few minutes of driving and tussling they reached their destination. The small girl got down from the scooter, ran to the door and shrieked in delight. Her father who obviously did not share her exuberance waiting there completely sodden by the rain. The kid disappointed with her father’s response sat there long faced trying to get off her wet shoes.

Her mother opened the door and both her parents went inside. Her father who fell upon the couch the instant he got inside the hall started to remove his tie.

“Why the hell did you not give the key to the neighbors when you went out???” He shouted at his wife. “I have been waiting here for almost an hour getting drenched in the rain!!!”

“How was I to know that you will come back home today early? Am I Houdini or what?? His wife answered back in a calm tone. “And don’t you blame me for this. You forgot your keys this morning and so you stood out. Period”

Her father frustrated and angered with the attitude from her mom tried to forget it by immersing himself into the sports channel in the television. Her mom helped her to dry herself and put on new clothes. The girl was pulsating with the urge to tell her mom about the money she needed for the chocolate but she knew that it was a bad time to do so with her mother busy doing chores and her father absorbed in his sports. So she waited. She waited until it was dinner time. Until they were just half way through the dinner and then told them about the chocolate.

After patiently listening to her, her mother assured her that she will get her the chocolate when she comes to pick her tomorrow. The girl completely satisfied slept sound that night when it rained cats and dogs outside.

She just couldn’t wait for the next evening to come and to have her hands on the chocolate. She was on her best behavior in the school, did the home work during the interval itself, helped the teacher to collect the notes, she even tried to be good to the boy who always teased her. Her mind was preoccupied with the chocolate and the evening that it gave her the heart to be her best. The day wore beautifully – the teacher had put an “excellent” remark in her note, she had the best time playing with her friends, she had even picked up a pure white pigeon feather that she always wanted from the playground and she was going to have the best chocolate in the world in the evening.

Life couldn’t be more beautiful. By the evening she was feeling completely exhausted.

But she was too happy to notice it. She is going to get the chocolate. She marched up to her mother and held out her hand with a flourish. Her mother’s smiling face disappeared as she felt her daughter’s extended hand. It was burning, burning with fever. She scooped up her daughter in her arm, seated her on the scooter and accelerated towards the nearby hospital with a speed and concern that only a mother could rival. The girl was torn apart as she saw the receding figure of the shop and the half empty milk chocolate glass bottle disappearing in a haze of human activity as the vehicle sped along the road.

After checking, the doctors diagnosed it as viral fever and they advised hospitalization for a couple of days. They assured that she would be fine as the disease was at the starting stage and if treated properly she would be back to normal before tomorrow morning. Her father and mother sat beside her bed holding her hands trying to whisper into her ears that all would be well soon. Agonized they were at seeing their precious little daughter lying helpless and prostrate on the hospital bed but they tried not to show it to her. The night fell in solemn whispers as the cold evening wind blew its way past the hospital.

The little girl laid there on the bed dreaming. Milk chocolates were falling from the sky all around her but kept vanishing when she tried to pick them off from the ground. She kept at it for a while until she was exhausted. She was almost in tears. Then suddenly the raining stopped and out of the blue came the half filled chocolate jar. It laughed at her taunting her to catch it and however much she tried to catch the jar, it rolled out of her reach and with each of her failure to catch the jar, one chocolate disappeared from it. She felt cheated, disappointed and utterly let down. She started to cry.

Her father noticed the tears first. He checked her temperature. It was returning to normal. He slowly woke up his daughter caressing her cheek. She woke up with a start and seeing her father in front of her, she hugged him tightly. Her father held her stroking her back with his calm voice reassuring her – “It’s just a dream honey. Nothing more………….. It’s just a dream.” She slowly drifted back to a dreamless deep sleep.

After 4 days at the hospital, she returned home in with her health restored. She went to school the next day and when the evening came she begged her mother to give her money for the chocolate. Her mother was reluctant to get her the chocolate keeping in mind their last episode at the hospital. But the girl won’t hear of it. She wanted the chocolate desperately, it has become an obsession of her to get her hands on that chocolate and she was not going to give up easily. She pleaded with her mom who gave in at last after she promised not to eat the chocolate until tomorrow. She will just get the chocolate just for keep’s sake now.

With the money tightly held in her hand and her mother walking beside her, the kid in the best spirits walked towards the shop. Finally she was going to get the chocolate.

Then as she neared the shop the kid saw that the jar was empty. Oh no….. She started to run towards the shop with her eyes on the jar. Yes….. Yes…… Yes…… There was still one single chocolate in the jar. She increased her pace. But ……. Oh my….. Oh my…… Someone else was buying it. She was at her wits end. Her heart was pounding and her feet were aching. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It couldn’t end like this. She loved that chocolate. She wanted that chocolate. She reached the shop and with tears streaming down her eyes, she looked at the empty jar and then at the last piece of that chocolate as the guy who brought it slowly walked away. The kid stood there crushed and battered. It has been too much for her.

She did not cry out loud nor did she try to make a scene. She did not care. Tears swelled and flowed glistening across her pinkish face.

Her mother sat down beside her not knowing what to do. She tried to calm her. But the girl was not listening. She was simply staring at the empty jar. Her mother stood up, went to the shop keeper and asked about where else she could get the milk chocolate. Then she asked the shop keeper to look after her daughter for a while and rushed off in her scooter to get the damn chocolate.

God has his fun playing with you when you least expect it and when you are least equipped to face it. He taunts you, piles up problems in you, blocks your every exit pushing you to your extreme limits. No matter how much you pray, no matter how much faithful you are, no matter how many times you have played the Good Samaritan, no matter whether you are a Catholic or a Protestant or a Hindu or a Jew or a Muslim or even an atheist for that matter – he rarely cares. May be he is just caught up a bit having too much of fun or may be there isn’t even a god for that matter. But who cares. It feels good to have somebody to turn to when things become too heavy to bear.

After searching for almost forty minutes without any success, her mother in her mind was praying for such deliverance to no avail. Her mother just didn’t have the heart to return to her empty handed but had no other choice. She didn’t really know how she was going to face her daughter. She didn’t really know what she was going to say to her to console her. She drove her scooter slowly towards the shop with a heavy heart.

When she got there, she parked the vehicle and entered the shop. She had no idea how what she was going to say to daughter. She was then quite a bit shocked to see her daughter squealing with peals of laughter. In her right hand she had a large candy and with her left she was trying to stop the shop keeper from tickling her belly. Her face lit up when she saw her mom and came rushing to greet her. She bobbed up and down as she told her how the shop keeper has taught her a new game that was so cool, how the new vanilla candy the shop keeper gave was very very sweet and showed with flourish the brand new Mickey Mouse stickers he had given her. The kid was deliriously drunk with happiness.

She never did get the milk chocolate that she so much yearned for.

But still she survived.

And life went on.

The end.

PS:
The snap is of my favorite niece and I thought this snap in a way, projected the story well. And yeah she too loves chocolates.(I think it's something genetic in my family that makes us all addicted to chocolates including myself. :))

Romance: enigmatic – A short story.

2009-04-17T02:33:00.000-07:00

The Quote:

As for Micheal Corleone, he found himself standing, his heart pounding in his chest; He felt a little dizzy. The blood was surging through his body, through all it’s extremities and pounding against the tip of his gingers. All the perfume of the island came rushing in on the wind, orange, lemon blossoms, grapes, flowers. It seemed as if the whole body had sprung away from him out of himself. And then he heard the two shepherds laughing.

“You got hit by a thunderbolt, eh” Fabrizzio said ------------

----Direct quote from Godfather by Mario Puzo (book six, chapter 23)

The story:

He found himself staring at her photo with a part of his mind wondering whether such lovely girls really exist and another part marveling that such lovely girls do exist. The new moon of her eye balls, black, stark black, raven black with a tinge of a mischievous twinkle set on a face, a lovely face woven from the moist strands of zephyr, the dark hair, darker than the darkness of eternity parted to a side and crowning all that divine beauty - the curve of a smile, a bend of the rainbow, sweeter than a mother’s first kiss to her new born and . She was much more than beautiful and he simply couldn’t get enough of her.

He saved her photo from her profile to his desktop. And stared at it for a few more long seconds. The more he saw her, the more he liked her. He then went through her profile and after reading her posts, He liked her even more.

He wanted to get to know her. Talk with her. Ask her what her favorite color is, Ask her to smile once, ask her about her movie preferences, ask her whether she likes tea or coffee, listen to her laugh and do million other things of which most of the readers may consider silly but silly was the last word on his love struck mind. Euphoric, elated, drunken and delighted, with his heart buffeting in places he never knew there were, he was in love. And all this happened in that split of a moment.

He then went to her profile to comment something that would say that he really liked her. But after placing the cursor in the comment box; he really did not know what to write. Words must have deserted him for he sat there undecided for quite a long time with too many questions bouncing around in his heart.

What do you write to a girl that would get her to reply to you?

You just want to get to know her, Right….. No wrong in it but how do you put it into the right words without going overboard?

Will ---- “Hi, cool blog” - suffice……..

Or “hey, you are cute” suffice……..

Or would “hi, you have nice posts and a sweet smile” be better…….

What comments should he leave? Should he leave some intelligent comment on her posts…….. or……..may be something complimentary……

What would she like --- an intelligent comment or a funny quote or a compliment on her cute smile or a decent remark or something like that for her blog………

Oh boy…. He had no idea on what he was going to do?

After a good deal of mulling over with every single contrivable possibility he remembered someone once telling him that the simplest ….."hi" – would be the most candid and the best approach towards girls and that he decided was the best Idea. He sent the message, logged out of his profile and went out into the flowing rays of the golden dusk completely satisfied, completely happy.

His mobile sang and his sister talkative as always was ready to launch into her stories when he answered it. After listening to a few of her stories when inevitably always ran a minimum time of half an hour, he barged in-between her narratives and said “I saw someone on the internet…….”

“Where” She asked.

“Internet, I saw her profile and liked her a lot”

“How did she look”

“Cute, beautiful”

His sister hit back “Beautiful than me”

He paused and answered carefully “As beautiful as you, I think…… Dark eyes, Dark hair, lovely smile”

“So what’s her name?”

“Oh……. boy”

“What??” she asked with a hint of concern.

“I was so full of her that I forgot to look up her name”

"What?" She rebuked “you have just displayed the worst male character ever……..”

“Hey, it’s not like that, I was just too exited to look for her name. I know her page, I will look up her name first thing I log on next time and ……………….…..” He paused “Shit, I am a jerk….. I did not even look up her name”

“That’s OK…… describe her to me”

That he did in vivid details. And after hearing out, she answered back with a thoughtful voice..

“You know something, once in a while I wonder. Is some guy out there, swooning over me like you are now doing over her”

“Most probably, You are adorable and you are worth it but anyways all guys think like this about one girl or another but only about 5 to 7 percent of them do something about it” After a pause he added “Boys are terrified of being rejected,you know..... We just don’t know how to deal with it and anyways being hit by a thunderbolt though heady, it is a good feeling – getting to like a girl just because she had a cute smile”

“Thunderbolt - Godfather huh……..”He could hear her chuckle on mentioning the quote from one of his all time favorite novels.

“Yup – the mother of all novels and anyways real life is pretty much weirder and stranger than fiction. Huh….. After all this ruckus I am causing, may be she will never reply to me and all this will just reduced to a memory”

“May be she will reply and you will get to become friends” She added.

“May be” He continued with a significant pause “May be, then we will then forget each other in the monotony of every day chores”

“May be” She added again “May be, You will get to know each other, love each other, get married, have a lot of kids and then grandkids and I get to play with your grand kids”

“hahaha” He couldn’t help laughing “Too funny, If not too easily said.”

“Ok, Mom’s calling…… Gotta go…. Will call you later”

He said Ok and pocketed his mobile. Tomorrow he thought may be tomorrow, she may reply……….. And looked into the distant skies with his hopeful eyes……..

A few early stars were shimmering though a fast darkening inky sky. The sun with its masculine strokes of light rays was painting his last masterpiece on the skyline palettes of the western horizon with the moon in its feminine element looking on with a pleased curve of a smile.

Love is Life.

The end

P S – This is a fictional account of my own real life experience a few days ago and the enigmatic ending says much about my own state of mind and I am still pretty much in the fog on what would be the best way for me to get to know her, So guys if you have any ideas, please I plead you………please………. Help me out.

The quote at the beginning is from Godfather – the novel ……when Micheal Corleone falls in love with Apollonia at the first sight.