Another love, lasting?? - A short story

The snap-

The fiction-

“So you loved her?”

“hmhm”

“And she loved you back??”

“hmhm hmhm”

“But it did not last!!”

“hmhm”

He took a deep drag at the cigarette hanging from ridge of his mouth reveling in its crisp vapors, sighed. “So good!!”

“Huh!!” he looked at him flabbergasted.

“Good….. Good for you!!” He blurted out, once again trying to empathize.

He started to laugh. “May be… May be not. But that doesn't really stop the pain. Does it?”

For once, his friend fell silent. 

Author's note-

I watched the movie- The swingers yesterday. I loved it. Its an awesome movie that follows a bunch of wannabe actors, their love lives and their careers. An honest depiction. No mushy stuff, just the bare truth. Do try it. And I was  inspired by the same movie to write the above short fiction. Hope you guys like it.

The silent melody- A short story

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 31; the thirty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'Strangers in the Night'

The fiction-

A slow Jazz music filled the dead silence of the hospital, its melodious notes dragging their feet across the almost empty hospital corridors resonating with the dry lonely lights spaced uniformly across the length of the walkway. A few nurses who were going about their jobs stopped and listened not believing their own ears. A few patients who were still awake blinked stupidly wondering what the loud music was doing near the ward for terminal patients. It was then that Frank Sinatra’s lucid baritone started to croon the lyrics of his once famous song-

Strangers in the night

Exchanging glances

Wondering in the night

What were the chances?

We'd be sharing love

Before the night was through

The duty doctor who was finishing up his last rounds stopped in mid-step hearing the song. His own heart suddenly picked up speed and literally started to pound against his ribs, as he reversed his direction and started running towards the source of the sound. A few nurses and orderlies of the night shift were also rushing along breathless in the same direction.  The motley bunch of curious patients who had already gathered outside the room from which the music was coming moved away jerkily making may for the rushing mob all in their medical whites. Their panic stricken faces heaving up oxygen trying keep up with their plodding legs. A locked door shut from the inside of the room greeted them.

The doctor took control of the situation seamlessly, ordering an orderly to break open the door using the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall nearby. He then rushed to the window and peeked inside its crevices trying to grasp what’s happening on the inside. Someone from the crowd behind whispered “but the door opens to the outside….. How did he manage to lock it?  And from where did he get his stereo” Nobody had any answers. Just more questions that echoed in the hollows of their mind, the more important questions that they did not dare to ask aloud. What is he doing inside? More importantly what is he doing to her? Is he suffering a mental breakdown? It’s not something new to happen in the terminal patient ward but happening to him was quite a surprise. 

Dealing with cancer always gets to you, breaks you, makes you do crazy things. Seeing life ebb out of the one you love a single bit at a time with each and every passing day, with no way to stop it, counter it but to simply slow it, as they wallow in their own suffering, the empty words of faith falling meaningless in their darkening world. With too much hurt drenching them down, nibbling away at their edges, as they try to plod though life smiling, pain takes new meanings literally.  

“I see them” shouted the orderly breaking the door. “I see them. The door just gave a crack. I….” He paused with a pained voice and turned his head from the door looking up at the doctor “I think he is crushing her, suffocating her”. The doctor leaped to the door plunging his eye into the broken rift in the door. A few seconds stood sweating without the heart to pass on; together with the bunch of people standing around waiting for the young doctor to give his speak.

“Bloody bastard……. He is making her dance with him.” He turned around enraged and snatched the fire extinguisher from the orderly and started going at the door, all the while cursing mad.  “Bastard…. I told him. Fucking bastard….. I told him. She is too weak. She cannot take the strain.” Sinatra sang along ignoring him.

Something in your eyes

Was so inviting

Something in your smile

Was so exciting

Something in my heart

Told me I must have you
Strangers in the night

Two lonely people

We were

Strangers in the night

Pieces of wood, dust and broken strips of plaster flew in the air with each ram the door took. Plaster….. The fucker had used plaster, fucking plaster on the entire door to shut them out. And thatsealed the door leaving no weak or easy fracturing points. Soon the other orderlies joined in going at the door with everything they had. The door slowly started to cave in giving into the inhuman beating that it was receiving. Cracks slowly broke into rifts that started to fissure though the entire structure of the door. Someone shouted “we are almost there”. And then suddenly the door tore open.

And they rushed in, the doctor, the orderlies and the nurses spilling into the room each one spinning out of control rushing with the flow of the crowd, they saw one of the weirdest sights ever. An elderly couple slowly moving around locked in their embraces; her lanky figure with the flowing white hospital gown, himself suited up in his best threads; her bony hands clinging to his bosom; his arms around her, holding her with care as he dipped and moved her around to the warm and wafting melody. Her shriveled face looked satisfied, her eyes closed rejoicing the swing of the movement, the ease with which he held her, the love with which he moved her around, ever so gently and his burning eyes that betrayed his own pain, seeing her wince in distress with each and every turn, her frail figure going rigid in his hands, the few wisps of hair on her bald head, the occasional gasp when the stress and the pain are too much for her. Sinatra’s regal voice dived into the simple lyrics once again.

Up to the moment

When we said

Our first hello

Little did we know,

Love was just a glance away,

A warm embracing dance away.

“Ma….” Cried the doctor as he separated his mother from his father and set her on the bed. She looked exhausted, her lungs trying to breathe in gulps and failing, her pulse stammering erratically, her tiny body wrestling with the few drops of life left in her, she looked forlorn, expect for her eyes, her eyes that twinkled with a mischievous grin. She beckoned him to her and started to slowly mouth something. “Ma, don’t strain… please.” He whispered, his voice begging as he bent down to catch her words. Her flailing voice fluttered. “Don’t be hard ………. on your father. He could ……..” She paused thoughtfully and whispered with a mellow fondness “Never refuse me”

“Nurse, some help here…” He shouted as he started to treat his exhausted and ailing mother. He never noticed the single tear that raced across his quivering cheek.

The music still played, left unattended to in all the happening commotion and was painting bold strokes of intense love in the vibrating embers of air. Seconds slipped around, danced swirling into a few minutes.

Ever since that night

We’ve been together

Lovers at first sight,

In love forever

It turned out so right

For strangers in the night

He slowly walked to the door after treating his mother. His father was sitting on the bench outside the room staring into the dead of the night, alone with his own thoughts.

“How’s she?” he asked as soon as he saw him.

“Exhausted... completely” he paused sitting near him. “But okay..... She's okay”

His father let a deep breath out and closed his eyes. They sat there silent, lost in each other’s thoughts. Neither of them spoke. Neither felt the need to. They simply sat there sharing not just the space and the silence. The biting cold did not seem to bother them in the least. The song had finally ended.

Author's note - 

Thanks a lot to Sadiya Merchant, for introducing me to to Frank Sinatra's - Strangers in the night. I don't really know whether she was inspired by the song itself but I myself was. The song is going into my favorites. As for the story, I wanted to create one that would start and end with a single song, the song itself being an integral character of the story. hope you guys enjoy it.

I would severely recommend listening to the song and reading the story. The song itself is a statement of love, poignant, lucid and heart felt. Just close your eyes and listen to Sinatra creating the atmosphere of pure love and it's joy.  For more information about the song, kindly visit here. 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 03

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

The snap-

The fiction-

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

 “God help us all”

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

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

“Simple minded fuckers, God help ‘em all”

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

Author’s note-

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

And also do check out the other famous Aesop's fables- retold likewise in the following links.

The rabbit and the tortoise-

The fox and the grapes-

On a side note-

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

Of fair women & fairer men

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



The Snap -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kishore- Now, you just being a sexist asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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


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

Good bye my love - A poem

Snap-

The poem-

Oh! I will forget, just like them fingers in my hand, babe-

As they strum thy guitar strings

Rapid strokes of mambo jambo-

To the rhythm my heart rings.

A single solo I sing,

Of a man gone hollow-

Breathing sorrow- with each and every ping!

Oh … Yeah!  We danced around with words, babe;

Of the few that were said;

One or two- here and there; Nothing more than that;

Too much a-bare; too much to bear;

Like the distant stars in a lonely sky;

We scattered them too much-

And in darkness, they were.

Waiting for you, girl- Just waiting for you.

To reach out with your hand- babe, them five member band;

Thy strumming; ramming at my heart;

For with each and every move, your warm eyes tend to move;

I root alone for me- for you to look at me

And say something- girl.

My jumping parts are praying thy lord;

Say something girl; Just anything, my girl.

Oh yeah! I am just a fool;

Laying in my pool of a few bitter tears- dried long ago,

My last words to you- a simple song for you;

Hewed broken sods- just if you may;

Just before I leave, somewhere away,

Ahoy in a sway!

But my girl- Don’t you worry,

I am never sad- Nothing’s ever bad.

My love for you will always be there; so bitter and so sweet;

Not that I notice- my own parts; of those young and jumping sorts,

Just like I forgot the fingers of my hand,

Strumming along with me,

Humming alone with me,

Good bye, my love –

One last good bye, my love.

Author's note-

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

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

PS-

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