To bring to life...
all those stray, abandoned, wispy thoughts that are continually taking form of some story...
all those stories... which don't get to see the light of the day just 'cos they aren't big enough to fit the standards...

Friday, 14 June 2013



She blinked her eyes against the dripping sweat and stared across the distance. She could see “her”…. her enemy….her opponent. Her life’s purpose, at this moment, was annihilating her…. She wiped the sweat from her eyes and closed them against the harsh sun.

In that still moment, her entire existence seemed to flash before her. Her birth in the slums of Dharavi, Mumbai. Her running with her friends, playing catch amongst the garbage and the squalor. Her school, in which she was the misfit, as her uniform was always someone’s discard. How she studied and persevered, while her friends used to enjoy the easy pickings of begging or small theft. She remembered her daily walk to school amongst the honking cars and growling trucks. Most of all she remembered her Baba, who would sit with her every evening, tired after a 16 hour workshift in the human abbatoirs of Dharavi…. And yet find the time to talk to her about her school, her after school sports activities and all that she did during the day. He would talk to her as if she were an adult, talk to her about the world, the world outside Dharavi, tell her about the facts of life.  It was amazing that her Baba knew so many things though he had never been to school. 

She remembered her college, her sports fellowship. She remembered how she would be part of a gay, glitzy, carefree world during the day and enter the narrow, watery lanes towards her home in the evening. She remembered how her Baba never complained about harshness of life and always found the money to encourage her extracurricular activity.

She looked again at her opponent, the person she wanted to annihilate. She had studied her enemy well. Her birth with a silver spoon. The cars, the maids, the elite schools and the clubs. Her father, one of the most elite industrialists of Europe. Her being mentored and cajoled into a lifestyle of leisure and sports….. but with a specific goal in mind, that the rich always seem to have…. a focus of the eventual goal. The world being adjusted to suit her purpose. The poor adjust their life to the ever changing and contrasting circumstances…. The Rich always seem to be able to adjust the contrasting  circumstances to their life. And this disparity all the more so in India.

And then…. But her reverie was broken by a shout. She wiped the sweat from her eyes. She squinched her eyes to look across at her opponent as a shout echoed again “Ms Adi, are you all right?”. She nodded a yes slowly. She wiped the sweat from her brow and the shout again echoed, as the Wimbledon court went silent “Serve Ms Adi. Game, set and match point, advantage Adi”.



He descended the steps of the flight, from US of A to India, matrubhoomi, land of his ancestors…. but why go so far, suffice to say the land of his childhood.

The warm sun hitting his face and mixed myriad smell of India was in stark contrast to the chilly, biting air of his adopted country, USA.

Completing their Immigration formalities, he took a taxi to the hotel, Marriot. The sights of India, the smells, the garbage, the slums, the hustle, the crowds, the rush, brought back a nostalgic lump to his throat…. the memories of his childhood.

He grew up in a slum. His mother washed dishes and wiped the floor in rich peoples homes. He grew up half naked, half hungry. Celebrations being scraps from the tables of the rich. Joys being snatched out of the hands of a reluctant fate. Some days desires dying an early death while just enviously watching a rich kid take so many luxuries for granted. 

But his brilliance earned him a scholarship, a better education and then eventually a job in the US of A. Aren’t minds all over  the same?  It is just circumstances that differ otherwise the joys and aspirations worldwide are the same.

The taxi screeched to a halt and brought him out of his reverie. He blinked for focus. Saw the taxi surrounded by beggar kids and his wife…. his white, American wife about to hand over $ 10 notes to all.

“Stop”, he said “That’s a lot of money. Don’t encourage their begging. They will just squander it on sweets and treats.”……… “But isn’t that exactly what kids should be doing?” she replied.

But before the conversation went any further, the light turned green and the taxi left the beseeching group of outstretched hands…… and allowed him to continue his nostalgic reverie. He rolled up his window thinking “Well, I love you India, but you should be progressing from this filth and madness”.


Sambhar & Aloo Posto Fall In Love



"I said sambhar.So that's it."

"Why you always think that your decision is final? Why you don't realize that sometimes I also want to make decision?"

"Why are you fighting on this silly issue?”

"Ok. Blame me now."

"Don't talk like that. I am sorry. I will eat whatever you cook."

"I am not in a mood of cooking. I am not hungry anymore."

Trina is a typical bong who married a malayali guy, Mohit. They met each other in college. They had to convince their parents a lot. Finally their parents gave them permission to marry. It has been a completely new world for Trina. After her marriage she has been going through a big confusion over the language since her mother-in-law is not comfortable in Hindi or English. Their rituals, culture...everything is very different for her. Before her marriage, she was quite choosy with respect to food and her mother had to cook alternative dishes specifically for her. But now, even if she didn’t like coconut in curry, she still had to eat it.

 After spending few months in his native house, they had shifted to Pune for their jobs and now she had to cook every day.

Trina is too tired today. She slowly goes to bed and sleeps.

She is in deep sleep when she hears Mohit whispering her name.

"Trina… wake up."

"Let me sleep."

"I told you sorry na. Don't be angry."

She wakes up reluctantly, still half asleep.

"What? Tell me fast, I am too sleepy."

He lights up a candle & says,”Surprise!!”

She opens her eyes and becomes astonished.

“You cooked aloo posto for me!? But how? From where did you get the recipe? "
He smiles and says "I have seen you cooking this many times. I searched the recipe on internet also."

"Oh Mohit,I am so sorry. I should not have behaved like that."

"Ok... ok… now close the topic. You have to wake up early tomorrow. Now tell me how is the dish?"

Her eyes are wet. Now she can tell her parents that how right she was about him. She hugs him tightly and whispers in his ear "I love you."

"I love you too." 

Blog :


She is complicated and sorted. Stylish and boho. Fun and philosophical. Loyal and insecure. Witty and dry. Black and pink.

He is carefree. And intelligent. And mature. And deep. And fun-ner. And very much loyal.
And centered. And a gadget-freak. And normal. Cool-blue.

At a table for two, they eat.

Each alone.


The Other Side of a Man

The generalized vision towards a man in the society has worsened , their choices, their way of treating women, their addictions and habits, their infidelity and what not. Today, I am not going to tell you a story about a fictional character but just want to elaborate on the two sides of a coin called Man.

We know that the world, the society, doesn’t work without the presence of anybody individually. We all are equally dependent on each other but our egos have taken over our mind and eaten away our decision powers. We have never stopped fighting over male/female, religions, color, caste, countries and many such factors. What is important is that we all should know that blaming the other gender or other religion wouldn’t make you look powerful or good but it will consume your inner side badly. You need to know that every situation has its good and bad side and we need to be rational and peaceful before generalizing anything.

Talking about males, they even if do not menstruate or do not face eve teasing problems, have their own pains. It is never easy for anybody and if you wouldn’t accept that you will keep fighting. A man can never quits his job, never stay at home or never demand a thick pack of salary from his wife before marriage. Not that I am a male, I am saying all this but I want that the disease called generalization should die. We equally go through all kind of traumas in Life and to survive all of them we need understanding as well. If we can protect you, guide you; be there with you, we can ask for what we want as well. Not only we but everyone deserves to be LOVED.



Contrast, the dissimilarity of things that are compared, is prevalent in every walk of life. One can find it in oneself, in society, in mankind and all throughout nature.
This is a story of two immensely successful business tycoons, who had only one common attribute, the indomitable spirit to succeed in life. The rest of their life is a complete contrast. One, born in the affluent American society, was the son of an Investment Banker while the other was born in a society marked by penurious conditions.
From his early days, John, the son of the banker, had a keen eye for business and he began to display his acumen on a multitude of occasions. This encouraged his father to introduce him to the corporate world and he grabbed the opportunity with both hands. Soon, in the span of 5 years, he had furthered his father’s business and also set up commercial airlines to enter the burgeoning aviation sector of the country.

On the flipside of the coin, Howard always had a deep rooted passion for flying and managed to obtain a pilot’s license. After a good 4 years or so of flying, he decided to set up his own airlines. But where would the finances come from? Fortune has always favored the brave and it did so this time as well, when his uncle stepped in to help him.

As the years passed by, Howard’s airlines flourished, but John’s company faced some tough times to stay afloat. John was relieved when Howard bought a majority stake in his airline business. The millstone was no longer around his neck, and he went back to concentrate on his banking setups.

Thus, the two parallel stories provide a vivid example of contrasts that exists in our world. And it is due to this that there is so much excitement and variation in our society.



SMACK! G received a loud slap from the stranger. He lay there amazed as his cheek turn red and then blue.

“Thank you. I was so scared... my mother is home alone. I don’t know what would happen to her if l were not rescued” the stranger starts weeping in G’s embrace.

“But I just helped you” Said G stroking his afflictive cheek with his trembling hand.

“No you didn't just help me, you came here as my guarding angel. My mom will be very happy to meet you sir. I owe you my life” said the stranger almost begging to G “and it will be a sin if I won’t invite you for a meal in my abode.”

“I don’t understand. What I did wrong to upset you sir?” asked G in bedevilment.

“Those crutches cost me my three months’ salary you fucking moron” stranger grabs his collar irately.”You better not come in my way again or you will be in for an agonizing bloody treat motherfucker.”

“Well thank you very much for your invitation but I won’t be here as I've a work to attend outside the city” says G in disembroiling fashion.

“I know I am just a low grade worker that’s why probably you don’t want to dine with my family. My sister is beautiful and educated and she cooks fabulous food.”

“no no no, it’s not like that” says G with a manufactured smile “I’m sure she cooks beautifully but I’ve previous engagements. You are a working man you must understand what our work is like.”

“Oh hell I know what it is like. I’ve known the retarded sick fucks like you all my life. Your kind enjoys tormenting the helpless people like me. But remember this, I have dangerous friends who love me and they won’t hesitate a bit in cutting your limbs and your little...”

So you are saying that you left a helpless handicap man in a drench just because you were afraid that instead of thanking you he would abuse, slap and threaten you.


And the other reason you thought was that he would feel so indebted on his rescue that he would become your henchman and emotionally force you to marry his sister.


That’s it. As your counselor and our daddy’s friend I’m ordering you to see a shrink immediately. I am afraid you are acquiring schizophrenia.

G jumps at the old man with a dead impulse and stabs him with a pen in the neck innumerous times and didn't stop even after he was dead.

You fucking old faggot *Stabs*

you've *Stabs*

been *Stabs*

grubbing *Stabs*

My family’s money since eternity and now you are saying I’m a wacko. Here *stabs**Stabs**Stabs*

how about this for a therapy *Stabs* *Stabs* *Stabs*  you…

Oh god! What have I done…?


A Beauty of Fair & Foul

As capricious she always knew herself to be, Alice spend her night, writhing in her bed, responding to her lovers touches as he explored the beauty of her body through the course of the night. Without the fear of the world, she gave into him like a hedonist who was addicted to pleasure.

But the night was slowly and steadily leaving her company as the morning rays suffocated its existence. A million thoughts of what was to follow collided in her mind, she knew she had to leave this world of pleasure and return to the sullen reality that beckoned ahead.
She showered and got herself dressed, in all black. She admired her beauty in the mirror, She always had looked good in black, only this time her dress had no flounces, ruffles or bows. She wore her black gloves & the veil of crape and walked out of his house.
Knowing she would see him again, she didn’t turn back for another look.

A couple of hours later, she found herself standing with a group of people, consoling her, giving her their condolences. She was back to being her confident pragmatic self, the one everyone knew of her being, and the one everyone had loved.  Only now her beautiful face had a morose look to it, with tears in her eyes she stood in the cemetery mourning her late husband.

In the flock of mourners, she caught a glimpse of him and immediately the images of the night ran through her mind. She smiled at him, her lover, her late husband’s brother, her source of pleasure.

Another few years, Another marriage & History would always repeat itself. Only this time the foul beauty smiled to herself.


The Life!

Life is more or less like a coin, the head and tails will always be close with each other but won’t ever see face to face.  The relationship of Poor and Rich in a symbolize meaning is the same; they will always exist side by side.

It was the first monsoon rains when I woke up early and it was just a beautiful scenic sight out of the window with winds gushing in and slapping on the face very gently to wake me up and enjoy the lovely day ahead. The frogs were out with their loud voices to be heard even on the sixth floor of the building, Melodious birds chirping all around, all pumped up with the beautiful weather. The Mumbaikar’s using their smart phones started tweeting about how cool the weather is and how long the rains in the night were just pleasing after the scorching summers. It was a great start to the day where we felt every day should be such.

As I moved towards on the way to office, to take a Bus the life showed its true colours, I could see children’s enjoying and playing in the rain because there was no place in the shanties to sleep as water had gushed in them, people adjusting around themselves in a one feet by one feet tile position to stay safe all night long and try to catch the sleep.  The cows, the stray dogs, the pigeons, the crows sheltering themselves from getting wet.
Life has its own way of amusing us in contrasting situations, where one can afford to just sip a tea by the window side admiring the nature’s beauty, on the other hand some finding it difficult and struggling to survive throughout the day.


The Deception

Akmal just kept staring at John. Their lives were so different. Yet as fate would have it, both lived under the same roof...

"You both are such contrasting personalities", their landlord would exclaim whenever he saw John. Look at Akmal beta, so calm and composed. You on the other hand, hopeless!

But Akmal envied John."Such a carefree banda he is... Look at me... A terrorist jihadi, sent to kill people"

Akmal was slowly starting to feel love within him unto others. A year back he had so much hatred filled inside that he wanted to kill anyone in sight. But now he wanted to live. He could not confess to anyone about his background or motive. Not even to John. For he feared repercussions.

He always kept to himself. "Not a single extra word to be uttered" were his precise orders from across the border. 
And he was living in Mumbai under the disguise of a Engineering Aspirant from Kolkata who was scheduled to give his entrance exams.

John also was an aspirant but he seldom cared to study.. he enjoyed his life to the fullest, but through his own simple means. He loved music and Football and always would take Akmal to watch him play.

Such was the camaraderie which got built in a matter of 7 months that both became dependent and more importantly, Akmal had changed.

One day while listening to a Lucky Ali song "Anjaane raho mein" a tear came out of Akmal's eye and he broke down in front of John. He narated his entire past.

"I wanna leave this Jihad" Akmal exclaimed when,

Bang Bang Bang !!!

3 bullet shots were fired.
"Saalaa insaan banne chala tha ye Akmal kaminaa. Kya training de rahe jo tum log waha pe. Abhi 4 aur ko bhej do. Aur yaad rahe, mere baare mein kuch nahi bataanaa. Parakhna mera kaam hai"
Rehman disconnected his satellite phone. Ever since his plastic surgery in Pakistan, he looked atleast 5years younger...

"John" he smirked "What a funny name I've got"



She seemed all dressed up for the event. Everything looked so dapper. There she was, in the white wedding gown, pearled neck, ear-rings that shone the chandelier’s light, sepia coloured hazy site that fogged up the hall, lilies that fragranced every possible corner which could soothe any soul on earth. 
He, in a tux, stood by her, his hand in hers, recalling all the lovely moments they spent. He knew, it was time, then. 

So taking a deep breathe, he closed the coffin’s lid which read, “Don’t forget the lilies honey and yes I love you too.“He dare forget it not! 

It is ridiculously funny how one thing leaves you beaten to the core that you consider killing yourself and the other still wants to keep you attached to the living world… Deaths of loved ones play the former role while Memories love to cling themselves up and personify the latter. This contrast always drives people to maniacs. Some embrace it with open hands while some fail. The ones who master these feelings lead a grand life while the ones attempting still hope for the silver lining. He was getting close to it, sure.



Flight 6E202 wobbled as it approached the Chatrapati Shivaji Airport in Mumbai. The monsoon had arrived 48 hours early and the weather was treacherous for landing. Capt. Ashish Sharma who was piloting the brand new Airbus A320 was no stranger to how slippery the runway could get in this weather, but the moment the wheels touched down he felt his grip slipping. 

The aircraft veered left and kept sliding sideways; the Captain could hear stifled passenger screams through his cabin door as he urged for calm. Finally with incredible dexterity Capt Sharma managed to pull up the wing slats and the airliner screeched to a halt as its wing tip seared through the boundary wall that separated the airport runway from the slum nearby. 

Bricks and twisted metal flew at the rate of knots but finally the plane came to a halt. Capt. Sharma had pulled off a heroic act, gushed the news channels, saving all passengers on board. 

But as glowing headlines went around the country the next day, the contrast of mood could not be starker at Shantamma's house. Because Shantamma lived in the slum and her only source of income, her cow, had been hit by a flying shard of the plane's wing tip and killed.


Contrasted Desires

Drishti got up from bed & started preparing evening tea. Ramiz, her father stood silently gazing outside the door. She went towards the door & stood behind his father. She saw that a couple was busy planting new trees together. They smiled at each other & enjoyed it completely.

After, seeing that, she knew that his father also longs for her mother, he too wishes to relish small pleasures of life. He was dying inside, for his wife had left him recently, for somebody else. He lived for her daughter.

She couldn’t see this increasing distance between her parents. She was on the brink of losing a mother. For her, their home was no more homely. It seemed to her as dark as hell. She desired seclusion with her grief-stricken heart; on the contrary, her father only desired the company of her daughter, just one reason left to live for.

Finally, she poured out her heart to her dad, “I want to stay aloof for sometime or forever, I don’t know dad, I want to go somewhere” out of utter despair, she said.
Her father replied, “please don’t do this to me, I can’t stay alone at this time, please don’t leave me alone, it would make me lose every reason to live.”

Her eyes were brimmed with tears, yet she held back her tears with full force and said, “ok dad, I’ll stay with you.” In this contrast of desires, the girl had to accept his father’s desires over her own.


Peas of the same Pod

"Are you both twins"

"No we aren't."

"But you both look like twins"

The two smiled. 

Both bore a smile which were fake. They were not twins. They hated being called that. They were from the same family, same age too. But they were different like day and night.

Nicole was talkative. She loved math and painting. 
Sheen was the quiet one. She loved music and poetry.

Nicole was the heart of the house.
Sheen was the one sitting in one forgotten corner of the house.

Nicole had dreams.
Sheen had dreams.

Nicole had her dreams served on her plate.
Sheen struggled to keep her dreams afloat.

Nicole threw away the plate.
Sheen learnt to swim with the tide, and to keep breathing.

Nicole feels life hasn't been fair to her. She asks, "Why me?"
Sheen smiles at herself and says, "Thank you Life, for all the lessons you taught me."


Theme for the upcoming week  : INSTINCTS

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