Writing on the sands...

Airport Thoughts

2011-04-08T08:50:00.005+05:30

What do you do when you are at Bangalore… more specifically, at Bangalore airport and you have almost two and half hours to waste?

Of course, if you are writer like me, you flip out your laptop and type… or as I call it – “trypble” (typing scribble, for the new!)

I’m going home as it’s my study leave… but mostly because I have started to miss the air of Kolkata. The smell of the city danced in my dreams until I finally made up my mind to go home… and yes I also plan to study! (Or so I hope!)

So here is my airport update… airport fashion statements are still the same. Uncles and businessy people all decked in suits. Others in casuals, shorts, jeans and la la la... Yellow seems to be the new fav. I see a lot of it… yellows and oranges.

The talk? Yes, it’s mostly Anna Hazare here. People are really talking about him. And in my point of view, it’s good. Personally, I support his cause as well. I can hear a lot of bengali around me too. Nice to hear the language again!

And did I mention I just love the Bangalore airport. This is my second time here, and I still can’t help but ogle at everything shiny around me. As I sit amidst all the metal and glass, here is what I am thinking…

Have you ever taken a breath of freedom… the feeling you get when your mind is totally free from all the burdens and pressures of this world… when you smile, and not just curve your lips in the upward direction but actually radiate the warmth that a smile is supposed to give! When you feel light and your heart dances inside you… when you look around and you see the world in colours – the birds, the trees and the breeze. Yes, especially the wind, as it tickles your neck and tosses the hair. Have you ever felt it all? Don’t look at this post as if it is written by a hopeless romantic. It sounds so because it was written by a free mind…

Like Tagore said…

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high… into that land of freedom, O my father, let my country awake!”

It is 8.30 am here… and so, Good Morning world! Time to wake up!

Airport Thoughts

2011-04-08T08:50:00.002+05:30

What do you do when you are at Bangalore… more specifically, at Bangalore airport and you have almost two and half hours to waste?

Of course, if you are writer like me, you flip out your laptop and type… or as I call it – “trypble” (typing scribble, for the new!)

Like Tagore said…

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high… into that land of freedom, O my father, let my country awake!”

It is 8.30 am here… and so, Good Morning world! Time to wake up!

Bored!

2010-03-20T15:03:00.003+05:30

Goodness me... I'm bored to death back here!

and to let you all know that i saw "julie and julia" and if you thought that this movies is crazy of has a wierd name... then you are wrong!! movie is great - after all it's got meryl streep!!!!

watch it!

now... where was i?... hmm... yes i'm bored...bored and very bored!!!

help me out...HELP!!!!

Avatar - A Review

2009-12-22T21:55:00.004+05:30

The job of a critic, I feel is a very easy one. They risk very little and yet enjoy the opportunity to exploit the position of those people who offer up their work for judgment. And a mark of a true critic is that he does not simply thrive on his negative criticism. But on sheer rationality!

Yet at times, there appears a movie that stuns people beyond this realm and you can't possibly figure out how to shun this movie out of your head. I know it is probably a tinsy too late to write a review as the movie released three days ago, but in my opinion those who had to watch this movie must have seen it by now, and if you haven't then you are not going to see it unless you are one of those people who prefer to go through a hundred reviews before picking a movie to watch - which is by the time the film has gone stale!

Coming from James Cameron, who directed The Terminator, Rambo: First blood part II, aliens, Titanic - it was expected that Avatar would be exceptional... but to even say that this movie is extraordinarily exceptional would be a gross understatement. It rocked me to my very core - heart, soul and body!

People commended this movie about it's "out of the realm" special effects. It is called the epic that laid a milestone in field of animation and 3D filming. But what struck my cord was the basic message this movie was transmitting.

It strips humans - making us stand in shame at our deeds by projecting the world of the Na'vi, the natives of the planet Pandora. If you are wondering how do humans fit in? It’s simple. We have camped on Pandora to exploit the vast resource of the mineral unobtanium which sells at nothing less than 20 million dollars per kilo back in earth. It is the first movie in this genre which projects an alien race as less developed than the humans as the Na’vi are Neolithic when it comes to development - striving on wood, stone and hide and yet they understand the delicate mannerism of the functioning of Mother Nature... the flow of energy which we seem to have forgotten.

Protagonist James Sully (Sam Worthington) is put into his alien avatar and is sent off to earn the trust of the Na’vi clan so that he can move them away from their village (which is essentially a gigantic tree - the home tree) which is located over a huge mineral deposit which the humans seek - either through negotiations or through firepower! He meets the Na’vi princess Neytiri (Zoe Saldana) who teaches him their language, culture and their jungle style of life. James eventually joins the Na’vi clan but when humans turn impatient and can't hold their greed, it's up to James to decide where his loyalties lie? His human race or his new found friends and family - who taught him true mysteries of nature and secrets of life!

The overlaying details of the planet Pandora - its wildlife and layout just blew off my mind. The way a completely new Na’vi language was developed by Paul Frommer (professor and a doctorate in linguistics) just for this movie shows how much emphasis has been put to details. You are swept away from your seat and drawn into a world which comprises overwhelming special effects... into the world of Eywa - the conscious spirit of the planet... the mother! Its stuns your senses - the lush of the forests and the enthralling rites of the Na’vi - you are left speechless.

But what will touch your soul is the small fact that you realize - everything in this nature is interconnected and how we are destroying the delicate balance.

You feel the pain when James prays to eywa to help them "...look into the memory of the days in earth and see how there is nothing green... We have killed our mother..." to which Neytiri says, "Eywa does not take sides but only protects the delicate balance..."

And soon the true power of eywa... the power of nature is revealed.

watch it in 3D or 2D - it's up to you but there is no doubt that this movie scores not just in effects but also in acting, music (by James Horner - remember titanic!), script, screenplay and direction. Cameron and his men have proved that they are nothing but the best.

In the world where the Copenhagen summit has failed, I recommend you all to watch avatar just as a reminder of what we have turned earth into.

Go watch it for it’s a treat to the senses. You will be left in awe! This movie is really an epic!
And if you watch it in 3D you will surely come out of the theatre saying "the 3D thing gave me a kick!"

The Return

2009-11-10T17:21:00.003+05:30

Hiya guys and girls... hello friends!!!

well, my blog shows that the last post was written on the 12th of july. that's say around 4 months!!!!

wow... doesn't time fly by fast!

and before i go blabbering any more about time, i must thank you all for keeping this blog alive. i was too busy... i knew i would be too busy, and so i couldn't write anything. sorry for that. it's not that i'm some noble prize winner that you would actually wait for me to write, either!!! but still, thanks a ton for flipping back to my blog once in a while!!!

i did keep opening my blog at times, and was quite surprised to find a couple of new readers... and a new follower too!!! welcome to the circle friend!!!!

now... life in manipal is beautiful... over my next few posts i'll give you nice "lectures" on college life, which hopefully won't be as boring as those lectures given by some of my professors!!! (hopefully they are not reading this)

life is great... i got good grades.... had fun... went out a few time... and did this and that... you know all the tits and bits!!! (details coming out soon!!!) but... i missed you all a lot. i missed all my friends back home... especially one of them, who is really angry on me, coz i left!!!! Brother please... i'm sorry!!!

and now, the icing for all my friends back home... vacations are approaching... which means exactly after 22 days i'll be hoping along with you people!!! cheerio!!!!
keep counting... i'm doing the same!

the countdown has begun...

keep reading... have fun and take care...
with the promise of seeing you all soon, this is aersh signing off... sayonara!!!

P.S. this is for my li'l friend (who is not exactly little!)... we will meet. it's our destiny!!!

Filler Post

2009-07-12T11:05:00.003+05:30

Hiya Folks....

well, this is just a filler post. There was something i needed to tell you all. I gained admission in Manipal University, Manipal... so I am leaving Kolkata for four Years!

actually i have already left Kolkata... and right now I'm writing this sitting in the manipal library! so the frequency of my posts will reduce(not that i wrote much before!!! it will just become even lesser!)

right now i'm waitin for my laptop to come.

till then... have fun... see ya all and do wish me luck for my higher studies.
Bye!

P.S. - For all those who are interested, I'm studying bachelor of pharmacy

You Raised Me Up

2009-06-30T11:39:00.008+05:30

They lived to love…

They ran around, in mustard fields of beauty;

They sang around, cuddled and were playful... cheery;

The golden drapes of the sun wrapped them in peace;

The pristine moon kept them away from grief.

And he said…

We need hunger to live…

You are my hunger.

When I am down, you turn up,

And make me ever stronger.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;

You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;

I am strong, when I am on your side.

You raise me up… To more than can be.

And she said…

You don’t take my breath away;

But you are my breath;

You make my heart beat;

You make my life straight.

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;

When trouble comes and my heart burdened be;

Then, I am still and wait here in silence;

Until you come and sit awhile with me.

But the social barriers kept them in…

For she was the heiress, and he a mere common;

Their blossoms were considered a sin,

It tied them… tried to bring a bond of disharmony.

She stood tall, success beneath her.

He lay small, failed in life… downtrodden.

Yet they stood for each other…

Their bond kept them strong, their love warm.

And when… the day of union came…

He bowed to her… and on his knees he asked…

Will you marry me?

Her eyes stared into his… the lips parted

And she spoke…

You don’t suit me.

He turned around, tears drowning him down;

Walked back the path he had taken;

Walked ahead till he reached,

The destination where he wanted to be.

And he said…

You raised me up, so I can stand on mountains;

You raised me up to walk on stormy seas;

So here I am, standing on top of this mountain,

Submitting myself to the stormy seas…

There is no life… no life without hunger,

And now my hunger is gone,

So I drown it in the eternity…

The swelling oceans of lone.

He closed his book of life…

Author's Note - I want you all to evaluate this poem and think and tell me, why do you think she declined his proposal even after all the love?

Looking forward to your comments and reviews.

See you all soon...

Lost

2009-06-05T22:15:00.005+05:30

I felt stranded in the ocean

Waves lashing by

Reflecting the nauseating sun

With Davy Jones’s chest calling me

With the lonely islands beckoning for company

This way or that

Where to go?

Here, there or nowhere

The world’s a big sphere – no corners, no ends

I walk the path –A path created

Or should I take a path unknown – a path I create

The path of forks, twists, turns and bends

Obstacles plenty trip me down

Raging mountains and clouding forests

Evil forces of darkness found

Guiding bird – misguided by the “too much”

Too much to listen

To much to see

It clouds the reason

The rationale failing

I look at the senseless logic… trying to create sense

Like Atlas’s trick – Fooling the Herculean task

There is so much to be deceived

So much to overlook

The veil of glitter over the grey

And the real brightness fading away

O! Mighty one

Let the lights on – the fire alight

Let the path glow

Shining through the forests

Lest there be darkness and puzzled faces

Wondering just where to go?

All lost in this world of yours…

Author's Notes- OK, so this poem may sound so much like those philosophical ones and I agree that it is philosophical... but i wrote it when i was all baffled as to which college should i join? which stream should I take and who is giving me the right suggestion - whom to trust?

there are so many routes out there and as many puzzled faces too. let's all try to help them

untill then...Sayonara

THe clockwork Statues

2009-05-20T10:27:00.003+05:30

OK… the following poem may sound too childish. But it was written after a stunning moment of observation. Stunning because I don’t think such thing occurs always…

Kolkata is too busy a city – zooming past every second, it doesn’t stop. Never does it pause. Yet that day it did.

15^th May, 2009…

I was in my car, returning after dropping my cousin sister at the Howrah Station – the busiest in India. The Station is flanked by the Howrah Bridge – the ancient cantilever structure that is considered as the busiest bridge in Asia. It was clouding up for a rain and there I was, crossing the Bridge. As I looked outside the window I was mesmerized by a sight that enchanted me beyond limit. The clouds… the winds… the splatter of rain… all in the backdrop of the serene Ganges. And it was then that I noticed that I was not the only one who was gazing. Because for some reason or the other, the entire bridge had come to a moment’s halt – as every head turned to look at that scene that bewitched them all. It lasted hardly for three seconds but I realised that how mechanical we have become – like clockworks! How I wish I had my camera with me then so that I could capture those seconds that froze the city of Joy – The Cosmopolitan realm of Kolkata.

The clockwork statues roamed around

Did all that they were supposed to do

Nothing more and naught

For they were cursed to remain clockworks…

Doomed till eternity…

Feel shall they not

Love will they not

Pain in vain

Not a soul in them

They existed but lived not

Immune from emotions

In the crowd of stone

They lived alone

The gears shifting around

Round and round

Moving across the ground

But the lock of curse had a key

If they could wish for the curse to be broken

If they could resist their internal apparatus

Then would the curse break

Freed till eternity…

They wished and they prayed

Expecting freedom any moment

But futile it went

All for naught

The curse carried on

Until that day of rain

The clouds gathered and the sun in vain

The breeze stood strong

The trees clapped

The weapon of Zeus struck

The loud applause

The moment of vanquish…

A little statue turned around

The drops of rain

The fluid against the metal

He looked up

Mind empty… eyes dry

The mercury dropped

The veil darkened

And the statue stood

The springs wound hard

Urged him to move

The legs trembled

Arms shuddered

For move he could not

Looked at the falling rain

Heard the clap of thunder

Pushed by the winds

Pushed enough to resist the mechanism

And loud he cried… I WANT TO STAND

He wished to be there

That moment

Seconds of eternity

He wished to take it all

Freeze the impulse

Remain forever – the fluid against the metal

And the wish worked

The statues all froze

the steel clambered...

roar of thunder

crack in the metal...

They felt the water on their face

Felt after years

The breeze played around

The curse vanquished…

Author's note - i guess, many of you were disappointed with my last story. so a big APOLOGY. this may sound a bit absurd to read, but my blog theme doesn't allow me to use capitals of block letters while typing! so that's why a lot of you have been complaining about those mistake. and I'm very bad with spellings, so please forgive me and do continue to read on...

see you all soon...

THe Diplomats' Wives

2009-05-12T11:00:00.003+05:30

Josh Harnet of the CNN was just about to announce the result of last baseball match, when he suddenly switched to a totally different news. As breaking news splashed brightly at the bottom of the screen, Josh blurted…

“We have just received information that the Air Force One has just landed at the Geneva International Airport. Our correspondent Samantha is present there. So over to you Samantha…”

“Thank you Josh. I am standing here at the Geneva Cointrin International Airport where the Air Force One has just landed carrying along in it President Zachary Stephens and the first lady Adrianne Stephens. The President of United States is the last one of the Head of States to reach Geneva for the International Council for World Peace organised by the United Nations Peace Program. The Council is being considered as a great step taken in the process of combating terrorism. The head of States of over fifty six nations have assembled here, including the Prime Minister of Britain, Japan, India and Pakistan. There has also been some royal presence since the arrival of the King and Queen of Jordan, who arrived earlier this morning. The arrival of President Stephens was greatly awaited. His approach towards fighting terror, which is very much different from his other counterparts, has earned him great fame. And now we can see President Stephen’s descending along with the first lady. They are waving out to the crowd of reporters….blah… blah…blah…

*****

The International Council for World Peace was like any other event organised under the flag of the United Nation. It gave a platform for the extremely powerful people in the world to exhibit how masterful speech writers they all had. It was one of those places where words such as “condemn”, “I stand strictly against it”, “Human Rights”, “We stand together” and some more political nonsene could be heard most frequently. The less powerful but more active people like the secretaries, counsels, advisors, generals, and other officers of various nations used this chance to tour the lovely country with their entire family. It was all “official” after all! And yes, most importantly it gave the wives of these men to flaunt an ensemble of haute couture and jewellery, which they would otherwise hardly ever wear. After all, there plenty of reporters around and you never knew if you could manage to get a glimpse of yourself in the papers. Even if it may just be in one corner of a photograph focussing on some President or apparently more important person! You could always take that picture home and say,” see. That’s me. There. In the corner. Yes. That one!”

But… President Stephens was kinda different person. Did not make too many speeches, which reduced his chances of showing how little he knew! Though it wasn’t that he was ill informed. He was well proficient in all the daily happenings of his nation and the world in general. He could say ‘hello’ in seven languages (which had impressed the Japanese Prime Minister greatly) and loved Metallica and Opeth! (Strange, huh?) Usually a silent man, but when ever he spoke, his words silenced everyone around. He was what the old men described as “more into action than words.” His wife, First Lady Adrianne Stephens was one strange woman for her rank. The reason being that she was hardly visible anywhere. No no. I don’t mean that she was one of those size sub zero ladies. It was just that she never usually stepped out of the White House unlike her predecessors. Kept her at home, spending so much time in gardening that most of the common Americans couldn’t even recognise her if they saw her alone, without her more popular husband. Even the cabinet members often mistook her as a gardener who was rather too beautiful and had a classic sense of dressing. So much unlike the other dirt clad gardeners!

During this summit, the men and the women who held important posts left to attend meetings and sessions during the day. So, the wives of such powerful men would as a result easily get bored. So, to keep them busy, various programs would be organised. Like, they would be taken to some art exhibition where they would pretend to observe modern paintings or they would go to some orphanage and play with the children and later complain that their hands got dirty. The best way that they enjoyed was during those little tea parties which were often organised. It was in these tea parties that one saw the wife of the British Prime Minister talking most animatedly with the wife of the Chinese President, each trying to explain most amicably to the other the different ways of making tea, without realising that neither of them was actually interested the conversation.

It was during on of those tea parties…

Two ladies were talking in the most sweetest of voices. The first one had a long pointed nose and was dressed in sky blue silk dress with pearls around her neck. The other was rather pretty and was dressed in a simple white cotton shirt and baby pink skirt and a printed silk scarf round her neck.

They first lady greeted the second one most politely without having any idea who she was. The second one replied most courteously.

First lady – “Geneva is indeed a lovely place.”

Second lady – “Oh yes! I love coming around here.”

First – “So, Is your husband attending the meeting too?”

Of course he is attending? Why do you think I am here otherwise?

This was most stupid thing to ever ask. But this was how the elite ladies broke the ice!

Second – “He is. He is usually very busy throughout the day. So I came over here.”

First – “Yes these men! How come they all forget they have wives? But we have to understand their positions too. You see, I never let my husband realise how angry I am. He is in such an important post, you see. So he keeps busy.”

Second – “Of course. Of course”

First – “Sometimes he gets home all tired. So many decisions to make. Gets on his nerve. But I always soothe him down. He is an important man, you see.”

Second – “Indeed. So what does he do?”

First – “He is the Junior Secretary in the Department of Agricultural. But that is very important post you see. Especially if you are in America. He takes most of the decision because the Secretary is so busy attending stupid meetings.”

Second – “America? So you are an American too. It’s good meet some one from back home. Usually I have to spend time with some Spanish or Arabian lady. I’m from America too.

First – “Wow. Well… Glad to meet you. You are right. Last day I was talking to some delegate’s wife from Japan and I couldn’t understand a single thing she said. She could not utter a word of English. And the translator had such a horrible accent that it did not help either. And by the way, I’m Lynette Brook”

Second – “I’m Adrianne.”

Lynette – “Funny. Our First Lady too has the same name.”

Adrianne – “Yes. Indeed I share my name with the First Lady. Funny coincidence indeed.”

Lynette – “So what does your husband do in America?”

Adrianne – “He works for the Oval Office.”

Lynette – “The President’s Office! Great! So what does he exactly do their? Some Secretary?”

Adrianne – “Oh no! He is not a Secretary.”

Lynette – “Since he works at the White House, I’m sure he gets to meet the first family pretty often. Does he work directly under the President? Has he seen the First Lady? I have never seen her at all. May be I got a glimpse of her when the President took his oath. But I don’t remember her face at all. Funny though, she never steps out of the White House. Must be having some problem. Some women can’t take duties at all. Look at me now. I can carry it all. But everyone is not like me. Are they? I’ve even heard that she may be slightly mad.”

Adrianne – “My Husband has never mentioned anything like that. I’m sure these are all rumours. Better not listen to them.”

Lynette – “Whatever! So what does your husband do exactly? Is he an advisor?”

Adrianne – “No.”

Lynette – “Must be some kind of assistant?”

Adrianne – “He is not. He is just a busy man. Not any assistant”

Lynette – “So what exactly does he do? Does he work for the defence that you can’t speak about it. Is he in the President’s bodyguard? The Secret Service?”

Adrianne – “No dear. Can you imagine the wife of a secret service agent to be present in this party?”

Lynette – “Then what exactly does he do in the President’s office?”

Adrianne smiled. She stood up. Lynette followed suite expecting that they would go for a walk and she would finally get to know what Adrianne’s husband did. Whatever it was, she knew that it could be a position of higher power than his husband. He must be some of silly worker in the President’s office, she said to herself. Adrianne took the last sip from her tea cup and placed it on the table.

Then she turned to Lynette…

“Since you are so inclined to know… My husband is the President of United States. It was a pleasure talking to you. Hope we meet again”

As she stepped to walk out, the secret service agents flanked her. One of them said, “Ma’am the President has left a message for you.”

“Yes George, I’ll Take it.”

Lady Stephens walked out on a rather flushed Lynette, who hoped that she never gets to meet Adrianne or her husband in her life! the only thing she was wondering was What's with these Diplomats and their wives???!!!!

The Pain

2009-04-22T20:04:00.004+05:30

The pain of lying

The pain of crying

The pain of loving…

I know it all…

The fire burns me alive

Churns up my filthy insides

Down and down it pulls me to the ground

Trying to purge me from inside

It pains you know…

Hurts when you receive a blow

Blow that comes from the trusted

The cared and the loved

They played with you

That’s what you were

The toy… the pawn…

It pains when you strive

To know what made you care

What made you love the one you now hate?

It may be a prank

It may be true

But why do you cry?

Why do you pity?

It may have pained to lie

But the pain is nothing

Compared to the pain of being caught

The pain of being stripped of all that you showed

All that you faked

Lies open staring at your face

The pain of losing your name

In the quest for love and fame

The pain of being all alone

In a crowd of stones

It pains like the mighty fall

Bitter and bitter

It burns..

It pains…

It pains cause you gave me the pain

It pains because I tried to be nice

It pains because I hate to love

It pains because you made me so

So here I am

Standing tall like the monster you turned me into

Hatred and agony burning me alive

But nothing pains like the pain of treachery

Pain of the unfaithful

Pain of the traitor

The pain of being hated by the one you love

The winner takes it all

The loser stands small

And congratulations… you win…

I am nothing now

Turned to dust… burned alive…

But you know what?

I forgive you

And nothing pains like forgiving a friend who betrayed you…

Unsaid Emotions

2009-04-01T10:26:00.006+05:30

Howdy everyone???

Mates, I know you all want me to write more of non-fiction stuff, but I'm more of a "story person", so you can't keep me away from writing stories. But don't worry there will be lots of "non-fiction" stuff.

Now coming to the point. This story is a result of joint effort of my dear friend Anwesh and me. He had put up an unfinished version of the story in his blog "The Obliviated Graveyard" and had asked the readers to complete. So here is my completed version. Its kinda long so read it when you have some time to spare. And don't forget to comment.

Till next post, Ciao!

*****

Anwesh wrote…

“He who never speaks out, never gains, never learns and never loves…”

The cold current of water sprayed across the rocks and pebbles scattered haphazardly on the waterbed. Touched those stones and then, brushed past her feet. Her naked feet. She leaned forward and touched the pristine – clear water, and felt it slip through her fingers. The evening was about to set in and there was a strange eerie feeling all around. All she could hear was the silent rapids of the Ganges splattering across.

He sat on a rock, constantly scratching it. Every now and then, he looked up… looked at her. And he would feel his eyes look down, his heart melt and oh! So many things. This was the second week he sat here… just staring at her.

“Do I love her… Do I tell her… What do I tell her?”

As he scanned through these questions in his head, he saw her get up and come his way. He quickly slid behind the rock, and as usual, prayed and hoped that she didn’t see him. When he opened his eyes, he saw her standing in front of him.

She stared at him through those innocent blue eyes, and said, “You are…?”

“Oh, I am Sahaz”, he said, straightening up.

“I have never seen you here before. Come here often?”

I should have found a better spot to hide.

He scratched his head, looking anywhere but at her.

“Aah, yeah… Lovely spot you know. Water and rocks, and more water and more rocks…”

Damn it, control your stupidity.

“Anyways, am Sahaz.”

She sheepishly smiled and said, “Am Asin.”

Then, she opened her hair, which was so far tied loosely. She straightened them out and then said, “You live close by?”

“Not really. I live in the village behind that hill.” He pointed at a small village on his left side, glad to have an excuse for not looking at her angelic face.

They kept quite for a while. Then she said, “I am getting late. I have to go. I will see you some other time, okay?”

He didn’t hear anything, staring at her kept him too busy.

“Hello?”

“Oh, yeah. Okay, see you later.”

She disarmed a smile at him, “Bye!”

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

“You believe in love?”

“Me? Aah, I don’t know. Maybe…”

He kept staring at her.

“What? What are you staring at?”

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“You are just making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“You really think I would do that?”

She didn’t answer. Just looked at him and smiled.

Aersh’s part…

“Asin…”

“Yes?”

“Umm… err… umm…”

She looked at him. Her soft eyes made him even more nervous.

Go ahead. Tell her you fool.

“Umm… Asin… I … I …like…umm… no no… I … I… willyagoforawalk?”

”Sorry, I didn’t get that.”

He took one deep breath. “Will you go for walk?”

She looked at him for some time with a puzzled look. Then she raised her right eyebrow.

“Sure. Why not?”

They walked along the bank. They water brushed their feet. The sun was going down creating a red luminescence in the canvas called the sky. The birds chirrped on their way back home. And the water splashed as if it wanted to play with them.

Asin picked up a twig floating in the water and started twiddling around with it.

He looked at those hands. Long delicate fingers that did not need any decoration. They were just perfect.

Hold her hands. Should I? Yes. No… don’t be such a stupid.

"Sahaz, did you go to that fair that was held day before yesterday in that village?"

He did not reply. And she went on.

“it was so much fun. You should have come. There was this strange man who was talking with snakes. And there were nice things to eat… I particularly liked the jalebis…"

And she went on and on.

But he was not listening. He was just staring at that face. Her innocence had just gripped him and all her words floated away. Everything moved in slow motion. Her eyes. The wind playing with her locks. Those lips… everything about her… it was enchanting.

A splash of water on his face broke his trance.

“Sahaz were you listening?”

“Umm… yes… why?”

She did not reply but instead splashed some more water on his face.

He did not resist. And she continued with her game. His shirt was soaking now.

“Sahaz?”

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m perfect.”

She laughed.

“You don’t seem so.”

He smiled. “The sun is setting.”

“I know. Doesn’t it look beautiful?”

“No. You are only beautiful thing around here.”

“Don’t start that again.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Yeah-yeah. But I’ll have to go now. It’s getting late.”

Tell her now. Go ahead. Or she will go away.

“Asin… I was… I err… want to say… umm…”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say… I …err… Goodbye.”

“What? Oh yeah. Bye. Take care.”

She arranged her hair and walked towards her village. He stood for some time, watching her go away.

Fool. You missed it.

No. I will tell her.

Yes. I must

He started walking behind her.

She realised some one was following her and turned.

“Oh! That’s you. Is there something you want to say?”

“Yes… No… I mean no… I was just… err… walking.”

She looked at his eyes. He started breathing heavily. And his eyes darted everywhere but he could not pick the courage to look at her eye.

She took a step closer. Another step. And another. They were separated by just a few inches now. His already wet shirt now started to get soaked with sweat.

Suddenly her hand reached out and held his hand. He blinked.

She ran a finger down his palm. A strange sensation rushed into his body. Funny tingling sensation.

“Sahaz.”

He couldn’t bring himself to reply.

“You know what? Love does not require a speech. It speaks for itself.”

With that she ran her fingers through his hair and landed a soft slap on his left cheek. And then she turned and walked home.

“See you tomorrow again. Same place.” she called out.

He who loves does not speak through his lips. It’s the eyes that do the talking.

Prefect or perfect???

2009-03-27T21:00:00.004+05:30

Hi ya folks!

Finally – and it was about time too – my ISC examinations are over. So I should be shouting out “Yipee!!!!!” but I’m not. The exams ended on t

he 25^th of this month and I thought of writing something that very evening but every time I sat in front of the computer, some how, and I don’t really know why – I could not get myself to pen down anything. May be that’s simply because there are just so many things to write that I can’t decide where to start from.

“So foul and fair a day I have not seen”

- Macbeth

Indeed that is exactly what I said to myself on the 25^th morning. Fair because the end of board exams signals the end of school life and ushers a great deal of freedom. Foul because it meant saying good bye to all that place which for twelve had been my second home – and sometimes it was my first home.

25^th of March…The last day when I stepped into the school as a student and in my school uniform…

Talking of school life, one of the most important part of my school life was my little stint as school prefect – one year as a house prefect and the second year as the House captain. Whoa there! If you think that prefects are those crazy geeks or some sorta monsters who take pleasure in handing out detentions – lemme tell you people how wrong you all are!

In fact I used to think in the same way during my younger days of school. But it all changed. One of the most difficult task that I and even many more of my co-prefects had to face was to prove that prefects are “kewl” as any other dude or of the school and most astonishingly we managed to prove it too. We fought for what we felt was right and though we didn’t always win! But at least we tried to bring a change.

“I do hereby solemnly pledge that I will carry out my duties faithfully, truthfully and to the best of my ability”

I still remember every word of that oath I took… but hey… did we really work that honestly???? The first unofficial benefit that we soon realised came with that badge was that you could bunk classes and put an official reason as an excuse!

“Excuse me sir, but you see we have this rather important work to do. So can I please do it now? I’ll take the notes later from my friends”

C’mon now… we all know how much “work” we prefects have? Don’t we???!!!! So we all would gather at our little hideout which was the place we held our regular prefects meetings and sit and while away our time.

“I shall obedient and respectful to my superiors. Just and tolerant to my colleagues and juniors and loyal to them all”

Of course we all were obedient towards our teachers. We did all that they told us to do – expect that we did in between classes which was against the rules but then we were the law keepers! But we never went beyond the limit. We knew where to draw the line and most the time we tried to bunk classes we would get caught by some teacher or the co-ordinators or if we are really unlucky then by the Headmaster or the Principal himself. So we had to be very cautious.

Of course there would be a misuse of power and we bent some rules according to our needs but we knew limits. C’mon now, there is no fun without a little bit of misuse - is there? As I always say

“with great power comes a great responsibility and a little bit of misuse!”

There would be bullying and we would irritate people by threatening them that if they didn’t listen to us there would punishment. But these tricks only worked on juniors as the senior students were smart enough not to fall in our traps.

But the best time would be during the interhouse competitions. They prefects of the four different houses would even stop talking with each other and the only time they spoke with each other was to tell that their house is better and that they are going to win. The captains especially – though we be the best of friends throughout the year but during the competitions we would turn into sworn enemies. Oh! How much will I miss those days! And I’m happy that in my two year stint as a prefect I managed to get the house cup once for my house.

I further pledge that in all matters affecting work, sports and general demeanour I shall work for the honour of the school and that I shall place the interest of others before my own and above all I shall always strive to preserve a sense of humour and be a gentleman

Such was a prefect of my school. We were a school know for our discipline. And it was the duty of the prefects to maintain that discipline level. We had fun and we bent the rule but in the end we all were prefects. If anything went wrong we were held responsible and even though it was not our fault we would always take up the moral responsibility. We were trained to be strict and yet be just and we always allowed the guilty to explain his conduct.

We just had one philosophy. One code of conduct. It was set by our principal and though we never shouted it out loud as a part of our oath, but each one of us always said his/her mind…

“I must never demand respect. I must command respect”

And it would be very unfair on my part if I did not mention that ours was the only co-ed school in the city that a girl school captain.

25^th of March was the last day when I wore my House Captain’s Badge.

The "Bunny" Expirience

2009-03-19T17:10:00.001+05:30

Well well… it has been some time since I last wrote. But now I’m back and kicking! And I promise you all that there will be plenty of posts now… so guys and girls – my dear readers – new and the faithful ones – my dear friends – its time you start following my blog.

*****

Well…school is over – and when I say over I don’t mean that vacations are on but what I mean is that it’s over – my board exams are almost done which means that I just have one more day to go to school – for my biology exam on the 25^thof March.

Sigh!

Just one more day of wearing the school uniform. It’s over now.

So, like any other guys who would miss his school days, I was just looking back and recapitulating all those sweet and sour experiences. It was then, that this little incident struck me and I decided to share it with you guys.

Its one recent event and so very fresh in my head.

December last year was one busy month for my school. We had organised this gigantic school concert, in which we have put up the Broadway version of the Disney classic “The Lion King.” It was a huge event and the actors and the choir worked out for months and months. The drama was put on for a period of six days and the audiences included not just the students and their families but the general public and obviously celebrities were present as well.

The School prefects were given the duties of ushers. Now, as I was the House Captain, I too had some job to do in the concert!

The concert would start from seven in the evening and we all would report to school at one in the afternoon coz it took time to get dressed as animals for the play – put on the make up and get a final rehearsal. The school would provide every participant, prefect and student helping with sound and stage, with lunch and since the program ended sometime in late night, we would also get dinner. Plus we all would get orange buns anytime we felt hungry.

It was these buns around which the incident revolves. Every day there would be surplus buns which would be left. Each morning a fresh supply of buns arrived and so the buns from the previous evening had to be thrown away. It was one of my closest friends and a co-prefect Roshmi who came up with this indigenous idea that we should give all the remaining buns to the poor and beggars. Now India is still a developing country and there is no dearth of beggars if we know just where to look (although I must add that the number of beggar is steeply declining). Dear Roshmi was worried that off late she had not been a good girl and may be a bit of social service would help to put her name in God’s good books!

So she, I and a few of our friends spoke to the teachers regarding this matter and the teachers were so overjoyed to see their young boys and girls growing into such responsible citizens. They allowed and so our group set out with a carton of leftover buns on one fine afternoon before the practices could start.

But look at our luck. We all live nearby and we were pretty aware of where could we find the beggars but some how on that afternoon all the beggars seemed to have vanished all together. We walked a long stretch of road and could not find anyone whereas on any other day one could easily spot three beggars in their typical and fixed begging spots.

I suddenly remembered that a huge fair was going on in the nearby grounds and I suggested that most probably all the beggars have shifted there centre as more people would notice them there. Everyone agreed and we set off to the fair. And look at our miserable luck – we could not find even a single beggar there either. Poor Roshmi became upset that now she continued to exist as a bad girl unable to do any good and pious stuff.

But every dog has his day and soon we spotted one extremely old man crouching in a corner begging for money. Overjoyed, we all rushed to him. First he got startled and scared when he saw a bunch of six youngsters rushing towards him. We spoke to him in the kindest of voices and asked him to take the buns. But… but… but… look at our misfortune once again when that old man said in an almost illegible whisper that he had no teeth left and so would be unable to take those buns!

All hope lost we decided to return and feed the buns to the stray dogs instead. But our day was not yet over. A young man with a tired looking face came up to us and said that he needed our help. He said that he had come here for some work and he told us that he needed to get to a place soon. He asked us where is the bus stop located and then he asked us if there is any restaurant around here as he was hungry and tired. Roshmi got her little chance and pounced upon the man and said that since the closest eatery was a bit far away he could take some of the buns. And even before he could say anything we handed him some buns and ran off in full speed. I wish I had just looked back once to see the face of that man.

Oh! That was some experience coming from a bunch of seventeen year olds who suddenly started behaving as five year old kids. How can I ever forget this experience?

Believe it or not but every detail in this post is true.

If you like this blog and you have your own blog, then I would request you to start following this blog.

THE NEW DAY

2009-02-20T20:36:00.000+05:30

Grace Patricia Kelly

(1929 – 1982)

The fable that died too early

*****

Philadelphia…

Sometime in the last few days of December 1955…

The Fable stepped out of her Rolls and struck a pose for the press - for the paparazzi…for her fans…

That Face… those eyes… they were enough to stun any human – sane or insane – for most men went insane after getting a glimpse of her… she was after all… the legendary Grace Kelly.

“Ms Kelly, one photo… please Madam…this way…looks this way… one more picture… please”

She stood there… and when the photographers had had their fill, it was time for the reporters…

One of them asked, “Ms Kelly, is it true that the Prince of Monaco has proposed marriage to you?”

She looked at him for some time and then a smile played on her lips and then…

That legendary voice was heard…

Soft…warm…clear…and beautiful…

“Yes, His Highness has indeed done so.” And with a slight note of annoyance she added, “If I am not mistaken, my family has already confirmed it.”

“Yes indeed, but we had still not heard about it from you?”

Another man in dark blue turned up…”How do you feel about the marriage ma’am?”

“Well of course I’m happy. I’m overjoyed.”

“But you will have to abandon your acting career because of the marriage. Have you thought of that?”

“The Prince and I have spoken about it but I cannot comment on any thing right now.”

“Are you willing to give up your acting career?”

“Well, you will come to know soon.” Said Grace and walked towards her house.

“One more question Ms. Kelly…please… just one more question… ma’am…”

The butler opened the door and she stepped in. Behind her, the guards jostled to control the hoard of reporters who were still not satisfied…

Handing her coat and hat to the butler she said, “Albert, get me some coffee in my room and I don’t want to be disturbed for some time please.”

Free from the clutches of the reporters, she happily entered her room, only to find her mother inside.

“Mother, what are you doing here?”

“I saw those reporters dear. They are all mad to start a controversy it seems.”

“No mother, they just want some answers. Oh mother! I’m so happy…so so happy”

Margaret Kelly kissed her daughter’s forehead. The happiness of her daughter didn’t seem to cast its effect on the mother. Mrs Kelly held her daughter’s arm and spoke in the most melancholy of voices, “You very well know Grace that by marrying the Prince, you will have to give up your acting career.”

“I know that mother.”

“Are you ready to give it up?”

“Of course… I love him and will do anything for him. Don’t you know that already?”

“I know that dear, but you will have to realize it Grace. Later when you’re married, remember that you did so by your own free will. You had no compulsions. Don’t blame him then. That is all I wanted to tell you.”

Grace was staring out of her window…

The setting sun…birds returning home…the clouds…the red painted sky…Everything seemed so carefree...and yet the birds were chirping a melancholy tune…why???

“Mother, I understand. I know very well what you mean. I have thought about it. But I can assure you that I won’t regret any decision I make.”

“Fine then. I just wanted you to know that we – your father and I - care for you Grace and whatever decision you take – whatever be it - we will stand by you.

"Thank you so much mother. You don't know how much your's and dad's support means to me."

"Never mention darling. You look so tired dear. You had a very busy day today. I guess you will need some rest. I will leave now."

She left the room and Grace was left all to herself. It was only her now, though she was not alone. She had her thoughts to keep her company. But it were those thoughts which were making her more uncomfortable.

Love or passion…

Love – yes… it’s the best thing in this world

Passion – the thing I love to do…

Love or passion…

There was a knock at the door which broke Grace’s thought. She rose and opened the door – in the ultimate poise… Everything revolving around Grace was built on poise.

It was Albert the butler, with the coffee. He handed over the coffee mug to Grace and said, “Here you go ma’am.” She didn’t look at him. She was too lost in her own thoughts. Most unconsciously, she took the cup from his hand and then sipped her coffee. Albert looked at her, puzzled.

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

“What? Yes – yes...I’m fine. Thanks for the coffee.” A small pause. “Albert, have you ever sung in your life?

“No ma’am, but I did use to play Hawaiian guitar.”

“How would you feel if some one took away guitar?”

“Sad I think ma’am”

“Thank you Albert. You may go now.”

“Thank you ma’am”.

Grace was once again left only with her memories and thoughts to ponder upon.

She knew that losing her acting life was not easy…

She remembered. Yes. She could see it all in front of her.

1954…

One year. But it seemed just like yesterday…

“The Oscar for the Best Actress goes to – yes – the one and only – Grace Kelly, for The Country Girl.”

The entire Kodak theatre broke into ear shattering applause. Whistles. Cheers. Hurrahs. Yes. She was the people’s actress. She was…

Plus there were the Golden Globes. She had two of them. Two consecutive wins…

Mogambo – 1953

The Country Girl – 1954

Just eleven movies. Half of the actresses are not even noticed in that period. But She was not like the rest. Was she? No. One Academy Award and Two Golden Globes. Plus five more awards. No ordinary actress could do so. One of the shortest film career. 1951 to 1955. Just five years. But she had become the face that ruled people’s heart.

She was Grace Kelly…

The most powerful actress

The legend

But she was in a big dilemma… love or passion?

April 1955.

How could she forget that day?

Kelly had headed the American delegation to the Cannes Film Festival. It was there that this romance had blossomed. He was such a snobbish Prince. Always late. But after a series of delays and complications, she met him. Oh! How handsome he was! The heart of the ruler of people’s soul had been captured by the ruler of Monaco. His Serene Highness, Prince Rainier III of Monaco.

Nothing was same after that. The caterpillars morphed into butterflies and the poppies danced to the winds. The birds chirped and Grace… Oh! She would be lost in oblivion. She was in love. But that love had not come cheap. The price was enormous. She would pay with her career and that too when she was at the ruling lady in Hollywood.

But now she had made up her mind.

If love demanded a ransom, she would pay it. She had achieved a lot, and though a lot was left to be achieved, she would now never look back at that life.

The lotus in the pond sealed itself with the sunset. The sun disappeared – taking along with all the glory of the daylight. But now the moon had appeared. Moon – the symbol of peace, beauty and serenity. It was a new night, after an old day. And a new day was waiting for her.

She could feel the warmth of the new day. It was beckoning her. Calling her. Welcoming her…

*****

Both the families began the preparation for the “Wedding of the Century.”

April 18^th, 1956…

Grace Kelly became Her Serene Highness, Princess Grace of Monaco.

The new day had come.

*****

Her Serene Highness, Princess Grace of Monaco

In her wedding gown

The real life fairy tale...She lived it

*****

Author Speaks : HSH the late Princess Grace of Monaco was a character that has since my young days fascinated me. I always wanted to write about her, and I did it finally. A heartful thanks to The House Of The Grimaldi - The Royal House Of Monaco, for all the information, without which this story could have never been written. This piece is a combination of Facts and Fiction. The Dates and fact mentioned are accurate.

Do tell me how you feel.

I don't know when will I write next, as my boards are approaching. But it will be soon.

Till then Adios amigos !

Adios Amigos… Good bye

2009-02-11T11:20:00.000+05:30

9^th of February

My boards are scheduled to start on the 16^th and I know should be studying but just could not stop myself from writing this…

I pepped through the huge gates,

The silence of the empty corridors,

The classes all wiped clear.

Where are they now?

Where have they gone?

The teachers still preach,

The students still patter,

But the hollow remains,

For even in the crowd

People are missing.

I am gone.

Like soul from the body

Torn apart, ripped and plucked

The pain, the burn - I feel them all

The body lies there,

But the soul moves on…

My soul is there,

Can’t you see me there?

Why can’t I see myself there anymore?

Then a voice cries from the crowd,

Adios my friend, goodbye.

And I can say is – I’ll miss you.

Goodbye

*****

I guess I always knew this time would come – but the fact that it would come so quickly never caught me. Goodness! How quickly time flies by? I can see myself as a toddler taking my first steps into the school but I also see myself going out.

The farewell for the ISC batch 2008-09 was organized by the class 11s on the 9^th of February.

We (the 12s that is) trooped into the school in formals. For some people like me – we realized for the first time that there are things such as formal clothes too. For the first time in my life I decided to leave behind the jeans, jackets, tees, and funky accessories and I was seen in a Belmonte suit and a Lee-Ton satin shirt.

I was so nervous coz I had never wore formals before but as I entered the school and saw that there were many more people undergoing the same trauma, my confidence grew. The vast couture of boys and girls dressed in formals made me feel as if I’m in an award ceremony – like the Oscars. Little did I know then that it was going to be like an award ceremony!!!

Recapitulating a bit I must add that I spent nearly one hour dressing up – as did not know how to wear those idiot cufflinks. Then I spent nearly another half an hour fixing my hair in a proper and neat way. And finally I managed to look good enough.

Now returning back to what I was saying… soon all the final years were up seated I the school hall and the program began. There was a lovely array of songs and dances and then – the big surprise. The classes 11s were going to present medals to some “special” students…

As the hosts took the stage, they announced that the first award was for Pinocchio of the batch!!! Look at their audacity!!! But we all took it with spirit of fun and frolic. And then the anchors went on to announce the nominees…

“The nominees are – Aersh Danish…”

And I was like “what the hell!!!”

They went on with the other nominees and most fortunately it was not me who won that medal.

Then there was the medal for the “Hyper emotional student”. “The Steam engine – The person who is always angry”, “The hot shot – The hottest boy”, “The Barbie doll – The hottest girl”, the “Best Dressed male and female” and finally “the bookworm”

And just look at my luck. I never got any medal but the only thing that I was nominated for was for Pinocchio…Am I that bad???? hehehehe

But the day was not over yet…

After the program, they turned the hall into a disco and what a fun it was. We danced our heart out. Everyone – even those who have never danced before were spotted shaking their bodies to the rhythm. This was followed by delicious lunch spread.

Grooving in the disc

And though I did not win anything, I will have to admit that it was the best day of my life. We all had entered the school all prepped to cry if needed but we all came out laughing and smiling.

Some things just stay etched in our minds for ever and for me, my school farewell would be one such event. It was an after noon of pure and sheer fun and never in my life did I enjoy as much as I did on that day.

We meet to create memories and we part to preserve them. I am guarantee that the memory of my farewell will be preserved most carefully!!!!

I would like to end on a note of Goodbye to Priya, Sucharita, Blesson, Dilit, Debarati, Anish, Anwesh, Roshmi, Prtithwish, Shilpi, Ekta, Sneha, Wade, Reeju, Kshitij, Romit, spandan, Armold, Dipanita, Ishita and Ashwini. And goodbye to anyone else I may hav missed out. Best of luck for your life ahead.

A special thank you to all my teaches – Ritwika ma’am, Shaoni ma’am, Parama ma’am, Arijit Sir, Sbhishek Sir, Johnathan Sir, Amitabh Sir, Alicia ma’am, Rini Ma’am, Rumela ma’ma, Jaayshree Ma’am, Jolly ma’am, Joshi ma’am, Gargi ma’am, Aniket Sir, Joyita ma’am, and last but not the least the Headmaster and the Principal. Hope I didn’t miss anyone.

Thanks to all my co-prefects coz of whom responsibilities seemed such a cool thing. I mean after becoming a prefect we could bunk classes and bring an official excuse. Hahahaha. That used to be fun.

I AM GOING TO MISS YOU ALL…

p.s. In the year book they gave us, the gave me the title of “Baba Amte" of my school”.!!!! Grrrr!!!!

For more pictures check out my orkut profile

The Fallen Angel

2009-01-22T17:58:00.000+05:30

I wrote this story in my English Exam which was on the 14th of January. Couldn’t wait to share it with you all… so as soon as I got a chance, I typed it out for you… Now there’s a job that you all will have to do…Mark me out of 30. And do tell me where I went wrong. But before that, let me tell you that this story is completely a piece of fiction and that I am proud to be an Indian.

*************************************************
Dedicated to Ritika ma’am, my English teacher, who once asked me why don’t I ever write a story with Indian characters? Ma’am here’s an Indian story – just for you…
(Of course I did not write this dedication in my exam paper…Duh!!!)

*************************************************

Shakespeare once said...

“…Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell …”

*************************************************

“Men, this time there is no second chance. There is only one chance – and that cannot be lost. You know what to do. You have been informed. And I trust you all. I know you will be able to do it,” went on General Anand Rai Sharma, the Defence Secretary.

He went on with his “little encouraging speech” which had already extended for ten minutes…

“Men, I must warn you that you may come face to face with an enemy who is much more advanced than us – well trained and intellectual. I must ask you not to lose your courage. Don’t forget that you all commandos of MARCOS and the person you will be saving today is your Commander – in – chief, Her Excellency, the President of India. All the best everyone”

Finally the “little speech” came to an end and all the commandoes stood up like robots and saluted their General. They were one hundred of them, all dressed in black armed with some of the most advanced weapons ever manufactured in this planet – They were MARCOS - The Marine Commandos.

Among them was our Captain Ravi Kant Sharma – recipient of Param Veer Chakra - the highest bravery award, three more bravery awards and the honour of being a national hero.

Although he had a very hectic schedule (like all other commandos in that mission) but he got some time to ponder upon the actions that had occurred that day…

Boy it was something of a day…

He remembered, how they were engaged in their regular exercise at the Special Forces Head Quarters in New Delhi, when suddenly all the senior officers started running around with most serious of all faces. Suddenly the defence minister’s motorcade wailed all the way in the campus along with the defence secretary’s convoy. More sirens were heard as vehicles of important people soared in. Within the next twenty minutes, all the commandos were summoned and were briefed by General Sharma. What they heard, took their breath away… There had been a attack at the Presidential Estate, better known as The Rashtrapati Bhavan. The terrorist, whose identities were still unknown had managed to parachute their way inside the estate boundaries. The biggest mystery was how were they able to evade the hi-tech air surveillance and enter into the restricted air space without being spotted. An inside help was suspected but the General did not go into much details of the siege. The most serious part of this attack was that they had managed to enter the building. The President, Dr. Amravati Shukla, it was informed, was still safe and was kept hidden somewhere in that three hundred and forty roomed palace. A final correspondence had been established between the Head Chamberlain of the palace which informed them about the state inside the palace. All the commandos were ordered to prepare themselves as they would be leaving for the palace in the next ten minutes. There mission was simple – half of them would establish a rendezvous with the chamberlain, who himself was hiding in a room whose location was known only to the team leader. The other half would take on the terrorists. The chamberlain would take them to the place where the president was kept hidden. After that briefing, all the commandos rushed to brace themselves…

Soon they were in the Chetak helicopters of the Indian Air Force…

The noise of the chopper made our captain wake up from his trance…

The aerial view of the palace was stunning… Captain Ravi was awe struck… yes…

that was his destination… his goal…

Today he would get the chance to repay all that his country had done him…

Yes… he would do it today…he would… He remembered everything… Before being in MARCOS, he was in the territorial army…that war…how he had his general from the line of fire during the war… he had himself sustained bullet injuries but he dragged the injured general to a safe spot and killed three enemies in this process…this act had made him a national hero… it got him the Param Veer Chakra, the highest award for courage…every newspaper had his picture… yes he was their hero... In the subsequent years he got three more bravery award… the last one from the current president…he remembered her words when she had given him the award… yes…she had said that he was the guardian angel of India…Today he would get his chance of repay all those awards… the years of service… he had made up his mind… he would sacrifice himself if needed but he will thank the President…

The troops roped their way down to the palace. Then they divided into two groups. Captain Ravi was in the group which was to rescue the President. They moved in – killing any hindrance in their way. Soon they met up with Chamberlain. He took them down a stairwell…then a door…then another… and plenty more doors…a secret passage … and then…

Their destination was in front of them… the door of the room in which the President was being kept safe …

Captain Ravi Kant Sharma looked at the door… his brain was recollecting again…

His father… he too was in the army – had died in a Government Hospital because the doctors were too busy treating a VIP and paid no attention to Captain Ravi’s father… they did not think about him… his son… his being a national hero made no difference to them… and… Captain Ravi’s brother… his brother too was in the army… he was killed in the war years back… the government had ordered compensation to his family – a compensation that they never got… His sister in law ran from one minister to the other… from one officer to the other… they all said they would “see”… but they never “saw”… He had seen his mother – a mother who had lost her younger son and her father… crying everyday… cursing her life… praying for Captain Ravi… her only support…

Now he could not take it any more… He had seen enough of his mother’s tears… ENOUGH… It had to end… The same government, to which he gave his everything could not even save his father… his brother… could not wipe his mother’s tears… he would thank this government for all this… indeed they deserved to be thanked…

And the President was the head of the Government…

The commando rushed into the room… the President was in there…

Adrenalin rushed into hi blood… Revenge… he wanted revenge… he jumped in front… pushing everyone aside, he aimed his gun at the President and pressed the trigger…

But her Bodyguards were too quick… one of them pushed the President aside and sacrificed himself…

“Fool,” blurted the captain and aimed at the President again… but it was too late… every gun in that room was pointed towards him and even before Captain Ravi could know, he was lying in a pool of his own blood – Dead

The palace was soon cleared of all the terrorists… the press were called… they all wanted to know what had happened… The President made an address to the nation… It started as…

“…Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell …”

Author speaks:

Here's some facts:

Rashtrapati Bhavan is the biggest residence of any President in the world.
No steel was used to construct Rashtrapati Bhavan
It has 355 decorated rooms and a floor area of 200,000 square feet (19,000 m²).
The structures includes 700 million bricks and 3.5 million cubic feet (85,000 m³) of stone
The President's Bodyguard, as it is known today, was raised in 1773 at Benares, by the then Governor-General, Warren Hastings.
Today it has 7 officers, 15 NCOs, and 140 enlisted men, for a total strength of 180 men. Throughout its history, the Bodyguard has varied in size from 50 men when first raised, to 1,929 men in 1845. However, it was usually around squadron size, or about 130 men
They are quipped with armoured cars, its men are trained for operational duties, both as tankmen and airborne troops in addition to their ceremonial role.

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I am vey much grateful to the website of the President Of India, which acted as source for all the details and the pictures. And the story you read here is just exactly I wrote in the exam, except for the pictures amd the opening dedication.

Hope you will enjoy it.

If you liked my blog and if you too have got a blog then you can follow it. If you don't hav a blog then you can subscribe for it.

See you soon with another story... Bye for now!!!!

When You Chat With a Stranger

2009-01-07T01:31:00.000+05:30

Hey there… It’s your author Aersh here…

Well…Another year has gone by…so first and foremost a very happy and prosperous new year to all of you…Lets all pray for peaceful and great year ahead…

This story is dedicated to two very special people…first is my buddy Anish Mohapatra, who happened to celebrate his birthday on the 30th of December… Mate, this is story is my birthday present for you!!!! (Sorry for being a bit late). And second to my other friend Ayaan Hossain a.k.a Ain Hoss, who most unconsciously and unknowingly gave me the idea on which this story is based…Thanks buddy!!!

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There are some things in this world which have no hard proof of their very existence…some things which can’t be explained by science…some things which most of us are scared of…This is the story of a common girl who had come face to face with one of such things…

*************************************************

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap...............

Irene’s hands moved over the keyboard of her computer with utmost dexterity… She didn’t even need to look what button was being hit… it came naturally from her… and it would have had come from you too, had you spent about eight hours daily – only chatting online!!!!

Amazed???

Don’t be…

That was her lifestyle…

At the tender age of sixteen, the only thing that Irene knew was that she was born to do was chat. From 9 pm to 5 am in the next morning… she could be found online. She was in the eleventh year of her schooling… once she was a brilliant student – good in academics and a fantastic singer and actor…she had played the role of Helen when their school had staged Iliad … She was pretty too… beautiful… with lush black hair – a feature she got from her Spanish mom – and deep blue eyes, from her Canadian father.

But that was some time back…

Now all she knew was chatting is her life…She was addicted to it…Addicted.

But then again, that was how Irene was… believe it or not!

The clock in the living room struck the midnight bell.
Everything around was eerily silent. The little goldfishes in the bowl were floating lifelessly. The various curios kept in the living room stared quietly at the stunned furniture. Every once in long while, a vehicle would tear the darkness…and the light of the headlamp reproduced most bizarre of all shadows every where.

Rustling of leaves… A soft scream from somewhere far away... and... then…

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap..............

The silent of the house was broken by the sounds of keys of Irene’s computer keyboard.
Every once in a while she would stop typing and listen, just in case her parents had woken up.
They did not like her midnight activities.

She looked up at the screen once again. Something was not going right night. Other days she could be found chatting with at least ten people at once. But today, no body seemed to be online. Even, Serena, her current best friend who hardly ever looked at her books had said that she was too busy with the school tasks and so won’t be able to chat. The next door boy, Kevin (that stupid pervert) who usually played loud music even at such late hours was sleeping with snores louder than the music he heard.

“Fine then, If you all don’t wanna chat, I’ll just keep myself busy,” she grumbled to herself and opened Google and typed…

Information on vampires

A whole set of links popped up…

She was fascinated by everything dark and mysterious. Especially vampires. They just drove her mad. Oh! How she loved those blood thirsty creatures of the night, sinking their teeth in other’s flesh. And so it was no surprise that black was her favourite colour, and her chat name was Empress of Blood and Night

She was reading about them when suddenly there was a pop up…

Angel of Lucifer would like to chat with the Empress of Blood and Night.

Accept Reject

This guy, whoever he was, had expressed his little desire to chat with her for some time now. Till now she had rejected it all but today she didn’t feel like saying no. She clicked on accept.

Angel: Finally I got my dear empress.

Empress: Actually I hv no1 els 2 chat wid, so m chattin wid u, who evr u r!!!!
Angel: Whatever…

Irene suddenly felt like flirting with this boy… momentarily fling!

Empress: So…watcha doin???

Angel: Chattin wid u I guess

Empress: Apart from that stupid

Angel: Imaginin how beautiful can dis empress b

Empress: Way betr lukin dan ur imagination for sure

Angel: Well…u sure r funny

Empress: am I???? I don’t think so…But temme, r u funny too???

Angel: Me????
No m not
At least not anymore...
I was funny
Until something happened
Until something went wrong
Wanna know what happened???

Empress: What???

Now she was curious. This guy seemed to trigger her interest

Angel: I got addicted

Empress: What!!!!?!?!?!?
Addicted to what?
drugs????

“I don’t think I wanna talk to him any more,” she thought

Angel: Not to drugs man
To pizza!!!!

She gave a sigh of relief and broke into a silent laughter.

Empress: Goodness me
U scared d hell outa me, u kno
I thot u r into drugs and all

Angel: U remind me of my sister
She too was so sceptical
But now…
She is so far way

Empress: Don’t mind me asking but, is she dead???

Angel: No… Of course not
She is sleeping in the othr room
And snoring!!!!!

Empress: U r funny, u kno

Angel: and fat too… Thanks to all the pizza I eat

Empress: I luv fat boys… they r cute

Angel: R they??? But I’ve an alter ego too, u kno

Empress: go on cutie

Angel: How about a vampire, then
i am my alter ego
half of me is dead
half of me is
searchin for u
open the door
i am standin there...

Empress: So u read my profile and found that I like vampire

Angel: All pretty gals like vampires

Empress: Ohhh yes… they r HOT!!!!

Angel: M waitin at the door… open it

Empress: Shut up…
I know all abt vampires
They don’t cum until invited
Get sum1 els to play wid… u beast!!!

Angel: Well u do kno your stuff.
I like that…
So… M I welcome in your house, babe????

“He is making the gesture. Let’s play about in his way for a while,” Irene said to herself

Empress: Well… You are most welcome
But u c… its dark now.

Angel: So??? Isn’t the vampire queen active at night???

Empress: She is… But right now, she gotta go to bed…
R u cumin too???

Angel: Not tonight I think

Empress: so… goodbye then

Angel: good bye darling, but we will meet soon I hope.

Empress: I hope too… G’nite and Gud bye

And she logged off…

“Interesting guy,” she thought, “next time, I’ll ask him if he would meet me somewhere?”
And with that thought she jumped into the bed, thinking about the moment when she would be going out with him.

“Oh! Its so stuffy in here. Lemme open the window.”

With that she went to sleep.

*************************************************

It was getting chilly…

Irene felt something brush her cheek and woke with a start…
But what she saw in front was beyond ordinary horror film.
There… standing on the bed, all in flesh, was a man, leaning towards her, with the most evil eyes she had ever seen…
“How did you come in?”
“You invited me… Don’t you remember? Few hours back? In the internet.”

And then he gave the most malicious smile, baring those long canines that had for a long time desired a young blood…

She wanted to scream but was too horrified. She was sweating. She tried to scream, but no voice came out. She wanted to jump but he grabbed her tightly and then…
She felt the pain…
Something was piercing her neck. A soft pain… along with the tickling sensation as blood dripped down her neck…

After his thirst had been quenched, he got up and whispered in her ears
“Welcome to the family… now you are one of us… part of what you always were mad about.”
And he laughed – the most evil and sinister laugh of all… And then... He vanished

Author Speaks:
And yes, Today is Tuesday…the 6th of February, and on Friday, my pre-boards are starting. I know you must be wondering why this duffer not studying, but I is guess that’s how I am. I couldn’t help it. I had to write it. Could not help. If I did not, then I would have gone mad!!!!

Besides, Through this story i want to give a simple message. Beware with whom you talk over the internet.

Do tell me how you fell about this story.

The Christmas Story

2008-12-26T17:33:00.000+05:30

.
.
.
.
The little Russian village of Novgorod…

25th December, 1941…

World War II…

Destruction and anarchy …

Father Markhov was walking down road – the road which was once made up of stone and concrete but all that remained now were traces of stones - here and there - and then there was snow. The fields on the either side of the road which usually used to be snow covered during this time of the year were all black. Black with all the soot that had generated because of the bombing… The bombing had occurred on 7th November but the smell of burnt stems and leaves still disturbed the nasal centers.

Father Markhov looked around.

There used to be houses around here...

Yes, those wooden remains could still be seen...

Children played here...

This is where the hut of peasant Krasitch stood...

Nearly everything in the village of Novgorod had been destroyed. Except a small region on the north. The mountain that grew there had prevented the German Panzers from getting near it. Apart from that small colony, everything had turned to dust or rather ash…

Father decided that it would better if he would just reach his house at the base of the mountain. He had stepped out of the house for the first time after those bombings, just to have a look. But what he saw had devastated him. He had started to wish that he had never stepped out in the first place. In spite of the sun being out, there was no warmth or brightness. Everything was brown and black.

A very chilly wind was blowing, carrying along with it soot and burnt twigs and remains. Winters in the Soviet Republic were never that pleasant. Temperatures dropped well below zero degrees. But in spite of all that people still celebrated Christmas with great revelry… but today not a soul could be seen. The little of humans that had survived had locked themselves inside… waiting to die… like the rest of the village. They knew that running away would be futile. Where would they go? Germans had destroyed everything. It was rumored that they had nearly got into Moscow. Perhaps they would soon return and trample whatever little remained of the civilization.

In front of him he could see the little remaining traces of human settlements

A soft humming broke the silence. The Father froze in fear. For a moment he thought that the panzers were coming back. He looked up in the sky but it was all clear. Looking down he gave a sigh of relief. And then he saw. A young boy, of about five was collecting twigs and branches and humming a native tune in front of a house, which the father knew belonged to his family.

“Hello father”, greeted the kid with a broad smile.

“What are you doing Evan? Don’t you know that you shouldn’t be outside? Where are your mother and father?”, said the priest sternly.

“Mama has gone to fetch some wood. It is very cold inside. Papa said that he would see if he could get a rabbit. I am fed up eating only bread and fruit.”, said the child most animatedly

Nothing had seemed to affect him. He is so cheerful and excited even after all this...

“Father, why aren’t we celebrating Christmas this year? Papa scolded me when I asked him. He is not letting me go out. You should talk to him. He likes you soooo much. He will listen to you.” Evan said looking at his little leather covered feet.

“This year, we cannot, Evan. Bad things have happened here”

“What bad things father? Mama – Papa won’t tell me. Please tell me.” Curiosity shone in his eyes.

“Real bad things have happened Evan. You’ll get scared. Everyone is scared here.”

“I’m a brave boy. Why would I be afraid?” He said proudly with his chest puffed.

“I know you are brave Evan. But you are not that brave”

“I am”, He said adamantly. “Mama was crying the other day. I could not understand anything. What is happening here father? Some days back I saw fire. Big. Vairy beeg fire. Bigger than those bon fires we had last year during Christmas. And then there was a lot of noise. Bang bang and boom boom and whoosh and swoosh and grrrr and roars. I wanted to go out but mama pulled me back and started crying. Nobody lets me do anything. Bad. Everyone is bad.

The father couldn’t help smiling. The way in which this little kid had explained the German air raid brought a big smile in his face.

Innocence is such bliss.

And Evan went on with his story…

“Then I heard screams and lots of voice. But papa took me in a room and then I could not hear anything. What is going on father?”

“Big – big eagles came from another country and took everything from here, dear.” The father explained.

“But why? Are there no people in the country from where that eagle came that he took our people? Our people must be very good. That’s why he took them with him. But when will they come back?” The child said most innocently.

“They won’t come back Evan. The eagle won’t let them.” Explained the father.

“Then how will they celebrate Christmas… All those people?”

“They won’t be celebrating.”

“Then let us all go to the eagle and celebrate Christmas with him and other people.”

The father tried his best not to laugh. And said. “You are very naughty”

“No, I’m not. That eagle is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have taken the people.”

The father looked at Evan’s eyes and said. “That eagle is evil. He will come take all of us. He wants to take hold of Russia and whole of Novgorod for himself.”

Evan looked back at the father and said, “But why does he want it for himself. We can share it, can’t we? And then we all can be together. He would be happy and we can all have Christmas too. Such a stupid eagle.”

Evan continued…

“I’ll go the eagle and tell him that this world is sooo big and he has enough space for himself. Why does he take others? And if he wants anything, he should ask and not snatch it. Mama always tells me to love everybody and that taking other’s tings is bad”

All father could do was look in Evan’s deep blues eyes.
It shone in the glory of innocence… shone with the light of great aspirations and hope… of peace…

Such a small kid and yet so sensible.

I wish everyone thought like him.

Wouldn’t this world be a much better place then? Greed is bad. Why can’t we respect and love everyone?

Today is Christmas and yet everyone is so scared here. People are fighting everywhere. They have forgotten the true message of Christmas – love and forgiveness.
At this rate, everything would be destroyed… And is that what we want? If everything is destroyed, what will he have to rule over? This world is too small to hate each other. I wish everyone understands that…

This Christmas… Lets all make a difference… Merry Christmas.

Author Speaks :
Over 62,000,000 people died in World War II…Countries were destroyed…devastated.
Earth cried in pain.
Are you ready to lose in such numbers again?
Are you ready to see it all once again?
This Christmas let us all pray for a better world … where peace and love prevail and where hatred and blood shed have been banished for ever

The Protocol

2008-11-24T19:04:00.000+05:30

Two nurses and a junior cardio thoracic surgeon rushed towards the emergency entrance. Ten minutes back there had been an urgent call…

“We are bringing a seventy five year old man. Acute heart failure. Prepare for Code Blue”

The attendant who had received the call knew the voice very well. It was from the agency that sent out ambulances. He knew what “Code Blue” meant. It meant that the patient had just few minutes more left to survive… just a few minute… unless help would be provided in time.

He knew what to do. There was a protocol. There was a procedure. And he did what he was supposed to do…

*************************************************

The doctor and the nurses ran towards the rear end of the ambulance. The patient was pulled out with great dexterity. The doctor checked for the pulse as they strechered him in. Then he saw the face of the patient. It was kind of twisted. Immediately, he knew what was wrong. And he knew what to do… the rule…

“Page Doctor Nien NOW”, he shot at the nurse.

*************************************************

I was sipping my favourite cuppa of Bru. Being a top notch neuro surgeon meant that you hardly got such a moment of leisure. I was imagining what I would be doing in my next fishing trip, when the pager beeped.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP…

I shot a look at that gadget.
“Heavens! Will I never get my little moment of peace? Throwing myBru in the dustbin, I ran. Just one thought flashed in my mind…

“Doctor Nien to the rescue again”

*************************************************

The doctor was updating me as he fumbled with the oxygen mask…

“They said it was a heart attack but the moment I saw the face I knew it’s a case of stroke. So I pulled you in.

“It’s a cardiac thrombosis no doubt. Must have occurred due to an Cerebro-Vascular Stroke ”, I said. “Give him twenty c.c. of morphine” We need to get his heart pumping before we do anything else. Speed up man. Give him another twenty c.c of heparin and adrenaline. Put him on heart pump. We will need to operate. Book an O.R. now”

After about fifteen shots of various drugs and hormones, when the patient had finally stabled up, I decided to talk the to the patient’s relatives. We were supposed to operate on him after half an hour to remove the blood clot in his brain. But before that I needed to talk to the relatives. I always did that. Explained them all the risks and possibilities. That was a part of my job – to state the facts.

No feelings, no remorse, just plain facts…That was a part of the protocol…

I joined the patient’s relative outside. There was just one young man. “Son”, I thought.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Isaac Nien.”

But as I looked at his face, something struck back.
No. It’s not possible. Why? It can’t be him.
A feeling of nostalgia gripped me. Or could it really be him???

He looked at me and gasped... “Is that really you?”

“Yes, it’s me”

“You have not changed at all”

“Neither have you… How do you manage to stay so handsome, mate?”

That man… I knew him… knew him very well. George Helmont and I had been together in high school together. But it was in the last few years only that we became great friends. He was a year junior to me. And the last I heard about him was when I had entered the medical school. Heard that he was studying automobile engineering...

He had always been handsome. The best looking boy in our school. All girls just went gaga over him. They adored him... only him…
But today I was not just his friend. I was a doctor. A doctor tending to his father. Saving his dad.

I could not get personal… I could not…There were rules…There were protocols…

He broke the silence. “So…How’s your life going? I have heard that you are the best neuro surgeon in this biz. That’s a great feat man!”

“It’s nothing… I’ve just started buddy”

“Don’t be so modest. Where’s that attitude you carried in school? Boy, you were something then…

I cut him short, “Shut up George. Things have changed… Do you remember Linda?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Linda had been my love during school life. Three of us were great friends. Always hung out together. But then, like a bolt out of blue, on the last day of the school, she broke off all relations with me. She never gave any reason. I asked. All she told was “Wait”. Twelve years passed and I’m still waiting. I could never understand why she suddenly broke off with me…

“Lets not talk about her.” He shot, “There’s so much to talk about apart from her.”

“No problem buddy. You know what, I never looked at another woman since that day. I know that someday she’ll come back to me”

He tried to change the subject. “What about my dad? What do you think?”

“He’ll be all right. I’ve seen worse cases and all of them survived. Don’t worry. I’m there to look after him”

“Thanks…” He was cut short because a lady had just appeared. She had been running. She was sweating and was out of breath. She gasped, “The moment I heard… I rushed here”

I looked at her face.
I was shocked.
Not just another coincidence.
That was too much for just one day.
George was wriggling uncomfortably in his seat. Finally he swallowed a lump down his throat and introduced – “My wife.”
The girl’s face had turned red. She knew me all right…
Never in those five years, when I had known her, had I seen Linda so embarrassed. She looked as she had been slapped.

And I guessed it all…
I knew why she had left me.
I knew why George was so uncomfortable.
In a moment I knew it all. My best friend had cheated on me…

My blood was boiling...

The silence was broken by a nurse who suddenly popped up. “Doctor, we are moving the patient to the operation room. You’ll have to come.”

“In a moment” I replied.

As I turned to leave, George looked up to me, “Isaac, I’m so sorry…”

I didn’t reply. I had been taught to keep personal life out of my professional life.

Now I was not his friend.

I was a doctor – saving his father’s life.

I had to follow the protocols.

I could not relate…

I could not feel…

You couldn’t cross certain barriers…

All I was supposed to do… was… save lives… heal...

That was the rule - The protocol…

Author speaks : If you have read my profile you'll know that I'm a big time "Grey's Anatomy" fan. Inspired by that series, I have decided to create my own series revolving around doctors, hospitals and patients. The previous story was the begining. The message is simple - Doctors have a personal life too.
Do tell me how you feel about it.

Will see you soon with another piece...

Till then... Ciao

The Dying Man’s Wish

2008-11-07T22:32:00.000+05:30

Somebody once told me that doctors and sloppiness never go together.

Its not that I am very careless, but its indeed true that you will never come across any doctor in this pious world of doctors than Dr Isabella Malloy… and that’s me.

Although friends call me “Izzy.”

While there are some who call me "Dizzy Izzy"!!!!!

Now as I was saying, I am sloppy and I’m clumsy… but in the end of all this I am a surgeon working at Holy Grace – The best hospital in the romantic city of Seattle – I’m sure you all have heard of that movie, “Sleepless in Seattle.” And you will be surprised to know that in spite of being clumsy, the only time I did something wrong during any surgery was when I screwed up a minor appendix removal laparoscopy.
But not much damage was done there as Dr. Ellen managed to set things right and not many people came to know.

Hey come on now! I was only an interne then. Of course I can make a mistake. Don’t tell me you have never done anything that’s not right – I won’t believe it!

But after that nothing went wrong. Today I’m a junior full time neuro surgeon. Perhaps the most wobbly surgeon ever - but my hands do not shake any more during any surgery. Well…almost!!!! (I never said that I’m a honest)

*************************************************************************************

Ding dong Ding…

I woke with a start.
Goodness! It was 9 am by the giant Grandfather clock
I looked at the alarm clock.

Shit!

I had forgotten to get the new batteries for the alarm. No wonder it didn’t wake me up.

Ding dong Ding…

No no no. This can't be happening, I said to myself as I heaved myself up from the bed. I had just half an hour to get to the hospital or else I would be late

I really have no idea how I managed reach Holy Grace in half an hour. Perhaps I had broken a dozen of traffic rules while driving up till there. And perhaps a dozen more of world speed records ever set up.

As I entered the staff lounge, duties were being divided and I was put under Dr. Birch, to monitor a patient who had just been admitted the previous day. As I read the patient’s details I came to know that he was supposed to be undergoing an extremely complicated brain surgery to remove a tumour which was deep seated in his brain. There were only 36% chance of his survival and an open head surgery was the only option. And the surgery was to be done tomorrow by Dr. Birch – the senior resident doctor and an experienced neuro surgeon.

I walked into room 212 and greeted this new patient.

“Good morning Mr. Grey. How are we today?”

The person in front me was of about fifty five, but the disease had withered him up. He was put on oxygen mask and was on drips. But something else caught my eyes. The man sitting up on his bed and in his hand, was something black in colour. Something that looked extremely familiar…

“May I know what are doing with that video camera Mr. Grey?” I asked sternly.

He looked on me and said, “What do you think? For all I know, I may as well die tomorrow during the surgery. I’m just making video for each of those people who considered me nearest to their heart. I’m just saying goodbye.”

“You are suffering from Sarcoplasmic nuerilemanitis disorder. You are supposed to be resting. Not fiddling with that thing.”

“I’m sorry but could speak in English dear.” He answered most uninterested.

“I’m serious sir. Please leave the camera and lie down immediately.”

“Listen doctor, these people worshipped me whole of their life. You don’t understand how much it means to me. Please.”

I had dealt with many madcap patients before. I knew that he won’t listen to me. So I had just another option.

“Give me the camera sir. I’ll do the recording while you lie down and give your message.”

“Aren’t you busy doctor?”

“Not exactly. You see I’m still a junior doc and at the moment I don’t have much to do. So I guess that I can help you out.”

“Thanks. Okay then. This message is for my closest friend Brenden.”

“You are on.” I said as I pressed the record button. He started with his message…

“ Hi Brenden. I’ll be dead by the time you get this message. I don’t really know how to thank you for all that you did for me. If it had not been for you, I could have never started my own business. Thanks buddy for being there for me, for crying with me and for laughing with me and for everything you have done for me. But now as I die I am running out of words to tell you how much I hate you.”

“What the…” I whispered to myself. He went on with his speech.

“I had always been jealous of you and let me tell you this that it was me who caused that $10000 to vanish in the previous year’s accounts. It was me who broke your favourite baseball bat the year before the last. I always stole your pocket money as a kid and you never seemed to have noticed it. I don’t wanna go to my grave with a guilty heart and so I’m telling you all this. Hope you will forgive me.”

I stared at his face with a mixed expression of shock and disgust, as I finished the recording.

“Don’t say a word doctor. Start a new video please - with a new cassette.”

In the next two hours, I had recorded twenty six videos. He had by now said how much he hated his wife while she loved him dearly and that he was even cheating on her. In another one of those tapes he expressed his disgust for his daughter for her “horrible sense of dressing” and mixing with the “wrong people” and for “lack of respect”. By now I had started to wonder if he really liked anyone in his life.

He then handed over the address of all these twenty six people so that I could post these videos to them. He said that he would fend the bill.

As I left I asked him – “Did you ever like anyone in your life?”

“You”

“Really? But I’m not ready to mingle right now, at least not with you” And I left.

I went over to the clerk’s table and handed the videos and the addresses.

“A patient wants to send some hate mails” I chuckled.

The next fifteen minutes went in packing those videos and addressing them.

************************************************************************************

“ How are you feeling?” asked Dr. Birch to the patient.

The man opened his eyes and looked around to find Dr. Birch checking his pulse and me standing beside him. Then suddenly, it dawned upon him.

The surgery on Mr. Grey had been successfully performed on the previous day and he had been unconscious for nearly twenty four hours ever since.

“Those… Those videos… ummm …What happened to them?”

I lifted a plastic bag containing twenty six sealed envelopes and smiled at him.

“I think I can safely dispose them off. Or would you rather have them sent, sir?”

He smiled feebly.

“I guess that time has not yet come to post them.”

As I walked out of the room I’m sure I heard a deep sigh of relief.

Author's Note : This is the first time that I tried my hands at writing something light hearted. As most of you know that I have usually written on much serious themes. Even in this one I have reflected upon a social mindset of some kind of people. I welcome you all to comment on this work of mine and do feel free to criticise it.

Will you soon with a new piece.
Till then, Adios!!!

I'm waiting...

2008-10-17T15:53:00.001+05:30

“For everything you have missed, you have you gained something else,

and for everything you gain, you lose something else”

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

These lines are not a paradox.

It may seem so.

But trust me…its not…

I realized it today…

Some times – for it happens only sometimes, that you realize that your friend is drifting apart and then you realize that there’s nothing that can be done now. Nothing…other than just say goodbye…

But who is it that you should blame???

The friend or…yourself???

I don’t know the answer…

He met me in the third standard. Yes, it was he who met me for I remember that I never spoke to him otherwise.

Me.

I was an introvert…or should I say that I was too arrogant to talk with anyone. They called me the snob.

But he spoke to me. In spite of the fact that people called me proud and an egoistic bloke. He came to me and said ‘hello’. Asked me if I would be his friend? And what did I say? Huh! All I did was look at him and smile.

Was that smile supposed to mock him?

I didn’t know.

But then it was friendship day which came some days later. And what did I do? I tied friendship band to just two people. They were the boy whom I took as my best friend and…the boy who wanted to be my best friend… I don’t know what made me do it. But I took him as a friend that day.

Everyone saw. Nobody said a thing. And why should they?

Life passed by. We grew up. Boys we were. From the innocence of the childhood to the rawness of teenage. We saw it all together. Everyone saw. And do you what they said?

They called him my tail. Heavens knows how angry I used to get when I heard them tell so. I felt like throwing them down from the Olympus.

But did I do so?

No.

My ego came in the way.

Among the two of us, I was the one who was interested in girls. The flirtatious one. And he was the sober one. He treated girls as something to be respected.

So unlike and yet we were best friends.

He used to look way better than me. He could have got any girl if he just tried. But he never tried. Do you know what he used to tell me?

He said, “that’s a job for you buddy.”

And we grew up…

I was better in studies. Way better.

My orkut profile had a better display picture.

I had “the personality.”

I had a girlfriend.

But he seemed not to care… But was it really so???

And then it came…

Have u seen a glass shatter? It happens so quickly. And it leaves a mark forever. The pieces can’t be joined anymore…

He came to me and said, “I hate you.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t stand you.”

“Are you gonna tell me why?”

“What’s with ya? The arrogance. The pride. Who do you think you are?”

I looked into his eyes and answered:

“The best”.

“I’m jealous of you. I am. And one day I’ll break this pride of yours. Your ego will be shattered. That’s a promise. You just watch. I’m gonna beat you. And when that happens, I’ll be your best friend that day.”

And he went away.

But not forever…

He spoke to me after this and so did I.

But something was missing.

The feeling perhaps.

But I knew I had lost him.

And how did I behave after that incident?

I was sad. Yes, I was depressed. I cried when I was alone.

But I didn’t show it.

Why?

My ego.

I made new friends. New company. They were great. They praised me. They pointed out my mistakes sometimes. They were… FLATTERERS.

But they were my friends. I used to stay happy in their company. I enjoyed Being with them.

But I missed him you know…

I was waiting for the day he would “beat me”, the day when he would shatter my pride, my ego.

Know why?

Because that day I would get my friend back.

I’m still waiting…

This is a true story and not another piece that I made up...

Ashaa – a ray of hope

2008-06-30T15:05:00.000+05:30

When I first met Ashaa she saw very much like any other girl. But as I came to know her better I understood that she was not like any other girl of her age. Her wavy black hair with a slight tinge of brown, which fell to shoulder length, and which she usually kept bundled in a single ponytail. She was fair and yet so frail. Her eyes were blue as a clear sky. Her face was not so beautiful but she wasn’t bad looking either. She always looked scared. Her eyes always seemed to hide something. She was rather quiet compared to others. Infact, at first I thought that she might be dumb. She never had any friend or never cared to make any. When she first joined our school she sat quietly answering only in murmurs. Time went by and yet she was to everyone as a quite and shy girl. Every one used to talk with her but never took her as a friend.
One day I had gone to her house to get copy some notes as lately I had missed a lot of classes due to a bout of flu. A polite lady answered the doorbell. She told me that Ashaa had gone out and asked to wait. I introduced myself and sat on the sofa in the living room. The lady went to get me a glass of water and my eyes scanned the living room…a painting hung above the sofa…a marble statue sat in one corner…turquoise blue satin curtains…an empty porcelain vase…photograph of couple with a baby…
When the lady returned with the glass of water, I asked her pointing to the photograph, “Is she Ashaa?” “Yes” , came the reply, “Isn’t she pretty.” I nodded and referring to the couple I said , “You must be the lady.”
“No, they are her parents”, she told, “I’m her aunt.”
I stared at her and then in a shaking voice I said, “Ashaa never told me.” There was a silence and then the lady spoke.
“You are her friend, you ought to know. Ashaa was born in Srinagar. Her father was the superintendent of police. She was born in the time when bloodshed was very common in Kashmir. Every other day there would be an attack. People would be brutally slaughtered. Due to terrorist activities every community was panic-stricken. No body dared to leave the house after sunset. Her father was working very hard against all the terrorists and as a result had made numerous enemies.”
“But who can avoid what’s written on ones faith. It was Sunday, Ashaa was just 10 years old. She was playing with her dolls and then…suddenly she heard gun shots. She ran to her father’s room and the moment she entered she saw five masked men who had held her parents as hostages. One of them came forward and kept his AK47 on Ashaa’s temple. Her father in an attempt to save his daughter rushed forward but was pulled back and within a fraction of a second there was gunshot and her father was lying in a pool of blood…dead. One of the masked men aimed the gun towards Ashaa. But her mother in an attempt to save her child stepped in front of Ashaa and fell dead. At that moment there was a sound of police siren and all the men ran away firing shots in the air. Since then Ashaa has been living with us. We brought her to Kolkata in the hope that her mind would get distracted but…”
There was some sound and we turned to the door to find that Ashaa was standing there, her face was red. “Hi”, I greeted but there was no reply. All the while I was copying her notes none of us spoke. Before leaving I thanked her. I looked into her eyes. They were still blue as the sky. It seemed to me as if they wanted to forget her horrific past but couldn’t.. Her eyes seemed to search for land where there will be peace and love. But now things are changing in Kashmir. The sun of love and peace is rising. People are starting afresh their lives and looking forward for tomorrow and trying to forget their past. After all there is always Ashaa – a ray of hope.

The Message of life

2008-06-12T10:17:00.000+05:30

A little girl was walking along,
Her mind so full of thoughts, and her soul within,
Wanted to know, what on Earth
Was the most beautiful thing
And to find the answer,
And to seek her quest
She walked along…she walked ahead.

She met a lady to whom she asked ,
‘What is the most beautiful thing?’
‘Love’, the lady replied.
She met a priest to whom she asked,
‘What is the most beautiful thing?’
‘Faith’, the priest replied.
She met a teacher to whom she asked ,
‘What is the most beautiful thing?’
‘Knowledge and wisdom’, the teacher replied
She met a soldier to whom she asked,
‘What is the most beautiful thing?’
‘Peace’, the soldier replied.
She met a merchant to whom she asked,
‘What is the most beautiful thing?’
‘Happiness’, the merchant replied,
She met a beggar to whom she asked
‘What is the most beautiful thing?’
‘Kindness’, the beggar replied.
But the girl was not satisfied,
Her soul had not sought her quest,
And the girl walked along…she walked ahead

God was watching the girl all the while.
And hearkening to her he said,
Arise, child and find the quest you seek,
The most beautiful thing,
Is man – the living being.
I created him and gave him knowledge and wisdom.
To spread love and kindness I told him.
And whenever he sought me with pure faith,
He got the peace of mind and then ,
He was happy…he was overjoyed .

And now the girl’s soul was satisfied.
She had found her quest.
And to spread love and kindness,
She walked along…she walked ahead.
She walked along…she walked ahead …….