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  • Ram 3:12 pm on November 24, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , cover story, , , , , Japan, , Prime minister, , , ,   

    Cover Story 

    wowbadge

    All the cars made a beeline to their loyal and well-known destination, No 16, Maidhan Avenue, New Delhi. Police troops and SPG commandos swarmed the place and took vantage points inside this sprawling residence. This place hadn’t seen much activity for the past four years. It was quiet because, its graceful resident, Mrs Swarupa Singh, had lost the previous election pretty badly and by a big margin. Her “Swadeshi Chakra ” party members were not kind to her, and all the bigwigs tried their best to keep Mrs.Swarupa Singh out of the prime ministerial race, but luck was with Mrs Singh. Today was different.

    Jai Ho !

    Jai Ho ! (Photo credit: nanda_uforians)

    She fought this election tooth and nail, by playing to the masses and promising thirty point plans, out  of which, most were freebies. She hired the country’s biggest marketing ad agency and they conceived her plans like a business commercial. She won the election by a big margin, pleasing all her party cadres, and also reassuring her  top brass’s faith in her.

    Today was the D Day. She was going to assume office at 5 pm. The morning papers showered praises and said ” Mrs Singh wins the second time”. ” Mrs.Swarupa Singh is our new Prime Minister”. ” Swarupa swims against all odds to clinch the throne”. Swarupa Singh was amused at the media. The media need something to chew on. Whether its fast food or a healthy diet, they don’t seem to  bother. She was sipping hot tea, as she read the headlines. Her faithful secretary Venkatraman interrupted her reading.”Madam, all the preparation has been done for our unofficial cabinet meeting this morning. Mr. Jeyamohan and Mr. Shri Gowda have promised to be here on time.” Jeyamohan was the finance minister elect and Shri Gowda was going to hold the home minister portfolio.

    the "red fort", new delhi, india.

    the “red fort”, new delhi, india. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    At 11 am she took the blessings of her parents, and walked into the conference hall adjoining her house. This hall was used for all party meetings. It had seen many parliamentarians. Definitely It had seen heated arguments, at times, even chairs flying. After all, it was like a mini parliament. Mrs. Singh sat down and glanced at her vibrant fellow party members and ministerial elects. The portfolio allocation was a foregone conclusion and everyone knew it like the back of their hand.

    ” Friends, Quiet please.” After a brief pause she continued, “God has been kind to us and the people have shown their faith again, on us. We have taken the people for a ride most of the time if not always.” She could here some murmuring voices. ” Let me make it simple. This term, it’s going to be my way. We have the majority. We have the most brainiest of people in our cabinet.” Jeyamohan smiled proudly and adjusted his collar. Swarupa Singh took out a sheet of paper, and then glanced at her secretary. Quickly, Venkatraman opened his brief case and started distributing the copies of that sheet to all members present.

    “India is now evolving. We are a new nation with strengths in atomic and nuclear power. We have acres of un utilized lands. We have an english literate population. ” “Madam, Are you out of your senses? “Jeyamohan shouted. “This is impossible and silly. You say that, sanitation, housing, water and roads are the most important priorities for this term.” ” Jeyamohan, please wait. India has cell phones, luxurious cars, the greatest hospitals, good schools and colleges. But we don’t have the civic sense. Most Indians, literate or illiterate use the road as a toilet. We lack the discipline in driving cars, following rules. The same Indian when he travels to the USA he changes. What wonder took place. Nothing. It is all in the mind.

    T52/37 The Flag Runner

    T52/37 The Flag Runner (Photo credit: Rajesh_India)

    Therefore let the information and broadcasting minister use the FM radio and TV as a weapon, in education. Let us start from scratch, like Japan did. It may take years, but we can be proud to say that we started it. I have to say, that this time as prime minister I have decided to change. Then I have decided to change people like you. So, ministers who want to work with me, better make sure you follow my words. Let us take the politics out of politics. Let us change India. This time she decided to raise the bar. Venkatraman smiled at the new Prime Minister Mrs.Swarupa Singh.

    _________________________________________________________________________

    This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

    Every weekend, we give out creative writing prompts for the love of writing.

    This time your entry must contain, ‘This time, she raised the bar…’

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    • Amar Naik 2:08 am on November 25, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      hopefully one day we have a strong PM, whose orders are implemented properly as you said in the post 🙂

      Like

      • Ram 7:30 am on November 25, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Yes, let us hope for the best

        Like

      • Ram 7:30 am on November 25, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Thank you Amar

        Like

      • Ram 2:12 pm on December 14, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Amar, I have tagged you for the PASS post from blogadda. Sorry I didn’t inform you earlier. Thank you

        Like

    • jini maxin fernandez 10:28 am on November 25, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Nice take on the prompt.

      Like

    • kalpana solsi 2:53 pm on November 26, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      What a positive approach .Hope we have a PM like Mrs. Swarupa Singh. Amen. your story made me smile.

      Like

      • Ram 3:51 pm on November 26, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Thank you Kalpana. Everything starts with an idea. It will become a reality soon.

        Like

    • Anita 4:55 pm on November 26, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      “Journey of a 1000 miles must begin with a single step.” May we have more such steps & progressive PMS! Nice story!

      Like

    • Garima shrivastava nag 10:29 am on November 27, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Nice story Ram . Especially i loved the line ” Let us take the politics out of politics.” . Need of the hour .
      http://www.sweetsharing.com/

      Like

      • Ram 6:18 pm on November 27, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Thanks Garima. Yes, it is the need of the hour.

        Like

      • Ram 2:10 pm on December 14, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Garima, I have tagged you for the PASS post. Sorry I didn’t message you about it earlier. Thank you.

        Like

  • Ram 8:42 pm on November 17, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Barney Kessel, , , , ecstasy, ecstasy drug, , Love for Sale, no to drugs, rave party, save us from drugs, ,   

    The Henna Girl 

    wowbadge

    Inspector K.N.Vohra’s cell phone was in no mood to stop. For a change, his wife Anita had set the caller tune to a more peppy number, Barney Kessel’s ” Love for Sale”. She hated receiving so many calls because they were married for less than a year and the mobile phone was a painful intruder in so many intimate moments. Once, she even flung the phone out of the window and Vohra had to buy a new one.

    “Inspector Vohra” he said softly. ” Sir, party. I mean party going on next door. Lot’s of noise, fights and windows smashed. It’s unbearable. No 25, 6th Cross Street, West Coast Road, Casuarina Bay.” Who ?….. The caller hung up. He was wondering how that guy had his number. Vohra had just returned from a cruel ghat drive the previous evening, and the time showed 3 am. He had to go since “Casuarina Bay” was a high-profile zone. He shook Anita, but she refused to get up. Even at this tense moment, Vohra admired her shapely legs. She always slept in shorts. He wanted to switch of the phone and get back into bed, but he cursed it, changed, and was in his Gypsy in two minutes. He usually traveled alone and well armed in these situations, since these cases had to be dealt intelligently.

    tattoo1

    Vohra reached the spot in half an hour. To his surprise the place was quiet, no signs of any security guard in such a big house. He found the main door open, and window panes , broken and scattered all over the portico. There seemed a tussle which had taken place here. He took out his revolver and entered the first bedroom upstairs. He flung open the door, with his revolver pointed straight.  He saw three guys lying on the sofa, with needles, lying on the floor. They were in a state of heavy intoxication, with their eyes watery. He could hear feeble voices in the next corridor. Vohra rushed there. He found a girl in her twenties and a guy of the same age tied to the grill, and their mouths gagged. He quickly pulled out the rag, as they were gasping for breath.

    The girl was in a state of shock and the guy was drained out.  “I am Inspector Vohra.” She caught Vohra’s hand, then fell at his feet. Vohra lifted her and made her sit down on the corridor. She had an exquisite brown tattoo on her feet. This was her first “ecstasy” party. She and her cousin brother were invited by a college-mate’s friend. They were actually “bait’s”. The drug was loaded in their car without their knowledge and brought safely to the venue. The girl said” We found everything weird on arrival. The group was around thirty people. The music was loud and my friend asked us to be in a room till the party started. I had no knowledge of this drug.” She started to cry as Vohra touched her shoulder.

    She hid her face for a while. Then she  continued, ” As I planned to escape with my cousin they started hitting us, and one fellow nearly raped me. My cousin was god-sent, and, as he had your number, he called you. There was a huge fight between two gangs in this party, and most of them have fled the scene after that. God knows what would have happened to us after those guys wake up. I thank you Sir. Thank you for coming.”

    Meanwhile Vohra had alerted his station, and took the girl and her cousin to the LNK Hospital which was very close. The girl gave him a grateful smile as he left them with the Doctor’s team.

    Three months later. A lazy Sunday morning, Vohra’s mobile rings again. This time, some  happy news. His College-mate Vikram was getting engaged that evening. Short notice. Vohra was pretty pleased to take his wife Anita to the engagement, since she rarely had a chance to be with Vohra, because of  his busy police schedule. The crowd to the stage was long and serpentine. It moved inch by inch. Vohra reached the stage and shook hands with Vikram. Then they hugged each other. Vikram said ” This is Gayatri”. Vohra stood there for a while and wished the couple, then walked away. He then turned and looked at her feet. He had seen that tattoo before. If only he could remember where?

    Buzz. Vohra’s phone vibrated. He took it out and the sms reads ” Thank you Sir for saving our lives. Please keep our meeting, a secret. – Gayatri’s cousin “. Vohra smiled as he deleted the message and took his wife to the dinner hall.

    _________________________________________________________________________

    This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

    We give out creative writing prompts each weekend for the love of writing.

    This time your entry must contain, ‘He/She had seen that tattoo before! If only he/she could remember where.’

     
  • Ram 11:28 pm on November 10, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , Gardens, , Inside-the-park home run, Park,   

    Walk in the Park 

    wowbadge

    Left, Right, Left, Right……..forward march.. Gajendran started his usual evening walk with his wife, inside the MOP Park. This has been his usual routine for the past five years. His Doctor’s advice. “You have turned forty years Gajendran. Don’t miss even a day. This one hour walk will reduce your cholesterol and BP, and reduce my Bill.” Gajendran took this advice seriously from day one. At seven in the evening he would even miss wearing his shoes, but would never miss his wife accompanying him in his walk. They held hands together and walked with such force and vigor that passers-by could feel air gushing out by the swing of their hands. Today was no different except that it was a bit more crowded, since it was Saturday evening.

    MOP Park

    MOP Park

    The Park Garden had a nice stretch and the right mix of greenery and plants laid out on both sides. Gajendran was unusually walking faster today, since he had to catch the 11 pm Mangalore Mail. His grip on his wife’s hand was a bit harsh, and at times she yelled out in pain. 

    As they took the final bend, the lights in the park flickered once, then again, then it went out. Complete black out. Gajendran didn’t see the manhole in front, and tripped and fell down, but luckily he rolled over and didn’t hurt himself. He got up, rather fast, did not wait to clean up, then caught his wife’s hand and started walking much faster. Now he was nearly in jogging mode. She shouted ” Ouch “, “What is this”. “Ooh ” As Gajendran was reaching the exit gate, there was a crowd of policemen checking everybody. Gajendran instantly knew the cause of the search. One smart policeman came forward and blocked Gajendran and smiled sarcastically. He said ” Look Mr. You look pretty decent. Where do you work? It is only 7.30, and how dare you can do this in this public park. Look at your age. You must be forty and she must be twenty. How dare you can bring girls inside the park and do “Jalsa”. You should set an example for youngsters. OK. Walk to that Mobile Court. The Judge is waiting. We don’t have time.”

    Gajendran turned to look at his wife and was horrified. “Oh God, Sorry, What have I done, Sorry who are you?”. The dark girl with full make up splashed all over her face was fuming. She slapped Gajendran and said ” You idiot, You have dragged me for nearly ten minutes, in this useless garden , just to drop me in the mobile court. Now go there and pay the fine.”

    missed-calls

    missed-calls

    Gajendran was nearly crying now, and his phone was vibrating along with him. He took it out and the screen read ” 38 missed calls”.

    His wife was waiting at the entrance gate. 38 missed calls in ten minutes. She was wondering what was going on.

    ______________________________________________________________________

    This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

    This time your entry must contain, ’38 missed calls in 10 mins! He/She wondered what was going on.’

     
    • Ankita 12:41 am on November 11, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      hahah! pity on the poor girl, she was dragged along with the jogger!

      nice 🙂

      Like

    • preethiprasan 10:57 pm on November 11, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Ha hs…how did you manage to think of that 🙂 a different take on the prompt…

      Like

      • Ram 7:06 am on November 12, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Preethi, Seen such “near miss” situations in the park. Most of them who walk, talk so loudly either on their mobile or in groups, most of the time, they forget who they came with. Sometimes when they are with earphones, they appear to be talking to themselves. That is quite frightening.
        That’s the story. Thank you.

        Like

    • Kalpana Solsi 5:03 pm on November 13, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      I had a smile as I finished reading the funny post. Congrats on WOW badge.

      Like

    • SG 2:59 am on November 16, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      That’s a good one. Unexpected ending.

      Like

  • Ram 4:11 pm on November 3, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Aptitude, , , Budding author, Chetan Bhagat, , Indian novel, new author, NIIT, Penguin Publishers, Receptionist, , ,   

    The Aptitude Test 

    Blogadda Write Over the Weekend theme for this week

    This time your entry must contain, ‘One thing he/she/they didn’t know that they were being watched.’

    wowbadge

    Anirudh glanced at his watch. 9.55 am . He ran fast on the stairs ignoring the crowded lift. He was at the NIIT office on the third floor of Amro Complex. The receptionist gave him a quizzical look , surveying Anirudh from top to bottom. Then she smiled and talked softly  to her colleague sitting next to her. ” Saras, I told you, on some days handsome guys do turn up here. Look at him. So cute. Hmm.”

    Anirudh was handsome, with a brownish complexion, tall, and had a baritone voice which attracted many girls, but not interviewers. He was trying his luck at NIIT now. The receptionist gave him a two page tabulated sheet and said ” Sir, You have to write this aptitude test. Just ten minutes. Please use that room. After seeing the results, our counsellor will guide you on choosing the best course suited for you. OK.”

    Anirudh snatched the paper, rather a bit rudely, and went slowly to the next room. He saw the paper and his mind went blank. He knew that he didn’t know most of the answers. He took out his favorite one rupee coin, and tossed it skillfully. Then based on the “head and tail” philosophy he started ticking the objective answers. The receptionist was shocked on seeing this through the glass door. Now, her colleague said ” Nirosha, These fellas just come in to spend time and waste their father’s hard-earned money. They don’t have  stuff.” By the way time’s up said the receptionist as she walked inside to collect the paper. Anirudh gave her the sheet with a wry smile and went to sit down on the steel sofa. The receptionist looked at the sheet and called Anirudh. ” Sir, none of your answers are right. Apart from that, you have written an essay on interviewing which we didn’t ask. Our Management will be very upset on seeing this. Anirudh said” ma’am, This is my tenth aptitude test, in the tenth branch. The same results. So I wrote an essay on the ” The Art of Interviewing and test making ” . Give it to your chief. He needs it badly. ” He left the NIIT office with many staring faces at the reception.

    Author Game 6-b

    Thisweekinbookhunting.blogspot.com

    The next day as usual Anirudh was sitting at home, and painting, not the real one, but digital painting. Whenever he was angry he would sit down and paint on the digital canvas, which became his real world. A world where questions were not asked. He enjoyed every moment of it. His cellphone buzzed in vibration mode, shaking the empty coffee cup on the table. He was startled to get a call from NIIT, asking him to come at once. He too was not sure why they were calling him, definitely not on his aptitude skills. As he drove on his bike to their office, this thought came back on and off.

    The receptionist was all smiles this time. “Mr.Anirudh, Our Branch Head wants to meet you. Please go inside that glass cabin. Anirudh knocked twice before entering the room. He saw two men dressed in neat suits, their hands tapping the long conference table. “Please sit down”. said Mr. Paramveer, the Branch Head. “This is Mr. Sukdev.” They all shook hands. Sukdev said” Anirudh, You took the test yesterday, I guess. It was a failure. You didn’t even get one right answer. You might be just lucky, I would say, since I happened to be at this office yesterday. Normally I come to meet my friend Paramveer on weekends, but this time I made it during his working hour. One thing you didn’t know was that you were being watched by us on the CC TV. The toss of the coin, the tune you were humming, all caught us by surprise. I wanted to see your paper. My guess was right. You are no where fit to be in the computer industry. Your essay was pretty damn good. It was honest, ruthless and powerful. By the way I am from Penguin Publishers, and we are looking for new authors. Somebody different. We want to give you a try, Anirudh. So go home and get started on a favorite passionate topic you like. Then meet me next week at this address. We have other things to discuss in detail. ”

    marketing_authors

    internetmarketingsource.net

    Anirudh pinched himself. He couldn’t believe this, but he had to, since it pained,and that meant it was not a dream. He rose cheerfully, shook hands again and walked out of the cabin with all smiles. He might turn out to be the next “Chetan Bhagat”. He reminded himself of these words which Mr.Sukdev said yesterday. He halted at the reception and smiled sexily at Nirosha, the receptionist. She said ” Mr. Anirudh, Congratulations. Please don’t forget me when you become a famous author.”

    _______________________________________________________________________

    This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. We give out creative writing topics each weekend for Indian bloggers.

     
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