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  • Ram 3:04 pm on April 19, 2015 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: blogadda, , , , , , , ,   

    The Waiting Room 

    imagesPriyanka was all drowned in sweat. She was perspiring. God! What had happened to her? It was spine chilling cold in her  air-conditioned office. The office, that  she was so used to, day and night. Rather,day shifts and night shifts for four years till now. Life hasn’t been the same when she landed on this job after graduation. An IT career, her parents dreamt of. Infosys was her dream, for a girl from a far away smaller city like Salem. She got what she wanted. Her parents pushed her out of the house as soon as she graduated, and talked with pride about their daughter, to all their relatives. ” You know, my daughter Priyanka is at Infosys. We are looking for a handsome bridegroom.Horoscope work is in progress” her Dad would say this to his cousins when they came home. Her mother would have a proud grin always, as if she had won a lottery. Priyanka’s pals were taking their afternoon break, and here, she was all alone staring at her blank PC screen.

    She was a goody-goody girl so far. Just casual chats, no serious stuff with any guy until yesterday. Rahul. Yes. Rahul was the guy who was causing all this sweat. The tall and handsome Rahul, whom everyone at office was willing to kiss in public. Her friends at office would jump into his lap once he arrived, and sip coffee with him for hours together and exchange pizza bites just to taste his lips. This would happen so often that, Priyanka would get annoyed and would just close her eyes when he arrived and concentrate on her laptop. Rahul had called her yesterday and asked her for a date. At first she just froze. Why me. She wasn’t close at all. It was surprising that he got her number. There were so many cute girls waiting to jump into his car. She was not “Fair and Lovely”. She was above average, but presentable. Ok..She was different. Rahul had asked her to wait at the lounge at the ” Tonic Bar ” at 7 pm. She felt odd. She was there a couple of times with her friends, but wasn’t familiar with the place. It was close to her office, though. It was 6, now and couldn’t take it anymore. Waiting here was the same as waiting at the Lounge. ” Why not be there early, so that this whole thing would get over soon” she thought. She took a break, and took out a few cleansing wipes and touched her face. It was so cool. Refreshing.

    She left her office quickly, before she got confused. So if it’s going to be Rahul, why not. It was only the girls who were after him. He was not. He just chatted. That’s it. He was smart, handsome and if it’s me, he will be my trophy. The Tonic Bar was a small place. Mostly the IT crowd flocked there. Noise and laughter mixed with hiccups was all one could hear. She took a comfortable sofa and dropped down. The graffiti in the wall in front of her was screaming red. She told the guy who came to take orders, that a friend is coming in half an hour and she will wait until then. The guy smiled, and left. It’s so scary to be in a bar without drinking she felt. So many guys and girls were talking the truth. After a couple of shots, it was “truth time”. True emotions, feelings, lies, bullshit, all poured out in each table. She felt like recording the conversation’s, because she knew it would all change the next morning. She set her gaze, moving her eyes all around. “Holy cow”. It was Rahul. What the… What is he doing at that corner table she thought. It was only 6.30 and here he was, talking to a waiter , so close to his ears and pointing his finger to a cocktail glass on the table. The waiter nodded his head vigorously and Rahul smiled and pressed something into his hands. The waiter was over joyed. Why didn’t he call her and tell her that he would be early. Her mobile vibrated now and started dancing in her handbag.

    It was Rahul. ” Hi. Priyanka, Sorry , I will be a bit late. Be there at 7.30 at the lounge. OK. I’m at my cousins place. Damn. This traffic is annoying” he said. “I will be there soon”. Wow. He had mastered the art of bluffing. She was screaming inside but concealed it elegantly. He was a con guy. So, Mr.Rahul was right here, and was giving her the “cake”. She quickly gathered her thoughts.  His waiter buddy was busy chatting with him. Her heart was fluttering but  she was smart enough to understand, the finger signal by Rahul. They were planning to spike her drink when she arrived. May be after a few rounds. Then….Then, he might even carry her to his car and head straight . Straight to his apartment, or a Hotel. Who knows? Her heart was racing now. It was worth the wait. She was lucky to be early. Early enough, to know the real Rahul. She quickly, but silently got up, turned her head slowly, and dashed her way to the exit. She wasn’t noticed at all. The dim lights came to her help. The wait was finally over. wowbadge______________________________________________________________________________________________ This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week’s WOW prompt is – ‘The Waiting Room’ Waiting rooms are a pretty common sight, being ever present in many places. In the doctor’s office, at train or bus stations, at airports or in universities. You might have been directed to a waiting room before your interviewer was ready to meet you. Waiting rooms not just denote a halt, but also a transition, don’t you think? What are the stories that can take place in a waiting room? Write a superb blog post on ‘The Waiting Room’ as soon as you can, because we can’t wait to see your entry!

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    • Viyoma 11:39 am on April 20, 2015 Permalink | Reply

      Interesting…dark side of the charming professional. The character of Priyanka is well sketched.

      Like

  • Ram 6:09 pm on September 16, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: blogadda, , , , Game Of Blogs, ,   

    Team-By-Lines-Chapter-5 

    bylines-logo

    Read the Fourth chapter here.

    The incessant caressing of the sunlight trickling in through the curtains awakened Tara. Taking a deep breath, she stretched and with a smile got up from the bed. The other side of the bed was empty. That meant that Shekhar was extremely serious about his ongoing project. Listening at the study room door, she heard Shekhar snoring away to oblivion. Tara allowed him to sleep and walked towards the kitchen to begin a new day.

    She had breakfast with Cyrus and Roohi. Silence reigned in the room as all of them were preoccupied with their own thoughts.

    “Do you want me to drop you at your law firm?” Tara asked, breaking the silence at the table after they were done with the food. “It’s on my way.”

    “That would be of great help. Are you sure? I don’t want to push that on you,” Cyrus said.

    “Mumma, that will be awesome. We haven’t even talked much yet,” Roohi shouted in glee, happy at the prospect that Cyrus would accompany them on their dreary morning drive to school.

    Cyrus grinned seeing her enthusiasm and Tara joined in.

    Getting up, Tara left the plates in the sink, and humming a tune, kept the Casseroles with food on the slab. She then wrote a note for Shekhar.

    “I just wanted you to comfort me

    when I called you late last night you see

    I was fallin’ into love…”

    Mark Anthony was crooning from Shekhar’s Smart phone in an attempt to wake him up. It was not a success and his phone slipped into snooze mode.

    After an eerie five minutes that were filled with silence, Marc Anthony started singing again. The volume was loud enough to wake even his semi-deaf-aged neighbors, but Shekhar was sound asleep and the song died again.

    Mark Anthony succeeded the third time.

    Shekhar woke up baffled and was disgusted that the dream was broken. He was almost at the end of his intriguing dream. If he had slept for another few minutes, he would have had enough material to add to his already spicy manuscript. He cursed Mark Anthony before turning off the alarm. Tara would have left for work. He would have to explain his absence to Tara in the evening.

    He sat up to face the crimson red wall opposite to the study couch. The color had been chosen by Tara. Contrasting with the bright color, the other walls were painted with a buttery yellow shade. As a result, the room appeared quite bright and in Tara’s own words, “The brighter colors can keep one active.”

    “Hello!”

    “Good Morning Sir! We are calling from SR Chimney cleaning company and…” “Wait! What? What time is it?” He looked at the wall clock on which the heart-shaped pendulum was swinging in full mood. It was just half past nine. He felt enraged. “It is half past nine and you want to call me for cleaning my chimney? Just get lost and don’t disturb me ever again.”

    “Sir, the service we are offering you can be quite beneficial for…”

    Shekhar disconnected the call before he could even complete. Why do such people even exist? Wouldn’t he call if he need his chimney cleaned? By the way, did he even have a chimney in his house?

    After the fury towards the disgusting salesman evaporated slowly, the purpose to why he had slept on his study couch dawned on him. He jumped out of his couch cum bed and rushed to the study table.

    The last morning’s scene had repeated.

    Ashes were lying on his table. The manuscript was gone; again. He could not believe his eyes. What the hell? A teardrop escaped his left eye as all his hard work had again turned to ashes. He could not comprehend his own feelings. It might have been an amalgamation of anger and pain. He gathered the ashes in his hands as his body shook with silent sobs.

    “How the hell is this happening? I was alone in this room,” he thought aloud. Rushing to the cupboard, he pulled it open. There was no one hiding in the cupboard. He looked beneath the sofa cum bed to the same result. He searched the entire room to find if anybody was hiding anywhere, but in vain.

    He threw his books, piles of A4 sheets, staplers, pencils and emptied all the draws in anger. Shekhar’s face turned a pale shade of yellow. He cursed himself and his typewriter.  All his efforts were lost.

    He really needed a coffee now. Things were going out of control and he could not understand anything. Upon reaching for the doorknob, he found out that the door was unlocked. Did he forget to lock the door? No, he had locked it; he was positive about it.

    Splashing his face continuously with cold water, Shekhar tried to regain his composure. He had typed almost twenty pages yesterday and had written until three am in the morning. Whatever he had written the previous day had been fresh in his mind and had been easy to put down on paper again. He had added five more pages to it.

    He brewed some coffee but didn’t feel like adding milk to it. He wanted it strong to jolt his senses. A sip of the strong black coffee solaced his mind a bit. He had no idea what was happening. Walking back to his study room, he collected the ashes and threw it in the dustbin. He noticed then that a page was fixed on the typewriter. But he usually never left any paper on the typewriter once he was done for the day. Puzzled, he pulled the paper out from the typewriter. It was empty but for one word.

    The single word that was typed in capital letters screamed – STOP.

    His coffee mug fell to the floor with a loud thud and a dark brown stain slowly began to spread over his cream hand-woven carpet.


     

    Read the sixth chapter here


    “Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”


     

     
  • Ram 8:30 pm on August 17, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: blogadda, , , , , , , , , ,   

    You are watching 

    wowbadge

    “You are watching the news hour tonight, and with you is……………..” Click. Enough I thought. I shut off the TV and threw the remote on the bed. It was 11pm on August 14th, and the nation was waiting to hear the PM’s Independence Day speech the next day. “No news is good news”, I mumbled. The mindless chatter of spokesperson’s  from various party’s went on their usual daily grind, throwing daggers at one another. Wasn’t this a daily spectacle conducted by most of the TV channels? Gosh. What a waste of time!

    I switched on the FM radio to catch up with some late night melodies. From one idiot box to another music box, if I may call it. Nowadays melodies have been cast aside for the 11 clock slot, when the nation sleeps. I tried a few FM stations patiently and settled down for 97.2. The slow Tamil numbers from the 1980’s were like lullaby’s. I was half asleep….” Vikram. “Vikram”. A clear and bold female voice jolted me as I woke up and opened the door. To my surprise there was no one. I wondered, if it was the ” news effect”. I knew it. Seeing so many channels I felt a bit confused I thought. Again the voice “Vikram”… This time I knew the source. It was from the FM radio. I felt dizzy. I went close to the speaker and listened. ”

    The voice said ” Vikram, this is Mother India”. What ? I jumped. ” Yes, It’s me, Vikram, she said. Don’t you idiots know that this is the sixty-seventh year of our independence. I am fed up of seeing so many channels  showing the flag hoisting on independence day, year after year, state after state. All you guys just assemble and salute the flag for a day and then carry on to do your lousy work. It’s sixty-seven long years Vikram.  I thought you guys would take this wonderful country to a place of envy. You say you have so many cell phones, set-top boxes, TV sets, online shopping, so many new cars on the road. It’s of no use.

    I have chosen you Vikram, to voice my outburst. You are going to be my knight in shining armor. You will be bestowed with special powers from me. I am going to give you the power to implement policies, change the rule book, implement new ideas, build bridges, lay new roads, hmm.. you will be armed with all the knowledge to govern this beautiful country. You are the chosen one. So don’t waste time sleeping. Wake up to a new tomorrow and be ready to hear me everyday, same time, in the same FM channel. It’s Mother India broadcasting to you and only you. See you tomorrow

    I pinched himself. Ouch. It was real. What the sh…? Am I the chosen one. Out of so many millions. I safely unplugged the radio and kept it inside my desk, my hands shivering with excitement, waiting for 11 pm tomorrow.

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

    Write Over the Weekend inspiration for this time

    It is the night of August 14th. You are sleeping peacefully until a lady, who identifies herself by the name of Mother India, wakes you up and starts talking. What does she talk to you? Come on, get your creative juices flowing, rack your brains and go crazy with your fantasies! We are awaiting best creative blogs from you! This time, make the WOW badge yours :)

     
  • Ram 12:22 pm on April 9, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , blogadda, book review of prisoner jailor prime minister, , hachette india, , , , prisoner jailor prime minister, tabrik c,   

    Prisoner Jailor Prime Minister 

      Tabrik C

     

    Book Review: Prisoner Jailor Prime Minister

    Author: Tabrik C
    Publisher: Hachette India
    Number of Pages: 319
    Price [INR]: 350
    Genre: Fiction (Political Thriller)

    The story evolves around Siddhartha Tagore, the newly elected Prime Minister of India. He is the wrong man in the most powerful place. He has his heart soaked deeply in love and Mozart that anything else makes no sense. I would have titled the book ” The Mozart Man”. Tabrik talks so much about Mozart in so many chapters that his music has set the tone in this fast paced book.

    Siddhartha Tagore is a difficult character to chisel. He has his own zig zag graph of madness, sadness, ecstasy, lust, sex, love and music all bundled into one. His emotions run riot at most times, and Tabrik has done justice in capturing them beautifully. From Harvard to No 7, Race Course Road, the story goes back and forth. Sometimes it appears a bit dull. The love story between Rubaya and Siddhartha could have been written more in detail, so that the reader could justify, Siddhartha’s deep love for her, much later, when she vanishes in an accident.

    The timing of this book is at it’s best. India is on the verge of a general election and the world is waiting to see the results. This book has been published when Indian politics is evolving, and a new breed of voters are getting ready to cast their vote. Lots of shots have been taken at political parties, some of them quite real too. Among all the characters in this book, Professor Gordon Thoburn’s amazes me. It took me by surprise. I am going to paste a picture of a Harley Davidson here. You know why? harley

    This bike has an important role in this book. That’s why. The suspense is really good at the end. The cover of this book brings the loneliness which Siddhartha faces in real life. It has been creatively done. On the whole this book is worth reading because, we humans have different faces, even though we fear to admit it. There are so many “Siddhartha Tagore’s ” all over India planted in the wrong place. Passion elsewhere and work somewhere. It brings about so many character traits hiding in all of us , sometimes rearing an ugly head.

    Refreshing read.

    Rating – 3/5.


    This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com.

    Image source – hdw.eweb4.com and http://www.dailypioneer.com/vivacity/race-to-lead.html

     

     
  • Ram 3:53 pm on January 5, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: blogadda, , , , , , , love isn't fair always, , , stealing love, surprises in love,   

    and the winner is … 

    Sharmila adjusted her car’s rear view mirror and surveyed her face. A quick check for black spots, excess oil and over make-up. “Wow! I look cool na. Dinesh will surely like me na. She turned and looked at Kamini. ” “Why are you so tense? I’m the one who is going to meet him. Cheer up Kamini.” “Hmm, that’s right Sharmi. I’m a bit nervous in accompanying you. You should have gone alone to meet him. You just pulled me out of my bed and see how I look. A cotton churidar is all I got to wear in such short notice. I have not even completed my nail polish. You look so cool in that, black, body hugging dress. Dinesh is just going to fall flat when he sees you.” Kamini tapped her head with a wry smile.

    love-love-31236730-1280-800

    “Kamini, don’t forget you are the connecting link. When Dinesh came to our office last week, you spent an hour talking to him and convincing him for the marriage. His parents wanted a bride from Mumbai, but you spoke with them and later with Dinesh. I’m going to miss you after marriage da. Please drop in to meet me often. Kamini smiled.

    They reached Dinesh’s apartment, and went inside. Dinesh looked awesome  in a white kurta and jeans. ” Hi Dinesh, sorry to keep you waiting” said Sharmila. ” “Here is your present, as promised.” Sharmila took Kamini’s hand and joined it with Dinesh’s. Her eyes were moist. ” What is going on?” Kamini shouted.

    “Kams, Dinesh sent me a sms last week saying that he was in love with you. He fell flat for you and not me. I cried the whole night thinking how this could happen to me. I felt shattered but I liked his frankness. What if this had happened after our marriage. You are my best friend Kamini and I have kept my promise in bringing you here. ”

    Kamini could hardly believe this, as she saw Sharmila walking  away hurriedly towards her car.

    wowbadge

    ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

    This is a post for Blogadda “Write Over the Weekend” theme for this week

    This time your entry must contain the three words – rear view mirror, nail polish and awesome.

    photo credit : fanpop.com

     
  • Ram 12:19 am on December 8, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: blogadda, , , female child, , , , say yes to a girl child, , ,   

    The Scooterist 

    scooterist

    It was a Sunday morning. The door bell went on for a minute, till Mukesh ran all the way downstairs to open the door.The apartment security guard was standing there with a puzzled look. “Sir, there is a parcel for you. A scooterist came two minutes back and delivered it. But..”    “What ?”

    “But Sir, before I could ask his name he vanished. I got scared, so I have kept the parcel  safely inside my cabin, Please come.” Mukesh was annoyed at the fuss and followed the guard to his cabin.  He grabbed the parcel and walked towards his apartment. He saw a note pasted at the side. ” Call  9633430022 “.

    He called the number. ” I was surprised to see a parcel with my name on it . Who are you? ” Open it ” said the male voice. Mukesh opened the parcel cover, Then he opened the lid. His skin grew pale in shock.

    ” Mr. Mukesh, I know what you did yesterday evening. It’s a promise. It will be a secret between us. Your identity will not be revealed and this will be forgotten now. But on one condition. Promise me that it will not happen again.”  Mukesh was crying loudly now. ” Sorry, Sorry, I promise you. What a foolish thing I have done.” Mukesh disconnected the phone and hugged his three-day old baby daughter. He and his wife were expecting a son and since it was a girl, he left her inside a dustbin at a lonely street corner. The scooterist had followed him and united them.

    _______________________________________________________________________

    wowbadge

    This post is a part of write over the weekend, an initiative for indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This time your entry must contain, “ I was surprised to see a parcel with my name on it.”

    image credit – vimeo.com

     
    • Abhra Pal 6:12 am on December 11, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Though you have taken a good theme, but I am sorry to say that there are a number of loopholes in the story and confusing the reader….

      Like

      • Ram 7:43 pm on December 11, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Hmm, I wanted to keep the suspense till the end Abhra. Thank you.

        Like

  • Ram 5:29 pm on December 1, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: archangel, blogadda, , , , devta, hourglass figure, , , , indian meditation guru, meditation, , , , , yoga   

    An Hourglass Figure 

    imagesGuru Hemchand’s secretary gently opened the CD player and inserted a CD. After a few seconds, “Aum…mmmmmmm” , the enchanting  sound filled the huge hall. When “Aum” is chanted in a chorus, it fills the air, and like tranquil waves, the mind becomes calm and relaxed. The hall was  filled with mostly Westerners and Indians, who closed their eyes and started to feel one with this chant. This early morning session was eagerly awaited by many guests, hmm…… followers, no, disciples……No no. Hemchand didn’t like to tag them with any of these words. They were all like his friends.

    Vedhika, who was in her late twenties, married with a son, joined this meditation course two weeks before. She opted to join here because this centre was close to her house and she could just walk, meditate, then walk back home. It sounded easy.   Hemchand was more like a corporate consultant, than a guru. He didn’t have any assistants washing his feet, or people bowing before him. Nor did he have pictures of him plastered all around the place. He spoke when needed. But his mind was razor-sharp, very disciplined and mature. The westerners liked this aspect, since they didn’t have to bother with arrival and departure. No signatures were asked and  no registers were maintained. Above all, the whole course was free. Hemchand was in his mid forties, and had withdrawn from a successful career as a lawyer in the US. This meditation centre was his baby for the past five  years and he had enough money to just sleep in his “easy chair” for the rest of his life. But his mechanical life in the US, taught him the importance of human values, love and relationship. He decided to pack his bags and go back to India.

    hourglass-shape-saree

    Vedhika’s presence at the centre, was watched with envy and irritation by the administrators and participants. She had an hourglass figure, and dressed mostly in sarees, with very low-cut blouses. She daily wore a strong “Bvlgari Jasmin Noir” perfume. It had notes of pink pepper, bergamot and Jasmine and it was the jasmine that stood out most. The overall effect was provocative, sexy, and alluring.  All other participants would be dressed appropriately, but Vedhika intentionally concentrated to draw attraction, rather, cause distraction. After a few days, her presence started to become an eyesore to everyone because she always appeared to talk in length about meditation, vibration and yoga to others, though she always appeared fidgety and restless.

    Hemchand studied Vedhika from the day she arrived. He noticed all her flaws, and being a psychic, he knew what she was up to. That day, during the class, Vedhika posed some weird questions to Hemchand. She said ” Sir, I have been meditating for nearly three months and my kundalini is not rising. I have not heard any bell sounds, and no “Devta” has appeared in my vision, as promised by you. I came here to witness all these.” “Please wait” Hemchand interrupted. ” Please meet me in my room later, where your questions will be answered. ”

    Vedhika was pleased. She was waiting for such a moment. After the class got over, she was asked to come inside the private room of Hemchand. She went inside and sat down on the broad, yellow floor mat. ” Vedhika , I am sorry. Meditation is not what you think. It is beyond thinking. There are no expectations here.” Hemchand laughed, and continued. ” Bell sounds, Archangels and Devtas are not servants to appear at our will. It is they who decide when to appear, and to whom to appear. It doesn’t matter if they appear or not. It is the great cleansing process which we are doing daily, shedding all our garbage out of our system, which is important. For some it takes minutes, for some it takes years. I presume your married life is not in order. Your husband is not devoting any attention on you because he is busy with his work. So, you are trying to garner attention with your skimpy dressing. Actually you are an innocent victim of this mechanical life pattern. I suggest you bring your husband to me, to have a chat. This can be sorted out easily.

    Tears were rolling from Vedhika’s round cheeks. She thought, how did this idiot know about their married life? She then stood up and thanked Hemchand. ” Sorry Guru, I am sorry to have asked so many questions. My husband is returning from the US next week. I promise, we will come together, to meet you. Thank you.

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

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

    This time your entry must contain the three words idiot, perfume and CD.

    hourglass sari photo credit – utsavfashion.in.  Lotus pose, photo credit – flexifitness.runningcoachsg.com  Bvlgari Jasmin Noir – http://www.kraseybeauty.com/

     
  • Ram 8:42 pm on November 17, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Barney Kessel, blogadda, , , 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: blogadda, , , , 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 5:30 pm on October 20, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: blogadda, , , , indian bride, indian english, , indian marriage, indian mother in law, Kanchivaram, paneer tikka, ,   

    The New Bride 

    Mom..Mom….Mamma where are you? Sankar went to the guest room, then to the terrace, but no sign of Mom. Then he went to the pooja room, and ” Ma, we have to be at the girls place at 7.30, and you are doing your usual bhajan. ” Vimala admired her most obedient son and went on a rewind mode. How the years flew so quickly?

    Sankar is now, all ready, to get married, and that too to a girl of her choice. How rare? Can such a thing happen these days? Krishnan and Vimala had given full freedom to Sankar. But they had placed a few conditions. He had to study mechanical engineering and the second one is, to marry a girl of their choice, and the third one , the bride had to be fluent in spoken english. They wanted to be on equal terms with Dinesh & family, their neighbors.

    Dinesh’s wife would always talk to her as if she just came out of the “White House”. Vimala now wanted to take revenge on her by bringing in a wonderful bride who can speak the language most perfectly, with good table manners, a girl, to show her eating skills with a fork and spoon. Vimala had tried all this, but failed miserably. Once, at a kitty party, Vimala tried hard to lift a paneer tikka  with a fork. The harder she tried, the paneer eluded her. Finally she managed to stab the paneer ruthlessly and lifted the fork, but the paneer flew past a few tables and landed on Geeta’s costly embroidered blouse. The whole party got into a laughing mode, and was news for the whole week.

    thebigfatindianwedding.com

    thebigfatindianwedding.com

    Krishnan, Vimala and Sankar landed at 7.35 pm, which was the chosen auspicious time to see the ” bride to be ” Kalpana. Sankar’s and Kalpana’s horoscopes matched perfectly and this function was a mere formality. Kalpana was dressed in a red Kanchivaram silk saree and walked towards Sankar’s parents and offered them steaming hot coffee. Vimala blessed her as she touched her feet. ” You look wonderful, Child” she said. Kalpana smiled shyly. By now Sankar was fidgety and wanted to speak to her and sensing this, Vimala gestured gracefully and gave permission to take Kalpana to the next room for a one to one chat.

    Sankar nervously sat down on the brown Victorian sofa and admired Kalpana. ” Thanks Kalpana, after our horoscopes matched I was waiting for this moment to speak to you. It took two long weeks. Hmm.  Kalpana, why so silent? Anything wrong?” Kalpana shook her head as if to say everything is ok. She opened her handbag and took out a piece of paper and handed it to Sankar. Sankar was confused. He read the note ” Sankar da, I’m in “mouna virath” today, yes that means I wont speak the whole day. It is a offering to God Shiva. And, I love you so much. All green lights – from Kalps.”

    4vector.com

    4vector.com

    Sankar came out of the room beaming with delight and showed a thumps up sign to his parents.

    Their marriage was a gala affair, and the reception was hosted in style. Since Mr. Krishnan was a well known industrialist the “who’s who” of Chennai attended the reception and Sankar’s proud parents were smiling throughout. Why not? They had a stunner of a bride, rather “neighbors envy, Sankar’s pride.”

    Sankar was inspecting the bedroom decorated with jasmine flowers. He was waiting for his better half. Kalpana came in softly, leaving behind her giggling cousins who were whispering softly to her ears. She pushed them away and closed the door. Then she ran and hugged Sankar. She said “Sankar da, please please forgive me, I know little little English only. Your mother giving tough time to my pappa, always speak English, think English. I fed up. That day I gave note to you written by sister. I told lie about “Mouna Virath”. I know only so small English. I also like hands ,no fork and spoon. Don’t hit me.”

    Sankar fainted on the bed, and woke up after some chill splashes of water drops. Kalpana was at kissable distance curiously looking at him.”OK Kalpana. If my Mom hears this tomorrow, we both will be leading our lives in the garage. So until things settle down, note down these words and always say them when she chats with you. Say chill, Auntie. Awesome Auntie.” Kalpana asked ” Why Sankar da, Chill Chill, it is only for cool drinks na. Why I say it?”

    Sankar raised his voice.” For you and your parents acting  I would have hung you in this ceiling fan. Don’t question me now. Just do as I say ” Kalpana replied” “OK, OK, Please don’t do anything to me”.

    By now, Sankar was tired of coaching Kalpana the whole night. He poured two glasses of water and gulped it down quickly. “Ignorance indeed is bliss, he thought to himself” and drifted to sleep.

    _______________________________________________________________________

    wowbadge

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

    Write Over the Weekend theme for this week

    This time you have to weave a post including, ‘Ignorance indeed is bliss, he/she thought to himself/herself.’

     
    • Anita 7:58 pm on October 20, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      It’s all about English-Vinglish! Imagine what poor Kalpana has to face when speaking to the neighbours! Sankar can introduce her to English-coaching through the Internet! 🙂

      Like

    • Amar Naik 4:23 am on October 21, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      for me ‘ignorance is bliss’ has happened lot of time when i was in chennai 😀 not knowing one language sometimes makes this weekly prompt come alive lot of time in real life.
      nice story.

      Like

    • Kalpana Solsi 10:52 pm on October 22, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Poor girl. Good writing.

      Like

      • Ram 11:31 pm on October 22, 2013 Permalink | Reply

        Thank you Kalpana for your encouraging words.

        Like

    • Garima nag 3:28 pm on November 1, 2013 Permalink | Reply

      Beautiful Writing . True story of many girls . Here is Nomination for liebster Award for your blog . HAppy Diwali .

      http://www.sweetsharing.com/liebster-award/

      Like

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