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  • Ram 6:09 pm on September 16, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , fiction, 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.”


     

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  • Ram 3:51 pm on December 15, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Bipolar disorder, , , College Life, , fiction, , gulmohar tree, Hallucination, , , ragging, schizophrenia, Schizophrenia Research, ,   

    Under the Gulmohar tree 

    wowbadge

    Mukund, was on his third lap of his morning jog at the park. He felt that he was being watched but couldn’t figure out from where. In a flash he turned his gaze at a Gulmohar  tree, and there he was. A very familiar face. He altered his direction and sprinted towards the tree. The other guy was turning his face away and Mukund was moving in a circle, and he stopped. He felt a shock and a jolt when he saw Easwar,  his senior at college.

    He rewound five years. Then he played the movie in his mind. Easwar was the arrogant bully who made him run errands at college. He had done so many unlawful things for him in the guise of ragging. Mukund was also arrested once, for carrying illegal drugs for Easwar and his friends.

    gulmohar

    Mukund wanted peace. The only way to get that was to finish college without any arrears and escape from this bully. Everyday was a night mare, for Mukund, since he could not share this with his parents or friends. It was because Easwar’s uncle was their college correspondent.

    “How did you know I was working in this city? I am now married. Please leave me alone.” Mukund pleaded and sobbed with his head down. Gone. Easwar had vanished. He might have come there just to intimidate Mukund. Feeling better, he drove back home and told all  that had happened to his wife Kamini. ” I caught him looking at me.”  Kamini listened patiently and hugged him and said ” Things are going to be alright. Take your day off. Let’s go out.”

    The next morning Mukund was jogging, and he saw Easwar again. This time he did a sensible thing. He called Kamini and said ” Come fast. I will keep him busy till you come.” Then he persuaded Easwar to sit down on a nearby bench , and he started his chat. He was furious and he used so many expletives at Easwar, driving him and the passers-by, crazy.

    Kamini was at the park in ten minutes. She could see her husband chatting even from a distance as far as the entrance gate. As she came closer, she stopped walking and stood in silence. Mukund was busy chatting. But there was no Easwar there. He was talking to the bench.

    _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

    This post is a part of write over the weekend, an initiative for indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This time your entry must contain ‘I caught him/her looking at me.’

    Schizophrenia can be cured. Handle them with care.  Image credit – Naturenursery.in

     
  • Ram 8:42 pm on November 17, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Barney Kessel, , , , ecstasy, ecstasy drug, fiction, 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: , , , fiction, 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

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