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

    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 8:30 pm on August 17, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , indian blog, , , , ,   

    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.

    _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

    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 3:54 pm on May 25, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , indian blog, indian elections 2014, , indian prime minister, indian prime minister elect, minnisters in indian cabinet, narendra modi, new bjp prime minister, saarc, saarc invite, ,   

    The Hot Seat 

    The war cries have already begun. The new Indian Prime Minister is yet to take oath. His invitation to all SARC country heads has created a stir as expected. What will the politicians and the news channels do? Their daily bread and butter is another man’s agony. Normally NEWS is nothing but seeing or reading about a helpless situation, a helpless man, or a woman in any part of the world. As we may all know most of the “NEWS” is negative in nature. So a wise man said to me ” Don’t watch the news channel before retiring to bed.” He may be right. Now, let me leave the pros and cons of the news channels for a while and move on to our country.

    This bold invite of his is being ripped apart, baked, fried and grilled in all news channels and newspapers, since they were running dry for a couple of days until the new cabinet takes shape, and before things start moving. This invite has come as a blessing for them, as a ” filler headline ” for a couple of days. It is very funny to note that even before the PM readies himself to sit on the hot seat, there are heat waves floating like feathers all around. Too much is being read into this issue.

    All issues can be best dealt with when the person is sitting in front of you in full flesh and blood, than by seeing him or talking through any electronic medium, be it a cellphone, or a telephone, or a television, or Skype, or by email. The common man is now used to seeing so many people, so many situations live on TV, that he jumps to conclusions within seconds and starts favoring a group A or a group B. It’s all too fast. News spreads like wild-fire these days, thanks to so much communication channels we have at our disposal, right from the net to the idiot box lying in our living room.

    So, let us have some patience. Patience my friend. Let the magic unfold by itself. Mr. Narendra Modi may be the magician, but we are all part of the magic. Unless we participate positively, do some work by ourselves, shed a few drops of sweat, shed a few threads of hatred, it will not work. After all everyone wants peace.


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

    Your post has to revolve around the word Magic! What does it mean to you? What is it that is magical according to you? Blog about it now

     
  • Ram 12:22 pm on April 9, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , book review of prisoner jailor prime minister, , hachette india, , indian blog, , 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 11:32 pm on February 28, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , indian blog, , , ,   

    The Chase 

    thechase

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

    This time we’re aiming to make it more creative! Your post must contain the word Friend and you have just 5 sentences to complete your story.

     
  • Ram 10:55 pm on February 23, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , indian blog, , , indian music director, indian music industry, , ,   

    The Debut 

    Pyarelal was breaking his head, inside his air-conditioned recording studio. He had beads of perspiration running all over his forehead. Still, no magic was happening. He had exhausted all his ideas in the morning and sent the CD to his director Ajay Panicker, but,  Ajay did not pick a single tune from the CD.

    Guitar-HD-Wallpaper-36

    He normally would call his music director and chat over a glass of beer. But today, he played the CD at home, and found it useless. He called Pyarelal and used harsh words. No one talks to Pyarelal in that way since he was a ” name ” in the music industry and in business for nearly twenty years. Pyarelal felt miserable, because Ajay was a director with only three movies, but all of them were mega hits, and his value was sky-high now. Irritating him would be disastrous. He had worked with legends, but times have changed now, he thought. Melody was out. If the lyrics were understood and audible, then it would be much worse. The whole song should be disguised intelligently. The digital age. Ha. His mind was racing. He had one option and only one option. He pulled the second draw in his cabinet and pulled out a CD. The cover read ” Demo by Arjun”.

    He called Arjun at once. “Arjun. You must be happy to hear this. Your tune is going to be born, but,  I am ashamed to tell you this. The tune will be in my name.  The whole world will be listening to it. Arjun. Don’t lose heart. Your day will come and the world will know. Thanks for your CD, and thanks again for agreeing to keep it that way.” Pyarelal was now a relieved man. He knew this tune will go through. He felt guilty, but, the only solace being, the secret remained.

    ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

    wowbadge

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

     
  • Ram 4:03 pm on February 16, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , indian blog, , objects coming to life, Pssst, , ,   

    Pssst 

    “First Aid Box. Check. Knife. Check. Spectacle Case. Check.”  OK fine. Got you all guys. Now, off we go. Pratap stored the items neatly in his backpack and ran to the privacy of his room. He made sure to bolt the door securely, and then switched on a single lamp. He opened the cupboard and took out a dark blue yoga mat and spread it neatly on the writing desk. He has done this before but today was going to be slightly different. He smiled for a while, and then opened the backpack and placed the first aid box, knife and the spectacle case on the mat, one by one.

    He then spoke softly. ” Guys, Come to LIFE. Come to LIFE……….” After a minute he could see the objects moving. Pratap was a psychic having a weird quality of conversing with any object. He claimed objects have life too. He tried to talk about this to his friends, but was ridiculed and laughed at, in College. After which he kept these experiments to himself. The first aid box was the jovial of the lot and whispered ” At your command Sir “. The knife and the spectacle case shouted in chorus ” At your command Sir “.

    hearingPratap was highly thrilled. ” OK, guys. Who do you think is the most important object among you. “Of course it’s me” said the first aid box.”I have everything inside me, in case of an emergency. “Ha Ha, you do. Do you?” said the knife. “Until I move an inch there won’t be any work for you, dumb box.” shouted the knife.

    ” Wait, Wait. What’s the fuss all about” said the spectacle case. He then whistled and said ” Come on baby”. Out came a pair of spectacles from the draw and climbed onto the table. Pratap was engrossed in hearing and watching this. ” So we are the most important here. Without us you cannot see a damn thing. ” Pratap was smiling again. ” Tak Tak”. Someone was knocking the bedroom door. Pratap shoved all the objects inside the backpack and rushed to open the door.

    ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

    wowbadge

    image from http://www.hcplive.com   This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

    This time we’re aiming at making it more creative! You have to write a post starting with ‘First Aid Box. Check. Knife. Check. Spectacle Case. Check.’

     
  • Ram 5:39 pm on January 10, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , indian blog, , ,   

    WANTED 

    love

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

    This time we’re aiming at making it more creative! Your post must contain the word Love and you have just 5 sentences to complete your story.

    wowbadge

     
  • Ram 3:53 pm on January 5, 2014 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , , , indian blog, 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 1:35 pm on December 21, 2013 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: a plain haircut, Beauty salon, , , , Hair Care, Hairdresser, Hairstyle, , indian blog, , ,   

    Hairy tale 

    Anirudh went inside the newly opened hair salon near his house. The name ” Two Coins Hair Salon” attracted him. The salon was a week old and it was crispy clean. As Anirudh sat down on the first empty chair near the entrance, he saw three hairdresser’s rushing towards him to claim him as their own for the next half an hour. After a small fight, a lean guy won the battle and took position behind him.

    “Sir, only haircut or…….?” . ” Yes, a plain haircut, medium at the top and very close behind the neck and sides ” said Anirudh. ” OK Sir “.

    salon

    ” Sir, your hair is slightly rough. When did you last shampoo?”  ” Four day’s ago” said Anirudh. The dresser started cutting a few strands of hair near his neckline and said ” Sir, we have a special ayurvedic shampoo called medmix. It’s very effective and cheap. It’s just 1200 Rupees. ”

    ” I see “. ” Sir, there are so many black spots on your forehead, and nose. We have a golden facial treatment. Just try it. No one will recognize you. It will make you so fair. Sir, you also have a double chin, which is not so good for your age. We have a special aloe vera chin massage. It’s quite cheap. Just 1500 Rupees. Sir, we have a ………..”  ” Please stop ” said Anirudh, and took out a sheet of paper from his pocket and gave it to him. The hairdresser was taken aback. It read “ DO NOT DISTURB . I have tried all the above hair treatments, golden facial’s and face massages. I am fed up of all this fuss over a simple haircut for which I came here. So please keep quiet and do your work.”

    The hairdresser nodded and continued, in silence.

    __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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

    This time your entry must contain, ‘Do Not Disturb’

    picture credit – http://www.yelp.com

     
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