Saturday, December 15, 2012

Memoirs of a Prayer Wheel

Bright Prayer flags against gloomy sky.
His eyes were red from crying for the past two days. On the top of everything, the heavy clouds and the gloomy irksome mood it created was SO annoying! Arrgh! Manus father had made a bitter choice. Not a bitter choice according to them – to them it was a good choice, it was bitter only to him. He never expected his little sister, to drive him out of Kathmandu; well again it was not entirely her – it was fate, it so seemed.


"Naniiiii, my rattle broke", complained little Manu to his grandmother. Playing with a rattle at an age of 6 might seem abnormal; but it was the only toy he had.

"Wait for 2 weeks before you get a real toy to play with sweet one", chirped his grandmother, kissing him tenderly; hinting as his yet to come sister.

Encouraged by the spoiling, he retreated to her lap. His grandmother was the only person who loved him unconditionally, thought Manu. His father had liked him too. But that was until their father started acting strange and started saying things like in Kathmandu there were no rains, no grains… his fathers eyes became sad when he said this, his eyebrows were raised and forehead furrowed, he seemed serious, but Manu found the whole repertoire funny – "no rains, no grains" : he hollered, of course when his father was not around!

His father was a much happy man since his tête-à-tête with the villages' veteran. Manu gathered that the veteran had prelidicted about the arrival of a girl child and troubles vanishing, something along those lines. Something that was too much for Manu to comprehend.

Boudhnath, Nepal
His eyes were red from all the crying the night before. His father explained him that he had to honor the wow he had given to their resident god in want of a girl child. Now that God had kept his word, he had to keep his; and send Manu to Vihara, (or Monastery), the nearest was Boudhnath about 11 kms away from Kathmandu. Manu could see the mortifying prayer flags from their household. His father continued explanation that he will not have to placate with a rattle anymore. He can find a dozen other children of his age. He will have a dozen new playmates. Father said that he will have lavish food, he will not have to go hungry to bed another day in his life.

None of it seemed convincing. He will miss the Dohori, folk songs that his father sung. None of it could soothe Manu. He was not willing to part. He was terrified – of leaving his home, his mother and most importantly his nani.


That dreaded day had arrived. That cloudy day. The sky welled and waited to burst out any moment, amidst a strong breeze Manu was taken into custody by a monk, who seemed his fathers age. The monk unlike his father didn’t have furrows on his forehead, he appeared to be strangely calm.

Two weeks later, Manu sufficiently adjusted to the repertoire. A senior, Shiju, helped him throughout.  He presented him with prayer wheel – a very pretty red and gold one; a gold-bead dangled alongside suspended by a thread. Shiju said it helped “concentrate during meditation”. Manu acknowledged it as a token of friendship and asked him the unallowed – "Will you be my friend?"

Shiju looked astonished. He, then, spoke at lengths about "how attachments caused the feeling of ego", haves, have-nots, disappointment and detachment. Manu gaped at Shiju as he spoke the incomprehensible litany. Shiju also told him that Bodhisattvas dedicate their lives to bodhicitta i.e for the sake of all beings. He ended the lecture saying that, "You, Manu, you are a Bodhisattva too. Now tell me what would be expected of you and me?". 


There was a little boy near the main Stupa. His eyes were red, apparently from crying. His father said - "Shorab, chalo beta". Shorab should have also been about seven.

Shorabs' father submitted him to the Boudhnath monastery and left him in the lavish hall. Shorab knew his father was not returning to him, he knew that I-will-come-in-two-days was a lie. He wiped his eyes, disappointed and looked around unsure whom to turn to. He was intimidated by the guru in charge though he seemed to be a pleasant person, with laughter wrinkles around his eyes. He submitted when his guru took him by his little finger...

Manu showed Shorab through the Monastery. Shorab took an immediate liking to Manu and asked him the unacceptable - "Are you my friend?". That very question Manu had asked 40 years ago. . .

Forty years later, Manu retrospected, nothing had changed. Nothing had changed but for the sky. It was not gloomy anymore, he noticed, wait - it sported a rainbow!

He smiled, took the child by his side and gave him a prayer wheel - a red and gold one with the five elements carved on it. . .

The Buddhist stupa of Boudhanath dominates the skyline. The ancient Stupa is one of the largest in the world. The influx of large populations of refugees from Tibet has seen the construction of over 50 Tibetan Gompas (Monasteries) around Boudhanath. As of 1979, Boudhanath is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Along with Swayambhunath, it is one of the most popular tourist sites in the Kathmandu area.

"The Three Jewels", Buddha, Dharma and Sangha,[dubious – discuss] as well as the concepts of karma,rebirth (and reincarnation) and the practice of yoga existed before Gautama lived but they later became associated with Buddhism.
This post is part of the contest Tibet: Roof of the world. Its people : Roofless.. on inspired by the Photo Fiction book

Friday, November 23, 2012

Dearest P.L.A Giarist

Dearest P.L.A Giarist,

Many a nightingale croons at your whims, but sadly, YOUR music, makes the nightingales song sound like a nightmare! They say yelu swarangalukkul ethanai raagam, but its super incredible that you are able to conceive the SAME boring tunes over and over again! I was under the impression that a composers mind should be abuzz with all that myriad tune-traffic flowing in, more so like the Mumbai masses at MG Road on Diwali! But your mind its absolutely ONE untouched shrine!

Don’t worry I’ll refrain from comparing your works with leading Indian / Tamil musicians. Let’s not discuss the maestros at all, why do we wanna talk about them when we can’t stay abreast with KUTTI guys like Yuvan and Ghibran eh?

*flash back* When I was eleven, my father bought me my first CD – Santa Esmeralda! Oh and how I loved that Spanish music! *Today*, 2 decades later I see ALL that Spanish music sprinkled shamelessly on your chords! You have carved quite a niche for yourself, good for you – BUT do not copy from chartbusters like “July Maadham Vandhal” PLEASE! Even my kutti cousin can make out that the tune is a robbed one! :roll:

Once was a musician called Deva, he used a LOT of existing tunes, some empathized with him saying Tamil masses do not listen to “Backstreet Boys” thus copying is OK. Perhaps, you heard that comment and twisted it to suit your needs? In that case, we are at fault after all... hmmm...

We pay 120 bucks for a movie ticket and another 240 for the Popcorn–Pepsi-bucket :roll: and TRY to have a happy weekend… but YOU… you spoil our weekends with all that garish background noise, err, back ground music. For a hero who has lived a legend of successful… mind you… "successful" hero-introduction songs, you have given him a song that I, err, CAN’T REMEMBER!! :evil: :evil: Hey and what was that villan b.g. score all about btw? Just curious!! :mrgreen:

For a movie that garners the following… 
  • Style : 5
  • Story : 4
  • Screenplay : 3
  • Acting : 4
  • Costume. Dsg : 5
  • Dance : 4
  • Music : 0.33 (Average of BGM 0 + Hero song 0 + Songs 1)

 ….you bring the rating of the movie down and beat it with your insolence!

You have given complacency a new metaphor! Keep rocking boss!!

Expecting the Magnum Opus of your Musical cacophony,


Tuesday, November 6, 2012

[55 Fiction] Thou shan’t steal

He had to steal. His wife and his son were hungry. It left him no choice. He stealthily sneaked up his neighbor’s house, eyed the glistening mound of yellowish gold, and stole it shamelessly. At his home, his wife precariously nosed the treasure, as her son received it in his paws – golden gooey Roquefort cheese!!  ;0)

[55 Fiction ] Silent Killer

He sported a black coat. His eyes – sharp, ready to kill. He was a trained murderer; legally qualified for espionages. He knew tonight was the “big night”. His boss would meet him after the arrangement and appreciate him. He heard a rustle, his boss had come. He hurried up, greeting his boss proudly – ‘woof woof’! ;o)

[55 fiction] Jitterflies

She knew the day will come, when butterflies will fly in her stomach. She didn’t know, it was TODAY. She knew, he would be there for her. Yes, he was!!! Right there before her!!

She eyed him, her tear-filled eyes yearning for it – she managed to say between gasps – “Get me the antacid baby!!” ;o)

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Valuepluz, Adding Wealth seminar #mydadspeaks

I wish someone told me the seminar is gonna be THAT good! Yes, today my father made his maiden speech for his realty company - ValuePluz "Adding Wealth session". The seminar essentially was a dream building seminar, comprising a four member speaker team!

Speaker 1 : Mr Pugalendhi (my dad), Sr. Investment Advisor & MD of ValuePluz.
Starting the session with Dream Building, Mr Pugal asks : When someone asks you where you see yourself financially - we say we see a 2BHK or probably a 3BHK and handy cash in the bank. Why is that Bill Gates could dream of being the richest man in America and also achieve it? The important portion is that he DARED TO DREAM. Then, the speaker proceeds to discusses the essence of  'Law of Attraction' by Rhonda Bryne and discusses at depths and how to overcome your fear and build your dream!

80-20 rule, Cash flow quadrant and real-life example. 
What is financial stability? 
Being able to not only fill your pocket with money, but have all the time on the earth to enjoy it is financial stability! You work in a software company for 14 hours a day and you get a paycheck of 2 lakhs / month. You still cannot take that vacation as you do not have TIME. Do you call your self financially stable? 

Why do you think 20% of the world holds 80% of the money, you think that is an accident? Absolutely not, says the speaker, and goes forward to explain the cashflow quadrant explained by Robert Kiyosaki of Rich  dad, Poor dad fame. As you see, there are four quadrants : 

  • Employers quadrant, who work for money (a person can make 100Rs in 1hr, then the max he can make is 2400 working for 24 hours SANS sleep!), they do not have time and have limited money. Their equation is time=money.
  • Self-Employed, like doctors and Engineers who decide to start on their own (they have the command over time and earn a little higher than the Employee quadrant people, but imagine if you're sick? You CANNOT work, you end up with having no money as still the equation is time=money)
  • Business quadrant, they are people who own organizations big and small and have people work under them, they have an exponentially high margin of profit. The person can make 100Rs in 1hr, then if 10 people are employed for 10 hrs each the gross money earned is 10,000 Rs. Can you see the figure raising by a high margin? Wouldn't you love to be in that quadrant  These people have a LOT of money, but still run short of time. THEY have to invest their time and manage the 10 people. 
  • Investor Quadrant :
How will you have time if you're busy creating money? So yea, welcome to the Investor Quadrant!!! These people have built all their life building asset over liability! :)

Asset Vs Liability. 
Anything that puts money in your pocket is asset (like Real estate, Bonds, Fixed deposits), anything that takes away money from your pocket is Liability. When anyone asks about our dreams its natural for us to say it is : buying a car, making a travel - do they put money in our pocket (or) burn your pocket? Asks Mr.Pugal. 

The Investor quadrant people have INVESTED a substantially MEAGER TIME in creating their assets. He works for 5 years buys a house for his self, works for 5 more years creates an asset - a string of rent-able buildings, a second house for rent purpose. THEN, comes the icing on the cake - he can sit back and relax thereafter, cos money has started to work for him! He's got all the time & money!! So see you here, says he!

Speaker 2. Mr Rajaram, Mind and Body Academy (MBA)
He speaks at length about dream building, and why is that we fail to accomplish our dreams. It is due to lack of awareness (or) lack of care shown by our mind. When our mind is not at ease, how is it supposed to help our body? He wonderfully quotes Barathiyar who said "kaani nelam vendum adi", yes it is our birthright to have a house of our own and have a piece of land :

Yours truly would like to add her own experience here, two years ago I was paying a rent of 10k/mth, for two years that is 2.4 Lakhs. WHY AM I making MY LANDLORD RICH?? He is 2.4 Lakhs richer and I am 2.4 lakhs poorer. Today we (hubby and me) pay an EMI of 20 k for our house, big deal! I am paying a 10k extra, but at least the house is mine! If I continue to pay the landlord for 20 more years, considering the rent never hiked, I AM making my LANDLORD a 24 LAKH richerrrrrr!!

Speaker 3. Mr.Saravana Kumar, Sr.Lawyer, Madras Highcourt.
He spoke wonderfully about all the documents necessary to avoid fraudulent registering of properties, or those that we have to check in prior like - Parent document, Sale deed, Encumbrance certificate, Tax \receipt for the Property ect. AMAZING he was, just on the dot about where we would go wrong. He has made the audience realize the importance of a Lawyer opinion in case of real estate transactions!

Speaker 4 : Mr. Krishna Chitanya, Standard Charter bank
He showed the areas where the banks are helping people with loans etc and said there were 15 types of loans. Fifteen? *gasps* Then we have a wrap up from all the four speakers, thereunto tea!

I had invited my best friends over to attend the seminar as they were investor material. Thanks Rat, Jebby, Karthik for honoring my invite! :) They were not only investor material but also harsh critics !! Know what, received positive criticism! *yay*

Dear dad, 
I blog today, as you taught me the ABCs. 
Its funny that you still teach me the ABCs, well this time, in Investment...

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

Thursday, September 27, 2012

[review] The Krishna Key by Ashwin Sanghi

Ashwin Sanghi has done a lovely job of making archaeologist hero! The Krishna key is a marvelous combination of ancient India and modern Indian Subject Matter experts (SMEs) painting a rich pallor to the country and its technical prowess; via the thriller-genre. The thriller is woven along with factual info about the ancient India and has figments of Gita. A lot of little stories that we may have read in the Gita is sporadically sprinkled along the length of the book.

Ancient Dwarga, the city which Krishna has purportedly built over seven times, requested their citizens to carry a seal as a passport. Anil Varshney gets in hand four of these seals. Not willing to put the safety of the four seals in peril, he decides to split them with his spit-promise-type-friends, the four men in whom he has a LOT of faith. The four seals and a baseplate to rest the four seals consists of what is known as the Krishna Key; they open the doors to 5000+ year old preserved secret.

Krishna is the 8th avatar of God Vishnu. It is claimed in the Gita that in the realms of Kaliyuga, Krishna will don his Kalki avatar, the 10th one, to bring the evil on earth to an apocalyptic end.  The villain believes he is that avatar. He thwarts the bearers of the seal and their hunt, as the protagonists move toward solving the puzzle to the Krishna key.

*spoiler alert begins*
As Anil parts his seal away with his four friends he is killed in a peculiar fashion, Ravi Mohan Saini who had spent the day before with Anil therefore becomes the prime suspect. He evades the police - Rathika and Rathore – and moves on the run, along with his student Priya. He should accomplish two tasks one – get the seals secured from the rest of the three men and two – solve the Krishna Key and vanquish the puzzle. The question of life and death along with execution of the task in hand is portrayed well. Another refreshing twist occurs when the villain in hand is really not the villain but are a pseudo villains – puppets who strings are controlled by the don who fought his way up the dirty ladder! It makes you ask a new series of why all over again. Is the puppet controlled by the string or string by the puppet is another think you would be pondering about.
*spoiler alert ends*

We are on an information avalanche that answers a lot of questions which might have been on our minds. The book discusses various myths that are associated with Hinduism and has progressed to say that they are not myths but they are historical facts. The book astounds readers with information like :
  • The Harappa Mohenjodaro/Indus valley civilization was a secondary effect that happened after the Saraswathi civilization that flourished along the Saraswathi rives in 3000 odd BC. The period when Krishna lived.
  • It also discusses how Mount Kailash was also known as mount Meru – which was coopted in the Sumerian Civilization. Thus implying what went on in India as the Saraswathi civilization was the mother. This information just burns the reader with anxiety, here the author throws more information asking – is Mt. Kailash an artificial architecture feat? It shows that Mt Kailash was not only a holy place for Hindus but also Jains, Bons, Buddhists.
  •  How Megasthenes a Greek ambassador in Chandra Gupta Maurya court speaks about Krishna as Hercules in his address. How the Abraham discussed in both Christian and Islamic religion is nothing but a twist of Bhrama and make the reader go wow!
  • We know that India was resplendent with a lot of richness which was plundered by Mohammed Gajini. The Somnath temple was one of the affected structures - here the Lingam is said to be levitating, the scientific explanations supporting levitation is mind blowing!

To know how all these information are entwined into the thriller. To know who eats whom in the dog eat dog world. To read about the hunt for the Key which might reveal the weapon Bhramastra or Syamantaka or perhaps even Krishnas DNA - reach out to your online bookstore rightaway and shed 250 bucks; worth the money considering the fact the book is not just one, but a lot of mini-books complied into one!

The only minor hiccup can be that in one or two places, there was disgruntled narrative and we would have expected a firm edition. For me, the romance was matter of factly, and not really vital as it offered nothing to the story. Leaving which the book is one satiating read. Which I would definitely recommend! And whats wrong with being Dan Brownish if the end result is good!

If you are the “I love information overdose” types you will love the book to BITS and more!

So there, what are you waiting for – get your copy of The Krishna key right away!

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at Participate now to get free books!

Thursday, September 13, 2012

[movie review] Seven in one blow?

Hubby and I decided to go on a movie spree and we did! This was how the week spun out, and slowly toward the mid of the week we were like this ----->
On the top of which I did some brashy eye make up and attended a reception party. That was being pretty over ambitious, I recon. Or was watching these many movies were an over-ambituous act? You should tell me. *rolls-eyes*

Day 01 : Maalai Pozhuthin Mayakkathiley
What started as a promising story, grew annoying increasingly. Though the ending was totally abrupt - you were bellowing with happiness that the movie ENDED! whew! The tale spins in a Coffee bar and tries to bring a quatrocentric conversation between the characters to a convergence - that of a man and his quarrelsome wife and their difficult marriage, that between a waiter and the manager, the annoying flirting between a girl and a guy whom she just met. How every day life is dealt with at a cafe is discussed and characters move to a melodramatic finish. Of course, no story-bory, remember that.

Please watch if you have oodles of patience, certainly not cut out for me.

Day 02 : Mathubana Kadai
Absolutely knocked me off. I thought it was going to be another annoying movie but the movie surprised me with a tight screenplay, lest for one scene where men with painted faces and jeweled like deities appear. Except for that 2 minute scene, the rest of the 2 hour movie was good. Not refreshing, enjoyable etcetera - as the art shows a govt bar in its own skin - to call a spade a spade is always difficult for us people. We want hip hop songs in jazzy clubs showing flaming sambuca and also some skin :P

Please watch/encourage good movies as such. Fair amount of romance, fair jibes at society. Umm quite surprisingly nice!

Day 03 : Naan
Lovely picturization, decent acting by Vijay Antony, nice songs and an overall good composition. This movie is my favorite movie of the week. The supporting actors Siddharth Venugopal and Rupa Manjari (an upcoming Malayalam actress), look fabulous and also act well! Ashok is what we would typically call a sociopath and he was true to his bones (or bone marrow :P).

A prison evicts stand in the society and to live life on the run was sardonically portrayed and it makes us saddened. So this is not a happy persons movie.

Day 04 : Markendeya
Don't even ask me, I dont know what shit went on throughout the movie.


Day 05 : Saguni
It was the usual Karthi masala and sad mokka of Santhanam. Santhanam has bettered at destroying his reputation since OK OK. There will only be a handful of demises after which he will have himself thrown away from the industry. Trying to retrieve his ancestral property, hero Karthi bumps into autodriver Santhanam (who assumes Karthi is stinking rich) and they annoy the audience to the core calling each other Kamal sir, Rajni sir. ARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGH - run awaay!
What kinda niche is Karthi trying to carve, I wonder?

Day 06 : Mugamoodi
Its a Mysskin movie with not so much of the Mysskhin touch but for the slow paced narrative. Jeeva in another martial arts role reminds me of Diyshum. He dons a mask to allure his girlfriends cousins, little ones and falls into the traps of a robber-police chase and catches a member of the gang - hands him over onto police custody. Later where the robber gang lead (Narain) pledges to take revenge et al. He plots superfluous trouble and blames it on Jeeva. Jeeva toward the end is put at a point where he must prove his innocence to the police.

Hmm.. Not okay for me. Already I yawn at running and chasing, now running and chasing without a proper storyline. Not okay, okay?

Day 07 : Naan-e
We watched Naan-e for the second time! ;) The anime was SO cute. Samantha was gorgeous. The settings were flamboyant, we had something close to that flaming sambuca in the Naai en peru song :P The house was pretty, the micro art was pretty, everything about her pendent was pretty, love was pretty prettY! awww.. for a second time not bad!

If we believe that Transformers are autobots that came from Cybetron. Then we have to believe that a cute little housefly can write "I will kill you" in impeccably beautiful font! ;) I loved the fantasy, screenplay and art to bits.The highlight was the dance at the end where it does Simbhu step, Jeena thaana step - encore!!

Makkaley this is some cue for you to sign up for those dance classes now. When an 'e' can do, why not u? :P *kavidha* ;)

* * *

P/s The dangerous guy is on a high and he has gone on round #2. He is watching Rowdy Rathore today! Jesus Christtt!!! No wonder this saying by Giacomo Casanova holds good!!

"Man is free; yet we must not suppose that he is at liberty to do everything he pleases, for he becomes a slave the moment he allows his actions to be ruled by passion."

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Stranger in the Night

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 31; the thirty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'Strangers in the Night'

“Akka, but he is a stranger!!!!”, Vinisha squealed to her sister.

“He is not a stranger Vinisha, he is your 'Husband', for heavens sake”, her sister grunted softly and rolled her eyes.

“Still...”, she continued.

Akka stopped braiding Vinishas hair, and with a wry smile teased her, “At least you wont be Strangers in the Night” and laughed softly. 

Vinisha kept mum. She could not see the humor in her sisters cynicism.  Arrgh.

* * * *

She entered the room - eyes down, nervously looking at her feet; suddenly noticing the red on her nails and the maroon-vines the mehendi made on her feet. 

He looked at her, silently drinking in her beauty - her red Tussar draped along those slender hips, her long hair adorned with flowers; her khol rimmed eyes which showed hesitation and excitement all at once; and that beautiful mark of Sindhoor on her forehead that spoke of chastity and commitment at lengths. He sighed softly.

She looked like an apsara, was she Ramba or Oorvasi perhaps?

* * * *

One morning, Vinisha retrospected the truth in her sisters 'joke' - 

He was not a Stranger. 

They were one. 

He was her all.

She smiled lightly; enthralled at everything; her future included. . . 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Self, Participation Count: 05

Saturday, September 1, 2012

My first blog award :)

A blog award is fabulous, fantastic and all that you dream of, well especially when you dont have one and you are cozily eyeing that... quite insanely hoping someone might like you blog a tad too much!? And then when you get it - the joy is 10 fold!

Here my joy is 20 fold as I am nominated by *this* lovely lass, Menachery, whose writing  I SO adore! Knowing her only through Blog-a-Ton, I've been totally impressed by her writing style and I do think she will make a great script writer some day! Please dont forget to read her short stories!

Hmm so, I should say 7 things about myself AND I should nominate 15 Bloggers whom I find creative. Let me get started so -

1. I find it difficult to understand the 'naked' truth of PETA :P
2. I sometimes mute my TV and watch it. Yea, am THAT whatever-you-call-it. 
3. I get scared when i think of the fact that I am gonna lose my loved ones someday.
4. I can live on KFC and be shamelessly guilty and again continue to live on KFC.
5. I try to be detached and I-dont-care, but I do care. *weeps*
6. I have watched LOTR 123 and POC 123 back to back in ONE day. Did the same for Di Caprios Shutter Island, Blood Diamond, Departed, Revolutionary road. I am INSANE when it comes to movies! BUT I cannot watch movies on my laptop whatsoever.
7. I shut down on Saturdays. 

I would like to nominate the following people as Kreative Bloggers : Those who are creative in thinking, explore umpteen thoughts and ALSO bring it out well. Connecting with bloggers just over a few months, 15 is a HUGE number, so I sort of tweaked the numbers meekly!

And, my nomination rolls : 

Suresh - A lovely writer you are sire...
Apala - Her short stories are amazing! She also hosts a Photoblog.
Ganesh - For the myriad of thoughts he poses.
Rajrupa - Who has a way with word-limit(that I SO envy) and with words!
Ramya - Pretty blogname and pretty blogger! Her writing makes me *smile*
Jayshree - Who runs two blogs : her thought blog and cook blog! 
Aativas - Who writes like a wizard!
CRD - The synonym of creativity - read his short story here!
Panchali ji -  One of my top favorites :) Read her mocktail recipe and enjoy!

There was a lovely happy soul who was blogging HERE, but she quit blogging a year ago. So no donut there! Also, I should tag Menachery back again, cos she is indescribably creative. But alas, I end it with a THANK you for nominating me - You sure made my day!! :) So nominated fellas, please take the batom and say 7 things about yourselves, tag 15 bloggers and bring smiles about!


P/s This post was written on 31st Aug on SUCH a late night that it got posted on Sep 01, but okay - its great to start a month with a GOOD post! *yay*

Friday, August 24, 2012

The Prodigal Practitioner

A mans' almost on the top of you,
You try to scream and make a hue.

They torment you with atrocious acts;
Extort your money at the end of the pact.

You should file him for harassment -
Behind bars, have him sent.

But if that Prodigal practitioner is sweet;
Is visiting your Dentist then a treat? :O

So, one such fabulous affairs of the Bureau of Dentistry was endured by me today. Dental fear is said to be prevalent in almost all human forms that has decided to hit the Dentist (not that hitting) for scaling, crowning, implants, filling or whatever pseudo-techno name you add to it; and I was no exception to it! However, my dentists right from my teens, who told me not to fear about the injection they were about to plunge onto my gums, were sweet men! On a random add, seems according to a survey by the “Time Mag", 59% of Americans would sit in a Dentist’s chair than to someone on a cell phone. These Americans have been consistently crazy right? *Applause*

"Good evening Doctor"
"Please", he shows me to the chair. 
I ease myself out. 
"Are you comfortable?"
Why not?  I add to my thought cloud. Why don't we switch places and I do the prodding about your mouth? :P BUT I dont say all that out, instead I smile and say - "Yeah".
*prodding begins* *scratch scratch... zzzuzzz... some water sprays.. :-/ *
"Do you feel any discomfort", he asks me.
I shake my head - NO.
Any sensitivity?
I shake my head. THAT very moment he hits my insissors at a hyper-sensitive spot. I cringe involuntarily! (Gawd, this is yuckier than those injections, oral anasthesia administered then doesnt helps your sensitivity one bit, I so learnt."Holy fucked up shittttttttt", I swear mentally)
"Oh, you're feeling a little sensitivity is it?" he questions. 
I sign - LITTLE. (How on earth he expects me to answer with a tube hanging at my mouth? *cries*)

He says, okay now I will do it slow and.. he does it REAL carefully that I can't barely feel a thing! Now I start doubting if he is actually scaling or chumma pretending! *meh* 40 minutes later, he finishes the WHOLE procedure and gives me one kind of a sweet s-m-i-l-e. SIGH. I cant wait for my next dental appointment already! :P

Then, he adds, "Say a hello to father"

Why do all smart men have to be family friends?  *runs away*

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Dear Diary, its bliss..

The tongue is SUCH a spoiler, yes it is. Mine? No not mine. Mine is a goner, a rebel and an eccentric kid which rolls incessantly. Here I am speaking about my hubbys'!


A sickly sweet morning after the nights rain, I am in SUCH a lazy mood to go and ignite that shiny black glasstopy thing called Stove. I toss and sleep, sleep and toss; for quite sometime. Lovely aroma seeps from the Kitchen waking me up. Sleepy eyed, I leave my bed and freshen up quick.

I am greeted by Coffee and Toast, on my best Chinaware, by Hubby himself! I am SO thrilled. The day has just started and it already cant get any better! I am ravenously hungry, and start sipping my Coffee munching into the toasts. When he says - "Oru Thank you kooda...?". Wheres' the Thank you?

I reply - "HEY po! Did you thank me for all the breakfasts, lunch and dinner I have served you SO long? Where are all my Thank yous? A zillion of them?? Eh????"

He replies with a puss-in-boots-looks. *aww?*

I continue munching my toast... managing to say "Daaaank-youuuu" amidst mouthsful and of course making a face!

This (married) life...

Its' wonderful :)

Sunday, August 5, 2012

[Short story] The Butterfly Brooch

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 30; the thirtieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

It was another beautiful evening; the lovely sunset gave golden gleam to the water. Tanay strolled along the shores of Kovalam beach; waves kissing his feet. He was not ready to admire it; his mind was full of questions. He recollected the time when he almost was a murderer. Chennai beaches could never scale up to Digha beach back in Kolkotta, his hometown. But Chennai beaches were where they shared belly ripping laughter and mind ripping taunts. Where they walked miles, chattering aimlessly…

A ball fell on him, jolting him… “Anna, ball please..” a boy of 11 shouted. Brother, give me the ball. 

He looked across his shoulder, staring at the child for waking him from his thoughts. They were playing cricket.

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

Debbie migrated from Kolkotta to Chennai purely for work purposes. She couldn’t resist the pay cheque that she decided to part from the city which grew her, Kolkotta. It was quite a battle with the Chennai, automen who cheated, roadside Romeos who whistled at her every night before she could head to her PG, a portion of the salary being spent on atrocious room rents, annoying breakfasts called idlis and gazillion rupees gone in the name of phone bill. Arggh. The only thing that she looked forward to were Rosogollas at Sri Krishna sweets after those beach walks.

Oh how she loved Rosogollas! Well Rosogollas and Tanay. . . 

Tanay Roy, was her teammate – sharing the same date of joining and mother tongue, they shared a lot of their time together.  She loved those evening walks with him. Though he was busy yapping about some lady crush of his, whom he would claim to love to bits. She would laugh at the antics that he comes up in order to impress those yucky made up colleagues in their Team, sometimes scoff. But she loved him nevertheless.

Why is he blind to me? She thought. High check-bones, sharp eyes, bouncy hair, and a bonus dimple – she felt she looked okay – likable. “Why is he ever SO blind to me?” she thought aloud, applying one more round of bleach. No amounts of bleaches and face packs caught his attention. He was yet again yapping shamelessly about his hopeless romanticism.

"Mashider pichhone khali jao keno?", she questioned. Do you only go behind aunties?

Tanay laughed boisterously, irritating her all the more.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

That morning, Tanay had come to her PG to pick her up. 20 mins later, reaching the Pub - "Bike and Barrel", they met their friends at Phillip and Kamalika Dutta… slapping backs and hugging out. 

“Hmm.. so ssup man??”, Tanay asked Phillip questioningly.

“erm… well.. we’ve decided to..umm… tie the knot…” replied Phillip coyly.

Debbie hugged Kamalika, when Tanay furiously punched Phillip for hiding ALL that information. “Saaley, you never told us…??? I thought this was another harmless meet!! You are SUCH a con!” he screamed, “traitor! so when is the big day huh??”

“Next Month Tanay… 1st Sunday of September”, pitched in Kamalika, “my parents will never accept this… getting married into a Christian family. As you might have speculated, this will be a register marriage. Since we are not in a position to make a grand affair, we just decided to throw our close friends alone a post-wedding party in Beach house in ECR…on Sunday eve… you both should come”.

“Of course we will… “replied Debbie. She looked longingly at Tanay and wished for a day as such. They’ll not even have to rush into sneaky marriages – both she and Tanay were Bengalis and of the same caste. They will have a 'love-arranged marriage' as it was called. Wait a minute! He didn’t even know she existed… :-/ and here she was dreaming of marriages? Duh. 

They ordered their drinks, the girls settled for orange juices when the guys wanted HOT stuff. They soon lost the count of drinks they had.Tanay always could not stop with a few drinks, and it hurt Debbie to see him so helpless.

“Keep it low Tanay”, Debbie intervened, it was not the first time she stopped him, “You have had enough, its time for us to leave I guess..”. 

“Yes mom”, he replied chiding her.

They reached her PG around 1AM down into the night,“See in spite of the drinks I have kept you safe… Aiii will kippp you safeuu.. Aiii promishh..” he said in a faltering tone.

She shrugged, “Please reach home and message me… Okay?”

Few minutes later, her phone beeped and read: “Reached. Had a nyc time. . . n ukw? Will tell u 2mrw... :P”

Sober idiot, she thought.

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

Wedding Party at ECR Beach house.

Both the bride and the groom were looking ravishing. Phillp looked smart and prim. Dressed in her beautiful beige gown, Kamalika could almost pass for a Anglo bride. But the most beautiful woman on the floor was Debolina Gangopdhay, his Debbie who was dressed in a satin evening dress; the lavender gown ran until her knees, showing her flawless long legs. She wore a butterfly brooch on her hairdo, which glittered making her even more lovely.

Tanay sighed. He had fooled her enough, making her believe he was not interested in her at all. Its time he broke it, he thought.

That night close to thirty youngsters danced into the night...

“Have a little na??” they forced Debbie to drink... “Arrey, have little yaar...”

After a series of NOs, she gave up being a non-alcholic. She in fact enjoyed Vodka and the immediate high it gave her! She was happieee, after all who would not be? She was dancing breast to breast with the only man whom she loved on the whole earth! They continued to dance and gulp down fervently.

Slowly the DJ started moving away from the frenzy songs to mushy songs, making the couple rush out of the dance floor, needing that ounce of privacy. Soon the dance floor was almost empty, Debbie and Tanay found themselves on the beach. The dark night-sea drawing white foamy patterns around their feet…

“This is the best night I have ever had…” Tanay said taking her palms. There was silence but for the waves. Tanay drew her close to him and kissed her softly.. real soft... he broke the kiss, looked into her eyes and asked "Will you…?” and cleared his throat, leaving the question incomplete.

She chirped, breaking off from his grip, she ran into the waters, laughing and venturing deeper and deeper. He ran behind her, she was trying to wade more into the sea. He did not know how to stop her, he was unbelievably drunk. He had no clarity of mind.

He stood dumbstruck as his girl was being mauled by the waves… her giggles getting fainter and fainter… Time stood still… so did he…

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

Someone tried to shake him up from the shore, "Err..", he opened his eyes; his head felt heavy; blurred with a few screams. “Where is Debbie..?” he could see them mouth; he heard no sound.

He faintly saw his friend picking up a butterfly brooch along the beach; it looked broken and frayed.  “OH MY GOD”, he heard him scream. Some sirens later, he saw his friend signing against the name Debolina Ghangopdhay I.C.U. ward form.

Tanay rammed his head on the hospital wall. He screamed. His life was on her death bed, she was fighting against a series of intravenous-tubes in her body. “Will you marry me...?” might become a question unasked forever. With streaming tears of despair, he screamed softly “Will you marry me Debbie… Debbie… Debbbbiee pleaaaase can you hear me…?”.

She could hear him, she wanted to reply - "Shut up, you idiot. I will be fine", but there were tubes in her mouth.

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

Three weeks after that unforgettable day, he started volunteering in the Drug Rehab NGO – Helping drug addicts, propagating cons of liquor and advocating also against drunk and drive. He called his project – “Butterfly brooch”, all the members who were signed in his group were given a Butterfly-brooch. They were supposed to introduce and help their friends and acquaintances who were suffering. His organization till date had helped close to 417 families.

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

Turning towards the little boy, he tossed the sandy ball back to him and smiled.

“Thanks anna”. Thank you brother, said the 11 year old child, “I have seen you before. Appa used to come to your seminars, he is a lot healthy now…", continued the boy, "and the brooch is very cute!” he called after Tanay.

Tanay smiled. But he couldn't stop for a chat with the boy, he was running late. He had to take Debbie for her 3rd trimester ultrasound.  Therefore replying the little boy with a larger smile, he strode away.

As he walked, he fished into his pocket and took out a broken and frayed brooch…

He realized that the frayed butterfly had spread its color seamlessly..

Credits :
Bengali Translation : Anindya Roy :)
Pictures : Google image search

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. I’m thankful to BLOGGER NAME, who introduced Blog-a-Ton to me, and I debuted in 27 edition.


Image - Shades of Orange by Harsha Chittar
Courtesy - Curious Dino Photography via

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Two Minutes

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 29; the 29th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'TWO MINUTES'.

Ryan and Derek worked together planning the bank robbery.

The safe was accessible only for two minutes.With welling beads of perspiration they dodged the Infrared sensors, killed the guards and neared the safe. “Access denied. Call #111” a screen flashed. 

Derek started punching the numbers. 

“Derek, whom are you calling???? Game-over bro!!”, Ryan blinked... 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

[Game] Football Chronicles

After a godknowswhatkindaday I watched the GODLY soaps and I was about to hit the sack at 10PM. That certainly was unlikely time to go to bed, but nevertheless (remember the godknowswhatkindaday?). That was when my brother called me and insisted that I should watch Spain Vs Portugal. My hubby, the great, already planned well in advance and slept from 7PM until 10 PM so that he could sit through the match!

10 PM we called dad, and asked if he and my brother could come home and we'd watch the match together! And he said – YES! By 12 PM we had the esteemed guests Dad and Brother at home. I made scrambled egg sandwiches, they brought chips and coke! And we made the match watching a ritual! This was the first semi-final of the 2012 Euro Championships and it deserved this respect don’t you think :P


Spain plays a defensive way, well we would have seen that during the World Cup. It was amazing to see the passes that they make, and keep possession of not only the football but their cool head. Though statistics showed 57% possession of ball by Portugal during half time. It was sheer pleasure to watch Spain play. (Like a red flower that triangulates here and there making petals – pathetic imagery, I agree)

*Yawns here and there and tries to shoo that sleep away*

A few minutes into the game. Arbeloa (Spain) missed a big chance of the night after he shot over the bar. The men trio were super enthused – yeah they supported for Portugal when I stood up for Spain. Brother told me a so and so newspaper had said “Ronaldo Vs Spain” which was apparently why he watched the match. A while later its a beautiful encounter : Ronaldo shoots high up in the air after he was fed beautifully in the middle.

*Notices that perhaps bro is right. There are reasons why Messi, Ronaldo, Sachin have their pedestals. He plays WAY too well. Standing motionless half the time, he manages to pitch in the right time*

The scoreline read 0-0 at the end of the first half with Portugal showing more aggression up front. Both teams showed some quality football but is yet to see any worthy goals. That’s when the men announce they want some Tea. Super crazy all of them are, and 1.30 into the night, I am boiling milk trying to make tea. God, what do you call this?

About 20 minutes after the start of the second half, Xavi went for the goal but was denied by Patricio. The game draws to the extra time, and all four of Portugal’s defenders are on a yellow. Soon Ronaldo drives a free kick into the wall. Alvaro Arbeloa gets a hand on it, and gets a yellow card. Ronaldo takes another free kick, but he did not miss by a little this time.I know this is all wrong on Arbeloa part...what was that.. erm.. Hand of God :P

*The sleep is gone for good*

Both Portugal and Spain failed to score after 90 minutes of the game. The match now enters extra time. Both the teams should be thoroughly tired now, I assume. I cannot dodge a ball for more than 15 minutes straight. Poor things, hmm, what people do in the name of passion! Cutting things short nothing much happened in the extra time, but for the fact some Booth (ghost!) entered into Spaniards and made them play more aggressively towards the end; attempting 3 goals, all of which were thwarted effectively by the Portuguese.

*Thumping in my heart is not heard, it is outdone by TV commentary. Thank god for that*

Making it 0-0 at even at the end of extra-time and moving into Penalty shoot out :-

  • Alonso walks in for the first spot-kick, MISSES, saved by Patrício.
  • Moutinho for Portugal. He is stopped by Casillas.
  • Iniesta, SCORES. 1-0 Spain
  • Pepe scores for Portugal, 1-1.
  • Pique, SCORES, 2-1 Spain.
  • Nani for Portugal, high to the roof of the net. 2-2. (He didn’t look like he was gonna score anywayss! So no excitement there :P)
  • Sergio Ramos for Spain, chips it into the net. 3-2 for Spain.
  • Bruno Alves, MISSES, hits the top bar. This could be the end of Portugal.
  • Cesc Fabregas scores. Spanish players flood the field. Spain is off to the final!!
Whoo hoo!! ;-) Beeee-utiful!

I can’t wait to watch the finals now whether its Vs Germany or not, and you?

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

[Book review] The Hungry Tide by Amitav Ghosh

Better late than never at appreciating India’s cultural diversity on my blog, here I begin…

Having known a few lovely Bengali girls at work/Training; Having loved a few beautiful Bengali actresses - Sharmila Tagore, Sushmita, Bipasha; Having adored the Bengali mammoths Uttam, Feludas and Satyajit Ray. I think the book satisfied my interest on the North East India.

Amitav Ghosh’s “The Hungry Tide” is a the story of Kanai Dutt, a translator turned Entrepreneur and the American cetologist with Indian origin, Piyali Roy; in the forays Sundarbans’ delta. The story evolves as the strangers meet in the Indian railgaadi travelling towards Lusibari and later their roads diverge – his to Lusibari to check on a package which is late uncle had left for him before his death – and hers to where she plans to immerse herself in the study of river Dolphins.

Beginning her journey with a government boat driver who beguiles her and tips her in crocodile infested water, her rescue comes in the form of a native illiterate fisherman – Fokir, who helps her (dramatically?) out of the murky water. She then decides to embark on her research with him, she faces language barrier as either one speaks a different tongue. Although they have a language barrier between them, Piya and Fokir are powerfully drawn to each other, sharing an uncanny instinct for the ways of the sea.

The lengths to which a marine biologist/ cetologist would traverse is portrayed beautifully. The search for Orcaella brevirostris or the Indian river Dolphin, is incredulous but leaves the reader with a LOT of indigestible technical information. Also invariably hues of the Tide country, its behavior during high and low tide – its niche involving crocodiles, murk and royal Bengal tigers are impressively etched. So that is a LOT of information for you to muster! Amidst the information hammock I found this folklore/myth very interesting -

Dakkhin Rai makes a pact with Dhona the honey collector in his Dhonas’ dreams – He agrees to give seven fleets full of honey and wax in turn for Dukhe, a poor shepherded boy. When the fleet reaches Kendokhali cha Dhona fills seven of his vessels with honey and wax after which he asks Dukhe to go and collect firewood, which Dukhe does inspite of knowing he will be left back by the company. The fleet promptly leaves without Dukhe as planned. Dakkhin Rai makes an appearance before Dukhe in the form of a tiger. Dukhe is terrified, he remembers his mother telling me to call for Bon bibi when in peril, he calls for Bon bibi – she along with her brother Shah Jangali defeat Dakkhin Rai and render Dukhe in safe hands.

Kanai comes unwittingly helpful as a translator between Piyali and Fokir, as expected. He is an egoistic know-it-all who flirts and irks the audience more than your average stereotyped-Indian-entrepreneur. He leaves to his hometown to inspect a piece of inheritance his uncle, Nirmal, left for him where he retrospects on the Morichjhanpi massacre incident of 1978-79. This incident where the Marxist Communist party is said to have evicted numerous Bengali refugees, is subdued and largely left for the audience to make up. However, the incidents left a large impact on me. Powdered with quotes from Rilke, those portions are pleasing to read.

The other secondary characters – Nilima, Kusum, Moyna, Tutul are strings of the same piece of fabric, hence don’t stand out like a sore thumb. Though there is lack in character of Piya’s parent and they remain a hallucinated image to you. As you move closer to the end, the muted emotions of Fokir kill the audience from making a relation to him. How and where the trifurcated roads of Piyali, Fokir and Kanai ends is the essence of the book all in all.

You like emotions as opposed to clingontheseat thrillers, there! Then go for it!

Rating 4 of 5

P/s I have discussed NO aspects of the story line, just in case you read it, I don’t want this review to be a spoiler. BUT, how effective is a review with just the outline of the story? First review, please suggest me options to improve! Thanks!!

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Blank Pages

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 28; the 28th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'BLANK PAGES'.

6.35 AM Pandharpur Govt Misson Hospital

A puny head peeped out between the limbs of the soul where he stayed for ten whole months.*WAIL* He cried and made his presence felt. His father prancing before the operation theatre as cinematically as possible gave out a heave! He had a “SON”! He was a father!

In a matter of months, the little one soon grew at an alarming rate and a name keeping ceremony which was close knit function decided and named the baby - Pāndurang as per the parents vow to the Lord that graced the banks of Bhima river and Pandharpurs’ Vitthal temple.

Pāndurang S/o Venkatan was thus introduced.

Pandu grew up to be his grandpa’s favorite! His grandpa out of sheer curiosity had interested the five year child with a fountain pen and his diary. Pandu found the pen extremely messy, but steadily chewable – he found the diary smelly and disgusting – his maiden encounter with manuscripts and his vehement distaste for the same had just begun…

“Venkataa” he heard his grandpa calling out to his dad. “Haven’t you thought of putting the little one in school yet?”

“Yeah appa, I have already spoken with Ramanujam sir and the Principal, he told me to leave Pandu in school come Vijayadasami. He had even given this ‘Letter of Recommendation’” his father said, waving some written-paper into air “well.. it’s not all that easy to get into Bhimas’ school you see..”

He hated that white thing his father dangled. It has decided his fate...

4.40 PM Bhima Boys school, Pandharpur
Being in tenth standard and rarely living up to the expectation and high standards his school set, he lived only for the one season - the Sports meet. He loved Ball-Badminton more than Hockey and Hockey more than Tennikoit, the animal in him was unleashed when he was in the sports field; on the contrary he hated homework more than exams and exams more than lectures. His second most favorite day was the last day of exams, when he knew there would be two solid months of gilli, cricket and unstoppable fun!

But today, was the least favorite day of his – announcement of results. He knew he would not make it to PUC that his father wanted him to take, he would not become the Mathematics teacher his father wanted him to be, still he couldn’t stop the pounding his heart made as headed towards his friends. He borrowed the evening newspaper and saw his number, as expected, was not there.

His head went whizzing. Printed paper has won over him again…

Reaching home, he wiped the stream of sweat from his brow. Sneaked into his father’s study, did the unthinkable – He stole. Twenty whole freaking Rupees from his dad’s shirt and decided to run away from home to some godforsaken city. He walked steadily at a speedy pace towards the railway station which was seven miles always from his house. By the time reached the railway station, he was ravenously hungry – he happily settled for a set of masal-dosas. Settling his bill he knew he had less than 12 rupees.

 “This is unbelievably atrocious you doofus” his father was fuming “what cheek you have to put your foot again in this house? Pandu, you are SO shameless. You can even think of making your appearance after your indecent stealing act?”

 “Did I not grow you to be a well-mannered kid? Why did I even bear you?” his mother dramatically beat her stomach and wailed “The opposite house Ramu has passed, won’t you be able to do at least that much for us?”

He remained quiet. His grandfather came to his rescue fought against his parents and took him to the kitchen. “You must be hungry Pandu”, said he, “eat beta. And why is that you came back? That too to the devil of your father?”

“Thatha, the ticket collector said twelve rupees was not enough to even go to the next station, so did the bus-conductor.” His grandpa laughed loudly! He joined in, his mood loosening a bit and wore his guts out.

His father intercepted their laughter in the kitchen. “Why am I not surprised. Shameless and happy too; LISTEN you little scoundrel” he hollered, “Tomorrow you are joining the Land registration office for work. I knew something like this might happen, so I had back up plans for you. You better get your things ready and get some sleep”. “Here” – he handed out an envelope, “Your appointment to join as an Office boy”.

Two printed papers in one day? SHIT. This was TOO much.

4.25 PM, Commissionerate of Land Revenue, Pandharpur.

“Saar, you have a visitor” announced the office boy Mani.

Pāndurang looked through his glasses and said “Show them in”.

The visitor was a frayed old man, as he had expected - the brides’ father, who has come in the name of making a contact, in the truest sense he was nothing but an inspector investigating his case which was him, he thought.

“I am Shaambavi’father, I hope I am not disturbing you beta…”, the old man said and gave a sideway glance to his placard, it read – “V. Pandurang, Deputy Thasildar”. Mission accomplished; he would now have a government employee for a son-in-law, how lucky!

“Disturb? No mamaji, not at all”, he responded with a courteous smile.

*Ting* he called for the office boy dutifully. Two strong coffees, mani.

“No no babu”, he cried, “I am so full, I just went by this way so I thought I would see you. I will come and see father by this weekend. I better take leave now, the last bus leaves by 6 PM”, and he left.”

Damn it! He pounded the desk. Government job. He hated every minute of the paper work he was forced to do, he hated the Stamp papers more than he hated his files and vice-versa. Now, his marriage would be built on this faulty and pretentious foundation called Government job. He was nearing thirty, too old to push aside marriage. His head still whizzed.

10.00 AM, Vanavani Bhramin Community Hall

Shaambhavi was at her feet, greeting guests and seeing to that they are attended to. It was the first year birthday of their daughter, Vijitha, the girl they sired after eight years of childlessness. Ten years goddamned years. Today, it was his priceless daughters’ Ayushhomam, a havan performed for longevity. He felt proud as he saw his daughter play with her cousins almost 10 times her age!

He eyed Shaambhavi. Eleven years since their marriage, she was still looking as pretty as a lotus flower. Her only negative point was that she was literate and riddled him with epics and vedas, but on the other hand she was smart enough to chose the function-hall wisely enough to save money. It was a Bhramin Community Hall and only 40% had to be paid, she had told him.

He was contentedly reviewing his weightily married life, when some fool announced - “The girls are growing fast eh Pandu, soon you would be finding a school for them, looking out for recommendation, teaching nursery rhymes. Make sure you will give them a good education, will you? Time sure flies, doesn’t it?” That's when all his relatives pitched in and advised him high and low about education and what nots. He had a pounding headache.

Who was the dumb ass who started this topic? Who was the… *He fainted.*

8.30 PM Home.

He knew he had mouths to feed, but he can’t be faking his whole life like this. He popped an over dose of his sleeping pills - Death would be cowardice but yes, better than a bloody fake life. He knew he had matters to settle, once and for all. Prancing towards his father’s study, he sat at the desk that faced a long Teak window and started penning furiously…

Sunday, September 12th 1969.
Dear Father,
I know, I should not have been born in this family. But fate decided so. Sometimes, in life we can decide against the norms. Why is that father, you never paid heed to my distaste for education? Why? You thought you were doing good to me?  No. You never did. I wanted to be a P.E instructor teaching games to students. But here I am – a loser. A bad corrupt government official who hates every day of his life.

That day when I ran away from the house, when I couldn’t get tickets, I wanted to die right in front of the train; sadly fifteen years was a feeble to age to make that decision. I wish I had done that earlier. It would have saved a lot of hurt and agony. But better late than never, as you say.

Why did you get me married to Shaambhavi? You knew I rejected girls until I was thirty just because they were literate, you lied to me that Shaambhavi had done only her 8th when she was a graduate. How COULD you lie to me like that? Not that I dislike her, but I surely would have had a convenient life with someone much less educated.

What always mattered to you were education, money and pride; not me, my interests, or anything that remotely concerned my feelings. I thus, take part from the most unconcerned soul that existed in the whole vamsha. Let my next birth be a blessed one with much understanding blood connections.

With respect,

Monday 8.30 PM, Four doors of Yamapuri.
“Chitragupta, probably was not afraid of paper works”, he thought, dazed at his amusing identification. “Last dose of humor before heading through the South door to hell”, he added to his thought, “Hell undoubtedly; he had made a his wife a widow, stranded an old mans soul, left a child fatherless – his crimes were innumerous. He wanted to kill his soul for the blasphemed writing. How can pen something SO easily, which will plunge like a dagger in his loved ones? With the little theism left in him, he fell to his knees as he saw Him.

"Chitragupta namastubhyam vedaksaradatre" he chanted and prayed for “Blank pages”.

Tuesday 7.35 AM, Home.

She looked at the diary which lay on the study by the window. The previous nights rains had completely drenched it. She saw the entry on September twelfth, almost nothing was there, mere illegible scrawny lines and sodden empty pages except for a faint "Dear Father".

Dear Father, she bit her lip and chocked, this would have certainly been a loving letter that he had written for his father. She was certain about it, SO very certain. She was mildly jealous of her father-in-law for taking precedence in his thoughts over her.  “How lucky her father-in-law was to have such a loving son”, she thought.

Missing him exceedingly, she wiped the then faint words with her tears. Holding the battered blank pages tenderly to her bust and cried even more. LOUDLY, bitterly, and with love.  

The rains poured again and trying to compete with her tears. . .


References :

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.