Archive for the ‘Creative’ Category

Dus Kahaniyaan is back, with 2 more stories as promised. Although, promises made regarding timely publication could not be dealt with. Date problems, u see.. 😛

In case you wish to read Dus Kahaniyaan Part 1, click here!

The Accident
— Mohit Jain

“Sit at the back, Kaushik! How many times have I told you to not to drink beyond your limits! I am fed up of carrying you home after every damn party we attend. When would you learn”, Sneha erupted a volcanic burst as they reached their car after Mr. Mehta’s party.

Kaushik Bhatnagar was an eminent businessman, dealing in cotton exports. He was widely known in the region of Kolkata. People called him “the cotton king”. Sneha and Kaushik had been married for over 15 years now, living a blissful life, with 2 kids, a boy of 12 and a girl of 7 years. The only differences they had ever had were all for one reason, Kaushik’s drinking or, one could say, the excess of it. This was one such instance.

“Let me drive! I am not drunk”, Kaushik retorted, snatching the bunch of his car keys from Sneha. Poor Sneha’s timid body could barely stand the push of “overflowing-from-the-seams” Kaushik’s burly frame, and gave up without much resistance. The steering wheel turned crazily under the weight of Kaushik’s arms. The car zoomed ahead like an overzealous bull devouring any litter that came its way. “Slow! Kaushik, for god’s sake, slow down! You will kill someone.” pleaded Sneha. Kaushik was too engaged to hear a word, and carried on with his callous drive.

The LED ticker displayed 2200, as he passed by the unusually quiet market place. As he raced past the Natraj Dance Academy, they heard a loud clatter approaching. “The Imperial Cinema’s evening show must have just ended”, she thought. “Kaushik, slow down a bit, there might be a crowd waiting at the next right!” prayed she. But Kaushik had no mood of being lectured, and pushed the accelerator with all his might. “Nooooooooo”, a shriek emanated from desperate Sneha’s lips, as she saw their car hit a cycle. “Bloody kids, can’t even ride a cycle!” cursed Kaushik, as he put all his weight on the race. The rear view mirror carried fading images of a child lying on the road, dripping in blood, and a mob circling around. The salt of Sneha’s tears had completely eaten away her makeup. Kaushik’s hands palpitated, but he kept driving, albeit a little slowly now.

In 10 minutes they were at the “Bhatnagar House”, a magnificent villa located amid the plush greens of “La Exotica”. Charan, their servent came running to open the door. “Charan, bacche so gaye?”, asked Sneha. “Memsahib, baccha log to bakery gaya tha, wo Imperial Cinema ke pas! Aane wala hoga!”, he hesitated to say. She looked towards Kaushik, and stood there dumbfounded. Behind him, the television screen blared loudly “Breaking News! Hit and run case! 2 kids die on spot! Identified as children of Kaushik Bhatnagar, the cotton king!” The ticker below carried a question, “Do you think business rivalry led to their sad demise? Sms us your opinion on 56161.”


The Irony
— Mohit Jain

The cotton of the stained cloth rubbed fiercely against the front right window pane of the cherry red BMW X6. In three swift circular moves, Amit had managed to carve a clean portion to have a look outside. A starved kid knocked at the window, chanting an incoherent plea for food, other arm pointing to his hallowed stomach. He howled at him and shrugged him away. Observing the long array of cars around solemnly, he cursed under his breath. It had been over an hour, and he longed to reach his home, to see his wife and his 14 months old granddaughter, Sukanya.

It was then that his eyes caught him walking across the pavement. He walked slowly, with a patterned limp towards the newly erect M.S. Subaiya building. Of course, he knew him! The images flashed on his windscreen, clear as crystal.

They had been classmates, 30 years back. Amit and Mahesh! Mahesh had always insisted, “Study Amit! Fooling around would not get you anywhere.” And he would invariably respond, “Studies are for the average. I am made for bigger things.” During one such argument, things had got heated up, temperatures rose, and Amit ended up throwing the iron chair on Mahesh’s leg. “You go and study! See how luck plays out. I will be big one day”, he had said. The limp had persisted since then.

He honked to scare away the pigeon settling on the bonnet, while his gaze followed Mahesh’s endeavor. He saw him leaning forward, but the crowd obstructed any further view.

The 12th results were out and Mahesh had topped the district. Amit sulked at the far end of the assembly queue, as their Principal Sir greeted Mahesh, “You have made our school very proud of you, son. You will be very successful, one day”, and hugged him.

It had been 24 years since then. “Did he care about the results now”, he thought to himself, tuning in to FM City. It played some advertisement about some new apartments coming up. “Crap, these radio channels, there is no music these days”, he murmured. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mahesh approaching him. A sense of satisfaction engulfed him, paving way to a smile, a relieved smile.

“Driver, take me to Carter Road! There is just one more inauguration to attend, and then you can call it a day”, said Mahesh, absorbing himself in the comfort of his BMW’s back seat. “Yes Sir!”, said he, turning the key in.


(I would publish 10 stories, 2 a piece. Your stories are invited, jus’ keep them short, within 500 words, and a mandate is a twist in the tail of the tale, however predictable and clichéd it might be.)


Seventy & 3

Posted: November 21, 2009 in Creative, Romance
Tags: , , ,

I feel sad to see my desolate blog. I thought I had started well on my 2009’s resolution, but i guess i fell short, far short. Anyways, as the year starts to dusk, I am back, hopefully for a longer stint. This is a 125 words story I wrote for HT love story contest, 2 weeks ago. Not really win win material, but i sure can devote a li’l space for it here. So I go..

The banyan tree outside the temple had been her abode for a long time. Through her half open cataract eyes, she had seen many people come and go, some carrying hopes, some remorse and some gratitude. That afternoon, as she woke up to a chuckle, an innocent pair of eyes looked straight into hers. There was something about him that pulled her up from her half sleep. It was love at first sight. He would come everyday, and jump straight into her arms, embrace her, kiss her, play with her hair. They talked in unintelligible syllables that only they understood. It was almost divine, their love for each other- his first, her last.

I was just 3 back then, and I still miss her. Amma!

MA Story Writer

Posted: June 26, 2008 in Creative

We had a story writing competition today at MA and we were to use as many words from a set of 80 provided. Here goes a reprint of our (Simon & I) version. the words given and used are highlighted.


A Walk By Memory Lane

It had been 2 days, he was lying there, and he couldn’t feel his legs anymore crushed under the weight of a heavy iron gate. He wasn’t sure anymore if he was alive. A slight twinge confirmed he was. A shriek emanated from his swollen lips but stopped halfway coz’ what he saw next was beyond the most horrible nightmares of his. People were reduced to dirtbags, lying cluttered one over another, everywhere. There was no sign of life whatsoever. The whole city had turned into a big pile of debris. He tried to recall what had happened, and more importantly, who he was. But all he could remember was some people shouting “It’s a meteor. We are all gonna die”. Some said “Alien Attack! Run for your lives”. The voices echoed in his ears.

“Am I the only one left?” he was wondering as he limped his way through the carcass when he stumbled across a mud stained notebook. It was a diary. he flipped open the first page. He read it loud, as if to address an imaginary audience.


I arrived today via Kingfisher airlines, and made a check in at Ginger where I had a strawberry shake and watched the movie Dosti. At night, I went to a bar, with my colleague. It was his birthday, so we ordered a chocolate cake and celebrated it with Signature whisky, amid a rocking environment.


Next morning, I started with reading a review of Titanic and an offer on its booking. Later I watched it too.


Today was my first day at MA. After a fruitful weekend, my heart was pounding as I took a cab to office, and had my first touch of Bangalore’s traffic. After a security check, we marched into the office premises. I took a lift to reach cafeteria and there our training began. We were given presentations on Architecture, Engines, Routing, Dispatch, Automation by their respective team managers. We were also told about a team outing and Town Hall 2008 meeting, and advised to update it in calendar. They also introduced us to Thumbs Up and Josh clubs. Then we were separated into 2 batches, Java and C++. I was given a desktop while some others got a shiny laptop. I checked my first E-mail in my inbox. Then I was assigned my 1st Cr: CR N0. 78627 raised in Clear case regarding Globalization. The CR details had bug number, build details and setup environment. I checked out the latest code. It involved LTL shipment with less than 5 line items, and origin as Thailand, failing in import driver rates scenario. I started my server and logged into the console workspace. Later, I filled non billable hours in netsteps, and sent my status report as an attachment to the manager, after he sent me a template report. It was a lovely day.


As he reached the end of the page, a drop trickled down his moist eyes and washed off the dirt settling on the rest of the name. Mohit. “Yes. This is me. This is my writing. This is my diary. These are my words. I am Mohit”, he exclaimed to himself. “I am Mohit”, he shouted with utmost fervor. Instantly, he felt a wave of pain flowing ferociously through his veins. “I am Mohit”, he murmered in a dying tone as he toppled down. And then, there was stillness again, but for the sound of the pages of the diary, unfurling intermittently owing to the strong careless wind.


And now that I am getting time to read it, its funny how oddly we have managed to tuck the words somehow into the gaps. But then, we had jus’ over 30 minutes. So I guess, that settles it.

Jus’ Talkin’

Posted: June 2, 2008 in Creative

I: “Your life is a dead sea, dude ! No variety, jus’ plain salt. That’s what it is. An absolute bore. Did U hear me? An absolute bore”

I*: “No way buddy ! U r mistaken. I do all the stuff people could only dream of. I wake up when my heart permits, not my alarm clock. I go to work, and read blogs. I chat with my friends. And then after a heavy lunch, and an even heavier sleep in the office’s dorm, I read some more blogs and chat some more. Meanwhile, as a gesture of respect for the payslip I get at every month’s end, I spend few minutes on fixing some minor issues. Major issues can wait, u see, they deserve time. And that’s not it. I come home, play squash. I watch some TV and then I get absorbed in the mysteries of the “LOST” island. And, a few minutes spent in kitchen assisting Cook bhaiya only adds spice to the day. Now, u tell me, how is it boring? How could u not see the variety?”

I: (smiles)

I*: “What? Why don’t u speak now? Tell me, what part of my day is boring?”

I: “.. that U do it all exactly the same way, over n over, everyday. Everyday !”

PS: I & I* hold no resemblance to the author, however apparent it may seem. He is more than happy with whatever his routine is.

And I said,

Posted: April 16, 2008 in Creative

“An empty glass is still full of air.”

“Love is like magic, illogical and beautiful.”

“To wish is free, to be wished is priceless.”

“Love is like magic, almost everyone falls to it.”

“Strong winds can shake my skin, but not the dreams within.”

“Love is like magic, do it, know it. “

“The taste of success is best known by those who never get to taste it.”

“Love is like time, u never seem to have enough of either.”

“The game isn’t over until you have won.”

“Modesty is my middle name, and I choose not to use it!”

“I always believed in Lust at first site, my first site was desib***.com.”

“Life is not about moving on all the time. It is more about stopping at the right places and enjoying the view!”

Modesty is my middle name. And, I choose not to use it!

VIJAYA– It’s Different!!!

Posted: August 10, 2007 in Creative

The cbse result website glared back at her from her pc screen. She had
never anticipated failing, never in her dreams. She thought of all who had
topped the exams. She still couldnt believe it. She had always been a topper. But this time she had
been apprehensive. Her papers werent dat gud. But everyone still expected her to have
broken all records. Family, Teachers, School, District, City et al. She desperately wished she
somehow got better grades. They wished she
could meet them and share her feelings. But she never did. Her divorced parents wished hopelessly she
would forgive their negligience all the way. She could never tell if she
would, one day. She
was angry with them. As she thought of them, she
felt a drop trickle down her eye. She couldn’t take it any more. And then, she
heard the school principal announce the topper’s name, she
thought of her name, and
wondered at the strange coincidence.VIJAYA.
as the school principal spoke, she reflected back at her life in one moment. She..

Incase, u r still wondering wat happened to Vijaya afterwords, u dint really see the difference.
Read it again, this time, read this colored lines first and then go back to this colored ones.

PS: I promise i m never goin to write such stuff again. It took such a heavy toll on me, i cant explain, and not jus’ timewise.

A 6 Word Story

Posted: August 5, 2007 in Creative

Hemingway once wrote a story in just six words (“For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”) and is said to have called it his best work.
I wrote one too..

Different Wars, Different Beginnings, Similar Ends..!!