Saturday, 29 December 2012

..◄▬The final Jump▬►..

       The sound of squealing tyres and squeaking pedals broke the monotony of the isolated patch of road. Vivian pedalled hard with tears streaking his face. Once again he had an argument with his friends. Ha.. if you could call them friends. Ever since he remembered, Vivian never got along well with any homo sapiens. His mother forever encouraged him to make friends but however hard he may try it would be futile. As the site neared, the familiar calm started to soothe Vivian's aggravated conscience. This place was quite different, something was really weird about this place. Nothing much about the climb but it was at the very edge of the town. An uphill ride on his bicycle took him to the place, a clearing which ended in a cliff overhanging a valley which ran about a mile deep. It was here, Vivian found peace, but today that peace seemed tainted. The place seemed aware of not one but two consciences. This quite startled him, for no one ever came all the way up here, it was strange. He was the king of this little kingdom, or that was what he thought so. Vivian propped his cycle along the lone tree which marked this place and squatted in the soil. The breeze was chilling as twilight fast approached. A beautiful shade of scarlet coloured the sun as if it was blushing as it dived into the realms of the horizon. 
        Vivian's dry tears evaporated leaving a colder face making him shiver involuntarily shiver. The view was scenic yet frightening. A single misguided step was enough to fall deep into the deathly valley. Another nagging thought gained precedence as his heart beat faster. How easy would it be to just jump off. All his worries, his vagaries, his problems would just end all of a sudden. So very wonderful. No more pain, no more betrayals, no quarrels. No longer would he have to think of all these man made pretences and act to please the world. This thought fought all other logical signals in his brain and gained dominance over his being. The thought vibrated in his body reaching the tips of his numb fingers. It was an exhilarating prospect. Finally to end it, to culminate this life, why had he not thought of it before. A nervous excitement grew and his legs moved as if they had a life of their own. He strode in a haze  to the very edge of the cliff, arms spread out. The breeze was no longer calm, it beat furiously against his body. His clothes flapping hard. Nothing could describe that wild instinct. As he prepared to fling himself.. a sharp and distinct shout pierced the haze that surrounded his thoughts. Like an arrow meeting its mark, Vivian recoiled and suddenly he was terribly aware of the precipice he was standing upon. A sharp pang of fear gripped his hammering heart as Vivian backed away from the edge of the cliff.
       And there by the tree stood a girl with outlandish clothes, something which was out of the vogue half a decade ago. The same voice tumbled over her lips, " Vivian get back.." Vivian couldn't comprehend what was going on. He slowly walked back towards the tree. The girl smiled but it didn't quite reach her flint black eyes. Those eyes beheld some pain, some unfinished goal. As she spoke a chill passed Vivian's spine, " Vivian what was it you were about to do. Ending your life, who gave you the right to do so..." Her anger was palpable but Vivian could not quite get it why was this unfamiliar girl concerned of him. Vivian couldn't articulated, the exhilaration had left him numb. He just folded down to the ground as a crumpled leaf and let those bone chilling words  wash his mind. The girl continued.. " Don't you ever think of ending your life. It is too precious. you won't realise its price unless you no longer have it." The sun by now had touched the red horizon. The birds were on their return journey to their nests. "Vivian, I know it is frustrating, but you must live on.. Who knows someday, somewhere there is someone made just for you.. Get up now its getting late. Just shake off all your apprehenses and MOVE On.." Vivian was involuntarily following her command. He stood up and took his bicycle to begin his way back home.
     But just as he turned a thought struck hi hard, " Hey.. you, how do you know my name. Isn't it a bit strange?" Instead of an answer the girl smiled, this time a cynical one quite darkening her features making her dangerously beautiful and said, " Vivian why do you think no one comes here. It is so beautiful up here, even then no visitors, its so lonely, no animals, not an insect, ever thought of it?" Vivian was confused just as the girl said," It was here 7 years ago I jumped off to end my life, I didn't want you to.. so I came back just to see you off..bye.." As she jumped off the cliff leaving Vivian in a fearful jumble of emotions..,

Monday, 17 December 2012

The bliss in books

         The time when you pick up a pen to write, the pen streams yours thoughts and ideas putting them together. The flow of visions and opinions all through such a petty seeming device. The mere pen seems so powerful when all seems lost enough. The medium matters as they say. The journey always matters more than the destination. Hence applying this to the skill of writing, we find similar conclusions. The times when we the so called bookworms end up being cooped with another book, such times cannot be scaled with any parameter whatsoever. The world is so infinitely limitless that nothing can encompass it. Writers have often found a vent tho their innermost of ideas and expressions through writing. It is in fact so blissful to admire a write up. Many times we are supposed to write essays during language papers. It is such a calming feeling when you are satisfied by the writing your pen has produced. Such an emotion cannot be bound even by the mighty words.
      Writing provides with the concept which they call as 'Creative satisfaction'. To many it may seem a monotony to sit with a blank page and scribble all over. But a writer brings out worlds and ideas which cannot be marginalised. The days are gone when the quils would have to scribble all along to be replaced by typewriters and later by computers. But any true writer will agree that the real joy still lies to stay loyal to the paper-pen family. Personally I prefer the old pen-paper system. May be it is the sight of the paper, the musky scent of a new page calls to be written upon. The thoughts ache to find a vent. Many times it is not by preparation one can write but a single spark is more than enough. The greatest of writings have emerged of leisure and not of perspiration. The gifted writers who can bring a world to life are the ones whom I admire the most such a great skill it is to make the reader fall in love with the characters of the book. The character of Lyra Belacqua in the golden compass trilogy by Phillip Pullman makes one experience the pain and devastation of the girl in the earnest. The descriptions of the lunch by the picnics in Enid Blyton's series bring water to our tempted lips. The mysterious twists and surprises penned by MR. Dan Brown  make our hearts beat in a flurry. This gift of living the book is equally appreciated in a reader. Such a wonderful blessing it is to be able to have a great expanse of awesome authors out there beckoning us the so called bookworms. Be proud to be one. 

Monday, 3 December 2012

The penfriend - part 2

                                An emotion unknown to Deep untill that very moment surrounded his auricles and ventricles. The strong feeling to give joy and receive in return. His five minus one senses were enhanced as if by some strange power. As Ron's yelps quietened Deep found his diction and was able to articulate and said, "I can't beleive its you. After all these 3 years finally I get to meet you in flesh and bone." Kaamika's voice answered, "Umm.. yes we finally do meet." Deep fumbled for Ron's leash, "Here, take it" said Kaamika as she handed him the leash. The pair started walking down the street returning to Deep's house. Kaamika strapped her cross satchel and walked at a steady pace. " It was I who was supposed to pick you up and not the other way round. By the way how did you recognise me?" said Deep. Kaamika replied in her sweet voice, " I really don't know. I just saw you sprawling in front of the car and rushed over. Actually I didn't know it was you till i caught up your distant gaze". A bit surprised Deep inquired, " How do you know of my blindness. Never mentioned in any of those letters." " You have got a very very nice mom you know.. " And then it dawned on Deep that his mother had betrayed him. May be she had seriously added that P.S in the very first letter. Now he had a complaint to sort out with his mother. But that could wait. At least now he didn't have to worry how he would have broken the news without a sense of akwardness.
                       " You must be tired lets get home quickly", said Deep. As they reached Deep's place, Kaamika flashed a brilliant smile to Deep's Mom, exchanged pleasantries and went on to freshen up. " She's a nice girl" Deep's mother ridiculed Deep. Deep gave a mock frown and said, " We need to talk of that 'P.S'-". "Oh dear so she told you. We'll talk about it later." replide Deep's mother. As Kaamika descended down the steps having freshened up, Deep sensed her presence and called out, " hey come on let's go out for a walk" The afternoon sun had now toned down its intensity and was gradually moving towards the horizon. Kaamika nodded in response and though Deep couldn't see it but sensed her affirmation. Kaamika and Deep set out towards the beach that lay a mile wide off Deep's house. As they walked under the weakening sun's shroud they talked and talked, on topics however insignificant and vast ranging from their hobbies to their passions. The clouds shaded their path as Deep opened up like never before. All his hitherto unknown secrets tumbled like an uncontrolled rivulet.. Unlike with others, Deep felt so calm in Kaamika's presence. Deep pointed in the direction from where he could hear the waves crashing gently on shore. The sand under their feet felt so smooth and relaxing. The sun had almost kissed the horizon. The glow could be felt on their flushed and happy countenance. Even the Gods would have envied this one of a kind friendship.

            They talked for a time which seemed to span eons. Kaamika's worries, Deep's ideas, their wishes everything spilled all around mingling and mixing like an amalgam of pure innocence and love. As the topics came closer to their hearts one could see the moist eyes glistening in the twilight. And Deep said, "How very happy I am today. How so lucky I am to have found a friend in you. If only He had given me the ability to behold you in my vision." pointing towards the encasing sky. Kaamika said, " Even I had never thought of such a wonderful person existing in this unfair world." She closed her eyes and uttered a single phrase, "O God Please.!". And there was this sudden streak across the muted sky and a blinding roar of the sea. As they both screwed their eyes to avoid the intensity. Deep opened his eyes a fraction later for the first time in his life not to darkness but vision. To be lost again in those beautiful eyes of the girl who sat beside him and had given him the most precious gift one could give the gift to see.. As they saw miracles happen. All you need a pinch of unwavering belief.. do believe for miracles do happen.... !

Sunday, 2 December 2012

The penfriend - part 1

      Deep rubbed his eyes as he woke to the gentle chime of the alarm clock by his bedside table. His hair askew and sleep still clutching tightly at the ends of his consciousness. Deep gathered his thoughts, organised them and smiled. The smile of pure joy and innocence. The smile which brightened the weary days of many a people. Deep made his way towards the restroom and refreshed himself. His mother called him for the steaming hot breakfast. The aroma of the molten butter on the hot cooked parathas roasted to a finesse enticed him to quicken his pace. As he passed down the stairs he felt the warm glow of the morning sun bathe him in bliss. Everyday Deep would stand at this very step and bask for a while, as if recharging his battery for the day. Today he couldn't spare a moment for it. Today his penfriend was to meet him personally. It had been three years since he had been corresponding with her. Every week Deep would sit with his mother persuading her to write for him, Deep hardly wrote himself, he would speak his heart out while his mom would write it down for him in her beautiful handwriting.
      Deep quickly gobbled a couple of aloo parathas and whistled for Ron his five year old golden retriever. Ron came bounding over and  yelping in joy. Deep put on his comfy sneakers and rolled up Ron's leash in his grip and set out towards the Velpan railway station. Deep's thoughts constantly kept wandering towards his penfriend, Kaamika. As Ron, the retriever rollicked at a leisurely pace matching his four paws with Deep's couple. He heard someone call out his name, and at once understood it was the town baker calling from the inner sanctum of his bakery. Deep waved his hand in response. As Deep thought how would it be to hear Kaamika talk in person. The flow of gentle rivulet of words from the those unfamiliar yet longing chords. The rhythm of a strange note which had yet been discordant. As the station neared, the pace of his steps found a sense of urgency and eagerness as Ron still bounded ahead of him.
            As Deep heard the shrill whistle of the train engine chugging onto the platform, he threw away Ron's leash and dashed towards the sound of the train. And then.. kreesh!!.. the sound of stern brakes rubbing against reluctant tyres sounded. As Deep fell he felt a unfamiliar yet strangely soothing touch on his shoulder. As he stood with the help of the unfamiliar identity he heard the vehicle driver croon in a harsh voice,.." Abee dikhta nahi hai kya?? ". At the same instant he heard another melodious lilting voice enquire with a sense of trepidation, "Are you all right?" The voice almost brought him back to the ground, his knees wobbly. But then he stood and heard Ron barking at the vehicle driver. Deep caressed his hackles to calm Ron. The melodious voice strummed again and said; " I am Kaamika.." And then Deep's joy knew no bounds for he was finally hearing the penfriend whose words had enraptured his conscience for three years. How Deep wished for this very instant to have a pair of eyes to behold this moment, the very power of sight which the creator had denied him.. 
                                                                .... To be continued...

Wednesday, 21 November 2012


             "I was distracted" How many times do I get to hear this phrase nowadays. Just a couple of days back I heard a 2nd grade boy say it. How amusing it was that little kid saying it so nonchalantly. Distracted is something which we all are. Every one of us has that peculiar distraction which we fall prey to. However hard we may try it is there somewhere lurking in the shadows ready to pounce every moment exactly when we do not wish to be distracted. Yes so funny that when one decides with great will to complete a particular task. The level of enthusiasm is so high you can sense it in the surrounding air. It is contagious too and of course human nature. From what I observed I could say that, that two tendencies follow with a few exceptions. Whenever we observe any sort of action in our surroundings passively or actively some sort of an impression is left on our consciousness. And somehow we do get influenced by it. The two tendencies could be exemplified as follows: When a person student sees a fellow student studying( or at least trying to.. :p) There are two reactions generally. One is either the observer gets inspired to study himself or herself or the other way round it is that the observer tries to dissuade the other person from studying. Unfortunately the second tendency is generally observed to a much greater extent.
              I once read a very factual line( in fact one behind one of those Sundaram notebooks). It goes as.. " The world would have been a much better place had the people thought more for their own happiness than for the sorrows of others".. The green monster of envy plagues every  field today. May it be sports, literature, politics, arts, even sadly science. May be this is the root cause of dissent which seems to be omnipresent worldwide. When I read of the Gaza strip bombings a corner of my heart burns to see those innocent children and women alike die in heaps for the sake of some narrow minded ambitions. But don't let the monster of anger creep in here.. The sake of pity and a short prayer follows my thoughts to bless those with prudence and common sense which is becoming quite uncommon today. It is simply easy for me to type this venture of my mind, but humongously difficult to bring it into practise. Even then as Kasab hangs on a noose somewhere a shimmer of radiance sparks and encourages to spread the word of satisfaction and harmony.. :D.. 
P.S: as I re-read this draft So factually I observed as how I got distracted from the main topic of DISTRACTION.. Such an Irony life is

Monday, 19 November 2012

..The trio..

          The jeep screeched to a halt with a billowing cloud of dust exploding at its rear end. The three passengers jerked ahead at this sudden stop. The three passengers made a strange trio. The first was a lean and well built guy, Prateek, A medium heighted girl with short cropped hair in trekking gear called Sybill and lastly Ric a nervous looking guy who constantly kept clutching at a pendant studded in diamond around his neck. The trio, all in their late teens jumped out off the rickety automobile, "where in the world are we?", asked a frustrated Prateek. "Prateek, relax man we are yet to begin exploring and you are already raising your mercury", gestured Sybill.
         They propped up their bag packs complete with all trekking gear and provisions to last a week. In the distance Ric glance a couple of shambling huts and started towards them still clutching at his pendant. Prateek signalled Sybill to follow as they abandoned the jeep and strutted towards the huts. Ric readied himself to knock at the decaying door of one of the huts  when he sensed someone approaching him. He moved a couple of steps back just in time to see an old woman stooped over a rusty walking stick. Prateek called out for the woman, but instead got a shove from the gutsy old woman. A blatant streak of malevolence marked that wrinkled face as the woman kept shoving the trio away, with considerable vigour for her age. Constantly she was muttering in an unknown tongue and pointed towards the way from which they had arrived. Sybill the more daring of the three walked up to the woman to restrain her, but the woman was quicker as she backed up and screamed a single phrase, " Go away!!" and ran away further into the woods which surrounded the huts. "One heck of a woman she was", said Prateek as he  modulated his GPS to local co ordinates. The trio had arranged for a week of exploration in an hitherto unknown village in the Sahyadris.
          "Isn't is strange that no accomplished explorers thought of this place", remarked Ric. "May be its our destiny to explore this one". "Ah! DESTINY I fear this word", gushed Ric. "Vokkay! so let us begin our journey to the unknown shall we?" humoured Prateek mimicking Ric's nervous tone. Led by Sybill the trio started on their track with nothing but their senses and a GPS to aid them. For about two hours they kept on marching evading the foliage towards a general direction. They had selected a unknown hill for exploration. It was Ric who was fiddling with Google Earth(TM) when he chanced upon a blank patch in the vast Sahyadris. Even Wiki couldn't provide much info about that particular place. A great novelty for Ric who had grown up worshipping wikipedia(TM). In the distance Sybill could see a giant Oak tree.
          "Stop Sybill. we'd rather follow the trodden path" called Ric. He had been rather apprehensive coming to this trek. He had cursed himself many times for showing Prateek and Sybill the blank patch, both of whom were ardent trekkers. After about a few yards or so they arrived at the oak tree. The tree was quite huge but that was all. It lay embedded in solid rock, which made it stranger still. Prateek caught up with Ric and Sybill panting all the way and threw down his bag pack near the oaken roots. " I am famished Sybill, I have been carrying 2 kg extra than both of you. For Gods' sake I am just 13 days older than you Sybill", and pointing at Ric, " 76 days for you". "Okay Prateek, chill lets take a break.", smirked Sybill. "Ouch!!", Ric exclaimed as he caught his foot wobbling around. "For the last time I say, Ric you are no Ronaldo. What on earth were you thinking trying to kick that rock." Ric had missed the rock by quite distance and had instead hit at the junction of the the oak and the wall of solid rock." I wasn't.. "
          Prateek stood up and went over to the junction and exclaimed, "Hey, wait both of you. I can see a crevice here" Prateek hit at the junction sideways as the solid seeming rock gave way and exposed a dark tunnel. A gasp escaped Sybill's lips as she peered into the darkness. All fatigue vanished as Prateek and Sybill strapped on their bag packs. " Come on Ric" called Sybill. " I feel something is not right guys", said Ric, "Oh don't be a spoil sport come on.", came Prateek's voice echoing slightly from the tunnel. Ric clutched dearly at his diamond pendant and said a short prayer before following them. Sybill still led them to a particular point in the tunnel where she stopped for all to catch up. It was pitch darkness all around. Ahead of them lay a narrow tunnel which could fit at the max one person at a time. Ric's sense of anxiety was heightened by this discovery. He was a bit claustrophobic.He had agreed for this exploration as it wouldn't involve closed space. But now here he was, "Come on guys we are on the verge of discovery i can feel it in my bones", said a visibly excited Sybill. To which Ric replied' " Somethings are rather left undiscovered." These words rang out spookily throughout the tunnel which made even the daring Sybill hesitate a bit. But she soon gathered her wits and entered the tunnel. Prateek followed her and finally Ric. He wouldn't like being left alone. As they progressed the path underneath became steeper and the walls came closer. The path soon turned into an incline and now they had to use their hands to pull themselves up the steep tunnel. Darkness hung around them like a viscous fluid as if one could cut a solid slice through it.
                  Ric apprehension faded only to be replaced bv stranger emotion, fear. He could feel that even Sybill and Prateek were now beginning to regret their decision. The path was now steep enough to be a slope of a hill. Minutes dragged to hours and the darkness gnawed at their creepiest nightmares. And when Sybill was about to call out for her friends a blazing beam of light hit her retina. The blaze almost blinded her after the solid darkness, "Yippee", shouted Sybill," Speak up now cry baby Ric!", exclaimed Prateek as the trio stepped out to a clearing wide enough for a camp. Sybill threw off her bag pack and skipped around. Going to the very edge of the clearing she looked around. They were atop the peak of the hill they had seen from the Oak. The peak was strangely flat. Prateek  set about looking at the tunnel walls of the tunnel they had just come through. He moved his palm around the walls of the tunnel. The walls were curved in a concave manner giving the place a feel of a very high cave a very high cave indeed. from the clearing Ric could see for quite a distance. He spread out his arms completely enticed by the raw beauty. He felt a sudden urge to jump off the cliff. Mother nature beckoning him towards her in an open embrace. "HEY RIC! wat ya doing? step back!", Sybill's urgent voice pulled him back to his senses. Ric felt he was standing at the very edge of the cliff with his arms spread out. Just a single step would take him deep down infinitum into the valley. Spooky that was, someone or something had made him do that wielding his will. "Guys come on over here", Prateek called out. "See!". Sybill and Ric squinted to see at a patch on the walls Prateek was pointing at. There was a motif you couldn't call it a painting of the most beautiful pair of eyes they had ever seen. Painted in crude red, The eyes wafted a sense of primal fear and respect in the nooks of one's heart."See I had told you we'd discover something. These seem to be some sort of ancient cave paintings." smugly said Sybill. "Oh! but I thought that the Neanderthals painted hunting scenes and not gorgeous eyes", joked Prateek. Ric was still mesmerised glaring deep at those eyes. And then he felt a tug at his diamond pendant. It was twice in a span of few minutes that Ric had been enticed. It didn't seem right. "Guys let's leave. I don't fell right, this place gives me the creeps."

                    "Now, Now Ric I am not going to listen to you. Had I listened to you we wouldn't have discovered this beauty", reprimanded Sybill. "let's spend a night. I'll set up a camp fire. You Ric gather your wits and scavenge those packs for a evening meal". Reluctantly Ric did according to Sybill's instructions. All the time clutching at the pendant. The sun set at a tardy pace immersing the surroundings in a silent shroud of darkness. Only the campfire simmered splashing their faces with a dull scarlet glow. The trio had their meal in complete silence listening to the unnatural quietness. "Isn't it strange you can't even hear a single insect quite strange",said Ric."Shut it Ric!", enjoy the night it might be your last", joked Prateek nudging him in the ribs. As the trio gently drifted to drowsy state and slept peacefully. Swissh.. 
                  Ric woke up, It was still damn dark.. He heard it.. quite sure of it. Quickly Ric looked around and woke up Sybill who was snoring beside him. and then he saw.. A shrouded figure bent over the limp body of Prateek. As the figure turned he saw those starkly beautiful eyes. That sight drew upon strange primal fear. So ancient which didn't have any logical reason. Just stark fear. Forcibly Ric averted his gaze and pushed Sybill aside away from the figure. But it was late Sybill had surrendered all her senses to those eyes. Ric clutched at his pendant took one last look and went to the very edge of the cliff. The very place where mother nature had beckoned him.. And then he simply jumped off. The last thing his mortal ears heard was the shrill scream shout finding its way through Sybill's throat and then Ric's heart gave away....
                    A giant Oak tee loomed ahead of the excited gang of teens. The seven teens stood staring at the unnaturally half embedded tree. As one of them stooped to pick up a glittering object in the foliage. It was a diamond pendant a bit tarnished. As his fingers closed around the crystal a strange lost conscious thought rubbed against his heart. "Somethings are rather left undisturbed.. " And then that guy ran, ran for his life leaving the six of them smirking and laughing explorers ridiculing him. As the 6 stepped into the dark tunnel treading happily towards death.....!

Sunday, 18 November 2012

A bit about a new blog called Futuremakers..

                A bit about a new blog by my friend Mohit Karekar called Futuremakers. A new vista has been opened for all those out there whose only power and inspiration is uncontrolled frustration. The blog is vent to newer thoughts and personal opinions based only on observation and sheer observation. Personally speaking the blog has many new thoughts and minute observations. A newer fact is that the posts not only highlight the problems but also provide a scope for solutions and practical steps. It although very early to speak much about it but the posts provide enough promise for the future. I have tried my level best to spread the news about a smaller revolution rising which derives its source of inspiration is self reflection. Hopefully all those who sincerely wish to be a part of a new revolution which isnt all about speeches and thought but being the change..

Monday, 12 November 2012

...The immortal wait...

                     The old man sat rocking back and forth on the oak chair creaking due to the lack of oiling. His large frame spectacles lay askew on his belly which had shrunk considerably, while the newspaper lay drapped over over his once wide chest. He gazed into the distance as far as his dwindling eyesight could reach out. The door of the cottage lay open and the wall withering due to the onslaught of the natural forces. He thought of the good old days when he was a commander in the Royal army. The days when you had to kill each individual enemy with a stab or a shot in the chest, when there were no missiles or bombs to aid you. Only the treacherous short range rifles which gave way at the wrong moment. As a heavy curtain of nostalgia closed around his consciousness. The day when he left his wife and son for war duty. His memory still vividly remembered the pleading look in the eyes of his son. Those innocent eyes begged for his father with such intensity which could melt the hardest and cruelest of hearts. His son, ohh.. his son the topic of pride of the family was his life. Every moment of his life had been spent striving for the well being of his dearest child. The days when the boy would fall sick, the days when he would hurt himself, all these cursed days the old man had spent praying and pampering his son.
                His son had been a bright student. The old man had sold all his possessions, his war medals, his rifle, his land, everything he possessed, only for his son. To send him abroad so that he could study and make him even prouder. And the son had made him proud. Grabbing all scholarships and laurels to give away. The old man lay waiting, he was pretty excited today, his son was to return that day. This pleasant thought brought back the old man to the present. As he stood to light the kerosene lamp. He lit the match stick and put it to the lamp to dispel the dimness being induced by the fast approaching twilight.
                  'Damn it' the professor cursed as the sharp swish indicated that his cycle tyre had punctured. As he stumbled off the cycle. The cycle had chosen the worst place possible. He could sense eerie aura of the rumoured cottage which loomed behind him. The villagers had told him a wide variety of rumours about this very dilapidated cottage. It wasn't as if he believed in these childish tales, a professor of science as he was. Old folk tales as he had dismissed them. But now as he turned to look at the cottage a cold hand of fear clutched at his hammering heart. He saw the improbable. The dull glow of an antique kerosene lamp and heard the creak of a oak chair. Just had the villagers had made him picturise. Every evening for the last 37 years one could hear the incessant creak and the dull glow in this cottage whose owner, grumpy old man had been killed by his own son...

Saturday, 13 October 2012

The *Shooting star*

                The night dragged on as the stars shimmered from far beyond and afar. Kshitija sat gazing in the balcony of her home. Her brown eyes gazed into the horizon the same horizon which had christened her. The moon was a shiny disc of pure and divine silver light. The strum of a single grass hopper pierced the silence of the night shroud. As Kshitija closed her eyes and listened to the high pitched incessant stir of the grasshopper. It was soothing and eerily hypnotising. She sat alone and let her consciousness drift on the waves of imagination and  strike the shores of infinity. She cruised over the beautiful cloak of black spread all around her with her dreamy gaze.
                The night wore on and so did the chill. The ambience was ecstatic and then she saw it. A bright tail of fire striking hard in contrast to the dark sky blazing in an descending arc. She hadn't ever seen a shooting star but had always hoped to. And today she was here witnessing the myriad phenomenon. She was a true romantic at heart. As she winked at the star she wished fervently from the corners of her golden heart. She could sense a strange feeling of contentment as she saw the star fade by, still mesmerised by its grandeur. All she had wished for the happiness of her friend, in fact her only friend Yasika. Her friend had been fighting a losing battle against an incurable disease, but one could hardly say so. The night was truly turning out to be a special one. For it was the first time in many years that kshitija was alone in the balcony as as against her daily nocturnal star gazing rendezvous with Yasika. As thoughts became more muddled, Kshitija fell asleep, her head propped against the cool railing..
               A flashing beam awoke Kshitija as accompanied by a strange mourn. Kshitija gently rubbed her eyes to glance around subconsciously reaching for the absent pillow only to realise that she had fallen asleep in the balcony. She rose and now could clearly hear the pitiful mourn. The source was somewhere below her. she leaned against the railing only to see a procession of white clad mob wailing and carrying her precious friend on their shoulders. A single tear drop rolled past her eyes as Kshitija smiled seeing the calm demeanour of her friend who had been elevated by the shooting star of all pain and had now mingled with the pages of the past..

Sunday, 16 September 2012

Another original "That day"

                                         In the town of Velpan yet another day dragged on. The tranquil that entombed was dreadening. The birds weren't their chirpy best. But the wind was considerably vociferous. The wind blew shrilling whistles and engorged all other sounds. The towners had limited themselves to their boundaries of the so called safe havens. This day was a bit unusual even for Velpan. In the mansion of  'Viranis', Vidyuta just another girl in her mid teens sat beside a rickety window. Her flint black eyes stared into the distance. The gaze was impeccable. You could see her sitting still but her mind had already played game of catch. It was whirling rapidly with an array of thoughts. The tumultuous wind had made her parents stay back at her aunt's place, she thought so lonely. Her hand automatically moved towards the window latch but is was open as she proceeded to open the window it sprang open as if it had a life of its own.
                                         The wind was with her today. The sky had turned silver. The mild sun sent out a glazed beam diluted even further by the fluffy yet mighty clouds. The wind started blowing inside. Brushing against her face, tickling her ears and rustling her hairs. It was enthralling. A gentle smile crept its way to the corner of her lips. She bent her neck to look at the diary she had on her lap. 13th September 2012. A single red patch of ink caught her sight She glanced aside and faced the wind. It had been along time since she had smiled. Everyday was gloomy for her for she had no friends. No one befriended this strange girl, the girl who confined herself to the myriad world of books. Sometimes she would be more of a book than a girl. She had lived the magic of Hogwarts, flew on Saphira the dragon, solved mysteries with Poirot, she crept up in the Arena with Katniss Everdeen and shouldered her in her duels. Lyra Belacqua, Eragon, Frodo Baggins, Hermione Granger, Annabeth Chase all had lived in her
                                           And then she caught a glimpse of a couple in the distance standing still. How could she have missed it. She ran out of the mansion gates and pranced towards the couple. Ah! it was her Mom and Dad. But something was wrong. A single tear drop glistened on her Mom's face. As she neared she tried to avoid a slab of granite and then.. she lost her balance and fell over. Vidyuta grimaced readying for the pain but there was none. She turned her head slightly to look at the slab. On the slab was newly etched.
                                Vidyuta Virani (17th April 1995 - 13th September 2012)

Monday, 20 August 2012

Just Thoughts on Deja vu

Deja- vu read this word about a few years back. Didn't know what it is untill one of my sirs' explained me. That spooky feeling when u think an event has occurred and it is repeating again in front of you. Really very spooky at times. Even when I write this I think i have already written this blog. The feeling of deja vu makes us realize in very small measures the power that our mind holds. The slightest taste of something supernatural is brought upon us. 

Three part series original

  Atharva the same boy from the town of Velpan was sitting in his swing. This swing held a very special place for him. His entire childhood had been woven around this very swing. As usual he had a book propped in his arms. The other world did not exist for him now. This consciousness was long lost in the engrossing pages of the book. This particular book intrigued him a lot. The librarian was very reluctant to lend this book. Even the book was not bound by Atharva in the library shelves.
     It was just a matter of chance that Atharva could find this book. After a tirade of arguments Atharva could finally borrow the book. The librarian had though warned him. "Beware" was the word the librarian had uttered. Presently Atharva couldn't take off his eyes from the mysterious pages of the book, it wasn't unusual but a bit strange. The book didn't have a story. It wasn't that Atharva was reading the book. It was SURELY THE OTHER WAY ROUND. The book was reading Atharva A sudden chill passed his spine. The swing seemed to shake a bit wayward. Atharva couldn't comprehend the circumstances. And without a warning the swing twisted around its hinges and shattered into infinity. Atharva couldn't hold his ground and tripped over his feet. The book was lying beside him. Atharva stood, staggering a bit he checked his watch, his favorite one. The watch had stopped functioning. A wave of disappointment washed his mind. As his senses sombred, Atharva could picture the surroundings. A shrill yet soothing voice was singing softly somwhere ahead. It was so familiar. The same voice had sung lullabies to him untill a few days back.
    Atharva was pulled magically towards the voice, beckoning him, stronger than a magnet attracting a piece of Iron. This force was, this bond, was something stronger far stronger. In a trance Atharva strolled towards the voice. And then there was a streak in the sky and a bolt of lightning struck. Swisshhh!!! Atharva had almost given up. But somebody had just pushed him away. As he fell over he sensed the singing voice drown away and finally cease. And this was enough to bring him back to his senses. He rubbed his eyes and what did he see!! A girl about his own age was standing beside him. She had a distant look in her eyes. Something bewitching. Her pearl blue eyes were just as stark as the bolt of lightning across the sky. She held power of may be centuries. And the she disappeared.
     Atharva was shell shocked. These appearances weird. The kept luring him.

Thursday, 14 June 2012

pouring my thoughts

sometimes everyone must have experienced it that we cannot pour out our thoughts or even bind them to rational values set by the ethics. We feel muddled and lost. In crowd yet secluded far away from all, all alone. When you don't have anyone to share your thoughts with, it is frustrating at times and then we take out our anger on somebody else which we dont mean to do. Then it is followed by repentance which is even more frustrating. Wish I could garner more control on my speech and hold my tongue, but it will take time. Nevertheless there is an improvement, whenever i now get angry i take a deep breath and then bless the person towards whom our anger is directed.
    The results are immediate and awesome, slowly I don't feel like talking a lot. Like being alone. It may be a bit wrongly classified by some but it is right for me and works.

Tuesday, 5 June 2012

One more story this too ORIGINAL

                              In the same town of Velpan was a boy called Atharva. He was about fifteen years of age. Being a lone child he had a subdued childhood. He never usually liked to mingle with children of his own age. Not his fault though because it was his nature and one cannot change a person's nature no matter how hard one tries. This loneliness had another effect on Atharva. He found peace and tranquil in books and his imagination flourished. He literally lived in a world of his own where harry potter co existed with Sherlock Holmes.
                     Once Atharva was returning from his school. As usual he enjoyed school, not so much because it was fun but because there in school he could lose himself in the myriad world of books. On his way home on the school bus he was gazing through the windows at the real world that was not very significant through his eyes. He could see the dark rain clouds clustering together in the sky and slowly enveloping the world in blight shadows. One could hear the distant roar and rumble of the clouds, as if someone with a hoarse voice was whispering dark secrets. The trees gushed in rhythm with the wind, anticipating the drops of the first rain of the season. The ambiance was splendid enough to take Atharva into yet another revere.
                      He never ever liked soaking in the rain but yes this day seemed different. He saw a few streaks of lightning flash by making a striking sight against the dark sky. And suddenly as if to bring Atharva back to this real world the bus jerked and came to a harsh screeching halt. As all heads int the bus turned questioningly towards the bus driver, every one already knew the answer. The bus had had yet another breakdown and would take some time to repair. Atharva let out a sigh and got out of the bus his bag flung on his shoulder. The sudden chill of the cold wind caught him unawares. The atmosphere was truly heavenly. All the students had disembarked and were strolling about in groups, except of course for Atharva. And the fell the first drops of rain. The subtle tickle of rain drops, accompanied by the gentle breeze. As it dawned on everyone they started hunting for a shelter to seek refuge from the eminent shower.
                     All but one remained rooted to the spot, and you know who it was. The drops gained momentum and then it was a slight drizzle. Subconsciously Atharva could hear voices calling him to take shelter but he didn't, he couldn't, he wouldn't respond. Someone was holding him back. The drizzle was now a shower rapidly gaining momentum. The rain falling on his shoulders and drenching his head was welcome to him. Atharva realised it was the first time he had ever been drenched in the rain. All memories of rain he had read in books.. Le Miserables, The Tempest, came flooding by. He had till that moment only read what it was to feel the torrential rain beating against one's entire being. This was new feeling exhilarating and soothing at the same time. He was now completely lost in the rain. Never before had he felt so elated, so blessed. Why today? And then out of the blue a flash of lightning came straight out of the sky and struck just a feet away. All feeling came crashing back to Atharva and he felt his heart hammering against his rib cage vaguely he heard some students scream as he lost consciousness.....

          {Just yesterday Atharva had lost his dear mother. The rain had never soothed him, in fact he had detested it till the day. Today it was his mother who had reached the heavens and sent a blessing for her child. This rain had made him aware that his mother would never leave him alone and unhappy. She would always be there above watching and sending him subtle messages to decipher and this was one.........}

Wednesday, 30 May 2012

How do i feel of the west

As mentioned time and again I am a great fan of books. But when I saw a little deeper into my book lists and the authors that I have read I was surprised to find a majority of the authors to be European. My favourite being J.K. Rowling, then comes Sir Arthur conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, Michael scott, Rick riordion (not european), Dan brown, and the list is always varying except for the first name. Why do I feel drawn towards the west authors and when there is quite a legacy of Great authors in my country India. When I think a bit more I do understand that may be I have not yet come in contact of any Indian book which could truly touch me except of course my all time favourite by Mrs. Sudha Murthy. It feels sometimes guilty to not have read a lot of Indian books. Truly its is a bit reddening but fact is a fact and I hardly try to deviate from the facts.
 I got the answer finally, quoting a proverb " the grass is always greener on the other side ". May be this is the only reason.. Yes may be it is so. But truly any passionate reader will not deny the fact that the old world charm that emergeres out of the writings of Sir doyle and Madame agathe christie is superb and enchanting.
  The books are finally nothing but the thoughts of an author personified.. I read this line on a navneet notebook which is so true " Books are like landscapes varying with the state of consciousness of the reader "
  So now the guilt recedes when i realize we all are the children of a singular entity. There is no such thing as West or East. or for the matter north or south. At least in literature.... :P

Monday, 28 May 2012

A story written entirely by me.. ORIGINAL

             A sunny morning in the town of Velpan. Kshitij was up early as usual. His best friend Ric the dog was following him, sometimes jumping, sometimes sprinting, all the time wagging its tail, full of happiness. Kshitij had taken his small box of snacks and his favourite water bottle. Daily he would go to the meadows a little distance from Velpan.
             The birds chirped as they woke up from a deep slumber of the day before. The clouds were fluffy like cotton candy and the sun a bright yellow ball smiling down on Kshitij and Ric. After walking for a little while Kshitij decided to camp out on the small puny hillock ahead of him. A huge Banyan tree stood there wide and mighty like a grandfather guarding his grandson.Kshitij spread out his favourite sheet and unpacked the snacks. Ric was leaping around and barking with joy. A little while later Kshitij felt drowsy and sleepy, having filled his tummy. The cool shade of the banyan tree was quite soothing. His lunch basket lay half filled. Kshitij thought of having a nap and then finishing the lunch later on. Sleep overtook his eyes and within seconds kshitij was fast asleep. The birds chirruped him unto a lullaby and how pleasing was the sight of the little kid curled under the banyan tree contentment and bliss over his innocent sleeping face.
           But suddenly KShitij woke up with a jolt. Rubbing his sleepy eyes he saw around himself . To his surprise, the lunch basket had vanished. Ric was nowhere to be seen. Kshitij was quite a brave lad. He quickly got up whistled his favourite tune calling out for Ric. All of a sudden Ric came bounding down from the edge of the woods. KShitij hugged him and ruffled his fur. Ric was barking eagerly. Kshitij now wanted to find who had stolen his lunch basket
         He told Ric to sniff around and find the scent of the lunch basket. At once became alert and started trudging towards the woods Kshitij followed him, though he was feeling a bit afraid. Ric led him right into the heart of the woods. What a surprise lay for him there. There was a small hut inside these very woods. Mustering courage Kshitij shouted, "Who took my lunch basket? Come and return it else Ric will come and bite you." After a few moments he saw a boy of about his age come out from the hut. He was wearing ragged clothes and had nothing on his feet. Kshitij was dumbfounded to see his lunch basket with the little boy. HE approached him and asked, " Who are you and why did you take my basket away?"
       The boy started sobbing and said. " I am Sumer and I was very hungry. Please forgive me, I haven't eaten anything yet. I was going to return this basket". Kshitij felt sad seeing the frail boy. HE took him to the meadows and gave him half of the remaining snacks. The boy was mighty pleased and ate away ravenously. Kshitij then played a while with Sumer and enjoyed to his heart's content. Thus they became friends and this friendship remember came out of generous yet innocent heart and a open mind. So as always just be open to new thoughts and enjoy your life.

Life so good if we  look at it through different angle... but how to find that angle paralax... In my life.. i like rading books.. they realy give me a sense of fulfillment... its a good addiction.. how one can lose oneself in the myriad blessings of life... we have to look at the brighter side always...... Why did we make life complicated? Why cant we just get up and Live as we wish?.. Do we really need this thing called science.... Its wonderful ofcourse but just look at the cons.... if life was as simple as a copule and half millenia ago.... how content we would be...

India.. my country is still so connected with the cosmic life we ever stop to think...what is our eventual result...where shall we ende up...................... i just wish that we tap the treasurehouse of our mind and then glance thru those vivid eyes............
The academy award winning movie Hugo, watched it Ben Stiller does an awesome job in the movie. The cinematography is impeccable. I would recommend others to do watch it. I have watched and cherished a few select movies which could penetrate deep into my thoughts. I would surely like to put forth to all. They are:
  • Shala- a Marathi movie reminds something to all those who watch it.
  • Narnia voyage of the dawn treader- liked it for its visuals and the only movie to have come closest to the book.
  • Swades- my all time favourite. Every time I watch it, it is heartwarming and all the soundtracks and songs are touching forever.

Monday, 21 May 2012

why do i blog

Writing this blog i don't have any specific aims. Like many have of making money. I simply love to pour out myself and wait if any body out there on the WWW has an inclination to my thoughts and opinions and have the  grace of evaluating my thoughts. Till my junior college I wasn't interested in blogging but suddenly i found some blogs which are more than interesting.
 recently when I was reading Eight cousins for the second time i realised how beautiful the language of the author is. I have always had a liking for the old world charm of the books perhaps that is the reason that i have writers like Enid blyton, Agatha Christie, Alcott, Viktor Hugo and others in my small unorganised library. I always respect those who have a passion for reading, because reading makes you think a lot. I prompts u to action and never lets you down in time of need.
Every reader a true one of course must be familiar with the smell of a book which is so pleasing though it may sound weird to others. I really really love reading and wish to find others who do the same

Thursday, 10 May 2012

How I feel as a book lover

Books though many may deny are often the solace in times of despair and in delight.
Sifting through authors and books whose authors prefer to be anonymous have given me a lot. Though i guess very few would read this passage but it is the truth.
currently I am reading the Nicolas flamel series by michael scott. Yes a good book to read. I am surprised how i didn't come across it earlier. When my mad house hunt to find a good book was almost about to dwindle i found this book on a site called a heaven for those especially those who have recently finished a book series and are feeling lonely.

I surely know how depressing it is to end a loved book series but this series has given something to look forward too. Let's see what happens next.