Showing posts with label Short n Sweet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short n Sweet. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

3WW #1

"OUCH! Please be gentle John!" Janet creased her forehead in wariness of the pain that she anticipated.
"Oh, c'mon don't be such a baby! It's nothing but a scratch." John said to her condescendingly while examining the wound.
It had been no more than a few weeks since the brother sister duo had moved in with their family into the neighbourhood.
"Really? You try falling from a bike on a rough sidewalk whilst wearing a frock." Janet harrumphed in defense.
"Praise the Lord! You are safe and sound!" John said sarcastically and rolled his eyes.
"Listen Janet, We need to get back to the house now, I-"
"I won't be able to walk three blocks, dummy! I have gotten hurt real bad!" she said as if she was stating the obvious.
"Oh! alright, fine. I'll be back in five to get some more ointment. Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"Yes, yes go quick! I have to go to Macy's house later."
John left towards his house, a few blocks away from the spot where Janet had had her fall. As much as he disliked his sister for the unnecessary tantrums she often threw, he still loved her very much and instinctively he fought the wariness that had crept in his mind for a fraction of a second that leaving his sister alone there, even for five minutes, was perhaps not a good idea.
Little did John know what vulgar ideas were germinating from the deep set eyes hiding behind the brick wall around the curb, a few yards away from his darling step-sister.

This post is in dedication to the grieving families of the Nehru Nagar Kurla child rape murders. Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall.

P.S. This is my 51st post! :)

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Will power- (Blog-a-ton 6)

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 6; the sixth 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.

Tick tock
Never before had time flown by so quickly.
Red oozed.
Staring at the paper, Lee closed his eyes and strained.
Everything went before in flashes.
Tick tock.
Eyes opened to stare at the paper.
He wrote: 'I, Lee, being of sound mind and…'
Door creaked. Gunshot.
Finally it read: '…NIL to my son.'

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.

Edit1: My Dear readers, thank you for your comments and valuable feedback. They keep me motivated to write more and better. The essence of 55 fiction, I believe, is to keep the reader guessing till the end. I am a novice at this genre of writing, and on an impromptu decision I composed this post. Looking at the feedback, I shall put up my original thought process behind the post on 11th Jan 2010. All the best to all the participants! Thanks and keep reading!

Edit 2: As promised, here is my original POV:
Lee is an aging old man and has a son. The color pink represents his rosy picture that he had in his mind about his son. But, as time progresses and his son grows up, his rosy picture turns to a blood red color because of his son's greed. In the end, Lee's son kills his father, but to former's dismay; leaves him nothing (NIL) in his will.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Speaking of a post

Speaking of a post....
I literally have nothing to blog about. My TV is back after a 3 month hiatus. I can't seem to be reading anything, just watching. Hence "exploring" and "learning" about the current affairs. Maybe that's why I can't seem to think- from the vast expanse of the meninges folds and gray matter of my brain-of one decent blog post.

Speaking of decent....
I cannot believe that of all people Rakhi Savant was allowed to take care of a toddler! I pity the toddler who will soon grow up and wonder out loud "Oh Jhejus! Which of these outfits would show more cleavage?!!". She even dressed the boy like a girl, and with MAKEUP while his biological mother was tearing her hair apart. Why couldn't NDTV Imagine just throw the infant to ravenous hyenas? Hyenas would be less brutal. And more eye pleasing!! Wolves even! Mowgli turned out fine.

Jungle Book's beloved character: Mowgli
Speaking of Mowgli....
I don't seem to understand the unnecessary fuss and brouhaha over Bollywood actresses wearing bikinis onscreen. They do it all the time in beauty pageants, fashion shows, casting couches and the like. Hollywood actresses don't make such a fuss to be on Playboy! Grow up! If you have it, flaunt it. Big Deal! (I can sense fervent nods from the Indian male population)

Speaking of Big....
Big Boss season 3 is out. There is a season 3? Arre baba, does ANYONE care?

Speaking of Baba...
Baba Ramdev has been "gifted" a Scottish island. Newspapers say "Baba Ramdev will also teach the people of Scotland how to perform 'Yoga' to make your life better." Yoga is good. Somehow, I just can't imagine the Scotts in their quilts, armed with a pint performing the Halasana. I remember my yoga class back in school. Early morning at 6am, doing yoga....nothing like the Shavasana. Zzzzzz.

  Above : Halasana (Hala= Plough), Below: Shavasana (Shava=corpse) No, the kitty is alive.

Speaking of  Zzzzz.....

Actor Shiney Ahuja is out of jail after being convicted for allegedly raping his maid. Which movie was he in? Did anyone REALLY miss him? Well... apart from his wife. Media, media! Unnecessary attention, I tell you!

Speaking of unnecessary....
President Barrack Obama was honored with the Nobel for Peace. Hmm. Lets see.
Elected this year.
9 months into his presidency.
Did not decline by stating that 'there is a lot that he needs to achieve before he feels worthy of it'
Why, then that's completely justified! Hey, why don't we give Shashi Tharoor one for Literature? OK I better shut up before Mr. Tharoor hurls abuses at me in his tweets.....

Speaking of  tweet...
Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaave you met Neil Patrick Harris (Barney Stinson of How I met your Mother fame) on Twitter? Its nice to find celebs on twitter; but I wish there were more politicians than celebs.

Laloo himself with his trademark Kulhad(r).

Imagine if Laloo Prasad Yadav was on twitter. He'd allow you to subscribe to his updates only if you'd buy a yearly supply of kulhad(r)s (earthen pot). Anyhow, I tweeted Barney and he didn't reply back. Bet he realized he's got competition at Awesomeness :D

Speaking of competition....
MLA elections are about to start. And somehow, this time my name IS on the list. My correct and legible name. Unfortunately I've shifted my residence. Full on canvassing even with SMSs being bombarded to me by a certain "English-loving" political party. Although I had no qualms to vote from my old residence but still I was being persuaded to vote from my new one by a pack of power-hungry wannabe "student union".

Speaking of hungry...
I am. I smell cookies. Gkam out.

(Disclaimer 1: The images in this post are under the sole copyright of their owners and I just google them.
Disclaimer 2: I do not intend to hurt sentiments of supporters or crazed fans of the above mentioned by being sarcastic and rude. The purpose of the post is just to tickle the readers' funny bone)

Friday, September 4, 2009

Sweet Agony

She looked at the ceiling and closed her eyes. It was the only comfort she sought.
She couldn’t take it anymore.

She grabbed the bedspread harder and tugged it. She had to stop it, but how?

She couldn’t. Not yet. It wasn’t time.
She would know when it was time.

But the pain…the agonizing pain...

She then saw his handsome sweaty face. He held her hand.
She let him.

He leaned to kiss her.
She turned her face away.

She didn’t know what to think.
Pain tortured her body. But his face brought back memories.
Sweet memories; didn’t alleviate her from suffering.

She had to be strong. No matter what.

He had given her this pain. Of the sweet agony with him that made her suffer.
Why now? She wondered.

He held her hand tighter.

Sweat beads shone over her forehead glistening in the light.

She bit her lip and turned to face him again. He was smiling. The same smile that made her fall in love with him all again.

Her body contorted with every ache. Numbness set in.

She had enough. It was time.

She let go with all the force she could muster. Her lip bled.

And then it was all over.

A sound she was longing for filled the room. It was melodious as ever. She could feel her body again.

“Here you go Mrs. Smith, It’s a boy!” said the doctor.

She held her baby in her arms and cried. She was a mother now. And nothing- not even the excruciating pain- mattered now. It was all worth it.

She looked lovingly at her bundle of joy. Her own blood, flesh and bone. Their eyes met.

He smiled. Just like his father did.

(PS: My first time in such a mode of writing. Need honest advice/suggestions/brickbats/rotten andaa-tamatar in comments section please :D )

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Rhythm Divine

When the skies appear sullen as if after a white-wash, the sun peeps through the clouds no more, the cool icy breeze wavering the leaves on trees, pitter-patter of the raindrops against the windows...What can get better than this atmosphere, when the clouds pour down without inhibition albeit intimidating Nature to take on its course.

All one can do in this wonderful serene weather is to sit back and enjoy nature's spectacle; every cycle begins with the blessing of monsoon as mother earth quenches her thirst for many a months in the seasonal cycle.

The onset of the monsoon brings one joy-one becomes a kid again-and undiluted calmness. I reminisce, the flowing of paper boats across the overflowing water stream, wearing gumboots and flopping about in my raincoat, without a care in the world dancing away to the divine rhythm of the rain. (And also of how being scolded for turning into a muddy mess and have earthworms crawling all over the floors of my home :P)

Of corn cobs being roasted merrily while tea simmers away in an old pot. Of sitting beside a loved one chatting away interrupted only to sip hot tea and eat hot onion fritters. When one doesn't mind when umbrella is forgotten "by mistake" and get drenched to the toe on such a whim.

Such wonderful times, mesmerizing...

Reminds me a wonderful song by B. J. Thomas:

"..The blues they send to meet me won't defeat me
It won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me..

..Raindrops keep fallin' on my head..

Enjoy the monsoons folks! :)

Statutory Warning: This post may dampen/ unable to rekindle spirits of those afflicted with leaky-nose syndrome (aka common cold).

image courtesy: mlissa2121 from photobucket.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Snooze Fest

Sunday! The Lord blessed us with this day! 7th day of the week.
*wipes tear*

Phew! Ive been soooo tired.... TIRED??? an understate-word.. I suppose.

Stupid engineering project.
I don't think I've been so tired since... *lost in thoughts*
*still thinking*
*yawns* *stretches* *realizes there is no space to sleep on her laptop amongst the crumbs and dust*

Actually I haven't worked this alarmingly much even in my 4-years of undergraduate education. :P

Need..... sleep.... now....good 12-hour sleep :)

Hence, my trusty 'ol cell-phone/door-bell/alarm/microwave/whatever-rings is undergoing hibernation for the weekend.

Cheerio folks!

P.S. :I HATE you Monday!!!!! :(
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