If you will ask me what I was doing in that train compartment last night, the explanation will be a hard one. You better please don’t. It was late, later than the supposed time. The short hand had already struck eleven, chances of it hitting twelve or even one until I would have reached home. Even my father’s bothersome calls were all over my phone. Continue reading “The Bald Man”
“What’s your type of girl?” Her fingers curled around her hairs(or hair?) as she asked me this question.
“Is there something wrong with your hairs?” I tried to get close and take a little advantage. Her hairs(or hair?) were gorgeous, and never would I leave a chance to feel them.
“NO! I think it’s just hair, you don’t put the s there.” She pushed me away, more engrossed in her questions than a romantic moment between us. “Tell me na, what’s your type of girl?” Continue reading “The Artists!”
‘Once upon a time…’
I would sit in a corner of my room for hours and hours and go on scribbling across the pages of my notebook, giving words to the fantasies and imaginations that lived in my head. Aligned to the small chair, I created a world of mine in that corner, where I had my own numerous knights, my enormous dragons and a lot of tricky wizards. Across my small desk, they went for wars against each others. The stack of my notebooks turned to their high mountains, and my pens became their deadliest weapons. The small battleground of theirs became larger than the playground outside.
‘What if his voice was like him as well?’ I thought, as I kept looking at the driver of the car I was sitting in. We never owned a car, and I hardly ever got much chances to sit in one and that too on the front seat, but still my eyes were focused on the driver. After all, he looked exactly like Amitabh Bachchan to me. He even sported that very French beard of his, maybe just to look more like him, except this man in front of me was thin and his voice too indifferent to sound like Amitabh’s.
I hadnt been much into an attachment with my grandmother. I was her sixth grandson, not including any child of her daughters. I loved being awoken by her though, the chant of her morning songs and the besan chakkis made by her are still my favorite. At that little age i was willing to go lengths to have it, like convincing myself to stay inside during the day hours; sneaking into her room while she slept; and even gulping in the aam ras which i never liked. She had to hold up my arms and legs to make me drink it.
A few of the members of my family were visiting to some holy temple in a nearby city few days back to get few of their pending works on track, and my aunt wanted me to accompany them. Somebody had mentioned to them that I had something known as kaal sarp dosh in my janam patrika. The poor that was blamed for everything going wrong in my life, my failure in my exam, and at my back even for my love affairs, or the girl I had completely lost my senses over, as my family mentioned.
22nd October, 2015
I don’t believe in god. I had always had numerous issues trying to confront myself about the almighty’s existence. But there had been moments when I found it hard to settle over a few things. The alignment of atoms the way they are, the beginning of everything, the nature.I postpone my doubts to be answered by someone or something, some other day. Of all, I don’t believe in the god, all these people around me beg from. Continue reading “The God”
21st December 2012.
There are rumours out there that the world is supposed to end today. I believe it wont this soon, moreover I don’t want it to end it this soon. I am still a virgin, and if by any chance it does, I will have a hard time finding someone in the only three hours left for the date to change. Yeah that’s the first thing going in my head tonight. Or wait, is the end scheduled according to the PT or EST timezone ? In any case I got a little more hours. Continue reading “The Beginning of the End”