A story yet unwritten- 'Before Death'

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


        One day when Anil returned from the shop, he found his father lying on the bed. He shook him, shouted expletives at him but to no avail. It was just him and his father at their house. His mother had died long ago of general neglect. Nobody really expected her to live. She was spiteful in her last years and died a bitter neglected death. All the relatives came running after hearing about the death. Death was important to them. Nothing else could pull them to the town but death. Funerals were a great time to show that one cared deeply and they lasted shorter too, unlike the long bedridden phase where the dying needed to be cared for.

Short Story- Labels

Mr. Baatwaani was rather quiet that day. The newspaper had just arrived and it carried the news of a gruesome murder of a landlord by a begrudging tenant.

‘The tenant Charandas, 21 was sick of landlord Dayanand’s antics’, the story in the newspaper read. ‘Repeated taunts about the tenant’s personal life led to the final screw in the coffin.’

‘Shouldn’t it be nail?’ Baatwaani thought to himself.

‘Who edits these stories?’ Baatwaani now spoke out loud to be audible to nobody and everyone.

‘Who in their right mind would drive a screw in a coffin? What, Are you scared that the dead body will escape?’ Baatwaani was now seriously miffed.

His tenant, David, came down the stairs sheepishly. Holding his phone to his ears, he appeared to be whispering tentative sweet nothings for someone. His girlfriend smiled on the other side as he fumbled into blurting out ‘I love you’ for the first time.

‘What an improper phrase to use!!’ Baatwaani suddenly shouted as a startled David stood frozen.

‘Let’s forget the nails versus screws debate for a moment. Who in their right mind would use the coffin phrase to describe the case of a gruesome murder?’ Baatwaani stared blankly at David and continued his rant.

Realizing that this is nothing related to his business, David returned to his call. If only he were paying attention, he wouldn’t have missed the nervous gulp from the other side.

‘Ok, I have to go now! Thank you for everything.’ His would-be ex-girlfriend said.

‘So, she bailed.’ David smiled to himself. He knew it was over so he offered himself to Mr. Baatwaani by initiating small talk the same way a matador invites a bull.

‘Is it again some annoying news in the paper, uncle?’ David said.

‘Yes, an insensitive piece. It infuriates me.’ Baatwaani said with a fixed gaze on David.

‘I will pay the last three months’ rent as soon as I get a job, uncle’ David blurted.

‘Oh, money is no problem, son.’ Baatwaani replied, ‘I am rich enough to support you. When I found out that you were an orphan, I had to give my room to you. World has been unkind enough to you.’

David began, ‘Thank you unc…’

‘Problem is that you’re a Christian!’ Baatwaani interrupted. ‘I am just glad that you’re not amorous and unhinged like other Christians. I really appreciate you bringing no girlfriends over and I hope you never disappoint me.’

David nodded with clenched teeth.

Baatwaani then went on to unlock his phone with a swiping motion. A bunch of porn videos appeared in the phone’s Gallery. He signaled with his eyes for David to leave. David wasted no time in obliging.

As he made his way out of the filthiest residential area in Gwalior- Gowardhan Colony, David thought back on the happier times when he never felt labelled as a Christian or as an orphan. These words were suddenly his identity after his parents passed away in a plane crash. Relatives divided the property among themselves and sent David off to a boarding school. As the fees stopped coming after tenth standard, David had to drop out and was sent to an orphanage. Due to his good schooling thus far, he could complete the rest of his education with the help of NGOs and government aid.




He was laid off after a brief stint as marketing executive in a private firm. Unemployed, David made Gwalior his home and applied in various companies but to no avail thus far.




‘You’re next!’ The receptionist said as David readied his papers.

The interviewers were sympathetic but, someone else had already been given the job. They didn’t tell David that. David read the guilt in their eyes along with the massive sympathy his life story evoked.

After the interview, one of the interviewers even leaned in to give a hug after the handshake and they ended up doing an awkward shoulder bump.

‘You’re handsome’, the receptionist Angie’s eyes twinkled as David arranged his papers in the waiting area. Life had been kind to David in the looks department.

Next thing, they were sipping coffee in a nearby café.

‘So, what do your parents do?’ The question finally raised its head.

There was an awkward pause.

‘Enough about me, tell me three good things about being a receptionist.’ David said with a courageous smile.

‘In my free time, I work with an NGO for orphans.’ Angie’s hand was on David’s fingers. Slowly caressing it.



He felt a label appear on his forehead.

Short Story- Middle Class

There is a thin line between politeness and stupidity. Mr. Gupta never saw it. He wore his pants the old-fashioned way and rode an old Vespa scooter. He made way for perfect strangers and always used the indicator on turns. If he were to get a Modi-style suit stitched, his would read 'middle class' in fine print all over.

He was a regular government office clerk. At 11 am sharp, he would reach office to do absolutely nothing. His life was divided in naps. The nap right before lunch was the main event of the day. The snores would reach across the hall and the agents walking in the gallery would smile to each other taking pride in Guptaji's deep slumber for no reason.

Mrs. Gupta hated Mr. Gupta. Not because of his potbelly or his stupid moustache or his safari suit or his hawai chappals or his holed vest or his... well, you get the drift. Mrs. Gupta hated him because it was the thing to do. Whenever someone smiles too much, or is too docile, it is his near and dear ones' duty to bully him, hate him and pick on him. The law is universal. You can get away with a stupid moustache if you are a jackass. Look at Hitler. You cannot, however, if you wake up early to answer the doorbell for the milkman everyday. Look at Guptaji and his stupid moustache.

So, one day Guptaji was just using the service lane on a busy road in his city. He was looking for a place to park his scooter and go buy the vegetables because that's what Guptajis do after office. No Guptaji wants to return home empty handed to a wife who has been asking for Lauki for two weeks. So, like a good Guptaji, he was on his way to perform his duty after being pestered several times.

He saw a parking spot to his left and took a sharp turn. For the first time in his life, he forgot to use the indicator mostly because it was a one way and he was not expecting a pedestrian to come from the opposite side. A started female of 20 something was looking at him with angry eyes. A 40 something Guptaji had scared a 20 something female and her iPhone had slipped from her hands. She picked up, the screen hadn't cracked because of the revolutionary gorilla glass cover and metallic case about which Guptaji had read in today's Dainik Jaagran while munching Sev-bhujiya and sipping tea. Guptaji had knocked over his Nokia 1100 while reaching for some bhujia and it had fallen from the balcony onto his scooter. The scooter still had a dent.

Anyway, the girl shouted at him.

'Can't you see, idiot?' Dekh ke nahi chala sakte uncle?
 
Only in India can we call a person uncle and an idiot in the same breath.

Guptaji was relaxed. He was used to shouting. Years of practice from Mrs. Gupta had prepared him for this moment. Suddenly a man stepped out of a SUV and held Guptaji by the collar. A 20 something man was about to beat a 40 something Guptaji, Guptaji simpered and apologised profusely. In his mind, he imagined the man to be a Gujjar owning farms in Haryana and owning real estate business in Noida. Guptaji took pride in being service class and docile and had already planned on calling this guy some filthy names over a cup of tea and samosas with Shrivastavaji.

But for now, the tragedy had to be averted, so Guptaji apologised like one apologises to a criminal. Not out of respect but out of fear. The man took his wife/ girlfriend/ Guptaji-thinks-she-was-a-whore-anyway and sped away after slightly roughing up Guptaji.

Guptaji angrily picked up his glasses from the road and looked at the speeding SUV. The rear windshield of the SUV read in large bold letters- 'GUPTA'S'

Written by - Abhyudaya Shrivastava
All rights reserved.

No romance - A short story

The question was always out there. As she would pick up the phone, as she would turn around the corner, as she would turn the leaf of her favourite book. She kept looking at the question and postponing it. He had asked her to start dating. She detested the enthusiasm but hadn't really planned anything for him. She never thought ahead.

'Why do people plan?' She thought it took away all the romance from the moments of life. Ah! The irony! She was always taken to be the least romantic person in the room. She was romantic but in an unromantic way. Romance is a funny word. Its dictionary meaning can never convey the true meaning. A romantic person essentially wants to pursue happiness- eagerly and madly. She was eager and mad in her own way. It made her set certain criteria and rules; and before she could match them with the world's standards of romance, the race had begun. So as an individual, she was romantic but, to the world, and especially to him- she seemed like a crazy cat lady who just wants to be left alone.

He was persuasive- never budged. After a while, the perpetual question turned into a staring contest for him and he couldn't blink. He held the question like a soldier following orders. She eventually said yes. Not because she suddenly fell in love but, because a certain time period had passed. She said yes because it would have been rude not to. She did make sure that she liked him enough to say yes though.

So, what do you get when you put two such people together? One who may or may not be sure but, tries hard (the guy). The other who is unsure and detests trying at all (the girl). You get an arrangement which is only half romantic. One person wants to cuddle, the other likes her space. One wants to kiss, the other likes to talk and see where things go. One has a specific destination and the other doesn't like the idea of sailing with a goal in mind. So, both agreed that they were dating but only one wanted to steer the ship.

He brought her roses, she scoffed at him. He sent romantic letters and she used them as coasters. After a while, he realized that she wasn't into it. He retracted all the red carpets he had rolled out. And as the ocean recedes from the shore, his gestures receded leaving behind nothing but sand. Just sand.

It turned into a relationship with no romance. No one offered to feed the other with the spoon at public places. No one wanted to hold the other's hand while walking. No one tried to steal kisses when the moment seemed right. It bothered him to an extent but not so much. She wasn't even aware that something was amiss. So, it went on.

Then one day, as they were walking together. He turned around, went down on a knee and asked her to marry him. She smiled and asked 'really?' He froze there. He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or playful and also, he didn't know the answer to her 'really?'

They both still stand in that park. Frozen. Not a single finger has moved ever since. People come, watch them and leave. They stand like that in rain. A small puddle of water is formed below their legs. Then as the sun shines, the water recedes and sand is left behind. Just sand.

Short Story- The Loop

That ringing sound in his ears was very bothersome. He sat in his office behind those corporate doors in perfect silence the whole day, minding his business. Suddenly from yesterday, it had become terrible. He had started hearing a loud ring in his ears and was thinking of getting it checked by a doctor.

'Tinnitus- so that's what they call it,' He had googled his condition and was now even more perturbed to find that there was no definite cause for this condition and he was just supposed to relax. He had relaxed enough, was he even stressed? Sure he didn't love his job but he didn't mind sitting all by himself.

He had branded himself as an introvert and was comfortable remaining isolated from the rest of the world in his small little cabin. He would watch movies, listen to songs when he was bored. But now this sound had changed everything.

He called the sweeper and got his carpets dusted to remove any crickets hiding there. He took a day off and went to sit by the lake. The noise followed him everywhere and it was driving him mad.

Later that day, he went to the doctor. The prescription was just a long list of medicines. He was also supposed to get his ear wax removed. He did all that and after a week, the problem still persisted. He had lost all hope.

Suddenly, he woke up one day and it was gone. The world was silent again. He went to his cabin, sat there and fumbled with papers a little. He was so happy, he didn't know what to do with this newfound joy. He sat with an arched back on his chair the whole day watching TV series on his laptop. Work wasn't much and he was in full mood to go footloose that day.

The next day he had terrible backache. He set an appointment with his doctor.

Short Story: People Versus Pictures

Riddled with myriad confusing emotions, the dentist sat on his desk. He had just done a root canal and still reeling from the backache that the long procedure had given him, he again started thinking about the weird gestures the patient had been making. She was a young female with a grossly decayed tooth. 'Grossly' here to show the extent of damage but, it also conveys how he felt about the signals the patient gave him.

She was married, her husband used to come and drop her. This was the second time the husband hadn't come and also the time when she had smiled at him with those weird eyes. Him! Her dentist! Her healthcare provider! Ugh! He didn't mind the smiles but they came out of the blue and without any reason. She would just smile and look at him.

He was never attracted to her. Well, she was pretty but once you see the deposits and tartar on someone's front teeth, you can never un-see them. She, on the other hand, was a great patient. Too great for his liking. She would come for regular check-ups. She would drop by in those early mornings when the clinic was not crowded, she would hold his hand for far too long during those handshakes. He would look into her mouth and often would catch her gazing into his eyes.

It was all making him pretty uncomfortable and he was getting on the verge of politely transferring her case to someone else. He had even planned an excuse. He was going out of town for a month! He knew it would not be concealed for very long but, he was more worried about getting her off his back than concealing the fraud behind his excuse.

*Boop* Suddenly, there was a small red notification icon on his Facebook page.

He had a friend request from his patient. He hovered his cursor over the 'Delete Request' button but decided to check her profile picture before that. There she was! Holding her husband's hand and walking on a beach. The cover photo had her and her husband just sitting together. It seemed like a dinner date.

He accepted her Friend Request. A chat window opened. She said hi and he replied. They had a long conversation. A week later, he was on a date. The girl in front of him was smiling a lot. He smiled back and looked at his phone which had just beeped.

'Enjoy your date and take care of my little sister', the message read.

A story about optimism

This blogpost is a part of the Happy Hours campaign by Indiblogger and Lookup.

Check out the LookUp Housing website- https://housing.com/lookup . They have done some amazing branding for their venture.

Prompt- Write a story around a moment that filled you with optimism and hope for the future. 

My story-

I had newly taken admission in a dental college in Davangere, Karnataka. After the counselling was over, it was time for me and my Dad to explore Bengaluru. After getting accepted in one of the topmost dental colleges in India, I had sprouted new wings and was looking at the world with rose-tinted glasses. I had bought for myself a newsboy cap and had convinced at least myself that I had given myself a makeover.

In that jolly mood, we explored Bangalore. I wondered what life had in store for me for the coming five years. I knew it wouldn't be all fun and games but, the toughest part in one's academic life- getting admitted in a good, reputed college was finally over. I was looking forward to everything that lied ahead in my path. Finally, we reached the famous Bull Temple in Bangalore and went inside to offer our prayers. Unmindful of the expected decorum, I wore my cap inside the temple premises. My father went to the other side of the temple and I stood right in front of the deity with folded hands. So there I was, a newbie in the city, unprepared, excited, standing with folded hands in front of a familiar God among unfamiliar people.

Suddenly, I felt a gentle pat on my shoulders. Perplexed, I turned around to find an aged lady. She was smiling and had a kind aura about her. I looked at her quizzically. She pointed to my cap and said, 'You should take it off as a mark of respect to God.' Scared that I had broken some rigid protocol, I took off my cap at once. She smiled. 'Don't worry. You haven't broken a rule,' she went on, 'It is just that these small gestures make you a gentleman.'

I nodded in acknowledgement and was truly quite thankful to her. She offered me prasad and disappeared in the crowd. As soon as my father came back, I told him about this stranger who had cared enough to offer me life advice. Dad smiled and appreciated the gesture. He asked me to hold on the crux of her message and the wisdom behind it. My education in the real world had started then and there and is still going on. 

The optimism and hope behind this short incident in my life was that there are people in this world who care enough to offer you advice. They watch your back. You might know some of them, some might be family to you but some might be complete strangers. It is not a story about an old lady, it is the story of a stranger who can just pat you on your shoulder, say something that can mould your personality and then disappear like an actor who has completed her role in the play.

The best lessons are taught to you by those watchful guardians. The world is truly one big family and one doesn't need to feel alone at any time. We're all driven by ripples in this boundless ocean of kindness.

Top 5 ways every book reviewer covers up for the authors.

1. Dealing with bad grammer

2. Dealing with a dumb writer

3. Dealing with incomprehensible gibberish

4. Dealing with generic thrillers

5. Dealing with romance novels

Short Story- Two of a kind

He looked through his window in hope of clear skies and some pleasant weather so that he could begin the day as planned. The glass pane appeared to melt as raindrops trickled down from the top leaving trails of their existence behind. It was an unplanned vacation in the hills which hehad to take. He had to rush at the behest of his own crumbling spirits. The stress from working in a multinational had become overbearing to his personality and the hamster within him wanted a break from the wheel. This hamster in particular was prone to such inclinations as he had loved the way he was ever since he became aware of himself and had always taken drastic and sudden steps to preserve his being from anything that could have transformative influence on it. He was doing so much better when he did not know himself. He smiled from this sudden realization as his memory shot back to times when he had left jobs only because they seemed to encroach on his way of thinking, left relationships that burdened his soul with the rituals that slowly nudged him into certain directions he didn't want to go. 'Good Lord! This inner hamster of mine needs constant feeding!, he thought to himself.

He did understand that this narcissism although fulfilling at a personal level, led to no good consequences and instead resulted in his alienation sometimes. This was the sole reason for which he, for the first time, tried not to give in to his primal instincts and instead tried moulding himself to the circumstances. He had planned this weekend getaway so that he could let his inner restless critter have some time to think and relax. He wanted to cajole it into compromising with the little changes that were slowing creeping inside his soul. He no longer had the time to sit idle in the lawn and soak in the winter sun, his life had again started revolving around staplers, paperweights and late night brainstorming sessions. The critter in his gut had started getting restless.

The bad part about being good at something is that there is no limit to how good you can be. As you push your limits, your talent slowly turns into your work and it piles up and the exit gates start closing up. He had quit five jobs in the past as and when he could no longer find time for himself but, now that he was married and a baby was on its way, he couldn't afford the freedom and luxury of that nomadic lifestyle. He told his wife that it was something work-related and just fled the city so that he could unwind and lull the storms boiling up inside into silence.

Ramesh Singhal was otherwise a very reasonable man. Average built, fierce competitive eyes and an arched grin giving the impression that everything was under control. He flexed his arms often and walked with a certain wobble that made people make more room for him in queues, public places, cafeteria etc. He was aware of the excess of space that he hogged in his manners during his public discourses and was proud of the ingenious method he had created. He could not stand being pushed around and had even feigned handicap or illness to be treated specially. Friends he had; but the kind that cannot be counted on. His marriage was an arranged one and was more of an affair of convenience as the girl was a nice proposal and his parents saw her to be fit for him. It would be wrong to say that Ramesh couldn't love anyone more than himself or that he was a self-centered person, but he did leave little room for others to think otherwise.

Sunanda was a loving wife and it seemed that she had slowly come to terms with Ramesh's over-indulgence with himself. In the early days of their marriage, Sunanda tried hard to form an emotional bond with Ramesh. She would strike conversations, look into his eyes to spot the place where he was broken, some past event which had made him the way he was. She even suspected that he had an affair going on but then as she read the family members' behaviour toward him and realized that her husband was one of a kind. Ramesh too, tried hard to do things that would seem romantic or show that he cares; Sunanda would randomly find some laundry folded, bed made, roses by her side as she woke up, sometimes even breakfast too but, there was just something that Ramesh could not do. She started pitying the poor chap and was quite understanding when these random acts of kindness slowly wore away. They would talk often, laugh and eat together but they hardly knew each other as people. Ramesh was least apologetic for this yet he was worried lest this lack of concern might be considered as selfishness. The way Sunanda took to his ways, he did sometimes worry that there was some pain that was gnawing away her personality. He started thinking about her and he was changing. Most of his thoughts which used to be about him, were now about her.

The office workload had crippled his mind and he couldn't see this vicious circle breaking in the future. He feared that Sunanda would fall for someone else, commit suicide or leave him. These thoughts had quietening effects on his inner hamster. To get away from all this noise in his head, in a bid to perhaps change himself, he had taken this vacation and now it was raining outside.

He sat in his room, thinking How did he turn from a self-obsessed monarch to a slave of his own emotions? He detested the pathos that had gripped his heart and reminisced on all those times when he had just broken free of them. "Is this pain something natural and was I supposed to embrace it all this while?" he reflected deeply. The hamster voices fell silent. The epiphany ran through his skin and he almost stood up and then sank again in the sofa. He decided that he would tell his wife how much he loved her; the anticipation of making friends with his own wife was so immense that he picked up the phone right away. He tried calling her up but repeated attempts went unanswered. His mind took over. "Is it too late?" "Is it possible that she is with her lover making plans of eloping with him and grimacing at the phone as it displays my name?" Sweat drops huddled up on his forehead. It was as if a volcano was about to erupt. He started packing for his return trip.

Sunanda on the other side was reading a book she had finally found time for. She heard her phone ring but ignored it thinking it was some tele-advertiser. "This is a Sunday afternoon and no one can take away this time from me. This is my time"- she thought. A hamster chirped with joy inside her.



Copyright Reserved 2014


- Abhyudaya Shrivastava (abhyu.bats@gmail.com)