30 Day Challenge# Day10

They say you can't judge a book by its cover. But some book covers attract and fascinate. Browse Amazon, or look on your bookshelves and choose a book you haven't read that has a cover you really like. Now, you're going to steal that cover for your own story. Okay, not really "steal" -- just borrow. Write a story of your own that would go with that cover...

So, I picked up Hariku Murakami's book "Kafka on the shore". This is a book I have heard about a lot. And this is going to be my first Murakami. The cover (if you can see the picture above) has a black cat with green eyes on it. And on the spine of the book are two fishes.


Miao is Sheetal's best friend - more than just a pet. A 9-year old Sheetal had found the cat mewing from under one of the concrete boulders in Nariman Point. She had stretched out her hand and a black kitten with shining green eyes had come crawling out. It was love at first sight for both of them. Sheetal's parents - Mr and Mrs Bhandari were dog people out and out. But they relented on the promise that the cat would not be allowed to go out for walks and drag back dirt or dead birds in to the house.

When she was 15, her family had moved to the slightly less crowded Madh island area. It wasn't counted as Mumbai according to her - all her friends had been left behind in Worli's Govindam apartments. She had never been able to make friends easily. Her friend circle in school had consisted of the same 6 faces since they were in fourth grade. Outside of that she hardly spoke to anyone, even though she wondered how it would be to hang out at coffee shops, meet friends for a movie or go out on dates. Therefore, Miao soon became her only company at home. They would go for walks in the garden, never venturing out of the back door towards the beach. Sheetal was always scared that the stray dogs would chase Miao. Miao, however, looked ever so fondly at the lines of fish that the Koli women dried on the beach. But he had started to think that maybe the beach was not a place he was supposed to go to, since Sheetal screamed every time he tried creeping out.

Sheetal would be gone soon. She was going to college. For the first time in her life she was travelling to New Delhi and will be living there alone. Khanna aunty has said that she can always come and stay with them in her Greater Kailash flat, but she isn't sure if that would be a good idea. Sheetal is scared that she will be an outside there as well. People would go out and have fun, would probably go shopping while she will be cooped up in the library or will go for walks around campus. She knows Karan is also going for Eco Honours in the same University. But then she had always tried to avoid Karan, ever since he had asked her out on a date. She liked him a lot but was scared, as always, that he will not like her one bit if he started talking to her for more than ten-fifteen minutes. She had finally relented and agreed for a date. One simple chai-coffee date. And yet, here she was wondering if this was a mistake. She hadn't been able to sit still since morning. She had cleaned her room thrice, arranged and rearranged all her books, made lists of things to buy for Delhi and scribbled things on every newspaper she could find. Miao had dutifully followed her around the house. Now, as they walked around the garden again, Sheetal noticed Miao's longing stare at the fresh rows of fishes the fisherwomen had strewn on the sand. The bigger fishes were lined in five neat rows, with alternate fishes facing the water. The smaller prawns and shrimps had been dumped and then flattened and spread by hand. Miao mewed softly, hoping, for once, that a crow would drop its steal in the garden by mistake. He could tackle crows - he had killed pigeons previously, and rats on a few occasions.

Sheetal kept thinking. About how the date would be.  And about clothes to wear.  And how she could completely ruin the first date of her young life. But mostly she thought about how much she worried. She had always worried about things - from examinations, to time, to parents fighting, to what people thought. All that worrying had done her no good. She wanted to have a life. A life with less worrying and more living. One which would let her be all that she wanted to be, or could be. Now was the time. College would be a new beginning. She must be brave. She must learn to take risks. And it would have to start now - with this one date. And with Miao crossing the threshold to steal some fish.

30 Day Challenge # Day 9

Hemingway was once challenged to write a story in only six words. The heartbreaking result: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." Write a ghost story or a love story in less than 20 words...



Grandma on her verandah seat. Blushes while singing dadu's favourite song. Prays Titli will find someone just like him. She has.

Rainbow

The world above.
Smiles.
With rainbows and a bright sun.
I sing. And hum. And look to my side.
Alone.

What use are rainbows, then?

30 day challenge. # Day 8

Re-write a classic fairy tale


Once upon a time, in a world which was perfect, lived three round and rotund little pigs. They liked their house to be clean and big, and therefore were looked down upon by their clan. The pigs in the town all lived in small cabins. Some even slept on the road, in spite of having a lot of money. The three little pigs didn't like their neighbours much either.

"All they do is eat and sleep. And then they roll around in mud," they said.

With time, the three pigs became entrepreneurs. They became rich and famous in the country and cats and dogs and crows and bears - all came to them for business. However, the sly fox was known to be the best bargainer in the country. And he saw the three pigs as nothing but rivals who should be taken care of. So off he went to see his cousin, The Wolf, for help.

The Wolf was the dumb sort. If you have ever heard of the words brawn and brain, the wolf would epitomize the former. So when his cousin said that there were three fat pigs in the country, he thought it would be the easiest thing to get rid of them, and take care of his dinner at the same time.

The three pigs by now were living in separate mansions across the town. The first brother was in the business of straws, which he sold to the cows for a steep price. The towns folk didn't like him so much. The second brother traded in wood. He was responsible for the forests near the town becoming so small. The folks in town hardly had any place to go out, or a place to work. So as the brothers became richer, the townsfolk became poorer. The third brother was the only one who was liked by the townsfolk. He worked hard and made little money. But the money he made was kept nicely in a bank far away. And he lived in a small house with many other pigs in the town. This brother loved his siblings a lot, but could not ignore the way they had cheated their kinsfolk just to make some extra money.

In the evening, the Wolf came to the house of the first pig and said, "I'll smash and I'll thrash, and I'll crush your bones to bits". And he ran inside the house and picked up the pig. He beat him up and killed him. He then went round the house, and broke parts of the wall. Since the pig traded in straw he had built his house with that, and this proved fatal now. The Wolf set the straw on fire and smiled as the smell of bacon came wafting through the night air.

He went off to the second pig's house. He called out to the second pig and told him what he had done. The pig, however, remained foolish and said," You are nothing but a silly wolf. You can't kill me. I'm much smarter".

This was too much for the Wolf and he called out angrily," You just wait and see. I'll smash and I'll thrash, and I'll crush your bones to bits". And up he went through the chimney and punched and kicked and broke the little pig's bones. He then set fire to the house and waited till the pig inside screamed his last.

Feeling proud and undefeatable, the Wolf finally went to the village. He saw the third pig with his friends. He shouted from this side.

"You pigs have no sense left. Didn't you hear that I killed your two brothers and am roasting them for dinner? And yet you are laughing and playing around!!"

The third pig did not panic and replied calmly. "But then, why would you want to kick and punch me? That would only make my meat tough and when you finally eat me, you won't be able to enjoy it. And the broken bones will prove to be difficult to separate from my flesh. So then, you won't be able to enjoy your dinner."

The wolf, which didn't like anyone messing with his food, realised that this was right. So he decided that instead of beating him up, he will straight away set fire to his house. And once the third pig had been roasted, he would sit down to his dinner.

So went and tried to set fire to this pig's house as well. However, the foolish wolf did not realise that the pigs in the town lived in mud. The houses and the gardens and the pools were all full of mud. And no matter how much he tried, the mud would not catch fire. He tried again and again. At last he gave up and went back to the two pigs he had killed before. The fox met him halfway and realised what had happened. The fox, cunning as it was, respected cleverness and felt that the third pig would be a fun rival to have. Thereafter the fox and the pig would meet and compete. And they would huff and they would puff, till the sun would go down.

30 day challenge. Day # 7

Your character gets a call asking for David. Instead of hanging up your character keeps talking and decide to meet that evening.

"Hello"

"Hi. Can I talk to David"

"I’m sorry, you have the wrong number."

"Uhm. Isn't this David Patel's number?"

"No. I am sorry"

"But David said it’s his number. And I checked with the number code. He lives in MG Road."

"Well. Actually I live in MG Road. But this isn't David Patel's number. I am sorry"

"Listen, don’t hang up yet. Just find David and ask him to call me?"

"Oh God. I don't know who this David is. Will you just hang up!! 

By now Tanya had lost her temper. Why should she put her life on hold for someone she doesn’t even know. She should have just registered her name in the Do not call List.

"Look man. Today is not the day to drive me crazy. Just hang up. This is not David"

"But I need to talk to David. You don't understand. I need him to stop me"

"Stop you?"

"Yes. I think I might kill myself"

"What!!! You can't just call up and say you will kill yourself. Are you mad? Call up some shrink or something."

"I can't take this anymore. I’m not doing anything in life. It's just passing away in front of me. And I have not been able to achieve anything at all."

"No look, you should call up a professional"

"Please listen to me. Tell me what you think. I'm old. I can't have the patience or energy to go through this all."

"Look sir, I can’t help. How can I help". She was becoming desperate now. Though part of the agony aunt group in her college, Tanya never thought she would be talking to someone who wanted to take his life.

"But you can. I am ill. I can’t remember what is happening. I can’t remember my wife's name. Or my son's face. He is a software engineer, I think. We used to travel together on my Chetak".

"Oh. My dad had a Chetak too." She mumbled, remembering her dad riding, while she sat huddled in between him and her saree clad mother. She would pretend to be flying. Her mother would hold her with one hand, while the other would be casually flung around her father's shoulder. He father would, from time to time, check on the mirror and smile at Tanya.

"I don't remember how it was. But I remember that I felt happy. That I didn’t think he would grow up so soon. And I wanted to be that close to him for ever. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes," she answered. She had grown away from her mother after her father's death. They never had as much fun without him around. And then, little by little, her mother became just another lady in the house. One she would give her school books to, or the one who would take her shopping when she thought her daughter had outgrown her dress.

"Why does this happen, do you know? That we grow apart so easily and so fast? When at one point of time everything seems like something which won’t change?"

"Im sorry it had to be that way for you sir. I am sure given a chance your son would also want to be with you right now," she said.

"I wish I could see him. I wish I could feel like a nice father again. You must really care for your old man, you know? You never know what will happen."

"Uh hmm."

"I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?"

"My dad passed away 5 years ago"

"I am sorry. Do you want to talk about it"

For some reason, Tanya wanted to talk to this man. This man who could not even remember his son's face. This man who would probably not understand what she is going through. And yet, this man. He would be the only one who would probably know how helpless one feels. Her helplessness. When she feels suffocated, just because she tries to remember how her dad scolded her and she can’t. She can’t remember his voice. And she is afraid, someday she won’t be able to remember his face, or his touch either.

"Yes, thank you"

That is the how their story began. The man who decided to let go, and the girl who wasn't ready to forget yet. The unlikely friendship grew after their first meeting that very night. And ever since then, they have been together. Supporting each other, holding on.

30 day challenge. Day # 6

Write a story that includes: twins, a 12-layer cake, a house that seems to be haunted but isn't…

It was the wedding to everyone was waiting for. When Christine would exchange vows with Michael. She with her sun-kissed hair, tied up in a French bun. He waited for her at the end of the aisle, with his best friend Thomas standing by his side, holding the ring. Thomas had been his best friend since they met in third grade. It started on a bad note actually. He had tried to trick Michael during a particularly important track event. Michael had caught the fib, but had made a joke about it. They have been friends ever since. Thomas's twin sister, Teresa had joined them for most of their games when they were younger. And they used to pretend to go off on life-altering adventures.

Christine walked down the aisle, holding on to her father's arm, smiling radiantly. Michael couldn't help but feel a pinch of pride. This girl, the girl everyone wanted to take out for the senior prom, the girl who topped the science class and represented school in all the exchange programmes, the girl who was as cheerful and nice as children on a spring day, this girl is now going to be his better half. Why, even Thomas had secretly harbored a crush on Christine. But being the nice boy he was, he had quickly brushed it aside after Michael said he wished he could take her out to the local burger shop. Together, Christine and Michael would make their new house - a mansion if it may be called so, thanks to the Mathew's good fortune in the leather trade, into a loving home. They plan to have three kids - the first one in two-three years. And maybe a pet dog to complete the family picture.

The ceremony goes by in a whirlwind. Before they know it, it is time for the party to move indoors. The usher announces the newlywed’s first dance together. Slowly, Christine turns in her spot as Michael tries to not grin like a child. The most beautiful memory together that is what they are going to build.

Suddenly, there is a scream from upstairs. Michael rushes, followed by Thomas and a couple of his relatives. They find Teresa in the washroom upstairs, shivering like a child - pointing towards the window. Thomas guides her to the kitchen and gives her something to drink. By this time, the guests are disturbed. They start talking. They talk of how neighbours had said the property was cursed after the Senior Mathews's death. How they could see the light in the attic turning on in some nights, even though they knew Michael was never there.

To stop all the rubbish talks, Michael decides to wrap-up the party soon. He tells the wedding planner to bring out the cake. The cake will cheer up everyone. They had chosen a 12 layer beautiful fresh cream cake for the occassion. He had made sure that the caterers knew how to make it taste soft without making it gooey. And she had chosen the cream toppings for the cake.

But, Mr Bondeux comes rushing back, holding a plastic grin on his face.

"Mr Michael, you must come at once".

Michael doesn't think he can handle another shock today. He follows the man into the dining hall. As he enters he can't believe what he sees. On the floor is in his prized cake. The cream had splattered onto the counter and under the table. And there, standing on the side, were three kids. He moves closer. They step back. He realises they have not had a shower in several months.

"Hello" he says.

"Hi" says one of the kids, sheepishly. Michael can detect some cream stuck to his hair. He smiles.

"So, you are hungry?"

"Ah haan. But we didn’t want to steal. It was just that we saw the cake there, and usually no-one comes to this house. So we thought we could take some. "

"So you are the ones who have been taking stuff from the kitchen all these days?"

"No. We thought we would keep them back. But the week has been difficult. We couldn't find no work"

"Could not find any work".

"Huh"

"Never mind. Where do you stay?"

"Here, this is our house."

"Oh. Hmm. Something has to be done about that"

"What no. Don't throw us out"

"Oh don't you worry. I have the perfect idea for you all", he said, smiling.

30 day challenge. Day # 5

Your character has a date and has been stood up. Your character hears out the reasoning but decides to take revenge. Write a story on that....



Rene has been with Timon for three years now. Three extremely long and patient years. Timon. How should one describe him without offending the man himself? Timon was two years older than Rene, her senior in Karate class. As with senior, he came across as a man full of himself. He knew his stuff, sure he did. He also knew how to make a girl for him. And fall she did. Rene stopped going for all her other activities and concentrated only on Karate, just so that she could see Timon some more. They finally started dating in 2009 and have been together ever since.

Timon on the other hand, never seemed to be interested in being with her anywhere. Not for a movie. Not for dances. Not even for a long drive together. But yes. He made up for all that in bed. That six-feet two inches frame had its perks obviously.

And then, last week, Timon decides to not come for dinner. Rene had ordered pork-rice from that take-away around the corner. She had even tried her hand at baking a red velvet cake. But the cake's icing had melted. And the pork-rice had gone cold. Timon had not showed up. Rene felt miserable as she watched the last one hour of Breakfast at Tiffany's alone.

When she ran into him in class the following day, she tried to ignore him. Timon tried to talk to her. And tried some more. Till she gave up. He had an explanation handy. His friends had come over to watch Fifa. And seriously, he asked, you wouldn't expect me to give up football for some girl thing? I mean. Nothing girls do can be as much fun, can it?

Rene kept a straight face and moved away. By evening she had a plan. When Timon came up to her again, she behaved normally. Yes, she would be willing to forgive him. Yes, she would prepare the same cake again and bring it to him next week.

Next week came. Rene's cake was better than last time. She put on her purple t-shirt and shorts. And walked out of the house.

Timon waited. And waited some more. And then some more. Finally, he called her up and prepared to shout!

"Oh but honey! I thought nothing girls do can be as much fun!"

"So whats your idea? Being with girls and being boring? Playing doll-house?"

"Well, I was playing. But then doll house might not be the correct term for it."

"Huh. What do you mean?"

"Oh you know. This and that."

"Where are you, Rene. Stop messing with me". His voice was stern. Rene smiled.

"Did you notice new exchange students have come? Tamara and Simon are in our class".

"Oh cut the crap. Where are you?"

"Well. As it turns out, they also like red-velvet cake"

"What the fuck! Are you with that Simon freak? Listen, if you are with him. Get out of here or I'm never going to speak to you again. Get it? We are over?"

She laughed. "Oh. But Why would I be with him? Just cause he has beated you at the last match? No, baby! I wouldn't do that to you."

"What are you doing Rene! Tell me know. Please"

"I think we are done Timon. Too bad! Had you just come that day you'd still get to be a part of the threesome."

"What threesome. Whatever dude. You are just weird."

"uh..hmm.. Oh and Tamara says hi. She is fun too. And better than you, in the only place you are good at."

30 day challenge. Day # 4

Think of two very different people you know. Invent a character who combines characteristics of both of them. Then put this character in a stressful family situation ...


"They say that the world was built for two", sang Tithiya, imitating her current favourite - Lana Del Ray, in the college fest. She could see her friends standing in the first row itself, Joy was flinging his hair wildly - he must be high on weed, she thought. Arundhuti kept looking at Joy with a mix of amusement and disgust. Karan and Nishi were trying to look romantically towards each other - but ended up bursting into laugher every time. Tithiya felt so happy seeing them there. They just made life perfect. Good friends, great parents, a fun college and a guaranteed internship at the media house of her choice. Life was good for Tithiya Sharma.

"Yohoo, Sharma! You were fabulous," Arundhuti came bouncing up the stairs even before Tithi had the chance to come off the stage. She smiled.

"Are you sure it wasn't bad? I went off key in some places".

"Bleh. You always feel that way about yourself, don't you? Under-sell to the world!" chided Arundhuti.

Tithi wanted to go back home. Rest for a while and tell her parents about the show. They would be proud. She has the most awesome parents ever. They have always supported her through whatever she has fancied at any point in her life. Like when she wanted to take up art in class two, her dad had brought her most of the crayons in the market. In class six she decided she wanted to be a dancer. And her mother went to each of her shows after that. By ninth she thought she had it made as a basketball champ. The only time her parents had become a bit strict with her was when she discussed her brilliant idea of leaving studies and going pro with the sport. They have been there through her life. To them, she was the perfect child. And to her, her parents were the ones whose words were the ultimate thing.

As she entered her house in CR Park, she could not smell her mother's incense sticks which she offered the Gods every evening at sundown. Her father's car was parked in the garage. And the light in the living room seemed to be on. She caught sight of Vohra aunty, her neighbour. Did she imagine it or did Vohra aunty just shake her head and clicked her tongue?

"Mumma! Papa", she called out as she entered the house. Her parents sat in the living room. Something told her it was not right. She went and sat next to her dad and looked from one parent to the other.

Her father broke the news to her," Your mother is leaving us."

"What???" Tithi was shocked.

"Yes, she wants to get married to Arjun uncle." Her father could hardly disguise the sarcasm in his voice.

"No. What! Is this a joke?" This had to be a joke. Her mom would never do something like this. It wasn't proper. It just wasn't. She loved papa. She loved Tithi. "Mumma, say something."

"Look beta, I wanted to tell you this myself. But the time was such. And.. and I was never sure how you'd take it."

"I met Arjun in college. We have been friends ever since. I must confess we have always felt strongly towards each other. But we decided to not take anything forward because I was about to be married to your father. I have had the best moments of my life in this family. Your father is a good man. He has been there for me. And you have given me so many reasons to feel happy and to be proud." Her mother looked down," And you are also one of the reasons why I have the courage to do this today."

"Did you just blame me for this mess? What is happening?"

"No beta. I am not blaming you. I am saying I am thankful. You have always been the girl who showed maturity beyond her years. And you feel that love is the biggest thing in the world. You were always falling in love with different things - sometimes dance, sometimes pets, sometimes algebra. And yet you gave them your best shot - your whole time. I know now that if I give my time, I can be happy too. And it’s not like I won’t be around. I will be next to you... through out your life - whenever you need me".

No. Stop it. Don’t make me a part of it. This is horrible. You are horrible" she screamed. With tears streaming down her face, she ran up to her room and slammed the door.

As she lay there thinking. She remembered all the days she had spent with her mumma and papa together. How perfectly in love they had looked. Had mumma ever been unhappy? Had mumma always been unhappy? Was it ok for her to do this? It couldn't be, could it?

But... but then. If she did love someone how can she, her mumma's little daughter, not be there to encourage her. Ok. She didn't love papa. But they were still not fighting. Then maybe it is ok to fall in love after an age. Maybe it is ok to let go of the things she had just take one more step towards an unknown future.

Her mother had waited all these years till Tithi was in the final year of college, therefore old enough to take care of herself. She didn't need her mother to be around her all the time. In all probability she would be studying in Mumbai for her masters. Why then should she leave behind her mother, unhappy and never being able to talk about what she wanted to anyone? It would hurt her. It would also be embarrassing to admit that she came from a broken home. But she had to do what was expected of her. She had to be the perfect daughter once more.

30 day challenge. Day # 3

Imagine you're looking through a collection of short stories. One of the titles catches your interest. That's the story you want to read first. What might the title be? Invent a title that would make you want to read the story. Now, write a story to go with that title...


And then the music stopped forever

When one of the girls in the school building had her birthday, Glen always was the one to decorate the cake. Venesia decked up the hall with streamers and photo cut-outs, while Pallavi painted a huge birthday card. Cicilia was the singer and Roberta the crazy little dancer. Together these teenagers made sure that each girl felt special on her birthday in the hostel.

The girls had all come to stay in the hostel when they were young. They were orphaned in different circumstances. Glen's parents died in the cold. Venesia was found in the homeless shelter and since she was just a baby they didn't know what to do with her. Mrs Hannigan had received the call from the shelter late into the night. She had gone first thing in the morning and picked up little Venny and brought her to the shelter. Her daughter, Cici, was approximately the same age. Pallavi's father had died while driving home from work. And her extremely young mother did not want to have any memory left of her previous life when she remarried a US citizen a year later. Roberta, or Bobbie, just walked up to the shelter when she was seven - confident and knowing exactly what she wanted. The younger girls knew that the five friends would be the best to turn to in case anyone needed any help, and also the worse kinds to have as an enemy. To Mrs Hannigan, the girls were her world. They brought about every joy she wanted. If Cici made her smile, the whole group together would make sure that the smile stayed put for the whole night.

Little Randy has her birthday tomorrow. She has been praying since morning for a new doll. Hand me down ones are the only dolls she has ever played with in the shelter. Cici tries to explain the financial problems on how they could all share, and how an old doll is much better because it also needs a new friend. Pallavi has been trying to make a new rag doll for her from her old polka dotted skirt which doesn't fit her anymore. She has always been good at sewing and crafts, though for difficult embroideries she has to run to the cook - plump Mrs Zafon - for help.

Parties are simple in the hostel. There is a cake, baked by Mrs Zafon and then decorated with whatever candies or toppings the girls are in love with at the moment. Venesia and Pallavi worked together in decorating and painting. Often they ran into Cicilia who would try to belt out new versions of Happy Birthday to you and YMCA and Shiny Disco Balls. Bobbie giggled every time she heard it, but then she never let anyone down. She would dance. And make everyone dance along with her. Even Mrs Hannigan had to come up and 'shake a leg'.

This time too everyone is busy making the preparations. Everyone is busy enough to not notice Randy when she goes to taste her stolen handful of candies. Busy enough to not remember about Mrs Hannigans blood pressure medicines. And then it happened. While they danced, with Randy in the middle of the circle, Mrs Hannigan fell on the couch. The girl's excitement had taken the best of her. She was old now. In her 50's. As she breathed her last, she thought of those five girls. She knew they would take care of the younger ones. They knew of her savings, they would be able to handle it for some time. But then, would they ever laugh again, with this sudden responsibility? Would they be able to sing and dance like they are doing now? The music for them would stop as soon as she stopped breathing. And yet, she couldn't hold on any longer...

30 day challenge. Day # 2

Write a story that includes: a tombstone, a first kiss, and a butterfly collection…

Mili was seven when Uno came to the house. The doctor had said its better to keep her happy in her last days. Her parents had cried the whole night. Doctor Roy, from Hazra Medical College had tried to console them. As a family friend and the consulting oncologist. Mili hadn't understood the fuss. All she wanted was her mother to come and sit next to her and massage her belly. That usually worked to ease the pain. She could hardly even hear the words being spoken.

Once she got a bit better, after a particularly nasty session of chemo, her daddy brought home a little Labrador puppy. Almost golden in colour and extremely energetic, Uno - as he was named by Mili on the very first day - became her best friend. She stopped missing her friends from school, whom she anyway met less and less with all her treatments. Uno and Mili became inseparable. Food would have to be served for both at the same time. Uno would not eat till Mili had her food in the mickey bowl. The only person who could give Uno a bath was Mili. And while taking that shower Uno would screech and Mili would sing a tune and together would make an unholy chorus, loud enough to make the neighbours come out of their houses.

Evenings, Mili would go into their backyard, carefully trying to avoid her mother kitchen garden. Uno would follow, sniffing the cauliflower leaves as he passed. Mili collected colourful butterflies in a big glass jars. Her mother kept a net instead of the lid, so that the butterflies wouldn't die. Next morning she would let them go from the terrace. Uno never really understood why she had to let them go. They looked perfectly edible to him. Mili must not be hungry in the mornings, Uno thought.

Everyone knew Mili would not live for long. The disease had spread pretty fast. And even though there were days when she couldn't walk from one side of the room to the other, her parents always hoped for a miracle. She was their little princess. The relatives had been insensitive and suggested that they should try for another child, or else they would be left completely alone after Mili is gone. But they could never imagine replacing Mili.

Day before yesterday she had started feeling weak again. She coughed up blood and was too weak to even lift her head. Uno came and snuggled next to her. He licked her hand, letting her know its going to be alright. Usually Mili kissed him whenever he showed affection like that, but today she was too weak to do that. Her mother pulled Uno and took him out of the room. As Mili cried here, they could hear Uno barking in the living room. Everyone tried to say their last goodbye.

Today, standing on the graveyard, Mili is trying to recite a 5-line poem for Uno. Uno passed away on the couch in the living room. He must have been scared of the dark. And while everyone was gathering around Mili, no one noticed him running around wildly, trying to make sense of it all.

Mili's parents felt sad. They knew Mili's time would come soon too. But at least she would have someone waiting for her!!!

30 day challenge. Day # 1

You move into a new flat. Everything is perfect. Except this horrible thing you didn't count on first...

Wonda moves into a new apartment. On the surface, the place seemed ideal, but her first night there, Wonda discovers a terrible problem with the place that she didn't take into account.

It is only after Wonda had changed into her white and blue striped shorts that she smells it. This smell - which can't be described as a stench, nor as a perfume. It is just a smell. Something she has smelled before. But she just can't put her finger on it.

She checks the kitchen. Behind the fridge her landlord has provided with the flat. Under the sink to see if some erst-while spilled gravy had dried up there. Nothing. Everything looks clean.

Wonda thinks of what she has to do in office tomorrow. One meeting post lunch, three reports to be finished and maybe one or two diagrams to be made sense of. Tuesdays aren't so bad. Except she has to see Vikram again. Vikram sits on her right. And he cracks awful jokes and gets offended if she doesn't laugh at those. And no matter how she tries she can't ignore Vikram. He is a nice person underneath his I-am-too-cool-to-care look. And to top it all off, he lives somewhere in Bhakti Park too, she has heard. Oh well. One must face their enemies sooner or later. And in cases like this, everyday.

She must call her sister in Delhi before she goes off to sleep. Everyone at home has been worries about her shifting to a new house. But then she couldn't keep living with her uncle and aunt for ever, could she? What worries her most was the food. She has very limited knowledge of cooking. At best she can fry an egg, boil some potatoes and whip up a spicy variety of rice with pickle. Wonda makes a mental note to learn new things.

"Hello, di"

"Wen! Why didn't you call earlier? I kept thinking you haven't even reached home. You know how all these cabbies are."

Wonda sighs. She can never make her sister realise that Bombay is not like Delhi. Yes. It might not be like home. Kerala had been quiet. But Bombay was always on the move. And hardly anyone had the time to pass comments. It probably also helped that the government doesn't let rich Punjabi lads in Bombay run around with guns.

"Oh di. You worry for nothing. It's ok. I was just busy cleaning up."

"Did you eat?"

"uh-huh".

"Wennn???"

Oh damn. She always caught her fibs. "I had snacks in the evening. Not hungry any more."

Truth was Wonda was craving her mom's tamarind rice. With so much going on in her life, she just needed a known thing to make it seem alright. But she didn't quite have the energy to soak the tamarind and then cook it with rice this late.

"As you wish. You must take care of yourself"

"Yes di. Listen. I have to go to sleep. Got work early next morning. And I still have some reports to finish"

"Ok. I'll call tomorrow"

She hangs up and walks to her cupboard. Out comes her crisp white shirt and the navy blue skirt. She feels the fabric in her hand and smiles. Sitting down to iron her shirt, she starts humming an old Dev Anand song 'Hai apna dil toh awara na jane kis pe ayega'.

Once done she brings out her handbag. Those two files must be dealt with today. She fumbles inside the bag, pulls out a file. Its greasy.

Her brow furrows. She is positive she didn't put anything in this handbag. And her tiffin case was safely soaked in the sink. Then.. Oh!! And there is the smell again.

She peers into her bag. There is a small green Tupperware jar. Tilted, gravy had come out of it.

She opens it. Inside is a mixture of rice, some tamarind paste and a ..wait..an egg!! Whoever makes an egg with tamarind rice.

There is a note on the underside of the container. Wonda opens it tentatively.

"Welcome to the neighbourhood, Wonda!!! Ainda zaroorat pare toh bula lena. Get it? 'Ainda'- 'Anda'. Har har har"

Oh man! That Vikram!!!!

Japan

Japan's earthquake has claimed over 2,400 lives. And also caused immense destruction of infrastructure and business. The emails doing the round - showing satellite images of Japan before and after the tsunami - is enough to give us an idea of the magnitude of loss.

Day 4 - already three blasts at the nuclear centre. Within 10 hours, low level radio active winds would reach Tokyo - the capital of the island nation. People are scrambling for food since hospitals and health care centres - already over populated - have run out of resources. Internationally, governments are trying to help them out - financially and otherwise.

And all I can hear is how much money investors will lose now that the Japanese market, Nikkei, has crashed over 19% in two days. I DO NOT CARE!!! Fuck you and all your money, sir. Why don't you go to Japan and pick up your money from there? Maybe after you reach and see how people are trying to survive, you'd appreciate your life more than your cash.

I have always heard that Mumbai is such a city which does not stop for anything. When after the 26-11 attacks, Mumbai went back to work the next day I was amazed. I loved their guts, admired them for not giving in. But if this also means that when the whole country is in danger or has already undergone a huge loss, one would go out and make money - not to distract himself from his personal loss but to make sure he can still look for a buy-sell opportunity - then I would rather not be here.

P.S. I am not writing this because I want another post here. I am writing this cause I want to tell these stupid morons this. And I do not have the guts to do so.

I.

I dance Jazz Funk.
I groove. Or try to.
I recite poems by Tagore.
I read Harry Potter and Adichie together.
I paint.
I like glass bangles. And long earrings.
I have a tattoo on my back.
I dont believe in marriage. I think love is over rated.
Yet, I cry everytime I watch a movie.
I love to travel.
And to sleep.
I study human rights and sociology.
And I try to understand how the stock market works.
I am not religious, spiritual or ambitious.
I love bike rides but I cant ride a cycle.

I have not figured myself out yet.
Don't do it for me.

8 kms and a cloudy day

In our bid to escape from the monotony of our professional and non-existent personal lives, me and 6 of my friends, decided to go to Lonavla. It wasn't totally unplanned, nor was it organized. We knew the date of our travel but nothing else. So this is what happened...

Managed to wake up at 5.30 and still miss the train (here starts our planned way of traveling). So took a bus instead and gossiped, chatted and slept our way to the 2 hour journey to Khandala. No. None of us sang the song.

From there we took autos to Lonavla (this reminds me, I somehow always mess up by calling autos scooters, whereas the actual substitute term used here is rickshaws..) station. By now we were 'in the mood' to enjoy our trip and thus we started our trek to Bhushi dam (no pun intended). Some people were nice enough to point out that its 8 kms away and we shouldn't try walking, but we are just like any other over confident,out-to-prove-ourself Indian.

So we decided to walk it! Wonderful experience actually. Take away the extremely rowdy crowd of men/ boys who kept crossing us in their bikes, cars, or legs. I think they had this misconception of auditioning for a Dharmendra movie and were, thus, trying all sorts of vocal antics.

Anyway.. we walked and posed and walked some more..By the end of our two-hour trek we reached the destination. Took off our shoes and started wading through the muddy water. Point to be noted, beer bottle pieces do not make for a nice carpet. Almost as bad as shorts-clad overweight uncles look to the eye.

This dam was nice and peaceful, it was the adjoining staircase-like structure which was the Maharashtrian version of the Kumbh Mela. I swear on every penny I have ever earned, there were at least 500 people sitting on those steps, trying to take a bath with the water the person sitting a little way ahead just used! And the way the screamed made me think at least some of them must be from rain-starved Vidarbha. Water! water! Oh and we paid Rs 10 for a cup of chai. Poor little rich shopkeepers! blah!

Done with that, we took an auto and reached a veg (sigh!) restaurant and had our lunch. Ran to the station in the drizzling rain and somehow managed to get on the train. Another first for me, sitting on those wooden shelf type upper berths in the general compartment. Of course the trip wouldn't have been complete without one of us fighting. So we did the best thing possible - gave our voice to my roomie's struggle for a place to sit and fought way to victory! Thats just about it.

Back to Mumbai. The hills look so far away now :( I still have some money left, though. Could plan a trip to Malshej Ghat next month...

Options.

I have been thinking.. which organization I could join if I leave my current job. Which made me think, which profession I could have picked too. And since this is a blog, and blogs are not factual anyway, I will make a list of whatever I want to be.

The first thing I can think of is a dancer! I could do classical something. Then I would be touring the world dancing in some shady concert. Or I could try to open my own school, where little kids with overweight mother would come and dance. And then I would choreograph an Indo-western thing and become famous...ha haaa haaa!! Of course Megha and Sreetama would have to be there to dance to our kind of songs :) Someday down the line I will break a bone in my leg, and not be allowed to dance again. I will shift back home, keep lying down on mt bed and watch tv.

A writer wouldn't be bad also. Provided I learn to write and not make typos and get ideas and not make grammatical errors. So then I would have to take up a topic. Maybe a piece of fiction. Enid Blyton style..(Cheese, scones, root beer being the factor here). And obviously it wont sell. So I will take money from my parents and stay at home till my conscience wakes up and I look for a 9-5 job.

I could try becoming an actress in some really, really cheap play. One where the acting skills required would be minimum but would get paid a lot. So that makes a lot of movies also possible ventures. And later on, I would be able to dance in some group dance sequence only 780 feet away from Shahrukh Khan and a heroine half his age..

Then there are NGOs. The problem here would be the sheer vastness of issues. Women? h? Special need children? Children with no education? Sexually abused children. God! I could start with one and keep going till there are none left. I could also be a teacher for kids in Darjeeling. Yes. Darjeeling. Or Assam. Some chink land. Look, I am going to be away from family so I should at least have this!

But since none of them look possible right now I would have to stick with this. And then travel writing. And then go into retirement when I am 40 and behave like garfield. I do like chicken lasagna :P

Devi needs a break

Having spent 20 years in Kolkata I had swore to never spend a single Durga Puja outside the city - ever. As a matter of fact I never thought that Puja could exist outside..

At home the excitement was always more about what we would wear, where would we go..and the daily plans of those four - five days. We would start planning as soon as school declared holidays, would shop two-three months in advance and go on silly diets which never worked. And every year we would have the same routine…meet up with friends, eat out and fall sick, go for bike rides, return home late and promise mom that next year onwards we would spend double the Puja time with family.. Which never happened actually since each year the circle of friends miraculously increased. Dussehra..or Dashami would bring with it gloom and sadness since the celebration was over. Lazily, people would start thinking about office again, some even taking that difficult step of going to their workplace. Others would just somehow extend their holidays or go on their annual trips with a huge family, lunch boxes in tow..

But here in Mumbai I realised work doesn’t just stop because one part of the country is rejoicing. As a matter of fact, other than the blaring sound of
make-shift pandals for Dandiya, nothing gives you a clue that it is Navratri. People go to work, students to school. they somehow always have the energy to return and go dance, or meet up with family, or go out to eat. Maybe that is what makes Mumbai so different. That is why people say it is “fast”. After all, the city of dreams - the city that never sleeps - can’t just stop functioning just cause the Devi has managed to kill another one of those demons, now, can it?

Killing time on the tracks

Never mind the smelly loos, the unhygienic food and the never-on-time schedules. If you were to ask me to choose between air and track, I’d go for the Indian Railways any day, and not just for romancing the countryside, or the fact that I can stretch my legs out even in AC-III, although I admit it was much more spacious a few years ago.

One thing that lends superiority to rail is the ease with which you can strike up conversations — and possibly friendships that won’t last beyond the journey, but who cares — with complete strangers (read fellow passengers–what were you thinking?). So unlike the stiff upper-lip environment in a plane.

Over the past few years, I’ve had a mix of quirky ones, budding geniuses and die-hard fans. I’m not going to be Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes and say I enjoyed them all and they taught me life-changing lessons (as if!).. but yes, some of them make for fun memories.

Just last year, I shared space with a saffron-robed Iskcon devotee on a Delhi-bound train I was taking after college vacations. The first few topics of our conversation ranged from clothes to Gita, from German conferences he had attended to the life in JNU. So far, so good. It was at dinner time that I was exposed to a completely different facet of his personality. All that finesse vanished the minute I ordered chicken, and what I got for the cardinal sin of being a non-vegetarian was a high-decibel oral treatise on the theory of karma and the knowledge that I would be reborn as a miserable little worm, waiting to be eaten up by the very bird I was about to consume, in order to pay for my sin. Lecture over, the man just went off to sleep peacefully, while it took me more than several minutes to shut my own eyes.

On another journey, there was this human supercomputer, all of seven years old, who could rattle off the names of all the stations from Kolkata to Mumbai — and then some — before you could complete the English alphabet. His dad explained parts of the Holy Quran and compared the similarities with Bible and Gita. I’ll bet if this kid and his dad were on some reality show, they would have walked away with top honours.

I’ve had my fare share of wannabe politicians and politically inclined as well. Take this energetic, prim-and-propah lady on a short-distance train for instance, who boasted she was travelling ticketless. Had she forgotten to buy one? Not enough money? Could she outfox the TC? None of the above. Hers wasn’t an excuse by any stretch of imagination, but a style statement, if there ever was one–”I don’t ever buy tickets…I belong to the ruling party!”

Would the response have gotten her off the hook had the TTE come her way? I can’t say. But it certainly would have warmed my heart to see such arrogance nipped in the bud. Not the kind of feeling I and other co-passengers had for this man who was travelling to Bangalore (a two-night journey from home), and who was booked for enjoying senior citizen’s reduced fare. We all felt bad since he was going to turn 60 on the third day of his journey, but the TTE obviously came in on day one itself. Luck is never on the side of these people.

And, oh yes, what is rail travel without a discussion on Lalu Prasad? On one occasion there were these die-hard fans of the former Railway Minister who waxed eloquent for a good three hours and more about the things the man had done to make our lives more, er, liveable. And others who complained every time the train halted in an unscheduled stop. This is a train, dearie, not a bus where the driver can hear you and act accordingly!

One of the funniest experiences I’ve had was with this 60-something man who kept complaining about me to his family over his cellphone. He was speaking in Bengali, not knowing it was my mother tongue as well, but smiled everytime I looked at him. After an hour of being scrutinised and criticised, I calmly wished him “Shubho Bijoya”. The look on his face at that point, needless to say, was worth a million dollars. And no, he didn’t speak to me after that, thank goodness.

With all the excitement around how can one just leave the great Indian train ride and take to the skies instead?

Mad ad world and reality

Many-a-times, reel life imitates real life and vice-versa. But what do you call it when the real life starts imitating the ad world?

It all started with the Lead India campaign. But the campaign and the work which followed was by and large organized, and watched over, by the campaign makers. The citizens were guided by them and to a good result. Though the initiative did not come from the people at first, they did take it up. Teach India was, and still is, a success story. Hundreds have registered for the campaign and go to government schools after college or work and do their bit. Those who couldn’t join on time, began tutoring underpriviledged children from the neighbourhoods in their own houses. The kids got taught. The elders got to take part in the movement without being directly involved.

Likewise, the Aircel tiger campaign has struck a chord with gen X, as can be seen in the facebook groups: ‘Stripey the cub’ and ‘Save tigers’. The fact that only 1,411 of these feline beauties have survived till 2008 is depressing. And that number is only of the 2008 census. So for all you know, there might be less than a thousand of them remaining.

You know, campaigns like these have come and gone. We have shaken our heads, we have clucked in disgrace, but have seldom taken action. This time around, however, the social networkers have decided to take it a step forward. Enthusiasts and concerned people from all across the country will be meeting on February 14 in their respective cities and make a plan to bring the issue to the government’s notice. It remains to be seen whether it would bring about any change. Yet, it cannot be ignored that an ad has sparked so much interest in a problem that was always there.

This morning I heard another. Remember the Idea Cellular ad where the neta wants to know if a particular bridge should be built? And the citizens send smses supporting it? The Maharashtra government has, likewise, asked people to send in their opinions on the Best-of-five subject selection for junior colleges. If concerned people support it then the government will introduce the Best-of-five system during admission for junior colleges, a move which is already being happily appreciated by school students and their parents.

So..What do you call it when the real life starts imitating the ad world?

For now lets just call it a good start.

I have decided to fall in love.
With friends who create.Who paint.
Who dance, sing, make funny noises from their tummy.
Those who destroy.
And in their destruction make some more.

With friends who make my day by telling me jokes when i want none.
Friends who lie to save my butt. Or to save their own.

Friends who like ice-cream and hate coffee.
Or coffee but not chocolate. Or both.How does it matter anyway?

I have decided to fall in love with them. Cause it is just natural and meant to be.

something sweet in the air

Love and marriage are not always together.. One can exist without the other. And for me the former has to.. absolutely has to preceed the latter. Recently my friends have tied the knot, have fallen deeper into love.. (Not sure in which order).. And those who havent have at least made their opinions on the word clear.

She is getting married now. My friend. The one who swoons over fictitious vampires and cries at happy endings and has so many dreams of her perfect mate. That morning she woke us up with the news of her marriage and a shy smile. Surprise!!! oh.. The cuteness!! None of us could stop smiling for two days after that... Girls and their obssession with anything romantic...

And now i see her delicately and slowly falling in love. Someone's falling in love in front of me.. being transformed even though she probably doesnt realise it. She is going through everything that any other person in a relationship (not necessarily with the prospect of marriage near by) goes through. She talks to him ( at the risk of getting the phone stuck to her ear permanently), plans her future with him, fights with him, tells us how he makes her feel, what he tells her, and how he is soooo good and she is not sure if she can ever be that good!! he he...ooohhh!!! Lourve!!!!

I guess, love happens in most unlikely and then in the likeliest of places. Something as pure as marriage being strengthened by the love these two have started feeling for each other..Seeing her im reminded of all the lil happiness that being in love brings.

Here's to you Ms Mishra. Hope he turns out to be everything you hoped for, and you are the one he has deserves. With all your goodness and your flaws, your madness and your patience, your smiles and anger... together you will grow.. Good luck... Enjoy this new journey!!!