Pink or Black - HIgh Drama at HIgh school

Pink or Black 2 

Tishaa

So Pink or Black 2 is about a lot of kids in the 11^th grade, to whom clearly emotions and relationships are of no particular importance. Our protagonist Tianna, just starts off with  a new year at school, and is bought face to face with incidents in her past.

She reveals her secret to her friends who don’t believe in keeping secrets and spill the beans, about her past in front of the whole school. (some friends eh?). She has surprises in form of her cousin Tea, who lands up in her school as the “hot new thing”, and slowly sizzles away. She plays her part, rather takes revenge in a very dramatic rather stupid manner.

Tianna’s friends are no longer her friends and start bitching about her the minute she is out of ear  - shot. Every “hot” or “good looking” guy is in “love” or has “feelings” for her. Her ex-boyfriend, breaks up with her, and can’t take the fact that she took the break-up so coolly!. I’m sorry, is the author really delusional?? .

To add more to the story, there is this set of “rival” gang with whom she is forced to eat lunch with and they become her “friends”, with whom she confides everything!!there is this on and off friendship that she shares with Leila. I’m seriously starting to think that this chick is demented or rather needs help.

Anyways so everything gets sorted out in la-la land. Realization dawns on tianna with regard to friendship and love. Sigh!!!

You know what , one word which describes this book : AVOID.

I mean where do teenagers behave this way?? Do you treat your friends indifferently just because the new “hot” guy knows your friend?? Do you treat her like crap because she has her own POV??? Well if you do , then this book is for you.

My ratings : 2/10

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Letters to the unknown

Part I

Dear Gautam,

Honestly, I don’t even know why I am penning this down. But I guess this is going to be the only way I can pour out my heart. Right now, that’s the only thing I can do. I will not be able to see you again. I have been selected for a divine cause, my aunt , I’m sure you might remember her from the market. Anyways, so my aunt feels that I am very lucky to have been “the chosen one”. She said she has been hoping it to be her, and that she is outright jealous of me too.

But I really don’t feel lucky at all. I wanted to pursue college, you know I loved chemistry. College was special, a lot more because of you. I don’t know if you ever saw me before that accident, before I stopped college. But I did. I still remember that day when we were submitting our forms, for college. You were creating a ruckus , having an endless conversation, with a friend of yours. You were told to lower your voice by a professor, and shockingly, within minutes, that professor was eating out of your hands. Your charm, and quick wit, combined with a whacky sense of humor had made you an instant hit.

Your antics in the foyer, your helping nature, and your ability to spot books in the library did not go unnoticed. i even attended one of your English literature class, and wasn’t disappointed with your intelligent retorts. It almost had me in fits.

My eyes would constantly search for you while my brain used to hold  endless conversations with you. I even rehearsed what I would say , when we would meet. But I wasn’t prepared for the “way” we met. It was a complete mess. I was just told that I was the “chosen one”, and I was running away from everything, when I bumped into you. Imagine meeting you, when I had lost everything. I wanted to be hugged, I wanted to snuggle in your embrace and cry out, but I knew, that was never going to happen. Not anymore.

I don’t know if you or rather anyone would ever read this. I don’t know if I could stop what’s going to happen.

I was chosen to be a suicide bomber. I did not feel that I was lucky, infact when I protested, my uncle’s raped me and hit me badly. My mother and brother were also beaten black and blue till I finally agreed. All I could do was to inform the cops.

I did that at the market street, and I did see you there too Gautam. But I had many more important things to do. I tore my bag, and pretended to pick up the fallen stuff. I did that and also left behind a paper with all the details, of the time, date etc. even about my mother and brother. But I wonder how much they would be able to decipher, because even I did not know much. They always spoke in codes and clues.

I just hope that my mother and brother would be alright. I have asked them to run away, but mother says she won’t go without me. I tried to convince her, and finally she agreed. All I have to do is keep everyone’s attention.

All I pray for everyday, is for you to not be around during that explosion.I hope God hears me out.

Tomorrow Nidhi will cease to exist. Tomorrow, I would be among those charred bodies. But im happy that atleast I was able to pen my thoughts.

Love,

Nidhi.

Letters to the unknown

Dear Unknown,

It has been around 2 years, and I have failed miserably in finding out your name, or anything more about you. Whenever I tried, I was met with many obstacles. I don’t know if all of them were intentional or just mere coincidence. I’d not stick for either, because you have been way too lucky and inspiring for me.

From the first time we bumped into each other to the very second I sat down to write this, your image hasn’t changed one bit. I can vividly recall, every single detail of the first time we met. Now that I would say was “meant to happen”. How else could you explain all of that last minute changes from my end, am not sure about yours.

I was running towards my department, and the usual route was filled with new students , so I took a detour, via the chemistry department and you happened. All I remember was tripping those three stairs, and holding your hand for support, taking you along , and falling on the hard concrete. But I did not register anything during the fall, except the fear in your eyes, and the slight tremble of your lips. The way a few strands of fruit smelling hair escaped your abaya. You tried hard to let go but we were entangled in a mess. I saw a silent tear threatening to jump from those eyes. That got me back, and I helped you , rather us, stand up. I was about to apologise when you ran away. I couldn’t fathom why, maybe you were embarrassed, but I saw a lot more of fear than embarrassment, or maybe I was just over reacting.

The Chemistry department became my usual haunt, but it was two weeks and I still did not see you. I did ask around, but no one knew much. I also bumped into this guy, who threatened me with dire consequences if I came back for you. I burst into fits of laughter. Was he serious?? He seemed like one of those villains with cheesy dialogues. But his Cold look was enough for my brain, which told me it was better to keep quiet. I walked away, hoping to sight you somewhere, anywhere.

I guess it was my mind that was playing tricks, but I felt I saw you in the market street. It was two months since the episode in college. You were always on the back of my mind, maybe , my mind was in a “lets fool” him mood. But I was sure it was you , I saw you getting inside an auto. I saw the look in your eyes, when the bag bearing grocery tore open, before you entered the auto. You gingerly bent down and picked most of it, when, that lady with you, must have been your mom, shouted at you, to get inside.

The heavens aided my imagination, when you stooped down to pick the supplies. It was as though, the world or rather time came to a standstill. Everyone became a blur of moving objects. God switched on a mute button to my surroundings. It was so quiet that I could hear the rustle of your burka as you sat down to pick up the things, I could hear your every breath, slow and calm. The clanking of your bangles, and a slight fluttering of your hair. Those eyes though without a generous dose of kohl, still looked beautiful. However they seemed to hold a secret.

A ear-splitting honk bought me back to reality, and you were gone . I don’t know whether I’ll get to see you again. But you are so deeply etched in my mind that only death can erase your image.

The news flashed every hour showing blood and gore everywhere. An explosion took place at the railway station this morning. I was supposed to travel at the same time. however, the ever punctual me, woke up late, missed my bus,and missed being roasted alive. I'm sure someone up there must have prayed for me, or maybe we are destined to meet. i pray and am eagerly waiting for the day i get to bump into you again.

Love

Gautam

Curiosity it is ..

Living with a “Creative” man, has its own highs and lows. Well the first blow was when I realized that “creativity” was limited to his writing pad (sigh). Anyways, so here is a cliché look attached with these “creative” guys – the unkempt, unshaven, I haven’t showered in a while look, which apparently funds for their creative juices (really??) . I’m sure you must have figured out that my Man belongs to the above look , and proudly flaunts it, inspite of my threats of abandoning him (well , usually, I scream , and he “pretends” to be lost in thought, so the argument kinda becomes invalid. SIGH).

Inspite of the above mentioned limitations, and using the “director” tag to his full benefit. I still found one little insy winsy emotion that works wonders for me . (drum rolls – give it up for the great grandmother of all emotions) “Curiosity”. Yes , I’m serious. You don’t believe me , do you?.. Read on.

So its been almost 3 weeks , that I have been trying to get him to shave or at least trim his almost “mammoth look”. He says it lets him think. I seriously wonder how , itching aids a story flow. Anyways, so here was I trying all the tricks in the trade (yes, Girls, I tried em all) , and failing miserably, that I finally decided to give up.

Now, let me tell you a small detail about myself – I am a voracious reader, to every single letter. The world may go topsy turvy, but I would not put away my book, till I read the last word.  I barely take say an hour or two to read a book, and when I read a book , even my guy stays away(I hate being disturbed.)So coming back to how I achieved that moment of eureka. I invited Curiosity and he simply put together everything.

I was reading a new book, and as usual, my guy reads the title and leaves me to it, happily embracing his writing pad (grrrr). So this book was a 182 pg read, which would take me an hour or less. But this time it took me two  days, and HE noticed. (step 1 accomplished).

Him:   you still reading that?

Me:  mmmmm

Him : usually you would have finished …

Me : Shuusshhhh

Him : its been over 5 mins, and you haven’t  moved from that page..

Me :  para rather

I continue reading , without even flicking to another page. I smile to myself, when I caught an incredulous look on his face (step 2 accomplished).

So the next morning, I wake up, and as usual go for my jog. That’s been a routine. I come back wake him up , and make coffee, we talk, and we head for work. So I come back, and find the keys under the door mat. I step in, and almost step back, thinking I got into a wrong house. You want to know why??

I got in to  a house smelling of scented candles, and at first sight a “stranger”. Well it was him, alright. He was wearing a white shirt, and I could smell the musk after shave even from the distance that separated us. I ran into his arms.

Are  you wondering what bought about the change??? My book marked page, that I never took my eyes of from , read something like this …

“Frank , stood near the window. His white shirt reflected the calmness of his soul. His intense eyes, clean shaven demeanor was all it took her to undress to a different world altogether …. "

Alright , so no prize guessing what I was reading. But all’s well, when I have a smooth hug, than a mammoth one.

This post is a part of the 'Shave or Crave' movement in association with BlogAdda.com

The Bankster

by Ravi Subramanian

Courtesy : Goodreads

About the author

(courtesy :Goodreads)

Ravi is an alumnus of IIM-Bangalore, batch of 1993. In a banking career spanning close to 18 years, he has worked with various multinational banks (Citibank, ANZ Grindlays Bank and HSBC) and at present lives in Mumbai with his wife and nine year old daughter.

An author of five books, THE BANKSTER, If God was a Banker, The Incredible Banker, Devil in Pinstripes and I Bought the Monk's Ferrari, Ravi Subramanian’s maiden fiction venture, “If God Was a Banker” was published in 2007, establishing itself as a National Bestseller. The book also won the prestigious Golden Quill Award for Readers Choice for the year 2008. His second book, “I Bought the Monk’s Ferrari” followed shortly after also setting the bookshelves on fire and is a bestseller in its category. Devil in Pinstripes was his third book which released in 2009.

His last book, The Incredible Banker, which released in September 2011 has been on various bestseller lists ever since the launch. In fact it has been on the crossword book store best seller list for 40 weeks of the last 48 weeks.

As a result of his extensive background in foreign banks, writing about banking comes quite naturally to Ravi. Each one of his books thus far have been set in the backdrop of a foreign bank. The Wall Street journal has referred to Ravi Subramanian as the John Grisham of Banking.

My take on the Book

When I saw the book, the first thing that caught my attention was a line out of the Wall Street Journal saying “Meet the John Grisham of banking”. Intrigued and with loads of expectation, I flipped on to read the Bankster.

Oscillating with three different parallels spanning continents and various characters, the Author slowly unwraps a mystery in the African country of Angola with Joseph Bragnanza, a CIA covert agent involved in blood diamonds and arms dealing. From there it smoothly switches to a budding protest against a nuclear plant in Kerala, though it appears to be out of context it is brilliantly linked at the end, and finally the GB2(Greater Boston Global Bank) where manipulations and power struggle brings out the various shades of the corporate world.

What possibly could be the connecting point of an international CIA agent and events happening in Kerala and the tragic deaths of Greater Boston Global bank employees becomes the main plot of the story. The author manages to hold your interest. Usually when there are three different plots, authors tend to not handle it well, however Ravi Subramanian has handled that responsibility with ease

The case presented as a local happening unfolds as an international crime scene. Similarly, the death of some bank employees which initially looks like suicides later proves to be planned cold-blooded murders.

It’s only when a media person (Karan Panjab) and ex-banker suspects that something is amiss. That he decides to investigate it. With very less time in hand, he manages to expose the real culprits.

Yes I do know it’s a piece of fiction, however, personally I found it a little too vague, inspite of Karan’s background being presented by the author, that a media personnel, would within a limited time frame, unravel this complex mystery.

Karan is supported by some trusted colleagues and his girlfriend, However at times the author did bring in unnecessary elements of romance in the nail biting, time restricted  plot.

The author’s  style of writing is decent and not much difficult. The author has simplified many banking terms thus making it 

an easy read for a person belonging to a non-finance sector.

The only factor that was a let down for me was the unwanted length and dialogues at certain places the book seemed to drag on without an aim. However, if we overlook all of that, I must say that the Bankster is definitely worth a read.

And about whether agree with the Wall Street Journal about him being the “john Grisham of banking” … hmmm .. not yet… But too soon ..yes

My rating : 7/10

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Scream fare

They finished off their supper in a hurry and got ready to hit the bed. Liam asked her little sister Raona, to get her a jug of water .Raona came back with the jug, and hurried off to the washroom.*  Liam giggled as she curled under her blanket. As soon as Raona came out of the washroom, Liam asked her to draw the curtains. Raona walked towards the windows, supressing fits of laughter under her breath.  She neared the window to draw the curtains and screamed and turned towards her sister who screamed back.

*As Roana slipped into the washroom , Liam pasted a poster of “Mirrors” on the window.

**Raona, put on her mask of “Zombi 2” , and walked out of the washroom….

They gasped , screamed and burst in peals of laughter.

P:S – dedicated to my awesome sisters. Its def worth having siblings if they are sisters esp, those who contribute to stories :P

The Krishna Key

Ashwin Sanghi 

The Krishna Key

Book Summary of The Krishna Key

Five thousand years ago, there came to earth a magical being called Krishna, who brought about innumerable miracles for the good of mankind. Humanity despaired of its fate if the Blue God were to die but was reassured that he would return in a fresh avatar when needed in the eventual Dark Age—the Kaliyug.

About The Author

Ashwin Sanghi is one of the well known writers in the Indian literary scene, and an author of thriller fiction. He shot to fame through his first release, The Rozabal Line. His books are characterized by extensive research, and they're fast paced political or historical thrillers.

Ashwin is an entrepreneur by profession but writing historical fiction in the thriller genre is his passion and hobby. Ashwin was educated at the Cathedral & John Connon School, Mumbai, and St Xavier's College, Mumbai. He holds a masters degree from Yale and is working towards a Ph.D. in Creative Writing. Ashwin lives in Mumbai with his wife, Anushika, and his son, Raghuvir.

My Take on the Book

Having read Chanakya Chant I was more than thrilled to read The Krishna Key. Ashwin Sanghi’s books are well researched and ensure a fast paced read.

I had a very strong feeling of Déjà vu, when I started reading the book. maybe because I recently read “The Lost Symbol’ by Dan Brown.  I found many similarities between the protagonists and the characters of the Krishna key when compared to Dan browns books. Just like Robert Langdon, our Protagonist Ravi Mohan Saini, is an expert in the field of history, and in his pursuit of truth, finds himself a strong barrier in the form of an investigating officer.

Similarities apart, the Krishna Key provides an intriguing read. The author has provided parallel story about Krishna, in a very simple manner, which helps an individual with limited knowledge in Hinduism about the background of Lord Krishna.

The research done by him is commendable. However, even while decrypting certain codes and trying to arrive at a valid conclusion my mind kept drifting away to Dan Brown. I would say he definitely has provided an indianized version of Dan Browns Stories.

His writing style is something that will hold your interest, however in two places; he has mixed up the names of the characters, which tend to be a spoiler. Also he has missed out a word in yet another sentence. Also towards the end, on the pretext of trying to buy time, we are given another scoop of information about the evolution of the universe which I feel was totally uncalled for.

The author has simplified the book, by providing various pictures as well, which definitely helps the readers to have a better understanding of the subject. Overall it was a good read, with uncalled for lag, and detailed explanations in some.

Just like Robert Langdon. Our Ravi Mohan Saini is also helped by a Female. Here I liked the added twist, which definitely was a breath of fresh air.

What makes this book a feel good factor, is the mention of our ancestor’s knowledge with regard to the varied fields known to man, be it science technology, human mind, etc. In a way it is a reminder to us, to read and relive in the moments of the past through the various ancient texts.

My Rating : 7/10

P:S - I have started a bit of Research of late with the predicted Apocalypse on 21st December 2012. Most of the writings, predictions point in one direction, that the "end" is an end from Darkness to light, from Ignorance to Knowledge. Just broaden your minds here, its about time to read the scriptures and ancient texts, they definitely hold a lot of mysteries.

PPS : I was glad about th above piece of information, as i have recurrent nightmare of drowning, and i don't know to swim, and am too scared to learn as well. :P :P

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Book Review - Love in crazy times

Love in Crazy Times

K V Gautam

About the Book

Love in Crazy Times is a gripping tale of search for love and freedom, braving heart-breaks, evil bosses and family pressure. The protagonist Amit is a daring middle class guy who chases both love and dream of starting his own business. He is faced with the hypocritical Indian society and the corrupt business class on his path. His victory is not easy and comes after a long trail of personal and professional setbacks. The story also shows how India, after the economic liberalization, is offering immense opportunities as well as challenges to young people. It’s also about the cultural gap between a small town and a metro, and how parents find it difficult to adjust in a fast changing nation. The story, narrated in the first person by Amit, is set in Delhi from the period of 2005 to 2011. The story follows life of Amit, a small town boy armed with optimism and confidence, who comes to Delhi in search of a job. The story also narrates personal and professional struggles of his friends Suraj and Shantanu, who came to Delhi from Lucknow and Kolkata respectively. It’s a racy and pacey story that has elements of romance, humour, emotions, drama and a bit of social message.

Book Details

ISBN-13: 9789350830949	ISBN-10: 9350830949
Publisher: Diamond Books	Published Date: 2012

Book Review

Once you read the blurb, you tend to easily relate with the Protagonist –Amit. He is someone whose experiences strike a chord.

The plot is good .Its similar to what is being churned out these days, but still the impressive cover, a la mills and boons feel, makes you want to give it a read. Honestly, i feel i understand the phrase 'not to judge a book by its cover'(literally) much better.The book did not really give me the effect that it promises in its blurb.

The language is grammatically incorrect in most of the pages, which really makes you not want to read further. Confusion with regard to the characters names by the author, make it more of something you do not want to read. For example Suraj’s girlfriend is referred to as Renu and Ritu.

His friend Shantanu, who gets married on the basis of astrology twice, doesnot really elicit any sympathy. I pity him, not in a way that my heart goes out to him!!

The book is slow paced, and as the story progresses, the protagonist seems like an intolerable loser, who falls in love with every girl he meets. This book did not work for me at all.

The Characters are loosely etched. The happy ending was  expected, but not justified. 

Rating : 1/10

Serah (Part III)

Part I / Part II

I realized I did not know Serah all that well. For instance, I never knew she maintained a Diary. I never knew she cooks really yummy khichdi. In a way, her staying with me was a medium for me to get to know her better.  Our lives continued on parallel tracks. I finally got someone to publish my work, and was working on my book and Serah used to give me my space as well. It was beautiful. Having immersed myself in work I started to not notice the faint signs of misery etched on her face. Realization came in way of her Diary – her most prized possession – the one she guarded with her life.

However today different, she was had gone for her routine check-up. I stumbled upon her diary while searching for sticky notes. I did not read it initially. I just kept it aside, but curiosity got the better of me, ad I started reading…..

Why did he just go?? Am I not good enough, I want to cry out loud. I feel like my soul is ripped apart. I m hurt. My tears do nothing to ease away the pain. Please take me away from this world, or make me strong, real strong. Or give me the courage to kill myself…

I was aghast. She had been in so much pain, where was I??? I continued reading …

Tony wants to go too. Why why why… why Is it that no one wants to stay with me?? Am I not good?? Am I not beautiful?? Am I not perfect?? What is itttt????? I was about to cut my wrist when Rajaa called me... isn’t he an angel? I feel I burden him with my troubles. I pretended to be happy when Rajaa called. I thought I could convince Tony to be with me... but he left... like everyone else… Just like Dad left Mum and Mum blamed me. Who do I Blame? Its ME... I am the REASONN …

I could feel my eyes burning. Serah had held so much inside herself, she was a volcano ready to burst open.

I could not gather enough courage to read further. I closed the diary and went back pretending that nothing happened.

Three weeks later, when she went for another check-up, I read her diaries. She had dated almost 9 men, and none of them stood by her. That had broken her up from inside. It had scarred her so bad, that there was no cure, for the same. I realized that she may be under clinical depression, but did not know how to broach upon the subject with her.

8 months later…

Serah was blessed with a baby girl. I insisted they stay back, till the baby turned 2 . She agreed on the staying back bit. However I knew she wasn’t happy. The reason was unknown.

Her Diary opened up a different world altogether. The Serah who wrote the Diary was so different from the Serah whom I knew. I never imagined that a single Human being could handle so much rejection, and still remain human. Serah’s smile never reached her eyes, she seemed Hollow from within.

I read the reason for her unhappiness; or rather worry ,was her baby girl – Raya. She was scared that she would have a fate as her own. She was scared for her baby.

I knew I had to do something to make her feel better. I visited psychiatrists seeking a solution, but neither could help Serah indirectly. They wanted her to be there for the sessions.  I realized that the idea of seeking help affected her emotionally, when I randomly spoke about the same.

After considerable research and understanding on the subject. I finally knew what I had to do, and for that I had to have access to her Diary again.

to be continued ....

Fractured legend

Fractured Legend

Author : Kranthi Askani

About The author

Kranthi Askani is a novelist from Hyderabad, India. His fictional style integrates magical realism with gothic elements.

What do you do when you get a personally autographed book from the author?? Well I’m not sure about most of you, I was Happy, and was all set to read the book. Of course, you need not always feel the same state of emotion you were in initially. So here I started off, and with the very first line I went “ehh, errr whatt’ yea! So anyways, I read on further, and come across ‘I would squeal and scurries back like a touch-me-not….’ And here I was thinking that squealing and scurrying was attributed to a rat/mouse.

Further, ‘of the eleven others, I like Aardya the most. She is humble and has a straight Jaw. Everyone teased her, I never teased her’. Yes , i still kept reading!!

So here I realized that definitely the author’s fictional style of integrating magical realism and gothic elements was definitely not something I looked forward to reading.

I found it really hard to read the book owing to the writing style of the author, which I personally felt, would put Indian soaps to shame. You know how each dialogue is said in slow motion in serials?? I felt the writing to be such. Also, just because you use some bi words out of context doesn’t make the content worthwhile.

None of the characters were appealing; they only managed to make me want to yawn.

There is an obvious lag in the story line, for instance, Priyambada goes to talk to Annapurna about how she could earn money or rather get some job. Here Priyambada is distracted by a ‘Sieve’ (Yes a SIEVE for crying out loud), and we are told as to how she lost a sieve herself. So I’m sure you get the point, right?

The book is divided into three parts – Slave, Manuscript, and A very long letter. In each pat , we have thre different female protagonists - Priyambada, Nandhini and Pravalli . Somehow, none of them were interesting

I personally did not like the Book. For me it was definitely Fractured.

My review:  1/10.

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Serah ( Part II )

( Serah Part I )

Both our teams overcame the initial hassles. Well that did not come in easy, there was lot of melodrama, catfights, name-calling, and finally after our Principal intervened we started working for our ‘college’. Though both the team members despised each other initially, I guess we somehow mellowed down along the way. Love blossomed as well, and no it wasn’t me. It was Serah and Hridant. 

Serah and I were assigned to work on the story board together, after the initial awkwardness,and her faint memory of having thrown soda on my face etc, we somehow managed to work together. Yes we did have very different opinions and views, but somehow we used to find a third way out. Yes, it was neither my way nor her way; it was always a third opinion or idea, which we would mutually agree on.

So eventually the three months of preparations gave way to our competition. Though we did not land the first position, and were ‘content ’of being placed 3^rd, I found a Friend in Serah. I envied her, not because she was always ahead of me, but she had a beautiful gift, of masking her sorrows over her ‘Happy-go’ lucky face, and trust me she was too good at it, rather, good is an understatement.

Our friendship grew, and from Rajan, I was christened Rajaaaa. That’s what she used to call me. Serah and Hridant were also going on, as everyone else said ‘Strong’. They were the ‘Perfect Couple’. So if they were so Perfect’ why wasn’t Serah’s smile reaching her eyes? Why did her laughter loose itself somewhere between her upper lips and the bridge of her nose? No no I wasn’t jealous here, I just happened to notice her a lot better than the others did.

Three years just passed away in the blink of an eye. We were awaiting our final year results, and well ‘planning ahead’. I had already decided on pursing writing, and luckily my Parents backed me up as well. Serah was to an extent clueless. She was what they called”Jack of all trades, master of none”. But that was again because she never really placed much importance on a career as such. Although I must add, that in the 3 years, she was a known person. It was not every time that you came across a person, who was fab at music, dance, poetry, art – you name it, Serah was it. So now you know why she wasn’t fascinated with a particular thing. She used to tell me that she would easily get bored, if she realized that she could do certain things without putting in much effort.

However Serah started off as an Intern with an advertising firm, and found her work interesting. Hridant and Serah parted ways in between all this. When, how, why was never known, and I never asked. She used to like that about me. That’s how we grew close.

Three years with Hridant did leave a scar, and that was slowly beginning to heal. A year later, she informed me about Tony. She met Tony through one the projects she was working on, and well they bonded really quick. Well I felt 2 days was really quick . Now Tony was a model from UK, and was here just for the week. However, I’m sure the Serah charm rubbed on him too. He stayed back.

As far as I was concerned, I did have my occasional share of relations, break-ups etc. I could never understand as to why I never felt any strong emotion or rather connection towards any of my Girlfriends. I realized why, 6 years later.

I still remember that night, feels like yesterday. I opened the door to see Serah completely drenched, and shivering away. She walked inside leaving wet footprints in her wake. I hate the monsoons, and cannot fathom the pleasure people derive in getting drenched in the rain.

So here she was sitting on the floor with her knees drawn to her chest. Her wet hair clung tightly to her frame as though afraid of being taken away. Her eyes were tightly shut as though warding off invisible demons. Her broad forehead was burrowed in creases that couldn’t be ironed out. A drop of water made its way from the end of her pixie nose to her lips. Her lower lips trembled with the cold, pulling me back into realization that she was shivering. I rushed to get her a towel and something dry to change into.

She was still sitting as I had left her. Two fat tears rolled out of her eyes. She bit her lower lip and looked up at me. She shook her head sideways, and looked down. I bent down and started drying out her hair and handed her the towel and the clothes I got her. She silently got up, and tiptoed towards the bathroom.

As she came back I handed her a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

‘How is Tony’? Our conversations used to usually begin with ignorance of the others situations. We felt it would give us the time to decide if we wanted to talk or not. I know it sounds foolish, but this was how it was, this was how it was always going to be. 

I knew they were having a rough time. The last conversation I remember was of her wanting to settle down with Tony, however he was hesitant. She was done with their on and off relation status, done with him cheating on her, and then begging for forgiveness. She wanted Tony to take them seriously.

‘Tony and I are not together anymore’, she paused, I knew there was something more to the breakup, and I knew she was coming to it. She looked helplessly at me. Her big round black eyes, screamed for help, and yet they were hollow. I looked away and puffed away on my cigarette.

‘I’m pregnant’, she sighed ’he doesn’t want the baby, but I want the baby, I’m keeping my child.’ She finished in one breath.

To those of you who are wondering about her parents in this equation. Well Serah never spoke about them, and I never asked. I threw the cigarette away and saw it holding onto its last breath before fading away.

‘How old is the Baby’

‘3 weeks’, her eyes twinkled.

‘I’m not sure about this pregnancy thing Serah, but I guess you should not be getting drenched in the rain again, the baby may catch a cold or something’

She looked at me and stared for a millisecond before bursting out into a thunderous laughter. For the first time in 10 years I saw her happy.

to be continued

Serah ( Part I )

He looked back at the man staring at him. Wrinkles sought refuge on his face, like they yearned to be there. He crinkled his eyes, ran his hair through his receding hairline, and winked back at the reflection in the mirror. Not bad, he thought aloud. Rajan Pillai tugged at the collar of his crisp white linen shirt and flattened invisible creases on his broad shoulder.

The wind blew in the ruffled curtains and covered his face. He sighed and looked back at the direction of the wind, and relished in the memory it bought him. A distant laughter filled his ears. He admonished the wind, and his eyes fell on a collage of pictures that adorned his wall. Serah, he whispered.

******

‘Why is it that love always eludes me, I’m loosing out on myself, you know Raja, I feel like i'm going down’

2 weeks later

‘helllooooo Rajjaaaaa, eeeee, IMA in looouuuveee’, she rambled over the phone.

Oh I almost forgot to introduce her. Trust me after knowing her, you would be wishing that you didn’t know her. I’m serious. Look at me! Alright so let me get to it. I know Serah since she was 20 years old. Oh she is 36 now, oh and I’m Rajan her best friend. But this is not about me. This story is purely about Serah. My Serah.

It must have been Summer, my memory fails me about the season, but why I think its summer is because of Serah again. Ok I am hopelessly in love with her, but who wouldn’t be! I still remember the time I saw her. She was wearing a cut out ripped denim, and an equally cut out white sleeveless t-shirt. Well the t-shirt was more or less something small enough to cover her assets; well you get the point right?? No and i’m not a conservative hypocrite, who secretly leched at her, I just found the outfit a tad too small.

Image courtesy : Dirty Hair Halo

Anyways, so here I was finishing my essay that was to be submitted for my honors programme for Ancient Indian Culture. Ok stop judging me already, and yes I was an average looking guy, only because I failed to pay much attention on my appearance and more on academics. So here I was minding my own business when she struts in (literally), and places an order for a Pepsi. Her eyes sweep over me, and remained fixed on a group of guys playing basketball. Curiosity got the better of me, and I followed her eyes, and well who could it have been - Rishabh or rohit, oh some ‘Dude’ of the college. Now rumor mills suggested that Serah and so called Mr. R. were dating since they were 16 years old, and recently broke up. I didn’t know the reasons.

So buzz was it that he had already started dating someone else, and she was the one who was alone, and as quoted by some girls ‘Heart broken’. So while I was watching this scene unfold in front of me, and also witnessing the ever changing emotions and expressions that waltzed away on Serah’s Face. I could feel my pants getting wet. No this isn’t some kind of Pervert reaction to her presence, but madam, was absentmindedly pouring the contents of her drink into an already overfilled glass, which was falling on me and on my 3 weeks of hard work.

‘Shit, what are you doing…?’ I screamed, and tried to save my thesis.

‘Oh no…i'm... ummm  what the hell are you doing staring at me, you.. you  Pervert!!!’ she screamed back, ‘Take this’, she flung the remaining in my face and walked off, and left me to deal with public embarrassment.

Yes, that is how we first met!! . I cursed her, and even wished that the earth would swallow her and not even burp. That was how much I hated her, as I failed to land my desired Honors seat, and was forced to get an alternate English Literature Honors instead. And lo behold who did I have sitting right next to me – why the mistress of misery herself!!!

She showed no remorse over her deeds last week, what I meant it she did not bother to apologize.In a way i was enjoying my Eng lit Honors programme, as that is where I decided on my vocation. Yes I knew I wanted to be a writer.

Did we talk??? No ways, I hated her as she had the answers to every damn question in class. She was one step ahead of me in every aspect, academically of course. So how did we become friends?? Well, now you guys do know how much I despised her, don’t you, no no there wasn’t any secret love brewing for her either.

Two months into the honors programme and we already had our big group assignment. We had to script, and enact a story, and the best group would get a chance to do the same at an inter - collegiate competition. She wasn’t in my group now. There were 18 groups in all, and I wanted to be among the best, and especially since I had already decided on writing as a vocation, I decided to check my writing skills.

3 weeks later we were ready to put our best forward with our play. The best thing about being in college is that you tend to know what the other group is doing, no mater how secretive they try to be. So buzz was it that 4 groups had excellent storylines, and well needless to say my group was one of them, and well so was hers.

We were the eleventh group to perform, and well we were a bit anxious as watching 10 groups perform before us does definitely tire the audience. Serah’s group would be performing 16^th , and this time I was happy to have been way ahead of her.

When my group was done, there was no applause for 5 seconds, those 5 seconds had my heart beating so fast that I felt it was ready to burst out of my body and lay punctured on the floor. I put my best face and went with my group on stage to bow before the audience, no sooner did we come on stage than a loud noise erupted in the hall. I feared the worst, of bullets being fired on us for our performance, but here the entire hall rose and gave our group a standing ovation. The claps died down only after 5 minutes. I was overwhelmed, excited, I wanted to scream. Oh and we did all of that. I was on top of the world. We did not wait for the results and rushed to the canteen and feasted like there was no tomorrow.

Finally the results were announced, ‘Two teams have similar scores and are on the first position, and we have to deliberate on either one of them’

Two teams!! Now i felt the celebrations were uncalled for.

‘We have come to a conclusion that both these teams will represent our college on an inter collegiate level, and only 10 members as per the rules would get to be on stage, I’m sure with the help of your teachers ,both the team members would come on a unanimous result’.

‘The winners are team number 11 and team number 16, congratulation to both the teams, and on the third position is team number 13’

To be Continued ...... 

Ima "Kreative"

All right , so for the very first time, im here to rant. Im not sure how good i am at it, cause im better at spinning stories, than talking about my daily stuff. So here goes - First of all thank you -  Just another wake up call , for the award , and as per the rules. I had to say seven things about myself(gulp)and have to nominate 15 other bloggers. So, here are my nominations for those, whom I find Kreative Bloggers.

Before i do all that lemme give you  a gist about Just another wake up call (copy pasted from her profile) - She is an idealist at heart and dangerously sentimental. A mom of two,and  a part time business woman, a book - lover, a stand in decorator for her restaurants ,a movie buff, a social worker by training and a "change-maker". She loves traveling, reading and having conversations.

Here are Seven things about myself:

* I am very Impulsive and restless, and get bored easily (I can phase out in btw conversations at the drop of a hat)

*I Play the violin when am messed up in my head.(causing severe headaches to those around me)

* I am a complete Mush pot, but i prefer writing twisted stuff.

*I drink a LOT of water  - 3 litres is just to wet my throat.

*If i start reading,no matter how boring i finish reading the book in one go.

*Im technologically illiterate and prefer being so. I still find comfort in a 1995 model computer than an Ipad.

*I have the memory the size of a Peanut, but drop me in any part of the world and i can always find my way back.

Now basically i have to nominate 15 Bloggers, but here are my Favourite bloggers :(The limittaions are mainly due to my Limited knowledge about bloggers, cz i know there are many who are simply FABULOUS)

* Sri or more commonly known as Phatichar. This man can literally spook you out of your wits, and spins stories like  a spider. The best part about him is that he makes the most normal places - elevators, malls, restaurants, pg .. spooky and that says a lot about him.

* Saru singhal - now do i have to really say anything more?? She is a "Goddess of Poems". I have already run out of adjectives to describe her posts. be it love, friendship, relations, death - she sure can get your heart racing.

*Zack and Visha - She still makes me want to believe in the existence of Fairy tales. Her flair for writing is obvious , as she has everyone hooked onto every single post of hers. Be it her relation wih zack, or her daily life, cooking disasters and then emerging victorious et al, is simply Superb.

*What do you do when every single post of hers makes you go .. Hawww, so freaking true!!.. you end up waiting for more of her posts. She is an absolute genius with words and can really WRITE. Yes, its Crystal all the way

*Her blog reads "Rants on my life, up for Grabs" .. and there she has aleady made us want more, im talking about Kappu. Though we havent really connected as such, i do read most of her BAT entries, and she always ends up being on my top 5 FAV list.

*So when someone is actually asking you Pagal Hain Kyan,you would really want to know why, and read  on wont you??, so here is  one mad Person , who is absonfreakinglutely awesome at Rants .

*And last but not the least , she has tainted fingers and is sure as hell KREATiVE