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Showing posts with label Blog-a-ton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blog-a-ton. Show all posts

Sunday, January 06, 2013

....and the world was silent again

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 35; the thirty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "...and the world was silent again"



She could hear the continuous honking , the rush and commotion at the station, the noise at the market place. She could hear people screaming for help.

She woke up with a start and looked around to see her husband gesturing with his hands. She smiled back at him … and the world was silent again.



The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: VIPUL GROVER, Participation Count: 10

Saturday, August 04, 2012

* The End *

<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote>
This post has been published by me as a part of the <b>Blog-a-Ton 30</b>; the thirtieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following <a href="http://blogaton.in/"><b>Blog-a-Ton</b></a>.
</blockquote>
</div>




He placed his jacket on his left arm, and placed his glasses firmly on his nose, and pulled his pants, as they hung loosely on his thinning figure. He stood there listening to the sound of the waves splashing across the sand; the sounds of innocent chatter, and laughter filled his ears. He smiled and closed his eyes to the setting sun. He lived that minute and knew how it was going to end.

***

He drove into the driveway, and reminisced of the first time he saw her. A smile gently lit up his wrinkled face. The lines gave away his age. He stamped on the brakes and slowly wheeled the age old Toyota into the garage. He picked up her favorite bunch of white roses, from the seat. He let himself in the house very stealthily, but one could not blame him, he never made a sound.

“…… and i'm sure i’m running out of it …. “ she laughed and turned around, and was startled when she saw her husband standing with a bunch of roses.

“Phew, you almost gave me a fright Andrew, when did you come”, she stammered away.

“Ummm, yea, i'll uhhhhh call you back”, she placed the phone on the table, and looked enquiringly at her husband.

He went across and kissed her forehead, and sat down in his usual chair , and waited as she poured him coffee , and started making him a sandwich.

“I was talking to Keith…..” she mumbled, not bothered with the mess she was creating on the table. She splattered mayonnaise, on the table cloth, and looked in her husband’s direction. He seemed totally oblivious to the mess.

“I hope he is doing great, do pass on my regards to him”… he smiled, and devoured the sandwich, and got ready for his charade of pruning and watering the garden.

***
His life was a routine that she could easily recite; there was never a change except for guests, occasions, and the occasional outings. He was a man who would get up on the same side of the bed, wake up at an exact hour every day, leave for work at the same hour. But today something about him was different. She wondered whether he did hear her conversation .She dismissed that thought, till she saw him drag the chair at the study, and write out something. He placed it in two envelopes and sealed it, and placed it a rusty old drawer. He kissed her on her forehead, wished her goodnight, and went off to sleep.

She had no clue as to what that letter contained and was not bothered about it in the slightest.

The charade started off early morning, with the only addition of him taking the two envelopes and placing it inside his jacket.

The vehicle coughed under his coercion to wake it up from its slumber, and finally gave in. He waved as he drove away. He stopped at the nearest Post office and dropped the letters. He smiled to himself, and headed towards the beach – where he first saw her.

He still remembered that scene vividly, her strolling across he beach, with her hands crossed across her chest. He stood mesmerized by her presence. A few enquiries here and there gave away her background. He was aware that her family was facing a financial crisis, and that they would be happy to have her married off to a suitable suitor. He knew it had to be her, or no one else, and the rest they say is ‘History’ they were married .He was a “happily ‘married man.

Keith was one of her best friends, whom she started talking to again after 5 years of their marriage. He was back in town, and they rekindled their friendship. Andrew was happy to see that Simone was happy to have found her friend back.

Andrew and Simone were blessed with a baby girl after 7 years of marriage.

****

Andrew removed his shoes rolled up his pants and started walking on the beach. He walked a mile and sat down recollecting the conversation…

“I know Keith, its about time, I have been living with him for 20 years and I had it, even the arsenic seems to not show any effect on him”, she placed her hand on her hips “yes I did love, it said slow poisoning, but I never thought it would be so slow, but tomorrow, i’m increasing the dosage, which would make it seem like he had a stroke”

“Oh Sasha, is just fine, she has your eyes” she giggled

Andrew had wound up early from work, and had come home directly. He stood there and listened to her end of the conversation.

“I miss you Keith, and yesterday, mmmmm”, she couldn’t sop blushing “I can’t wait any longer … mmmm …. You have loads of patience, and i’m sure i’m running out of it”

Andrew sighed deeply. He still remembered his doctor saying that they could never a child. HE had a problem, he never told her. He did not say anything when she told him that they were pregnant. And today he knew what was in store for him.

Andrew loved Simone from the first time he set his eyes on her; to the first time he knew that she was having an affair with Keith, and every time when she lied to meet him, and even when she decided to kill him. He preferred Death to come from her, than from anything else. He was ready.


He stood watching the last sunset of his life. He placed his jacket on his left arm, and placed his glasses firmly on his nose, and pulled his pants, as they hung loosely on his thinning figure. He stood there listening to the sound of the waves splashing across the sand; the sounds of innocent chatter, and laughter filled his ears. He smiled and closed his eyes to the setting sun. He lived that minute and knew how it was going to end...


3 weeks later :

Simone received two letters. The first was from their family lawyer, the second from Andrew.Their lawyer was surprised as to how Andrew had changed his will, a day before his death.After skimming through the condolence message, Simone read the change in the will. Andrew had divided his property and assets equally between Sasha and Simone, and Simone was appointed as the legal custodian till Sasha turns 18.

She opened Andrews letter : "Just in case she decides to not have you around".



<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote>
The <b>fellow Blog-a-Tonics</b> who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective <b>posts</b> can be checked <a href="http://www.blogaton.in/2012/08/rules-and-reminder-for-blog-ton-30.html"><b>here</b></a>. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following <b><a href="http://blogaton.in/">Blog-a-TOGGER NAME, who in

on</a></b>. X
</div>X edition. </blockquote>


Image - <i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3OToUBE4ShiOBTEIcCJkrJaouUc4jYHJOmkCvVhVrCcOCP3yPUjeuzLGnM-Q4VRtgWyaq3Hrcji8nafW3_tNliHtRQ15yvyYec4Wjqz3RfXVH5Cvles6Chl4P7YQ8tbw7PwP1pw6NmM/s640/_DSC5783_w2.jpg">Shades of Orange</a></i> by <i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/10596722078024031693">Harsha Chittar</a></i>
Courtesy - <i><a href="http://curiousdino.blogspot.in/">Curious Dino Photography</a></i> via <i><a href="http://www.blogaton.in/">www.blogaton.in</a></i></div>







Saturday, June 30, 2012

Two Minutes

<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote>
This post has been published by me as a part of the <b>Blog-a-Ton 29</b>; the 29th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following <a href="http://blogaton.in/"><b>Blog-a-Ton</b></a>. The topic for this month is 'TWO MINUTES'.
</blockquote>
</div>



He told me of yellow flowers and meadows without boundaries,
Of cattle’s and farms and a dream,
Where I was his and he was “the one made for me

Do you believe in love?? Do you feel it exists?? The typical “kahin na kahin , koi na koi, kissi ke liye bana hai types?? I did not till I met him

It was not love at first sight, there were no violins playing or any sort of signs, that the heavens are assumed to put in front of you, stating that he is the one. Nothing!!!. Just a casual hello, a cordial smile, some conversations over coffee, and a good bye. There wasn’t an urge to see him or hear from him again.

But somewhere, somehow, there was a feeling, a feeling of having known him earlier, a feeling that connected them both on a different level altogether. Was it love?? No not yet.

His company put her at ease,
They laughed over things that only they could understand,
The felt complete in each others presence
And yet , they were not in love.
Silence between them was comforting
There was no awkwardness
They could discuss about the stars and the moon
And about the shapes made by the clouds..

It was beautiful, yet undefined
Were they in love?? well not yet.
Their conversations unfolded their past,
Something which they never spoke about,
Was out for the other to hear.
Their fingers touched
And longed for each other
Yet they were not in love.
Their hands entwined themselves
And their eyes found each others,
A million questions fluttered through them, before their lips met
The questions were left unanswered, yet they had their answers
Somehow, they still were not in love.

Her eyes bore his stories
She was confused beyond words, of why he made her feel this way
His mere presence made her happy
His proximity to another female made her green with envy
And yet they were not in love.

Milte hain hum juda hone ke liye
Milte hain hum juda hone ke liye,
Uss gham main bhi ek alag sa nasha hai,
Kyunki uske har alfaz main tumhara naam hai.

They spent days together, and now it was time to leave,
A feeling of loneliness crept inside her,
But she wanted to be strong and pretend,
She hugged him good bye
And thought she would get over him
But she was wrong
As her every thought was going back to him.
And yet she was not in love.

She dreamed of yellow flowers and meadows
She dreamed of being there with him
She was afraid of being hurt,
And realized it was the same for him,
He had many plans,
And she was nowhere in them
She was hurt to realize , that maybe it was only she who was in love with him.

Of flowers and meadows,
Of cattles and farms
A dreadful night, and it all came crashing down.
He was to go far away from her, far away from this world
As death sought his soul
She ran towards him,
And held him in her arms.
“I love you”, she whispered in his ears
Their eyes met, their fingers entwined
She prayed for two minutes more of his life.
Death bowed before her love, and granted them 2 decades
But they still were not in love.
They were in something beyond,
Beyond something
That even love couldn’t comprehend.


<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote>
The <b>fellow Blog-a-Tonics</b> who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective <b>posts</b> can be checked <a href="http://www.blogaton.in/2012/06/rules-and-reminder-for-blog-ton-29.html"><b>here</b></a>. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following <b><a href="http://blogaton.in/">Blog-a-Ton</a>.</b></blockquote>
</div> 






Sunday, May 06, 2012

Once Again

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 27; the 27th Edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The topic for this month is 'Once Again'.

Ek baar phir is dil ne kisi dil se pyaar kiya
Ek baar phir isne apne khuda se shart lagayi,
Ki iss baar aey , khuda
mEre dil ko na dhuka
Mujhe pyaar se hai pyaar
Uss shabd se na bada meri nafrat
Meri mohabbat ka kar thoda izzat
Ussey meri muhabbat ka ho jaane do yakeen

(Once again this heart fell in love
 Once again, it ran a stake with the lord
 That this time around, lord
 Don’t hurt my heart
 I’m in love with the idea of love
 Don’t increase my hatred towards that word
 Do respect my Love
 And let him realize that my love is true )

She sat nibbling on the end of her pen, when he walked towards her. She looked up, and closed her diary, and sipped on the coffee,  which he had bought her. She smiled and looked at him. He smiled back.

“Chale”,(shall we), he smiled , as he crushed his cup, and aimed it at the nearby bin, it missed and it fell.

“mmmm”  she left her coffee unfinished, and sat behind him, on his bike.


Friday, July 22, 2011

Revenge

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 22; the twenty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
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'Are you sure you don’t want to testify against him?? Ritika don’t worry, we are all here for you, you have identified the rest, and testified against them, why leave him out of it, are you listening?'

'My lord', said the Public Prosecutor 'he is forcing the witness to testify against my client. Mr.Kapoor,'

'Has your client identified all the accused in this case?' Asked the judge

'Ritika, ritika I’m here for you, the law will give him the punishment he deserves, ritika are you listening'…

At her lawyers touch, ritika was brought back from her thoughts,' Mr. Kapoor, I have identified all the accused, I don’t have anything against him'... She pointed out to a man, a very frail figure, who held up his hands in prayer towards her, with a smug smile, asking for forgiveness.

As the Victim has identified the accused….The Judge continued with the Punishment, when she silently moved away.

'Ritika, why would you not testify against your father, he is the prime accused in this case, what happened to you? Do you just want him to be left after all what he did to you, wasn’t this what you wanted?? That he gets punished?'

For the first time in 4 weeks, Abhishek Kapoor saw a smile on her face; she was always a Mystery, difficult to comprehend. He could still recall the first time he had met her, she was hollow from within, she asked him to help reprimand the people who had made her life the way it was. He shuddered at the thought of how her Father had forced her into prostitution.

He was drawn to the present with her sweet voice asking him as to when he would want his fees. He did not want to loose sight of her, because he knew he wouldn’t see her again.

'Ritika, why didn’t u testify against your father??? He was the one, who bought your life at this stage,'

'Mr.kapoor, there are certain thing that you wouldn’t understand. I wanted to know if my father would be able to face me and look me in the eyes, and well he could, after all what he has done, he could still look at me the way he always did,' she got lost in thoughts at mention of those words….

Abhishek saw her expressions harden at the very thought of her father. Ritika was drawn back to the day when her father had first touched her; she was 13 years old, her initial refusal to comply with her father’s demands ended up with her 5 year old brother being beaten up sore in front of her. She had to comply with having her father touch her, so as to stop him hurting her brother. That was the first time her father forced her into the bedroom, and later with many other people, her cries were unheard, her screams fell on deaf ears. She had lost her childhood.. she had lost herself .

She was 28 now. She was rescued by Human rights activists, and they had employed Mr. Kapoor as her advocate. She had testified against everyone she could remember, many of them were among the noted and respected men in the state.

'Ritika what have you planned about your future?'

She was bought back from her thoughts. She looked at him and presented him with a very mysterious smile and said, 'i'm not sure id want to mix your future with mine, but I’m sure my father’s future would collide with mine.'

Abhishek always had a tough time comprehending her words, and emotions. Ritika however, seemed to have read the very core of his emotions, and wanted to stray away from those very thoughts of his. She had something else in mind. She looked at abhishek and said' “I want to be God” for a day.'

Abhishek gave her a confused look as she mesmerized him with her laugh; he was surprised to see her laughing, even more surprised when her laughter was combined with tears. Ritika wiped away her tears, and took his leave, however before she did, she mentioned about having his fees reached at his office tomorrow, and asked him to promise her of not trying to find her whereabouts.

One Month later: Abhishek was taken aback by the Breaking News that was being shown on all prominent news channels; a dead body of a man, in his late fifties was found naked in a hotel room. He was stabbed around 30 times all over his body, a deep gash was found on his throat, his fingers, his genitals were cut, His Lips and his tongue were cut of, his eyes were poked into.

Reports stated that the man had sexual intercourse before he was castrated and murdered…. Abhishek was still listening to details of the murder when his phone rang, an unknown number, he answered the call, on the other end a female voice asked him to check the news channels, he recognized the voice…

'Ritika where are you, how have you been'...

'Abhishek, she cut him short saying, that was my father who was found dead… I played God for a day.'

He remained speechless, the line was disconnected, and it took him a moment to realize what he had heard. He understood her now, she had given her Father one chance to let her know that he was sorry, and when he didn’t, she didn’t feel sorry for him either. She had written her fathers destiny just like he had written hers.

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The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
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