Tag Archives: short stories

The Love Hate relationship with stories

There was a time when I used to write stories. They made me realize myself. I must admit that I was a part of almost all stories I wrote, love stories that is. Some were based on a leaf out of my own life or some were inspired from people I knew. There were people who loved it. And there were people who criticized it. But there were always people who read it.

I got carried away. I started writing because people read it. I wrote for the audience. I tried to sensationalise, materialize stories. I also thought of commercializing the stories by publishing a book. But then came a point when the whole world collapsed with a thud. My romance with love stories ended and sank without a trace. When I read some of the stories I wrote, I hated myself for trying to do what I shouldn’t have thought. It is that day and today, I’m still devoid of inspiration.

I hope it reverses some day. I hope it does very soon. I want to write stories again.

76: Piya Bawri!

Story number 6 of the Seven Deadly Sins series. I know I have dragged them too much. But then good stories do not come just like that, do they? :-)

Plus I’m also delivering on a promise that I’ll start writing love stories again. This story could just be the beginning. Enjoy!

Kitte Jau re Piya kaise pau re… tohe pau re…

They could have been the last words of Sampada, she was found unconscious by the pool with her left palm (and wrist) dipped in the shallow side meant for kids to play. Lot of blood had oozed out of that wrist, probably slashed with a broken glass piece from the chandelier that fell off in her room some time ago. Her maid Jharna Bai had been shouting Laado Sa… Laado Sa from out side Sampada’s chamber, trying to prevent her from doing the unthinkable, but in vain. She had been following the princess close on her heals since Pratap left earlier that night. And now, she was looking for guards who could break into the room. Continue reading

75: Acedia

This is story number 5 of the 7even series.

“Dinkar… look at that boy Sachin. He is only a couple of years older to you. But he has already made a début in the Indian national cricket team. You too are a good batsman Dina… I think you should work towards it.”

“I am Baba… even I’m a good batsman. I need not prove it time again.”

“I know Dina… I just want you to work hard towards it. Yesterday I met your coach Achrekar. He said you are always late to practice in the morning? Some times you skip it too. What is this?”

“Ah … he calls us at 5am. I cant wake up that early. Besides, dont worry… I’m still the number one batsman at my club.” Continue reading

74: Gourmet Issues

This is story no. 4 from the Se7en series.

Warning: Long Story

“Ladies and Gentlemen! After successfully launching the WLL services, Timenet presents to you the future of computing. Please put your hands together to the next generation of grid computing, THE TIME WRAP!” Said Kedar Marathe, the Chief Architect of Time Net, and Indian company in the business of making software products for the network connectivity solutions and data centres. They had launched a new self developed cloud computing platform, first of its kind in the world.

As the Emperor Arena in Abu Dhabi burst into a loud applause, Micheal Casey banged his coffee mug on his table. The small watch in his wrists was reading 5am. He and his team mates had come early to their Palo Alto office especially to watch the webinar of Timenet’s 1.0 launch of their new grid computing platform, ‘Timewrap’. Continue reading

72: Punerva

It was now beginning to pain a little bit. But she was not thinking about it. As always, her mind was wandering else where. She had made this compromise with herself. Every time she was on the job, it was important for her to think of all the good things. And she was trying it hard to do just that. As the activity became little fierce, she gripped the side of the cot tightly with one hand while digging her fingernails on his shoulder with the other. He responded with quick and hard strokes before letting out a cry… and then he fell limp on her body. It was over… for now.

Punerva hadn’t chosen this life. It was thrust upon her. She had faint memories of her childhood. She was one of the victim of the racially motivated massacre in Bhagalpur, Bihar. Unfortunately, she was saved. Along with few others, the five year old kid was tossed from centre to corner before the country forgot about them. That is when Vaijayanthi took the girls under her stride. She ran a brothel in Erode and, during her younger days, was the most popular face in the red light area. Vaijayanthi would occasionally pick up some girls from the streets and raise them at her old mansion. There she would raise them as her own kids. They had teachers to teach them, good clothes to wear and most importantly they had food and shelter. But every one knew what was their future going to be. Often half of them ran away while only few stayed and obliged to Vaijayanthi’s demands. Punerva was one of them. She had no one to go back to. It was a cruel world outside. Besides all she had to do was make some compromises.

“You were very good Pannu…” said the man as he tried to come close to her again.

“Get lost you limp. Just pay your money and leave!” Punerva curtly replied as she got up and walked inside the bathroom.

Staring at her naked body in the mirror, Punerva thought she was out of shape for a 23 year old. But she had never had a need or time to work on her body. It was always some one else who worked on her. It had been 6 years since the first time… and the memories of the first encounter were still fresh in her minds. Vaijayanthi, who had taken care of her for 12 years had sold the pretty virgin to two businessmen for a sum of 30,000. As the sound of flipping of new notes grew louder, Punerva’s agony and pain grew deeper and colder by the day. In all these 6 years, she had met innumerable devils who paid to use her as a machine that satisfied their need, lust!

But then some thing happened few weeks back, which Punerva did not expect. That evening, Vaijayanthi told her to be ready for a special guest from Chennai. She got ready as usual, expecting a wealthy businessman in his middle age. But she was surprised to see a rather timid looking young man entering her room. He looked scared from the moment he entered in. Punerva’s second surprise came when the guy turned his gaze away from her half naked body. She was used to desperate people who wanted he naked immediately. And here was a guy who stole his gaze away from her. She asked him if he was okay. He didn’t respond. Punerva tried going near him. But he moved further away. 5 minutes later, the guy said some thing, which took her by surprise. Since then she had been trying to locate him. Brothels generally don’t keep contact details of their clients, unless they are esteemed. So there was no way Punerva could reach him again. Days became weeks and she got on with her life again, still hoping to meet him once

On a lazy Sunday morning, another girl Latha came running with an advertisement in her hand. A large silk emporium from Chennai had opened their branch in the new mall in Erode. They were giving away inaugural discounts. The offer was too exciting and the girls decided to visit the showroom in the evening. Little did Punerva know that it was going to be a memorable evening. As they entered the showroom, she met her fourth surprise associated with the same guy. He was sitting right on the cash counter and busy making bills.

“Hello…” she said rather loudly, “Nice to see you again.”

But it seemed the guy did not like being identified. He nervously got up and started going inside the shop, as if he was trying to hide himself from her. Punerva followed him

“Hello mister, excuse me! Did you not recognise me?”

“Yes I did.” He said, looking very nervous. “But what do you want now?”

“Oh nothing. I had been thinking about you and I just wanted to…”

“What you wanted money? I thought so. Alright but not here.” He said interrupting her.

“Money? No No… actually I just wanted to talk to you. You are…” He was surprising Punerva again.

“Alright… but not here.” He signalled some one to man the cash counter. Then turned to Punerva and said, “Come with me!”

Since the mall was newly constructed, many shops were still empty. Making sure that no one was looking at them, he found one with half of the shutter open and took Punerva inside.

“Look! I’m the only son of a reputed business family. Coming to you that day was my mistake. I was forced to do that by my friends as I’m getting married in few months. But I didn’t do any thing wrong with you, did I? So why are you black mailing me?”

“No sir I’m not. In fact I was…”

“See it is fine. If you want money, I can help you with some. But only some. Please understand that I’m a simple guy who fears the society image, family, reputation a lot. I cant face the wrath of all. Besides, I can’t be be spotted talking to a prostitute here. So you please…”

“Hmmm, I see! Now I understand why you were so reluctant that day. I should have understood on the same day. I was fool to think that you were different. You blinded me with your dialogue. Do you remember? You had said why do I spoil myself with this flesh trade when there are other better things to do in life. Let me tell you mister that I did not choose to be what I am today. I have my own share of agonies. But what will you do listening to them? After all you have made a conclusion that I’m a prostitute and I’m not worth talking or spending time with. Par sahab, humein bhi seedhi sadhi zindagi jeene ka haq hai. Even you are a businessman. Probably you wanted to be a pilot. But you still are a businessman today because it is your family profession. May be your father forced this on to you. It is no different for me. I was also forced onto it. But I don’t blame my family, I don’t have one. I blame people like you who have forced themselves onto me time and again. They came, threw money and used me as a machine to satisfy their lust. Yes mister, I am a victim of lust of people like you. You guys have torn me to shreds and will continue to ruin me. You all are just…”

“What is your name?” Interrupted the guy. He was watching her all along the conversation. His expressions changed with every sentence of Punerva.

“Huh? Why?”

“Tell me… I want to know” he said as he pulled out his mobile phone.

“Punerva.”

“Full name?” He said again as he took a picture of her in his mobile phone.

“Do you think I have a family name? Anyway, I have had enough. Go and complain, if you feel so. Good bye mister, whoever you are!” said Punerva rather strongly as she walked away from the guy. He followed her and kept watching until she disappeared at the end of the corridor. She didn’t turn.

Few months later, Punerva got a letter on her name with Vaijayanthi. Thankfully Vaijayanthi was not around and she got to open it herself. It contained two documents. One of them was a fixed deposit certificate. Some one had deposited 5 lacs on her name in the State Bank of Travancore. It also had her picture, which she immediately recognized. The other was a hand written letter. It read…

“Hi Punerva,

This is Balamurugan Shanmugam. I’m sorry I did not get a chance to introduce myself to you. I’m the same guy who met you in the Chennai silk emporium. I too have been thinking about you since you left that day. I did not have courage to come and meet you or call you. As I had said that day, I’m a family fearing, society fearing guy who cares a lot about his and his family’s reputation in the public. I’m not brave enough to do some thing noble and save a prostitute’s life, although I’d love to do that. But I had to do some thing for you.

So I’m sending this fixed deposit on your name. I’ve signed on your behalf. But it is easy and you can replicate. And please don’t think that I’m trying to help you financially. There are people out there who want to pay money and buy you to satisfy their lust. This is my small attempt to protect you from them. By this money, even if I can buy the lust of 1000 Balamurugans like me, I’ll feel I have achieved my life’s objective.

You are a nice girl Punerva. Thankfully we didn’t do any thing that day. But now I wish if we had done it. The memories you gave me are not enough.

Yours, Bala”

Foot note: This story is a tribute to all sex workers who have compromised their lives to satisfy the demons in us. But I hope we stop some day and some where.

71: The Nakshalbari

Preface: This is the first of the seven stories. Since they are based on deadly sins, it is likely that the stories will be sinful. If the readers don’t appreciate any of the stories, they can voice their opinion in the comments section. I will not be writing the topic (sin) on which the story is written. But leave it for the readers to guess. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The story is a work of fiction.

An elderly looking Protima rushed inside the small drawing room of the railway quarter on hearing a loud clang. It seemed some vessel had fallen off the dining table. But she was amazed to see that it was her son who had thrown a steel plate on the wall in front. He picked up another utensil and hurled it towards the plate. It banged on the wall with a loud clang before settling down on the floor below. He then picked up a spoon and was about to hurl it when Protima rushed to him.

Shubo! Ki korbe…?” She said before snatching the spoon from his hand.

But Shubhojit did not look concerned. He was still staring at the plate and the utensil he threw. He just wanted to bang it hard… very hard. He remembered how hard they beat the ‘thalis’ when he had been to Midnapore. It was such a serene place, full of greenery, full of life and full of like minded people. And then he remembered about the chance meeting with the leader. Shubhojit touched his ears as he thought about him. They said taking his name was a crime. For Shubhojit, even thinking about him was a crime. It was Onir who had introduced him to the ‘kafila’ 3 months ago. After ‘the incident’ about an year ago, that was the only good thing happened to Shubhojit.

Not paying Any heed to his mother’s complaints, Shubhojit stepped out of the small yet cozy railway quarter and decided to take a walk down the busy road in Sealdah. It was only noon and he had to report to the office at around 4:30. He still had enough time for himself. But still he was all dressed up, all set to board the train. Chest pocket of his blue shirt bore his full name, Shubhojit Mondal.  Continue reading

Z2: Sara

Please read the first part “Red & White” before reading further.

It had been raining since the night. Sarika had heard a lot about water logged roads and slippery tracks on the Valkyrie mountains. She insisted they take their own vehicle to the palin top where her classmates were planning to hike. But none agreed. They found it fun to go by the public transport and then climb up on the top, despite the rains. Sarika hated rains and all the filth it brought with it. Afterall, being born in a super rich family, she had all the luxuries at her door step. She was born with a golden spoon with diamonds studded all over. She could have studied in any school and university in the world. And yet her father had chosen to send her to the vedic high school just on the outskirts of the Jaisingpur. “You’ll learn life.” He had told her. And now she was about to learn travelling in a public transport, walk 3 miles and learn hiking in a heavy down pour. It was already making her sick. Continue reading

Z1: Red & White

This is the first story in the ‘Z’ category. It will have seven parts. I request for patience and hope it is liked

The trumpet band was blowing in full force. On both sides of the street he could see people cheering up every ‘jhaki’ moving ahead. They had turned out in large numbers. Some of them were waving the Indian flag. It was a memorable day for Aravinda. He had never watched a republic day parade ever in his life. He remembered how much his father wanted him to and how he gave it a miss every year on 26th January. It was a national holiday and he always believed in using it to play cricket the whole day with his friends. He never thought one day he will be walking down this road himself, taking the guard of honour and a medal from the president. It was a day ‘vinda’ was never to forget. Continue reading

New Brand of Stories

20 love stories and I feel I have done enough justice to the ‘romantic’ me. It is not time to explore the ‘story teller’ me. So I’m starting a new brand of stories under category, err… well it goes uncharacterised. Because there are so many varied ideas inside my brain. It is difficult to exactly name the genre. Plus the stories will be complex and not necessarily short.

Anyway, so as a result I’m going to prefix the stories with ‘Z’ and they will be classified under ‘story time’. First story coming up shortly. I hope you like it.    :-)