The little secret
The summer is casting its shadow over Kolkata. The evenings are breezy but the breez bears the heat.
It was bit late in the evening and the “pani puri” shops were not as crowded as it were couple of hours back. I still looked for the shop which had least number of people and when I found one, I walked towards it. I was handed a plate and one by one pani-puri was demolished within my mouth.
My-kinds and the Rest
I particularly hate editing the pics that I click. I, at times, try doing it and few of them comes even better after editing. But soon I started missing the imperfections in the pics. The imperfections were a symbol to me that what you see is not always the best of something. And moreover when someone comments on my edited pics sound so laconic. I miss the part of descriptive comments on my edited pictures.
The Birth of the QuantumDude
At night it happened; the most miraculous thing on the Planet of Earth; with no labour pain, QuantumDude was born. He thought he came out of an egg; yes that is what exactly it looked like. It was surrounded by the silver oak; it was glittering in the moon less night. There were clouds over the head but the starts were shining on the ground; round spherical stars white in colour. The QuantumDude knew his position exactly, he knew the place. He rubbed his pockets and was glad to find himself born with cloths. His pocket has something; it has specs. He wore them and for the first time realized the eggs and the stars were the marvellous creation of human once discovered for the hall of Lord Indra where the pole dancer Urvashi still dances. They were night lamps.
The Poster on the wall – The Flight
Link to the first part of the story – Poster On The Wall – The poster
“So what is his name” Mom asked enthusiastically.
“Ryan” – I said, trying to sound as cool as I could. But I bet I could not help my eyes twinkling.
“He works?”
“Has his business; transport, I believe”
Poster On The Wall – The poster
I am done packing. We have our flight back to India in some time; me and my husband. It had been just one year at this place and I have been attached to it as if I belonged here. The independence, the air, the lifestyle and this house, they are all imbibed in me. I walked to the little garden outside. I had to start from the scratch, from a single rose plant to the countless of them. May be it is so typical of me but I still find roses to be the most romantic of all. I glanced at them for the last time and locked the back door. The room at the right of the kitchen, the store room was left to be locked. I left it for the last. The room had been a waste for Prajwal, my husband, and logically to some extent to me too. It was filled with belongings of the previous owner in cartons, bags, metal boxes and rags. It was piled in the room sucking every bit of oxygen out of it. Cleaning the room had never been to our agenda, as we had hardly anything to pile.
Feelings and something like that
It has been a long time when I have written something for myself. Every day I wait for the right moment to come when I have some evidence to prove my words, so that nobody doubts my feelings. It does matter to me when my feelings go unconcerned by the countless souls with senses. I do not care for their remembrance but I do carve for the ephemeral moment that they spent feeling my state; sadly no one is done feeling their own. But I still, everyday wait for my moments to arrive which shall flow and pause every name one day and make them feel something so different so unknown; and then it shall vanish away and all shall resume with their own feelings. I have no idea why I crave for that; what would I get and what shall happen after that?
One Hour – The Turnaround – (Part-5)
The birthday boy Ravi got down of the car. Ravi may never be done loving Shejal. All he wished if he can call her alone in his b-day party. Being sort of silent he could never express what he feels for her. He loves her expressions and beliefs and admires her. He is scared to tell his friends about his likings and moreover they would associate him with her, that he would like but Shejal will not. It is the purity of Shejal which is so mesmerizing. He would still hold himself back.
One Hour – The Perfect Girl -(Part-4)
Disclaimer: This story has resemblance to living people and also dead. The aim of this story is to reveal how intermingled lives are. Touchy and serious facts have been wiped out not to hurt sentiments of people whom it resembles. Scenarios have been altered to give a story like appearance. Being true most of the part, it does not portray life to be lovey-dovey as we would like to believe. Delicate readers are advised to refrain from reading. For the rest, comments/questions on characters will not be entertained. Have a great read.
One Hour – The Perfect Man – (Part-3)
Disclaimer: This story has resemblance to living people and also dead. The aim of this story is to reveal how intermingled lives are. Touchy and serious facts have been wiped out not to hurt sentiments of people whom it resembles. Scenarios have been altered to give a story like appearance. Being true most of the part, it does not portray life to be lovey-dovey as we would like to believe. Delicate readers are advised to refrain from reading. For the rest, comments/questions on characters will not be entertained. Have a great read.
Read the first part of the story here.
Read the second part of the story here.
