Over a Cup of Coffee

"I came here just because my mother forced me.” 
Sarah said as she sat down in front of Karthik. Not even a smile, he noticed. They were in a coffee shop going through the modern version of an arranged marriage. The guy and the girl meeting up in a coffee shop, much alike to a blind date but just that this one was set up by their parents and one of them was not really into it. 
“It is not like I am against arranged marriage or anything but I want to spend some time doing things which I like to do.” She continued.

“What are those things?” Karthik spoke for the first time.
“Travelling for instance…… Basically do things with my friends…… Watching movies……… I had a boy friend in my college so didn’t really hang out with my friends then, kinda making up for all the time I wasted. YES I had a boyfriend and I used to hang out with him all the time. Don’t give that surprised look. … I didn’t study in a medical college to spend all my time nerding off in front of the books……. We can enjoy the whole semester and cram the studies to the last one week. . ”
“Cappuccino, two,” said Karthik to the waiter, other than which he did not really say anything.
“My mother was very adamant on seeing you as her cousin’s somebody’s somebody had a high opinion of you.” Sarah continued talking as the cappuccino came.
Karthik let that compliment pass with a smile.
“You being a doctor would be used to a serious life style. I am not saying it is bad or anything but I like somebody who is a bit more relaxed and fun loving. You guys really do a good job saving people’s life and stuff like that but then again you are not really the risk takers in your personal life. I am sure you must be the kind who used to study on a daily basis”
“Not really.  I usually..” He had to stop as she continued with her monologue.
“.. We on the other hand don’t really have to break our backs studying like that because we don’t really face a life or death situation. If we can manage to…”

“Oh f***!!” Karthik nearly jumped out of his seat.
“What??” Sarah  was shocked to see the  f word coming out of the ‘good-boy’
“It is my ex – girlfriend!!”
“  What??? You ex girl friend??”
“No time to talk now, we have to move fast!” Saying this Karthik took Sarah’s hand and literally ran out through the other entrance of the coffee shop, almost knocking down another couple on the way.
He released her hand only when they were a safe distance away from his ex- girlfriend.
“Sorry about it. We recently broke up and it was not a good break up also” Karthik tried to explain as Sarah was trying to catch her breath.
“What you mean not a good break up??”
“Well I am not really sure if she knows it or not.”
“What the hell? You are such an ass!” 
“Well I try not to show off! In my defense she started to avoid me then I ignored her but she never really bothered”
“You doctors are so screwed up man!” She said with a laugh. That was her first laugh since she sat down in front of him 15 minutes ago.

After 4 months, their wedding reception..

“Hey your ex girl friend is here!” Sarah whispered in a worried tone while smiling at the 6 cameras aimed at them.
“Who? Diya? She is fine.”
“You made peace with her?”
“Well she was not really my girl friend, just a good friend.”
“What??? You lied to me??”
“You wanted an adventure, I gave you one! Oh yeah we have a tendency to make up stuff, got it from writing all those exams!”
“You ass!” She punched him in his ribs and laughed a lot louder than the first time she laughed with him. 

(Author's note: Coz we are fun too!!!)
Belated Christmas wishes everyone and hope all of you will have a really great new year up ahead!)

God's sense of humour!

Some of my close friends would know that I consider myself as linguistically challenged. At any given point of time I can learn/talk/understand no more than 2 languages.
Well yes as with most of the other stuff I put up  here this is also a mild exaggeration but it is very difficult for me to learn a new language so I accept it and stop trying to make a fool out of myself. More than any other language it is Hindi our official language which has a problem with me. I never could reason with the fact that inanimate objects have gender. Plus there are a lot more stuff in that language which has given me enough nightmares throughout the 6 years I studied it. (Yes! 6 years!!! Yet I cannot speak or understand Hindi properly! Now you all know why I don't like it!)  This particular trait of mine has made me the butt of many a jokes among my friend's group.
So this is just a background to the following incident which happened yesterday.
I was on my way to the railway station to go home with hardly any cash on me. As always I went to the nearby ATM, after entering the PIN the machine's touch screen was stuck on the language selection page. I touched English nothing happened. I touched Malayalam, again nothing happened, skipping the Hindi in the middle I came out and went to the only other ATM  in the locality. The other one was closed for repairs. I stood there at 1:30 pm not really knowing what to do to catch the train at 2:15 pm. Again I went back to first ATM hoping for a miracle to happen. When you are walking in the sun with two moderately large bags trust me you'll become a believer! Then man inside the ATM came out counting money. MIRACLE! I silently proclaimed while entering the small room. But again, the machine was stuck at the language selection. Was God playing a trick with me? Then I understood the grand joke! I touched the middle option - Hindi! It worked. Unbelievable! The ATM did not have a problem till the previous night. First time in my life I am seeing the ATM behaving like this. With familiarity I managed the first Hindi screen without reading but the second was tough. I had to try really hard to decipher those signs. I was sure the person waiting outside would think I was gonna steal money or something. But thankfully he didn't call the police.
Only when I was comfortably sitting in the train I realized the prank God played on me!
He sure does have a good sense of humour, even though many of his followers don't.
I am sure many of us have these kind of tiny incidents.
Do share them here.

Be a rebel. .

(Author's note: Violent theme ahead)

“Be a rebel” 
I told myself. Rebel would be the last word someone would associate with me. I was a good student, a good citizen.  Obedient. I gave my seat to old people. I never did something I would regret. As a child I was taught that being good counts. That is the only thing which counts. Like any other good child I kept it in my heart and went accordingly. Do good. Never disappoint others.
I looked up and saw the moon. It was full moon. That gave me the light to walk this far in the middle of the night. Somehow looking at the full moon calmed my nerves.
“Be a rebel" I told myself again.
Fight the inhibitions laid out on you by the society. Do what you want.
 I kept encouraging myself.
 My sister was better than me in all accounts. Even though she was 3 years younger to me I often looked up to her. She was a constant inspiration and motivation. Her messages would lighten me up during the bad days I had to endure. She was the epitome of goodness. The giver. Whatever she was doing, she always had time for others. To help others with kind words and deeds. She had a pleasant aura around her. She was an angel on earth. And now in heaven.

Brutally raped and killed.
The man who did it walked free. After a lot of courts, cases and what not, he was set free. Mental instability, as his advocate proved in the court. He was to be admitted in an asylum and not in a jail. But here he is, sleeping in the comfort of his room. That was a mistake he did.
Her throat was slit. When I saw her, she was lying on the ground with torn dress and her head at an unnatural angle with the body. The odour was unbearable; the dark nauseating odour of blood. It was all over the place. I had to walk on the blood to reach her; her blood. The same that flows through my veins. i screamed like never before. Not only then but many times after I saw her body. The image keeps coming back. I kept thinking what and all might have gone through her mind at those dreadful moments. How mistaken she was about the world and the people in it.

I am standing outside his room, the images of my sister running through my head.  Somehow her smiling pleasant face is not coming to my mind. It is always the unnaturally angled head. With the blood, the nauseating odour of blood.  My heart starts pumping the same blood in me, vigorously. I can feel my heart beat. Blood is rushing to my right hand, where I have a long knife.
I entered his room. I got a strong smell of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke. The empty bottle on the table told me he is passed out. Perhaps the same alcohol might have led him to something like that to a fellow human being. His breathing was heavy. I looked at him.
How could he?
I asked this question to myself a thousand times but never got an answer. I am never gonna get that answer out of him. I don’t need an explanation. Explanations will not bring back my sister, neither does killing him. I know that but he shouldn't do it again. I am doing it for her.
She probably would have wanted me to forgive him and move on for an angel she is but I am not. I am mere human who gives in to his emotions. A brother, who wants to make sure that no brother would have to feel the same as I felt. A son, who wants to make sure no parent would have to go through what our parents went through.
I raised the knife, closed my eyes and slit his throat. He did not make a sound but his eyes were wide open when I opened mine. The dark nauseating smell of blood filled the place. The same odour.
The same blood runs through our veins beneath our skin, we choose to ignore that basic fact and act differently.
I came out of the room leaving him in his pool of blood, like how he left my sister.

At the Crossroads

John stood at the crossroad. The junction.

 He looked at the sign board. From the distance it looked so perfect but only when he got closer he realized the arrows are more like the wheel of fortune. Just one nail holding it to the post and it turns at even the smallest of the breeze.

He had walked out of his home half an hour ago. He was so sure of his journey and the path to be taken when he stepped out. He left his family and came out. He left his neighbour Sarah whom he had a crush. She was willing to come with him but he had to take this journey alone. He carried nothing but his father’s advices. He did not bother with the goodbyes. He was never good at them anyways. With an empty promise that he’ll come back soon he had walked out. He knew he was not going to return for a long time. He knew he had to cut down each of those strings that attach him to the home as he go further.

He stared at the sign post again. He decided to give the wheel a chance and turned it fast.

“Let fate decided which way I should go” he thought.

 He stood there looking at the rotating arrows. Then he changed his mind and started walking on a road. To the unknown future, while the arrows were still turning around that single nail.

Walking under the Umbrella

“Oh god, please take care of her. She is weak and badly hurt. I know I was the sole reason for what happened to her but lord you know how it happened. I loved her very much but I really couldn’t do anything else. I hope she understands it one day. I know it in my heart that she is gonna get someone better in life. Please don’t make her life even more miserable than what she is going through now. She does not deserve it. At times all I wanted to do is to just go back to her, give a big smile and tell her how much I missed her for the last two months. It hurts me to act indifferent to her. All I hope is someday we can just sit together and laugh about the whole thing.”

“Dear Lord why is this happening to me? I know no relation is perfect but instead of sitting down and talking why did he have to leave me like that? I loved him with all my heart and this is what happens to me. Please make him stop acting so indifferent to me. I know deep within me he did the right thing but I cannot accept it. He said everything will be ok and it will take time and all. But it has been two months and I still miss him. I miss the good times we had. Again the fact that we wont have anything like that any more is hurting me. I know it is too much to ask but god can you help get over this? This is the worst time of my life. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I want to get angry at him but I can’t. Let him have a good life Lord.”

They met outside the church. Both of them looked at the dark monsoon clouds covering the sky. They did not look at each other. The crisp Sunday morning sun was covered with clouds and everything suddenly seemed very gloomy.
“It looks like rain.” John said after an awkward silence.
“I don’t have an umbrella” Anna replied.
John looked at his long umbrella and sighed. Walking under the umbrella with Anna was always special.
It started pouring.
John kept looking at the umbrella and the rain tempted to offer Anna a walk to the bus stop. He really did miss such walks.
With a sudden movement he walked into the rain saying “Good bye Anna”. He waited a moment to open the umbrella and walked.
Tears formed in her eyes. They welled up refusing to fall down, partially obscuring the vision of John walking away in the rain.

“Awesome rain is it not?”
Karthik came and stood next to Anna.
“Not when you don’t have an umbrella”
“Come with me then. The car is there.”
He opened his umbrella and started to the car. Anna hesitated for a moment and went with him.

“I always like walking in the rain, so no one can see me crying.” The famous line said by Charlie Chaplin kept repeating in John’s mind. He understood what Chaplin meant. He dropped his umbrella to let the rain mask his tears.

Freedom from what?

Independence day. 

The day we change our profile pictures to our national flag. The day we put up and share patriotic messages.The day we should  remember how our forefather fought against the oppressive foreign rule and got us freedom! Freedom from what? 

JULY 2012

GUWAHATI

A girl  was molested and stripped by a mob of 20 or more young men. A TV reporter who filmed the incident allegedly instigated this to get a breaking news. The men who did this brutal deed looked into the camera with pride. They made sure the girl's face came in the camera. When you see that one would wonder if they actually spent 9 months inside the womb of a woman. 

What mistake did the girl do to be treated like this?  Is it crime to go to a pub? Is it a crime to wear what you  like to wear? The girl thought she had the freedom to do so. To do anything within the law. So from what did our forefathers get freedom from? Surely not from the girl-molesting-stripping perverts in the video above.

More than the video going viral in the  country, the girl had her name told to the media. I still don't understand why when something like this comes up the 'leaders' blame it on the victims. The majority, thankfully consist of people with good morals and fortunately not fools also. Rather than supporting a bunch of thugs they should support the rights of each citizen.

ASSAM

Ethnic violence which lead to the death of 72 people and a huge number of the population getting dispalced. The clash between the Bodos and the Muslims has been there for a long time but never before has it escalated to this extent. The elected leaders and police were unable to contain the violence. The state blames the Centre and vice versa. Nobody is really bothered about the people. They keep blaming each other till another issue comes into the picture. 

(Taken from hindustantimes.com)

The rally held in Mumbai to show support to the Muslims in Assam riots in itself became a riot. What are they trying to prove? Why didn't anyone oppose the violence as a whole? The root cause is simple. You see the other person based on his/her religion, caste, creed, culture or region. You don't see them as human beings. You don't see them as Indians.  As many have pointed out patriotism is not something you show only for sports and war. It is accepting every single citizen of the country as Indians and not putting a brand of religion or region on them and segregating them. The great leaders got us freedom from the British but they did not free us from the narrow minds we have.

Padil, 

Mangalore

A bunch of young people were having a birthday celebration and none of them would thought they would make it to the cover pages of the national dailies the next day. 

Moral Policing it seems. Does anywhere in the Indian culture they say to beat up girls? Slapping girls is considered morally right but celebrating birthday is not? What they did was not acceptable they told. Acceptable to whom? A bunch of goons? Or the commission who blamed the girls?

I need not go on about the moral policing and how frustrated the young generation is. I live in Mangalore and it has a united young population who think beyond the borders. The culture less brigade is trying to break that unity I think. Someone else also did the same if I remember correctly. The British left and we got freedom from the foreign oppressors but what about the Desi oppressors? 

All these 3 incidents in the month of July.  More has happened. A lot more would have gone unreported. Untold stories of sufferings in the free republic and democratic India.

As we celebrate the 66th Independence day our freedom is hailed. But from what?

Every country has its problems but how we react to it makes all the difference. We can be indifferent or we can speak against it. Saying it is correct according to our ancient culture should be left to live in ancient times. 

We have the highest young population in the world and anything they do is against culture? I hope people accept everyone as they as they are and not force ideologies on them. A few people cannot break a nation but the indifference of the majority can do that.

 

When I see all the 'patriotic', 'proud to be an Indian' status updates I am happy. The acts of a few haven't dampened the spirits of the many. 

Happy Independence day. As always I am proud to be an Indian.

(A post I put 2 years back 'In which I am patriotic')

Petrol the liquid gold!

Petrol literally on its way to become liquid gold!

The petrol price hike has hit the common man very badly!  That’s how the media puts it at least.  Personally I am not much affected by this hike. Does that mean I am not a common man? Am I above the rest? Or below? The reasons for me not getting affected are simple. Firstly I don’t own a car, secondly and more importantly when I shamelessly ask for a lift I make sure it is a diesel car (in case the owner asks me a share. Surely I will do that!)

 So what to do about the hike?? If you ask the opposition parties in Kerala, they would say call a Hartal and get over with it. That’s one thing I miss about Kerala. The frequent Hartals for no apparent reasons. So  Malayalees get a day off. Common man is not at all affected by it. In fact they enjoy to the extent that they call up each other and wish ‘Happy Hartal’. I am pretty sure the mobile operators will start considering  Hartal to be a public holiday and start charging sms. Common man shouldn’t have the luxury of free sms during Hartals, it totally ruins the purpose.

So coming back to the original question, what can be done about the price hike? There were umpteen suggestions from overnight experts in petrol and oil industry! Petrol was trending in twitter for that one night. The next day’s newspaper also had so many suggestions. One suggestion, actually the only one which caught my attention was given by the petrol dealers association. According to them, if the officials in the oil companies cut down their salary, increments, bribes and all, it is possible to sell liter of petrol at Rs.16 apparently. Well 16 might be an exaggeration but 20 per liter would be a good bargain. Not that I am against 16 per liter, but these officers are used to taking bribe and all for a long so why putting a hole in their pocket.

But that suggestion being the ideal one is also hypothetical. Even Anna Hazare I feel is fed up of the system and has given up his struggle against corruption. I think the whole of petrol car owners will stand with him if he starts an agitation against the petrol hike! Seriously there is nothing more motivating than cheap petrol.

 Fight against corruption is a really tasty desert item. You appreciate it, you write pages about it and you can have it once in a while but not more than that. Seriously how many people can eat really sweet stuff for a long time? But we all love it , we keep on talking how good it is.

One suggestion to the problem is to declare bullock cart as the national vehicle. Give subsidies to the companies which make them. Government should promote bullock cart manufacturing units. I would say give three or four such units to West Bengal but then again our Didi is against vehicle factories if I am not mistaken.  She’ll probably say Marx had once owned a bullock cart so its Marxist and hence should be banned from Bengal.

You shouldn’t start it in Kerala because by the time the factories actually start working, the grass for the bullocks would be cost like petrol. Then they’ll have Hartals for the rights of the bullocks as well. A bullocks union is also likely to happen.

The other suggestion is to go for bicycles. Good option but not practical. We are the laziest of the whole lot! Cycling is physical exertion. A big NO to that. I can say that for myself and I am sure the majority is with me. If you have any doubt just check the statistics of Diabetes and Hypertension.

So what now? I’ll give you the most simple, easy, practical and viable solution to this.

IMPORT CHINESE PETROL!

I am sure that will be cheaper!

Have a great weekend!  

The Dark Side

I stand in the rain, hoping it will absolve me the sins I committed. Each drop hits me like a knife stabbing my heart. The tomb of Sara is right in front of me; I searched a lot in the graveyard to find this one. I never attended her funeral. I had to go away after I killed her. Everyone was looking for me.
They say you should never go to a graveyard in the night. I never understood that. It’s not the dead but the living that you should be afraid of. I feel the shadows are getting longer. If I stay any longer they might take me in.

The past - His version
It all began when I met this beautiful girl named Sara. She was everything a man could ask for. She was smart, caring and loving, unlike Amberville.  Amberville was cruel, violent and deceitful. People are said to be happy if they go to hell because there’s nothing in hell which is not there in Amberville. Good men were a myth here. From the local newspaper boy to the corporate, each one of them owed their allegiance to the mafia here. You simply could not live without them. Being an architect, I was on the safer side. I didn’t have to deal with them personally.  I always wondered how Sarah became how she was, in spite of being in Amberville for so long. Later only I realized who she actually was.  How did I meet her? 

My office was a dull one in a rather depressing corner of the town. It was in the first floor and I first saw her while she was crossing the road.   I had noticed her looking at my board. Such a beauty in Amberville was rare to find. After a  few minutes I heard a knock on the door.  My assistant opened the door and let her in. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she literally brought radiance along with her. The beauty of her face brightened up the whole room.  She wanted me to design her house.  I agreed, even though I did not show out my emotions I was sure she understood what I had in my mind. 

She said yes when I asked her out for a dinner. Many dinners followed. Soon the house  became our house. We started making plans for the future. The city seemed less violent now. The construction progressed at a steady pace. As it was in the outskirts of the city, nobody was there to interfere. At times she used to appear really weak and she told it was because of her anemia. 

After a year or so I noticed something has changed. She was distracted and seemed to spend a lot of time with her other friends. I had met them once or twice but never really got along with them.
That day was just like any other afternoon : dull and monotonous. The summer heat was getting on. Air conditioning had stopped working two days back. I opened the window and was looking outside, sipping a cold beer. There was nothing better than a cold bottle of beer to cool you down in the hot summer afternoon. As I was looking outside I saw her friend walking on the other side of the road. She was going to the beauty salon. Rage grew in me. I finished the beer and went down for a real drink. I decided not to ask her anything but keep an eye on her. The next day she started early saying she was going with her friends to a show in the city. After she left I followed her in a cab. She did not go to any show, but she went to the Doctor’s place. Doctor was a big shot in the underworld. He got his name from doing surgeries on his victims before killing them. He also had the largest collection of poisons and biological weapons. Doctor lived in a small house with no guards or anything. As Sara entered the house, I went around to see if there is any window or something from where I could see what was going on. I found a place and I looked in. The sight was nauseating. Sara was dancing for the Doctor. The seductive dance went on for some time and by the time she finished the dance there was hardly anything left to the imagination. Then she went to him and the most unthinkable act happened. My knees gave up, I fell down and vomited. I have been in Amberville but never had to witness something like this. The slut was cheating on me and she very well knew I couldn’t do anything to the Doctor. But to her,  I could, my inner voice said.

I thought of confronting her but the alcohol awakened the demon inside me. Everyone had a dark side and my dark side wanted me to take a knife and stab her. Sanity and logical thinking was disappearing fast as I kept on drinking. All the violence I saw, all the stories I heard and that single sight I saw at the Doctor’s residence drove me to insanity. I decided to make her pay for what she did to me. She was the light of my life. She had brightened up my days… or so I had thought. The dark clouds of Amberville were back.  

I put on a mask. I waited for her near the road that turned to her apartments.  Once she passed me, I went after her. I hit her head with the blunt end of the knife and she fell down. I stabbed her then, first on the stomach, then her legs and arms. I did not touch any of the vital parts because I wanted her to live. Live and suffer. I was sure her cries would bring out the neighbors, they would call the ambulance.
Sara was in the hospital for 2 months. The Doctor had sent her flowers once in a week. I stood by her side but I could not be who I was. In her sufferings I doubt if she noticed it. Once she became alright she again started visiting that scoundrel. I became more and more addicted to the drinks. I kept on stabbing her. The same mask, the same knife, the same girl but different places. Each time she lived. But each time her health deteriorated. The demon inside had already taken control of me.  I got into a bar brawl and stabbed the other guy sending him to the hospital. My visit to Sara has reduced and visits to the Jimmy’s the bar increased. 


One day I went to meet her after a long time and there was a car parked outside her apartments. I did not enter her room through the front but went through the fire escape route and entered her kitchen. I could hear noises from the other room. I went silently and saw the frail body of Sara on top of him. Sara was just bones. He was least bothered about her health, only concerned about his pleasure. Sara was straining hard. I could not take it anymore. The rage rose in me like a fire, consuming me. I went back to the kitchen, found a long knife and waited. The sounds I was hearing made me go mad. After what seemed to be like a long wait he left. I went to the room and Sara was sleeping. I shook her violently. She opened her eyes to see me with a knife. Before she could say anything I pushed the knife through her ribcage into her heart. Thick red blood started flowing. She tried saying something but I took out the knife and stabbed her again. The sight of blood I thought would nauseate me actually gave me satisfaction. The wild pleasure of having the power of life and death was indeed addictive.

I left Amberville that night. I felt satisfied by ending an immoral girl’s life. That was just a start. I indulged in my new found passion for blood ever since. I started keeping principles, doing only righteous kills. I killed only bad guys. But soon I realized one man’s devil might be another’s angel. So the lines of righteousness got blurred by the stacks of money I was getting. I realized you cannot give justification for a crime.  

The easy way was to accept yourself to be a bad man and do the crime rather than covering it with some ideology. After three years of several hits I returned to Amberville for a job.  My target was a middle aged man. I had to make it look like a hit and run. Once the job was done, I returned back to my old unfinished house. It had a ghostly look to it now. Uninhibited for three years. The garden she used to walk through had literally become a forest now. The keys were still under the flower pot next to the door, I wonder why nobody took them till now.  

As I entered the house a flood of memories hit me. Memories I dared not to think of in the last 3 years. There were papers and covers lying around the door. People must have pushed them under the door. I have to wait here to meet my client to get the payment.  I made my way through the cobwebs to the first floor to sleep for a while. But then the bed is spoiled, couldn’t use. So I came down again walked around the place thinking to renovate the house, now that I have money I can remodel this house to be my summer retreat or something like that. I kicked some of the papers that were lying around and I saw Sara’s photo in one of them. It must be her obituary or something but she was not famous or anything to have photo in the front page. I took that paper and the headlines read “Sara : girl who killed the Doctor”


The past : Her version

Amberville has always been a cruel step mother to me. She took away my parents when I was a child, the only brother I had got involved in drugs early in his life.  Anytime he got involved in something I was taken as collateral. When I was fifteen or sixteen years older my brother got involved in something really nasty and I was held as a prisoner. He had to pay a large amount to the main drug dealers because he screwed up badly. They asked him to come meet them in person with the money if he wants to see me again. When he showed up with the money, they took him to get more information out of him. He refused. They put a syringe into my arm and asked again. He said no again. He was not in his senses, he was high on the drugs and they injected that disease into me. The doctor was known for keeping diseases in a bottle, incurable diseases which kill you slowly and painfully. 

I left from there not thinking about the injection or the disease I got, but about the brother who cares more about his dirty little secret than his little sister. I left Amberville that night, not knowing where to go. All I wanted is to go as far as possible from that place. I never recalled that injection of that fateful night, until I went to a doctor years later for constant tiredness. He had infected me with HIV. And that virus has started to be active. There is no cure. No way I could save myself. My brother died. According to his friends he died a hero’s death trying to save a box of cocaine. I went back to Amberville. The city surprised me on levels which I never knew existed.  The Doctor was running the show now. I decided to take revenge on him. But a girl like me could never take on such a person. Unless I appealed to his well known lust. I changed my name and looks and went into the game. I frequented night clubs and pubs. I still did not have a proper place to live so I decided to build a house at the small plot I have. It was then I met Sam.

Sam turned my life upside down. He was refreshingly different from the rest of Amberville. His eyes talk of love, something hard to find in here. I was torn between my desire for revenge and the hope for a wonderful life with him. The emotional struggle was hard to take. I had spent days plotting how to reach the Doctor and now I spent days with him.  I started feeling the tiredness again. Then the hard truth hit me. I had few days to live. I could never be happy with him and he could never know what had happened to me. So I made the hard decision to let go of him for the better good. I pursued after the Doctor.
He gave in to his lust and consumed on his pleasures.  I got stabbed and got admitted to the hospital. Probably some of the Doctor’s enemies. Sam started keeping a distance. I was depressed by that but happy that he won’t go down with me. I kept going back to the Doctor. I was just another whore for him. Someone to use and throw. I kept going back just to make sure he got the taste of his medicine. I got stabbed again and my health started deteriorating really fast. I wanted to be with Sam, but he was nowhere to be seen. But the Doctor showed up, without considering my health he sought pleasure. I lost interest in living, I lay there like a corpse. After doctor left I heard some noise. Sam was before my eyes. I thought it was a dream. Before I could utter a word a long knife in his hand pierced my heart. I could feel the warm blood flowing out. Death, the long lost friend finally came for me in the form of my love. I am feeling cold.

The tombstone is cold. I never felt any pain in doing what I did until now. All the lives I have taken, all families I have destroyed, all those pain. I kneel in front of the tomb. I don’t know what to say. The rain is still hitting me like a thousand knives hitting me. The shadows growing longer. i heard some sound behind me. Before turning only it hit me in the head. I never felt the pain.


The silencer attached suppressed the sound. John stood there for some time to confirm the hit and then he left.


(Murders at the hospital is another story from Amberville)
(The city of Amberville is created by Roshan Radhakrishnan in his blog Godyears.)

My First Award!!!

This ever happened to you? Out of the blue something awesome happening to you! Well that happened to me today when I was catching up on what I missed in the blogosphere. . The talented blogger Tan has given me a Versatile Blogger award! This is the first time I am getting an award!! And the reason she gave was to make me start writing again! The knowledge that somebody actually wants me to write is truly a great inspiration!! I shall be more frequent in my updates!

The rules for Versatile Blogger award are,

1. Add a picture of the award in your post.

2. Thank the award giver.

3. Share 7 random facts about you.

4. Choose 15 other bloggers to pass the award to and let them know that they’ve been nominated.

Seven random facts about me are

1) I never knew how to write my name till UKG or so.. My parents and teachers had tried real hard but didn't succeed. One day a relative came home and within 5 minutes she taught me how write my name. I first wrote it on a newspaper..

2) I think I have some sort of OCD. If I start using a place for something I keep on using the place or item for no specific reason.

3) I sit and study not because I am nerd but I don't like to be called a looser.

4) I just love reading books and can spend any amount of time with books.

5) I am coffee addict. Just can't live without it! I went on to the extent of buying a coffee maker to my room just so that I can have an uninterrupted supply of coffee!

6) I have a really wild imagination.

7) Finally I connect seemingly unrelated events and sometimes end up smiling in a totally wrong situation!

I don't have 15 bloggers to tag but they have been the best!

Roshan
Rohith
$$
Swetha
Keep writing!!

The Empty Cup of Coffee

A continuation from The Half Cup of Coffee and the The Full Cup of Coffee

I am sitting here in the coffee shop with the empty cup of coffee in front of me, witnessing the physio chemical reactions going on inside the head s of John and Sarah. They are sitting a couple of tables away talking to each other. Romance!!

John did get her the coffee. Buggers; they charge 50rs for a coffee and don’t even show the courtesy to bring it to you! Sarah has taken only a sip or two from the coffee while John has almost finished his, proving the fact that even in the midst of a war John won’t let his coffee go cold. Sarah obviously has no such issues. I hope John does not go to the extent of drinking her coffee too. I should have told him that also. John was tensed for this and wanted to know what not to say during his first ‘date’! As he constantly refers to me as his best friend among the other less cheerful terms, he came to me and I enlightened him. Funnily enough Sarah also came to me asking for what to talk to John. Being his close friend for more than two years and as someone keeping secret feelings for him I was the best person she could talk to. For a moment I was tempted to screw it up. The good times I had with John flashed. I was really happy to be with him. We did so many stupid things together and had the fun of a lifetime! But things might change if he comes to know. I may never tell him also. The very next moment I was ashamed of that very thought! Screwing up the life of a person who considers me as his best friend is too much. So I did help her out telling what’s he like other than the coffee. And heeding to their last request I came with them to the coffee shop also.

So here I am sitting with the empty cup of black coffee, looking at the guy I thought I loved. Strangely I am feeling happy for him now. Sometimes the best way to remain close with the person you love is to be a good friend.

“Seems like you could use some company Anna”

“Sam! Sure, have a seat! Didn’t see you coming”

“Probably because you were in your own world, so what you doing here?”

“I am just babysitting the kids! They sure grow up fast!”

“John and Sarah? Looks like a nice match, if she can live with his coffee that is. You know if she gets to marry him, she would probably have to take a cup of coffee for the first night instead of the usual milk!”

I laughed really hard at his imitation of how Sarah would be holding the cup of coffee with the coyness of the first night. John and Sarah are too engaged to take note of what was happening on my table.

“Sam stop saying such things! They have only started. But yeah that might happen if they end up together”

“Good for him! I am going to get coffee, you need a refill? Your cup is empty.”