Friday, April 29, 2005
About 11 years ago, this guy surfaced in my life again, though not in person; only in name. Through a classmate of mine in college. Apparently these two guys were also pen friends and the whole connection was re-established through the mention of Tintin comics. They'd parted ways as well after a year or so of correspondence.
*Sigh*. Those were the days. Was fun, I swear!
I mean, today we have the internet, connecting literally billions across the world. I speak with you guys like we've known each other for years and it's good fun too. It feels nice to belong to a community of people. We write, connect, share feelings; it gets all mushy at times.
Pen friendship just got a step ahead. But it's not the same anymore.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
You know it's really strange, cause I'm such a different guy in real life. I like to crack jokes and generally pun any word that comes my way (I know it's an awful habit; I'm trying, I'm trying).
Well, I HAVE written a couple of other stories, but...yeah well, I like the crime genre. But I also like romantic comedies. As in movies. So I thought, 'why don't I write a romantic shortie for a change?' You know, when it comes to shorties, (I'll tell you why I call a short story that sometime later), I've always been rrreal economical with words. I don't like beating about the mulberry bush a lot. I like to eat the mulberries straight off, without further ado. And it's easy to do that in crime fiction. But romantic shorties are tough to write. But no harm trying. Let's see where this whole thing goes. And oh, if you feel I should go back to crime, just say so, huh?
I Got The Wrong Mail
"Hmm, that's funny." He picked the flat parcel up and turned it in his hand, the frown on his forehead making a 'w'.
The address was indeed misleading and obviously, Mr. postman didn't know there wasn't any 'Shilpa' in his house. But the parcel looked important and he didn't want somebody waiting eternally for it. He bent over the gate to see if the postman was still rummaging in his bag somewhere on the street, but there was no sign of him.
An middle-aged person stood in front of him, with 'what-the-heck-do-you-want' written large on his pudgy face.
"Uh, sir, I believe this parcel is for you. The postman dropped it at my house by mistake. I...I live four houses from here."
The man almost snatched it from his hand and looked at it. Then at him. And then back at the parcel. He raised his eyebrow slightly, as if acknowledging the act and stepped in, closing the door.
So much for playing the samaritan. If Shilpa's father was like this, he wondered how she would be. Hands in the hip pockets, he walked out.
He'd been watching her ever since she walked into the library. "She's cute." And oh, she was headed this way now. She was browsing the english section, her slender fingers flicking the dvds gently. She was humming a tune. He slowly walked toward her and stood beside her, muttering some titles and flicking dvds himself. He could tell she was looking at him, but he didn't turn and continued searching. And then it happened. They reached out for the same title. The usual, 'you first, you first' later, he gave in. She smiled thankfully.
"I'll be returning it tomorrow."
He shrugged, "Oh, that's ok."
She looked at him for a fleeting second and left. Did he notice a naughty knowing smile curling at the corner or was he imagining? But no time for that...Oh no! She was leaving, she was leaving. And he was letting her go. "She gave you a chance to talk and you blew it, you idiot. You should've asked, 'when tomorrow?'"
She was climbing her two wheeler now. "Do something! Run out. Raise your hand. Something." But he stood glued.
She didn't turn up the next day. He rented a dumb flick and walked out of the library.
Nope. Not even the 2nd day. Forget it.
He stood at his window, watching the rain. The steam from the coffee did wonders to his nostrils. He drew in the cool air and sighed loudly. He looked on in silence. Then, the gate opened. He craned his head to see. He couldn't believe his eyes. He gulped his coffee and rushed to the door.
She folded her umbrella and stood there looking at him, smiling nervously. The water vapour gushed in from behind her.
"Oh..uh, sorry. Come in. Please."
She stepped in, smiling nervously, the video title in her clenched hands. He led her to the living room. They sat down.
"Here," She held out her hand. He took the video title.
"You shouldn't have...I..I'd have picked it up from the store anyways."
"You wanted it bad, I know. You waited two days for it."
Now, wait a minute! How did she know THAT? Was she...? He opened his mouth to ask, but remained silent. "Who the hell wanted the title ?", He wanted to say. He smiled instead.
"Uh..how did you know I lived here?"
"The same way you figured out which house the parcel should go to."
It took him a moment to realize. And they both burst out laughing.
"I watched you from my window. And the parcel which came was a dvd I'd ordered online."
There was a moment of comfortable silence.
"So how come I've never seen you before?" Not that he was an old timer here, having moved into the locality only a year back.
"I was on an assignment abroad." She smiled. Ah, the dimples.
He settled back in the couch. This was going to be a long afternoon.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Don’t do it. But if you do, don’t repent it. Don’t do it if you feel no matter what, you will ultimately repent for it. But if you end up repenting not doing it, then first think about the consequences that would have resulted by way of your doing it. Do it if you are absolutely sure that it wouldn’t really harm any body or you and that you might not repent it after a long time, cause time has a way of healing things. But you know deep in your heart that even if you were tempted to do it back then, you resisted doing it. And that’s a good thing. But then again, you might repent not doing it. But now it’s too late. You cannot do it. So bottomline – you wanna do it, do it.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Me: Don't eat this one, it's not nice. *making a face* - pthoo, pthoo...yechhh!
Aayushi: why? Appa, why?
Me: It's not nice, uggh..
Aayushi: (looks at the bowl thoughtfully and my heart does a bungee jump. She's gonna eat it now. Yay!!) Give..
Me: No. Not good..not nice...don't eat.
Aayushi: I want to eat. Give.
I hand over the bowl to her and she digs in a spoon or two. My wife enters the room and stands still, looking at us with a curious expectant smile. (Ah, that smile...)
Aayu looks at us both and almost instantly, together we realize the mistake. We were smiling at each other. (Drat!)
She pushes the bowl. "Yeah, appa. Not good - yechhh!! You are right. Not nice. Uh huh..."
So much for reverse pyshology. Duh!
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Yeh post kahan se shuru hua aur kahan jaa raha hai, yaar..!
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Monday, April 18, 2005
Rose: You first
The_hitman: male, 35 years
The_hitman: Why? Am I too old for you? *wink*
Rose: NO..no, nothing. forget it.
Rose: So...what do you hit?
The_hitman: Excuse me?
Rose: Your user name...
The_hitman: oh that! :)) Yeah, I am a hitman
Rose: What is that?
The_hitman: You don't know?
Rose: Why would I ask?
The_hitman: Be prepared, you might get scared. But you should not...
Rose: Tell me first.
The_hitman: I do contract killings...
The_hitman: I told you you'd be scared.
The_hitman: wow, I like courageous women.
A week later...
The_hitman: So, how's it like being in a travel agency?
Rose: Better than being a killer (if you are one, that is) :)
The_hitman: Lol.You know what, you are a nice girl, I'd like to meet you.
Rose: And kill me? ;)
The_hitman: Come on, be serious. Can we meet?
Rose: That depends...
The_hitman: Depends on?
Rose: On one condition. You should tell me all about your profession. I want to know more.
The_hitman: Forget it, it's not for women like you.
Rose: Look, if you want me to meet a hitman, I might as well know more about his profession, no?
The_hitman: Hmm, you have a point. Ok...
The next evening, this time face to face...
Rose (sipping coffee): You don't look like a hitman. (Giggles)
The_hitman: Well, you do look every bit like a travel agency executive.
They smile. An hour later, they're walking down the road, feeling the gentle evening breeze on their faces.
"So what are you really?"
"Come on, I know when I see men. You cannot be a hitman."
"Is it written on a hitman's face that he's a hitman?" He laughs.
She laughs, but is serious the next moment. "Tell me".
He watches the traffic silently for a minute and sighs.
"Ok, I might as well tell the truth, why fib? I'm a builder."
"You could've told me that straight away, the other day."
"Yeah, I know, I should have."
They walk and talk for another half hour and walk back to the parking lot inside the empty compound. It's late in the night now.
"So being a builder is equally dangerous, hmm?"
He smiles. "It is. But we have to take our risks."
She smiles and nods in agreement.
"Do we get to meet again?" Mr builder asks.
Rose smiles. "I don't think so."
"Why?" He puts on his best smile.
She doesn't answer him. She gets on her bike.
He looks at it for a moment, unsure. "Hmmm, that's quite a ride for a travel agency executive."
"How can you be so sure I'm an executive?" She smiles mysteriously now. In fact he's a little uncomfortable with that smile.
"Yeah, but...you...you told me..." He smiles, but barely manages...
The little pea sized hole in his forehead looks like a third eye, written by a cartoonist. She looks around and then down at him.
"Am so sorry we cannot meet again. You were kind of cute. But you know what, I have to take my risks too."
Then she kickstarts the bike to life.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Monday, April 11, 2005
The other day, watching a CD-rom of nursery rhymes, my daughter asked 'but why did jack fall and jill come tumbling?' Apparently, the 'hill' in the CD didn't look very slippery so my li'l one figured they could've as well walked happily back.
Friday, April 08, 2005
She picked up the receiver on the third ring and was about to say 'hello'. Cross connection. She recognized the male voice, her husband's. The other was a female voice, unknown.
"You'll have to be patient, Priya. See..."
"Don't you priya me. You know I've waited long enough."
"4 years, Hemant. Four long years. Isn't that enough?"
Her blood froze as she heard the two voices pulling at each other inside the instrument. Then suddenly she remembered she had to breathe. She cupped the mouth of the receiver and let out a long, shivering sigh and continued listening.
"Ok, enough of all this. When are you going to kill her?"
"Shh, Priya, not on the phone. Please don't talk..."
"ok, ok. but when?"
A long pause. Long enough for her eyes to fill.
"Don't know. I'm very busy these days. Maybe next week."
"You're lying. You can never do it."
"No, Priya..it's just that..."
"You can never do it, Hemant. Admit it."
"No. NO, I can."
"Ok, I will wait. But next thursday...I want to see myself at the mourning."
And the line died.
She had to virtually tear the receiver from her ear and replace it on the cradle. It felt like a dumb-bell.
The house was crowded with mourners. Some wept quietly into their handkerchiefs. Some sobbed heavily. Others looked on, gravely. Priya dabbed her bloodshot eyes and sat in a corner, looking shocked. A hand on her shoulder jolted her. She looked up.
"You are here, Priya. Mourning...and it's thursday. I hope your wish is fulfilled now. That's what you wanted, right?"
Priya sniffed and looked on in disbelief as Asha rose and walked slowly toward Hemant's large garlanded photo.
Monday, April 04, 2005
So am I saying, be a killer? And take an eye for an eye? Well...