Friday, October 20, 2006

Light it up...

Wish you all a very Happy (and safe) Diwali and Ramzan. :)

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Comedy of horrors...

Yeah, yeah, I deleted it...

But first things first. Despite the fact that my story 'route no. x' was a super flop (according to me at least), it was one helluva entertainer. My apologies to the 'lucky' few who came, who read, and who left...confused. I don't blame you guys. I posted that story when I was absolutely bored stiff last afternoon. A lesson I learnt - never post a 'horror' story when in such a state of mind. It puts even my characters to sleep.

It all started when I posted the story and then Harsha pointed out that 'bhai, kuch mazaa nahin aaya'. Well, what the hell, I had busloads of time on my hand, anyways. So there I went snip, snip, snip. But I left out some parts of the original story. The result? Stephen King meets Jaspal Bhatti.

And believe me, I wanted to delete the story yesterday itself, as I wasn't too satisfied with it myself. But Blogspot played spoilsport and didn't allow me to do it.

Today, before I deleted the post altogether, I read it one last time - Boy, what a mish-mash! I would've strangled the author if I were a visitor here. It didn't even tickle me, forget making my hairs stand on end. Heheh... And Enigma, I must hand it to you, girl. (Were you a consultant for Ramsay brothers anytime?) Your interpretation of the story had me rolling on the floor.

But one thing is clear. I enjoyed all the puzzlement and intrigue that the story caused. And you touched my heart. You guys so patiently analyzed a story which wasn't scary from any angle. Hats off to you. :)

But let me tell you, I didn't delete the story because of the confusion it created. I removed it because somewhere I felt that it didn't belong in my blog. I wasn't satisfied with it. And as writers, I'm sure you all know how it feels not to be satisfied with your own work.

Wish you all a very happy Deepawali. Have lots of fun. Safely..though.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Love at second sight...

He first saw her in the elevator. It was love at first sight. But there was something about her face...he'd seen her before, that's for sure. Only he couldn't tell.

Well, like all love stories, luckily for him, turned out she was attracted to him as well. And so it all began with a first 'hi' and subsequent meetings in the elevator, amidst the other people. And then the first date happened.


He pulled the chair for her. Why did all restaurants play Kenny G? He would've preferred something livelier. But what the hell, he wasn't here to listen to music, anyways.

"Nice place..." He started.

"Come on Avinash. That's such a cliched line. Your first date, right?"

He felt like an idiot, but smiled.

"Chalo, it's ok. Actually it is". She smiled. Ah, that smile. That face.

"You know what, Disha...I've been wanting to tell you this."

She waited.

"You know, you remind me so much of someone..."


"Don't laugh, ok?"

she laughed. He frowned mockingly.

She patted his hand. "It's ok. Tell me."

"I had this crush on my 6th standard teacher."

She didn't laugh. Good..

"You remind me so much of her..."

"What was she like?"

"Well, she taught us science. Pretty strict actually. But I was smitten by her."

"Yeah?" She laughed.

"Actually..I'd even sent her a card. Anonymous of course.."

"What? Proclaiming your undying love or something..?" Some more laughter.

" promised."

"Ok, ok.."

"I was her favorite student, though. I always scored well in her subject, because I didn't want her to be upset for me."

"That's so sweet. What was her name?"


"And which school was this?"

"St. Anthony's. Why?"

"So..did you ever go tell her it was you who sent her the card?"

"Oh boy. Didn't want to die. No. Never."

She smiled again.

"She had a typical smile..her lips curled like..donno. You have a similar smile."

"You should've told her about your love."

He didn't know what to say. He shrugged.

"Ok, am just kidding." She smiled that smile...

"But there's some consolation for you.."

"What do you mean?"

"You can always proclaim your love to her daughter."

"Wha..?" His jaw dropped.

She laughed that all too familiar laugh again. With a twinkle in her eye, this time.

"Meera's my mother, stupid."

He couldn't believe his ears.

"Meera Sachdev. St. Anthony's. Right?"

He mutely nodded, not knowing what to say.

"And know what? You can tell her too. She won't mind. After all, she still has that card of yours. she still talks about it. Tell her in person. She'll be happy. And..this time you might even get a 'yes'. For her daughter, of course."

She reached out and took his hand. They laughed. He still couldn't believe his ears.


Friday, October 13, 2006

Business, as usual...

Well, one year older...none-the-wiser. :)

But the best wish I got today (no prizes for guessing) was from my 4 year old - "Appa, many happy buddays return to you".

Apparently, Anu had taught her the 'Many happy returns...' thing, but my daughter went a step ahead and presented me with this gem.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

lamba safar



Introduced to movies

Loved the 'Dishum Dishum'

Watched 'Khoon Pasina'

Life changed

Bell-bottoms a must (Even to school! My mom had nightmares those days, trying to dissuade me).

Parted hair in the middle (Looked stupid on my curly head, but what the hell)

Imitated the deep dialogue delivery

Had a folder full of his pictures

Hoped to grow as tall...Never did..Doesn't matter


Other movies. Hollywood. Many favorites. But he's still closest to the heart.

Discovered that my birthday falls 3 days after his!! (That's like discovering nirvana. That's like family. That's connection).

Working life.

Dream of making a movie with him in it.

The awe hasn't diminished much (though not as strong)

Happy Birthday, Mr. Bachchan. You're still tops.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Cat out of the...?

Megha and Santrupti walked out of the cinema hall dazed. It was an emotionally draining movie and right now, they just didn't feel like talking. They were not alone, the entire audience of the show walked toward the exit like a bunch of zombies. The only sound coming from the ruffling of footsteps. An audible sigh of relief escaped from mouths once out in the open. Like they'd bobbed their heads out of the water. They walked to her car parked at the far left of the lot.

Once out, they had to snail it up behind a long line of cars, partly due to the movie crowd, and partly due to the several barricades up ahead, just outside the hall. The police were even checking a couple of cars. All young men in them.

"Wonder why so many cops?" Santrupti's first words since interval.

"Hmm?" Megha was still in the movie.

They waded through the pool of cars and finally hit the semi-empty road. It was almost 1 am and Bangalore looked more like in the wake-up mode than sleep. They were headed the Mumbai way for sure, thought Sannu (Megha called her that).


Two guys waved them down and forced them to pull up to a side.

"Megha, just drive" Sannu hissed.

" can I? They've blocked my way.."

"Just reverse it up and go". Sannu's voice shivered.

Megha looked around to see if there were any cops. None. All of them were back there near the cinema.

The fairer and taller one knocked on Megha's window.

Megha raised her eyes, her face a question mark.

He mumbled something she couldn't make out. Then he raised his fist, as if to break in.

She rolled down slowly.



"Give me the bag." He barked this time.

She handed it to him. He dug his hand inside, trying to find something. Sannu looked on in horror. Megha tried to be calm. Then, Sannu's hand slid inside her bag and clutched the pepper-spray can tight. She reminded herself to thank Manoj who'd bought it for her just last week.

The man called his partner. They talked in hushed tones and then finally their voices rose. Sannu understood the local dialect. Something about mistake, wrong woman, bag etc..they couldn't make out anything.

He shoved the bag back to her and waved them to go. Megha gratefully brought the car to life and took the first turn they got.


"Whatever the hell was that?" Megha said, after parking the car in front of Sannu's house. She hid her face in her hands and then ran them over her head.

Santrupti looked ahead, too terrified to talk.


No reply.



"Why were they after my bag?" It was more a question to herself..

Sannu didn't reply. Too many questions were racing in the women's minds. The horror of what had just happened hadn't yet sunk in.


The police commissioner got up and smiled.

"Thanks a lot Ms. Santrupti. Our city needs alert and responsible citizens like you. That diamond necklace belongs to the royal lineage and we had a tip-off that the thieves had entered the cinema hall. Only we didn't imagine them to slip it into Ms. Megha's bag."

Santrupti smiled at her friend, who'd accompanied her to the station.

"It was my duty, sir. It's a good thing I saw them doing it while Megha was so involved in the movie. I then clicked their pictures during the interval, before of course taking the necklace out of Megha's bag and slipping it into my jeans."


Monday, October 09, 2006

Back in those days when we didn't have email attachments with pictures of us and our family members grinning away those mega pixels taken on that 'smaller-than-my-palm' cyber-shots, when we didn't have messengers and skypes and what-have-yous, we had something that connected directly with our hearts: Picture post cards. You had this lovely sunset from somewhere, which you held lovingly in your fingers, and turned the card around to read even more lovingly, the scribbled letters of a friend, thousands of miles away. You probably received the card a month after the season shown in the card, but you didn't 'delete' the post card. You adorned it lovingly on your loving black n white TV, for the world to see, that you had a dear friend overseas who sent you lovely colorful picture post-cards.

My father was one such lucky person. And he received his card from a colleague who he'd befriended while on a trip abroad. He'd receive the cards every christmas and new year, sometimes even out of the blue...and read out the tiny, scrawly letter etched on the back of the card to us. Sometimes, he'd get a full letter in an envelope. The letter even smelled good! And we kids would pride at the fact that dad had an 'American' friend.

We received countless cards and letters, until one year they just stopped coming. Just like that. Stopped (much before the internet and emails...even STD calls). We spoke about it for a year or two and then carried on with life. One day, last year, we remembered this friend and wondered what would've made the guy stop writing.

"I guess, he passed away."

In truth, this might really have been the case. Because he was the only person who my father knew. We didn't know his whereabouts, we didn't know his changed address, if any (father tried writing to him years back, but the letters just returned to him).

I even googled him out for father, came up with a couple of close matches, but perished the thought, because of the age differences. I guess he really did pass away. But just think - at least for father, his very existence depended on just the cards and letters he wrote; the wishes he sent across the oceans.

Now, if only there was an email service in heaven.