Choice

56 admission forms were piled up on the table.Chin on palm,a young boy looked tiredly at them.Half a cup coffee was turning cold beside him.The table fan rotated at top speeds.A clock ticked slowly in the corner.Tension ticked too.

'Shoofville institute of Technology' read the first line of the first form.
"I like it.But I.... this is good too..." said the young boy Anroop Noklue to his extremely busy mother.He held up the form--'Scoxine school of medicine'.

His panicky mother,apparantly in some haste,shouted,"You are 17 Anroop , for god's sake !Can't you decide on a small thing like this?I've got work to do!My speech begins in 10 minutes and I haven't had breakfast!"

"If only you helped me mom..."started Anroop.

His mother raised a hand in disapproval
"I REALLY don't have time!"she said as she slipped on her high heels.

Anroop followed his mother,still begging,to her car.Not with any difference.

5 minutes later--- 'Medical engineering---AGHKCL institute' 34th form.
A black benz zoomed out of the driveway.
The phone rang.
"I hope it's Abel" muttered Anroop as he received it.The news was shocking.
"GUTWINE????" he shouted. It was Abel.
"Abel....No....seriously?" he asked.
"Damn.Where is it?"---"50 miles off the campus of shoofville."
answered the other voice.

Anroop sat down disgruntedly.He tried to drink the coffee...he couldn't.It was too cold.'Just like my life' he thought.Atrena, the pretty girl with the black curtain of hair,too was off to an institute not in the 56.17 of his best friends were off to 17 different colleges.'Damn this country for having so many colleges' he thought.So many options!So many different courses. 'What the hell are my interests?' thought Anroop Noklue. 'How do I realise?Man! This is a difficult choice!If only there was someone who could help!' was another wasted thought in the mind of Anroop Noklue.
***
Just fifteen miles away a man, standing on a dias , said , welcoming a smart woman in high heels and who had just got down from a fitting black benz,"So....After an unlikely delay,here is Mrs.Noklue....Internationally noted Career Counsellor."
5000 claps welcomed her.
******

True Story ( well almost !!)

It was a cold October and my tonsillitis was at an all time high. I was ridden to bed and my working mother had to take leave. Such was the severity.

The day started the usual way. A heated argument with my mother. Only, from my part it was all by groping and 'mmm' s because my tonsils prevented the other way of argument. My mother generally a very patient person had to resort to loud words. It was the medicine.....yes it was. The point is it pains like hell to drink or eat anything and the pain doesn't subside till I drink the medicine. I had blurted it out and spoiled her new bedspread. She said if I strained to get it past my tonsils then there would be no problem. That was the problem! And the medicine was a horrid combination of sour, bitter and all the bad tastes you can think of. She had frowned her face in implorement.

Now however she has gone down to prepare my food.A light milk based liquid.I still have my own doubts as to the supposed fate of it and the actual that is going to be.Without any luck in my attempts to sleep I have resorted to observing the room and the small activity going on outside the window beside my bed.Recently a team has started the flooring of the newly constructed house beside ours.I can unoccasionally hear the sounds of grilling , drilling, and what not.I looked out at the unusually non-existent activity. My mother had made the workers' acquaintance and I too knew a few of them. Among them a boy , probably three , had caught my attention.

Now I searched in vain for him. Just a few minutes later however just as I was beginning to doze off, I heard him. He was calling with all his eagerness to his mother.
“Amma, Amma!” he called.
I couldn’t yet see him but his voice sounded excited.Only a little while later he came out into the open and I could see him. He was still searching for his mother holding a small pup he himself had apparently caught.

Caressing the back of the dog, he ambled all through the half constructed house. He had walked all round the house atleast twice and all the while holding his pup. At first he thought his mother was playing a game of hide and seek with him. He laughed about it innocently and sometimes turned back quickly to catch his mother sneaking away. He peeped twice into all rooms and checked the basement. He reached the top and called out again “Amma “loudly.
No answer.He ran back downstairs.

He was beginning to show a little fright as he descended. He could not show his pup to his mother. He lost his smile soon after it got a little dark outside. And his pup too a, little later.

His calling for his mother had not stopped and yet it was noticeably getting feebler and accompanied at first by sniffs and a little later by tears. I felt my heart go out to him but in vain. I could not call out. I could do nothing.

He sat on a small mound of stones curled up and started crying. It was with a lot of difficulty that I watched him there. It seemed like an eternity.

It was when he just stopped crying for a bit that I took notice. I looked out of the window again and I could notice a thin woman appear in the corner and the small boy’s eyes fixed upon her. The woman had noticed him. It seemed like she was checking some change in her hand and had another packet in her other hand.

I got only a blurred vision of him running towards her and finally upon reaching her, hugging her. The woman noticed him only now. The boy was crying the loudest now and saying a few things to his mother in innocent anger.

Just then the door of my room opened and a lady with a tray laden with hot soups and soft rice appeared. She placed them on a stool beside my bed. “Amma “ I said slowly. She turned towards me suddenly and looking into my eyes asked “ Are you crying?”. She came nearer and placed her hand upon my forehead to check my fever. I kissed her on the cheek as she bent down and said in a voice permitted by my tonsils “Amma, I love you. “

My Own Rock Song!!!

My association with rock music ( a very brief one at that ) has been most entertaining and surprisingly very inspirational.I haven't had much of time for other rock genres but the ones I was introduced to , viz 'thrash ' and 'nu' and pink floyd's 'psychadelic' , have been great.

Forgive me for the length of my posts. I know I should try to bring in more quality than quantity ( ah!! how many times have we heard that one!! ) and by saying that mind you I am being my unusual unegoistic self here and I don't intend to change.

As I was saying it has been most 'inspirational'... yeah got me right 'inspirational'.Now don't go on thinking that I changed my mind and now I want to be a rockstar.No....I don't.By inspirational I mean the effect these rock songs can have on people.That part of the rock song inspired me to write a rock song and give the effect through the music.The musician in me is still in its infancy and all I managed was the lyric.Again I would like the readers to read this as a song (or poem if you want to call it that) as something of substance.And understand.But that does not mean I dont invite comments.Please do comment.Its my food.

Here goes the song.........
(not named yet)

I feel two things
At the same darn time
Once my heart sings
Once nothing but mime

Everyday a love song
A loving loving wife
I don’t wanna live long
Just a simple life

A cosy place called hut
Just a simple life
In my mind oh! But
A bigger bigger strife

Broken pieces of heart
Defeated bodies of all
Hunger 'cross the world
Lack of EVERYTHING

Break out and
CHANGE THE WORLD

No love song
No loving caring wife
A battle too long
Just give up my life

I’ve decided to
Break out and
CHANGE THE WORLD

A cosy place called hut??
Try death or life
No 'if's no 'what's and never 'but'
Someone just won the strife

Break out and
CHANGE THE WORLD

Now my heart sings
All at one time
No two things
Forgot to mime
It’s decided to
Break out and
CHANGE THE WORLD

CHANGE THE WORLD

CHANGE THE WORLD

CHANGE THE WORLD…

-----------Composed by First Blog....

Short Story

The first paragraph is one I found in a "Times" article inviting aspiring writers to complete the story......so if you thought you read it somewhere dont call me a copycat.
As I dab my hands in the realms of uncertainties in fiction I request my readers to actually read the story as a story with some substance than just as a critic ready to pounce on a mistake I might have commited.I just wanted to say this before anyone attempts to read the following story.Also forgive me for awkward names( if it seems so) in the story. And yeah the whole thing is fiction and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental......

The Other Face(s?)…

The alarm crowed. A lusty king of the farmyard cock-a-doodle-do. He shut the mobile up. One hour and five minutes was all he had before his day began. He would steal 5 minutes from that. Look the other way, he told that frowning creature in his soul. I do it all the time. A little corruption, a little bribery. I negotiate with the world 24/7. So why not an extra 5 minutes of sleep? He told himself and buried his head under the pillow. And so began another day in the life of an Indian.

Gundanna was a husky man, a little under forty and a man with a lot of worries. He finally opened his eyes drearily to the sunlight pouring in through the window on his left. He spent three more minutes in the same position, gazing out at the dying plant visible just outside his house. What a start! he thought. He shifted uneasily in his fifteen-year old bed. His eyes fell on the ceiling. The paint was peeling away. Great going! He said to himself.

Twenty-five minutes later, he had finished his ablutions and just as he was about to walk into the 8x8 living room, noticed the ajar door on his right - his younger brother. He opened the door fully and found him still cuddled up on his bed and snoring. Gundanna shook his head and closed the door behind him as he walked out. All efforts to get him educated had gone in vain. Stories of his school, versions of his and his teachers (oceans apart) were numerous. He had dropped out of 7th standard, 15 years ago. Gundanna had tried to get him occupied in his own office, also in vain.

Now he walked into the living room and picked up his office materials. A pen and some money from his grand father’s drawer. He sighed to himself and sat down on the cane chair in the middle of the room. He closed his eyes. He was tired already.

“Leaving already?” said a very wavery voice behind him.
Gundanna opened his eyes and looked back at an old woman walking towards him.
“No Amma”, he said as he helped her to another chair, “I’m waiting for Sita to cook me some breakfast and it’s already 9:30 if you didn’t realize” he ended.
“How should I realize? I never learnt to tell time”, she said
“I know Amma, You’ve already told me”, he said and got up.
“Sita” he shouted.

A girl in her mid-twenties walked out of the kitchen with a tray laden with the morning breakfast. Gundanna took the plate and started eating immediately.

“You should start thinking about the girl also, you know. She is already 25. We won’t find suitors for her if we don’t start looking now”, said Gundanna’s mother.

That was all he could take. He walked out without speaking and left the half eaten breakfast on the floor. He pocketed his ancient mobile phone and treaded outside to his also ancient scooter. He thought of his wife and his little daughter. May be they would have shown some concern towards him. His daughter would have been a solace. But his wife was now pregnant with his second child and lived with her mother in the adjacent town.
For the past so many years , ever since his father’s death, his life had been on tenterhooks.The whole burden of his family-an uneducated mother, a vagabond brother , and a little sister with no interest in employment-had fallen into his hands.
*******

He went back nearly 20 years as soon as he caught sight of his workplace.

It was raining heavily. His father’s demise just a week old. It was his uncle, his father’s brother, who had brought him to this workplace. He had got the job of a clerk. Over the 19 years he had risen amazingly and had held the office for a year now.

Though his post was a commanding one, his salary was meager. Not even enough for his brother’s and sister’s education in a good school let alone their marriages.

He walked into his “office” and sat down. He finished his morning prayer there in fine minutes. He hit the table bell and a small boy came running.

“Let the first person in”, he said.

Five minutes later a man in a black Gandhi cap, an overcoat and white dhoti walked in with his file. He was a cheeky little man with a humped walk and had an eerie malicious smile about him. Gundanna took no second glance at him. He knew the look too well.

Gundanna opened the file, placed in front of him as the man sat down in front of his desk.

“Mmmm….”, he said.

The man started speaking.

“I had lent a good sum of money to Srinivasaiah and Lakkavva a year ago, Sir. The time for repayment according to the bonds got over yesterday. According to the bond he had to give his land of 5 acres. The part of land to be given, determined by the amount to be repaid. So…”

The man opened a few more pages and showed a small area of blankness for signature.

“You’ll have to sign here, sir” said the man pointing.

Gundanna’s experienced eye looked through the bond and a few numbers here and there. The amount given was Rs.5 lakhs. Gundanna picked up a small calculator from his office desk drawer and made some calculation. The amount of land to be given was about 3.85 acrees, according to the current listing of prices.

Gundanna looked at the bond again and it was already filled up. It said that Srinivasaiah and Lakkavva of Kallur owed that man 5 acres of land. Gundanna understood perfectly.
This man was just as he had guessed.A cheater. Trying to gobble up nearly 2 acres of land . The ethics of Gundanna was, at this point, non-existent.All he could see in front of him was a family , almost in disaster , and a new prospect of money.He had learnt over the past year atleast , not to care for such things as God and ethics…..
With a perfectly composed and meaningful tone he said, “So… the other party not here?”, he looked above his spectacles, halfway through his nose, at that man.
The other man just grinned. Gundanna coughed. Oddly, it sounded practised, experienced and croaked. Apparently, the man in front caught the meaning too, because he opened a small purse filled with money. Gundanna smiled for the first time that day.

Gundanna caught the names, Srinivasaiah and Lakkavva of Kallur just before he opened the cap of his pen.

******

It was amazing how time had flown since then. It was already evening.

Now, Gundanna was walking to the Town Fair.

He had planned this shopping just after he had got his day’s first payment. He would buy somethings for his wife and his 7 year old daughter and would go over to the next town.

Just as he was going through the assortment of bangles, necklaces and ear rings, he heard a girl crying.

An old man was carrying a girl about his daughter’s age.

“No..No…No…”, the old man was saying to the girl.

“The shopkeeper doesn’t give the necklace for less than 20 Rs. I don’t have that much.20 Rs is a very big amount for me! I haven’t even bought the supplies to the house. I don’t think I’ll be able to buy any seeds this year. No No No 20.Rs is too much. I have only 35.Rs!!”.

The girl wouldn’t give up. The old man let her down tiredly.

Gundanna thought for a moment and walked to the girl. He smiled and bought the small 20 Rs. Necklace. He tied it around the girl’s neck who stopped crying immediately. She smiled innocently and said softly “Thank you”.
“You needn’t have done that, sir. You’re very kind” said the old man.

Gundanna just smiled.

The old man continued,“Sir, please do come to our house when you visit our village, Kallur. Our village is just 2 kms. down that road. Just ask for Srinivasaiah or Lakkavva”, he said.

The names struck Gundanna like lightning .How he remembered the names!! He watched in disbelief as the old man walked, carrying the little girl, on bare feet. He couldn’t move and just stared. Five minutes later he stared through his moist eyes at the sky, where the black was enveloping the scarlet and gold in the distant horizon. A simile struck him.

Book Review

mmm…let’s see…

Of late the books I have been devouring on (yeah I do that) have mostly been the classic “whodunits” or murder mysteries written to excite the mind of the logician prevalent in every reader.

Advancing from “Sherlock Holmes”, I found a similar character ( in not that many ways actually ) in Hercule Poirot. My most recent analysis ( yeah I do that too ) , is the one I present here , “Death in the clouds” by Agatha Christie featuring Hercule Poirot.

mmm…let’s see…as far as the story or the plot goes, “Death in the clouds” is nothing short of fantastic ! I mean , the plot , as usual with Christie , is this –eluding, seemingly impossible to commit or solve , and progressively gets tougher to solve --mystery.

Figure this for a moment. There are 11 passengers on a plane(including our detective) and one of them dies ( as abruptly as that.No drama) that’s the necessity part of a whodunit. Now , it’s found that she ( yeah it’s a she) died from a blow-dart shot to her neck!

This is the point of arrival of “seemingly impossible” part of the crime.A blowpipe is found ( quite inconveniently behind Poirot’s seat) . But the “impossibility” is that no one saw a blow pipe being fired ( or blown) and there is no part on the plane where a person could blow a dart from a blow pipe, unseen. And she should have been killed while on the plane. The medical evidence makes sure of that and the closeness of the story. Confines the story to a defined set of suspects. The passengers and the two stewards!!

Seems impossible? Worry not!! Here’s our master sleuth Hercule Poirot to the rescue!

On the face of it nobody has had a contact with the murdered woman. But with Hercule Poirot on the loose almost everyone is found to have a motive! Now it’s his “grey cells” as he calls them which have to come to the rescue.

The story moves at a steady pace , at times, driving the reader to jump to conclusions. There are few points of “adrenaline increase” too (only slightly though) scattered here and there with perfect precision. The best in my opinion being Poirot’s growing interest in a wasp seen by few passengers.

So what happens in the end? Does Hercule Poirot pull another “ Hercule Poirot”?
mmm….let’s see….for the surface reader…..Definitely!

The crafting of the typical “final speech” where everything , every mystery , every move of the detective is explained is simply in league only with the class of Agatha Christie and this time with a dash of pride ( and arrogance?) from Poirot’s side. To a Christie first-timer its cocaine. For a newbie Christie it damn good!

Yeah I know I have said “surface reader” somewhere above. That, in my language alone, means a person who reads a book for the story part of it. i.e. accepting the line of thought of the author.

For the non-surface reader (especially whodunit ‘anal’ysts) who tend to criticize and question every “logician’s solution” provided by the author, this one is questionable in many places. And an acute reader might just be able to contradict the actual solution itself!!

So final verdict??

Must read.

mmmm....let's see....

I know u hav some FAQs....
Maybe something like.....
1. What is this blog about?

simple answer......i just dont know!!
I just needed a medium of communication and here I am!!
What follows in the following days... I don't know.
Whether I'll have the patience of communicating through this new found medium is the question.
Let's see.......