Selected StorieS Fromhttp://www.chinamouli.comThrough The highs and Lows ofan Emotionally DrivEn minD.Chandramouli.Se-mail...
Index1.The Madman ...........................................................................................................
25.Blast From the Past - First Crush.........................................................................................
1.The MadmanHe did not fit in their definition of normal. In their definition, the most apt word for him would be crazy.So...
2.Writing dreamsThere was once a young boy. He made a living by taking care of his master’s sheep. But then, thisyoung boy...
Soon, word spread that the protégé had lost his charm. That he could handle no craft. That he wasevil and that ill luck fo...
3.Origin of Love – A FantasySo, when and where did love begin?Long long ago …. I mean, really really long long ago, before...
Out flew the emotions of deceit, hate, heart breaks, lies, ego, misunderstanding, misrepresentationand infidelity. It fill...
4.The Other OneI have no choice.I do not have a home to go back to. My father cannot take me in again; the people in the v...
I had no choice. So I made mine. I do not care about the outside world.              50 Short Stories from http://www.chin...
5.To Christina, with loveThe lock clicked open as he entered his apartment. He opened his door and faced the huge newpaint...
would show when you see sadness in “your kiddo”. Set your heart free and you will find it influencethousands of hearts aro...
6.Moment of truthSep 20, 1929.It is a special day for me. I have a feeling this might well be my most significant day. Tod...
I remember myself being carried somewhere. I see my people around me. I see the look on theirfaces. I will not ever forget...
7.HopeHe was the person one would look up to for inspiration. He had braved many tough situations. He hadshowed the way fo...
himself. He decided then that he was going to change the way he approached life. He decided toexplore himself, spend his t...
8.BedazzleI have always wanted to be a writer. Being a smart one, I have always found some topic to build astory upon. I f...
God, am sweating too much. My face feels hot. The heat is unbearable- my cheeks, my forehead, myneck, they are all heating...
I need food. Apples in the fridge. Apples are good for health. They keep the doctor away. But doctoraunty is hot.Why is mo...
9.‘Blog’ – For LifeThe following story has more truth than one can imagine.Jan 01 2008, 12:10 A.MThe new year has started ...
My whole attitude of life changed with this money making discovery. Within a couple of weeks, I madeenough to buy myself a...
………………………………………………………………………………………………I knew to blog. I knew to market my blog. I knew google analytics reasonably well. I h...
Blogging changed my life. People say blogging is a waste of time. They say it gets you nowhere. It gotme to where I am tod...
10.Silence! Darkness! Peace!Silence! Darkness! Consciousness!The sound of someone calling out a name-My name!I open my eye...
Office never gave us a chance to spend time together. Both of us were popular by our own rights, Iwas a well known blogger...
11.An act of humanityI have known Rasheed for the past five years. During his stay here in Karachi jail, he was the onepri...
I do not believe Rasheed did wrong. I rather salute his act and bow my head down to the only heartthat sympathized with th...
12.Life, Peace & SanityI like cats! They say when a cat closes its eyes, it imagines that night has fallen upon the world....
perfect ally and also a source of funds for making his idea a reality. Together we produced a numberof films which were la...
13.Through a father’s eyesCall it paternal instinct, but he somehow knew that he was in for a shock when his daughter call...
14.LonelinessThe weather was playing havoc with his life. To him it felt as if nature was conspiring to keep himunhappy. W...
15.TimidityI am the little boy who hid behind the cylinder.Meeting new people freaked him out. Whenever he heard the creak...
16.Change“Bring with you an egg sandwich for me.”Even while I was waiting outside Alsa mall for my turn to order the egg s...
I am cut short by the girl with the thick round glasses, “We know you have not seen any of usanywhere. That is no issue. I...
17.The destroyer of art “No matter how much industrialization has moved the perception of perfection towards the degrees o...
18.Stories untold “…………… and his blade gashed through the dragon’s scales. A fresh burst of fire came out of thedying beas...
“The only way I survive is by either being pure and pristine (blank) as I am now or by you writing onme a story that is wo...
19.Fly High “The legend of Pegasus says that the ill fated Bellerophon tried to use Pegasus to fly above themount Olympus....
but everyone agreed this was meant to happen.She had found him when he could bear his work no more. Here was a horse that ...
20.The Break-UpTrue, she was a really wonderful girl. True, she cared for him; a bit too much, at times. True, shemade him...
the space when you ask me for it. I have been there for you all the time. And I can take it no more. Ihave my own life to ...
21.But I am ShyMy Dear Dilip,                                                                        31-Mar-2011Hope this ...
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
50 stories from chinamouli
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50 stories from chinamouli

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Hi there,

As a small step to my dream of becoming a writer, I have made a compilation of some of the short stories I had written over the past 3 years.

Do have a look at the stories when you have time and share with me your opinions about them.

If at any point of reading this book I made you smile or think about someone feel free to share with them. (In other words, please please forward the book to anyone who reads books).

If you do send it to people it would be even more encouraging for me if you could tell me how many people you sent it to.

Thank you in advance for your help in helping me realize my dream of making a name for myself in this world.

Chandramouli.S
http://www.chinamouli.com
https://www.facebook.com/chinamouli

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50 stories from chinamouli

  1. 1. Selected StorieS Fromhttp://www.chinamouli.comThrough The highs and Lows ofan Emotionally DrivEn minD.Chandramouli.Se-mail:chinamouli@gmail.com
  2. 2. Index1.The Madman ....................................................................................................................................042.Writing dreams ................................................................................................................................053.Origin of Love – A Fantasy................................................................................................................074.The Other One .................................................................................................................................095.To Christina, with love......................................................................................................................116.Moment of truth...............................................................................................................................137.Hope..................................................................................................................................................158.Bedazzle.............................................................................................................................................179.‘Blog’ – For Life..................................................................................................................................2010.Silence! Darkness! Peace! ..............................................................................................................2411.An act of humanity.........................................................................................................................2612.Life, Peace & Sanity........................................................................................................................2813.Through a father’s eyes..................................................................................................................3014.Loneliness.......................................................................................................................................3115.Timidity...........................................................................................................................................3216.Change............................................................................................................................................3317.The destroyer of art........................................................................................................................3518.Stories untold.................................................................................................................................3619.Fly High..........................................................................................................................................3820.The Break-Up.................................................................................................................................4021.But I am Shy...................................................................................................................................4222.‘Fall’ in Love....................................................................................................................................4323.Not another Love story!!!.. ............................................................................................................4524.Sealed with a Kiss...........................................................................................................................47 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P age |2
  3. 3. 25.Blast From the Past - First Crush....................................................................................................4926.Blast From the Past - Romeo & Juliet.............................................................................................5127.Blast From the Past-Football Fiasco! .............................................................................................5228.The Stranger...................................................................................................................................5329.Stitch in Time..................................................................................................................................5430.Survival of Friendship.....................................................................................................................5531.A weird Trial...................................................................................................................................5632.The Secret Revealed.......................................................................................................................5833.The Perfect Synergy........................................................................................................................5934.A ride, like never before.................................................................................................................6035.Tommy the Librarian.......................................................................................................................6136.Cockro-Phobia.................................................................................................................................6337.A Journey that never took off..........................................................................................................6638.All about love!..................................................................................................................................6839.Time and Space play games!!!.........................................................................................................6940.The writer and his poem..................................................................................................................7041.Growing Mature..............................................................................................................................7142.And so it began................................................................................................................................7243.First Sight ........................................................................................................................................7344.What If?...........................................................................................................................................7545.Abundance in Life............................................................................................................................7646.The Social Addict..............................................................................................................................7747.The Power of Gossip........................................................................................................................7948.Big Fat Love!....................................................................................................................................8049.The Story of My Life.........................................................................................................................8250.Diary entry of a random girl.............................................................................................................84 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P age |3
  4. 4. 1.The MadmanHe did not fit in their definition of normal. In their definition, the most apt word for him would be crazy.Some would brand him to be a madman. Some just left him alone, calling him a freak, a loner and aretard.For him, it meant nothing. He was in a world of his own. To him, he was the sanest man in the world.Because unlike most, he knew he had a purpose in life. He lived it on his terms. He was steadfast inhis task. His task was to bring out the best ability within himself. For him, it was just one word thatmattered – Commitment.He felt a great desire within himself to give to the world the best ever works of the time. For that, hedid not mind walking the extra mile. He cared not to subject himself to the extreme emotions. Hewanted to bring out the best within him, for that he had to feel it.He would sit quiet in a dark room for hours, taking in the sights and sounds of oblivion. Then he wouldcollect his thoughts, patiently arrange them and give them shape. When he wrote about peace,people could feel it.He would go hungry for hours together. He let his stomach arch in and hurt like crazy. He would notdrink a drop of water. He would let his throat go dry. He would let his eyes feel faint and his body todroop without nutrition. He would then churn up a story of the weary traveler who kept taking that oneextra step towards the oasis.He gave in his everything as he allowed himself to fall in love. He wrote about the joy he felt and theecstasy of it all. They were legendary. He severed relations with the one he loved, and wrote aboutthe pain of it. Again, his words broke the heart of his readers.He got himself drugged. He watched himself as his mind went berserk. He recorded the astoundingclarity of thoughts. He met his deepest fears and even discovered life beyond the first love. He wroteabout it. He made many followers.He listened to stories from various kinds of people, some he had never met before. Some he wouldnever meet again. He called himself as a traveler. He traveled into the minds of others, and ponderedupon the various perceptions of people and their forms of writing. He looked for inspirationeverywhere. He was driven by the pursuit of new stories to write, new articles to inspire those aroundhim, to encourage them to chase their dreams.Some found him to be weird. He would be found making a mockery of himself one day and deliveringa purposeful speech the next. They suspected him to be two faced.He was a madman. He did not fit. He was crazy. No matter what they branded him, he still came upwith a write up that made them take notice. He was committed to writing and that was all thatmattered to him.That was all that mattered to all, eventually.Dedicated to Paulo Coelho– My source of inspiration to write. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P age |4
  5. 5. 2.Writing dreamsThere was once a young boy. He made a living by taking care of his master’s sheep. But then, thisyoung boy was no normal Sheppard. He had a dream. He wanted to write. But he did not know whatto write on. So he quietly took care of his sheep and hoped that one day, the topic would come.As years passed, his belief of becoming a writer began to wane. He instead became so good attending sheep that he became the best Sheppard of his master. His wages became higher than anythat his other brothers of the family earned. Now he was branded as a success in life. He was giventhe additional task of shearing the wool off the sheep.He excelled in that too. Within two years, he had sheared more than any of his master’s workers. Hesoon became the head shearer of the ranch. His wages were now more than thrice of what any of hisother brothers earned. He was a celebrity.Soon, his master gave him more responsibility. He was then ordered to supervise and train the newSheppard boys. He felt important in life and looked up by all those around him. He enjoyed thethought that he was moulding the future of a number of other boys around him.He soon gave up his dream of becoming a writer. Who could blame him, he had no topic anyways. Hewas paid well. He was being looked after. He was being looked up to.This to him seemed to be the path of destiny. A path laid out to him by time and society. He thought ofhimself to be a fool to have dreamt of becoming a writer.Days passed. Soon the boy married and started to live a life. He married the daughter of one of hispeers and soon they had a baby boy. There were more mouths to feed. But that was not a problem ashe was earning enough to support his family. He was thought of to be a responsible father and acaring husband.The evil hand of fate struck a blow on the boy’s fortunes. There was a flood which washed off all thegrass in the state. With not a blade of grass to eat, the sheep died. And with the death of the sheep,the master had no ranch.The boy was looked up to by the society all his life. Now they expected him to save them from thefamine. He could not disappoint them. He gave up all his savings to the society. He was now aphilanthropist, a saviour of the society.But now, he had no job. He had no money. And he knew nothing other than the jobs related tomanaging the ranch. He was respected highly by all around him, and yet none came to his aid whenhe required their help.He went to the barber. Said he could help him as he had sheared wool before. But seven cuts in twodays meant business was going to take a hit if he remained. So he was sent out, and called a duffer.He went to the machine shop, said he could manage the people, because he had managed sheepbefore. But again, he was a letdown. He could not get the men to listen to him. He lost his job. And hewas branded to be a failure. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P age |5
  6. 6. Soon, word spread that the protégé had lost his charm. That he could handle no craft. That he wasevil and that ill luck followed him everywhere. His wife left him, fearing for the safety of their child.Soon, the man lost all his possessions – his home, his wife, his child, and the respect of his peers.He became angry with the society which had once celebrated his success. He became frustrated withhis brothers who enjoyed his wealth when it existed. He became distraught with his wife more forfearing him than for having left him. With none to care for him and none to take notice of him, he leftthe village, vowing never to return to that ungrateful place.A long grey beard grew on his face as he walked in the direction that his legs took him. He had tobear the brunt of the hot sun and brave the chill of the night. His hair became unkempt and he gotwrinkles all over his body. He often contemplated why his life had taken such a wrong turn. Every timehe lied down for sleep, he would be haunted by the image of his wife moving away from him and therest of the village cursing him. By the time he reached the next village, he looked many years olderand the depth of his eyes revealed he was rich in experience.He walked into the shade of an old banyan tree and laid there to stretch his tired legs. A small groupof young boys gathered around the strange looking man. One of them brought him a glass of coolwater. This was the first act of kindness he had received for years. He smiled at the child, his heartfilled with gratitude and happy with the realization that there still were good souls in the world.The children gathered around him and asked him questions. “Who are you?” “Where are you from?”“How did you get here?” “Why are you sad?” “Are you alone?”. Such innocent questions they were.And yet he could not give them proper answers.The young kid who gave him water dared to slowly extend touch his freckled arm. Then the kid pulledhim up to his feet and told him they would take him to their teacher. Tired, though he was, he trustedthe kid and let him lead to the school.The teacher asked him the same questions. And this time, he found them to be very deep. He wasamazed at how one question led to another.What was he living his life for, a wife who left him, a society which was ungrateful to him? What washis purpose in life, to be branded a success or a failure? Who was the one to decide if he was asuccess or a failure? What were the parameters that mattered to him to be branded a success or afailure?These were topics. These were the subjects he could write upon. These were the questions whoseanswers were going to make him famous. He was going to write about them.Did the famine happen to ruin his life? Rather, the famine had helped him turn his life around. It hadgiven him an opportunity to write again, to chase his dream. It had removed him of all his burdens. Ithad made him a free man, free to live his life the way he wanted. As a writer!His eyes were filled with tears. And they glittered in happiness. He looked around for a piece of chalk.He ran here and there like a madman, frightening the poor children. Then he picked up a chalk andwrote the first ever sentence on the board.“The most difficult questions to answer are the what ,the why and the how.”The teacher saw great wisdom in the saying and kept the Sheppard boy in his house. He still liesthere, under the tree, with a pen in hand and a long beard to caress while he thinks! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P age |6
  7. 7. 3.Origin of Love – A FantasySo, when and where did love begin?Long long ago …. I mean, really really long long ago, before mankind became the predominant formof two-legged existence, before the concept of using a calendar to calculate time was yet to beconceived, there was a quiet little town called Hobbitsville somewhere in the middle of what is nowScotland which was inhabited by the quiet and rather selfish hobbits that made a living throughtrades that revolved around corn. Some were farmers, some were mill constructors, some were millworkers, some were exporters and some were corn stealers!Life at Hobbitsville was quite smooth andcontented for the passive onlooker. But that was until Gandalf arrived.At a rather youthful stage when he was just about able to grow a beard, Gandalf was no where nearhis famous Grey self. In fact he was young and supple and moved so fast that the hobbits nicknamedhimQuickSilver!Gandalf’s ,favorite house was the one where the family of the Pans lived… Their eldest member,Peter-pan was a legend in his own right and it was Gandalf who brought him to get in touch with thefairies… Ever since Peter and Gandalf got together, the coming of the wizard always made thehobbits a touch nervous.The custom of the Hobbit families was to attach the family name after the member’s name if he wasmale and before the member’s name if it were a she. Hence oldest member ,Peter was called Peter-pan and the youngest member, Dora was called… Pan-dora!!This time around, Gandalf brought with him a huge trunk. He met his old buddy Peter and told him tokeep the trunk in his house for a while till he returns to take it to the Gods of the worlds above.“Keep it secret, Keep it safe.” Gandalf said. At no cost should the box be opened. He left Hobbitsvilleand the rest of the world to its doom and carried on his quick feet on yet another of his unknown andunfailingly mysterious journeys.But the young girl Pan-dora was no Frodo Baggins! She was so enchanted by the box that she oftencame close to it and observed the carvings on the box. She often thought she heard voices inside thebox. But Peter had strictly said that none must open the box and Pan-dora would not dare to disobeythe head of the family.One cannot change what has already been written…..Pan-dora fell prey to her curiosity and openedthe box.Out flew the magic of love….and along with it the beautiful feeling of belonging, of caring, sharing,kindness, openness and a lot more of emotions that filled up Pan-dora’s heart with the light of joy, sobright that she felt it would make her heart explode and fill the whole of hobbitsville with the wonderfulspirit of love .The box made yet another noise, and Pan-dora hesitated less than a second to reopen it again.Oh,the greedy nature of the little young girl! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P age |7
  8. 8. Out flew the emotions of deceit, hate, heart breaks, lies, ego, misunderstanding, misrepresentationand infidelity. It filled Pan-dora’s room with gloom and darkness which made the little girl to cry.Everywhere Love went, Hate followed … But love was kind and hence returned to heal the hearts ofall those who were affected and hurt…..thus starting the Yin and the Yang of the cycle of falling inlove and failing in love and falling in love again!{ Gandalf was so angry with the Pans and broke association with them. He became friends with oneBilbo Baggins of the Shire and the rest they say is History} 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P age |8
  9. 9. 4.The Other OneI have no choice.I do not have a home to go back to. My father cannot take me in again; the people in the village wouldcall me names and seclude my family. I lack education and I cannot live a life on my own. Hari is theonly option I have. I need him to keep me here, in this house.……………………………………………………………………..I am a chaste woman. I will not share my man with another. It breaks my heart to see that woman onHari’s side. It cut my soul when he gave me the ultimatum, “Take her into the house as your sister orpick up your bags and leave us be.”These wretched tears have not stopped pouring out since I heard the words that still kill me.…………………………………………………………………………I thought she would be a brash female who would boss over me and take full control of Hari. On theother hand, she seems to be a real sweet girl. I can see the guilt when she looks into my eyes. Shelearns quickly and has eased into the household. Maybe I should take her in as a sister.……………………………………………………………………………All this while I was thinking my story was tragic.This girl had lost her parents in a car accident at the age of eight. Her uncle had sent her off to theworst boarding school possible. She had often been abused by unruly teachers. At the age of fifteenshe was forced into marrying a big burly man twice her age that had a record of beating up hisprevious three wives to death. Though the fact that she chose my house to stay is still not palatable tome, I feel she made a good choice when she ran out at the day of the wedding.………………………………………………………………………….The poor girl had no choice. This was her only way to escape from a life of misery. To think of all shehas been through, being a man’s second wife does not seem too bad to me. Maybe I really shouldconsider her my sister and let her sleep in my room.…………………………………………………………………………..She is really good looking. Her skin is soft and tender. She has eyes that talk. Her heart is pure. Sheaccepts me as I am. She responds beautifully to the touches and signs of love. I have begun to likeher presence.………………………………………………………………………………Now we are sisters as he wanted us to always be. We are more than sisters, we are partners. We canshare Hari or we have each other to have our fun. The fact that she prefers the latter is in a way myrevenge over him for bringing her into the house.…………………………………………………………………………………… 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P age |9
  10. 10. I had no choice. So I made mine. I do not care about the outside world. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 10
  11. 11. 5.To Christina, with loveThe lock clicked open as he entered his apartment. He opened his door and faced the huge newpainting he had recently installed on his wall. The splendour of the ship and the cool blue sea behindit seemed to give some calm to his excited nerves. He nudged the door to close behind him and tookoff his shoes.He loosened his tie and fell on his couch. As he bounced on the sponges of the couch, he switchedon his music set- Beethoven, his favourite. It was the perfect tune, for the perfect occasion. The viewof the evening sunset seen from his balcony was, perfect! Everything was perfect.He had just been promoted. At 25, it was a new record for the youngest project leader. What more,his parents had found him a suitable match. A beautiful and intellectually sound female who was evenbetter than anyone he would have managed to find himself.What was he saying, “Better than anyone I could have managed to find myself”?He pondered over the question for a while. All those memories flooded back to him. The wonderfultimes he had with the girl he called “Kiddo”. The unexpected meeting in the railway station five yearsago, when he had decided their acquaintance had ceased for good; the awkward manner in which hehad proposed to her and the wonderful feeling of joy when she accepted him a week later; the hoursthey spent on the phone, getting to know each other; the twinkle in her eyes when she gave him oneof those naughty grins; the days he had to wait for her to recoup from her chicken pox; their firstofficial date; the first kiss, the second and the first time they made love; the way she bit his ears; theirfirst major fight; the second major fight; the fight on his birthday; and then, the manner of theirbreakup. The memories were bittersweet.And then he remembered Christie. Christina, the girl he had met just for a couple of hours in his life;the girl who made all the difference to him and turned his life around in those couple of hours; the girlwhom he never again met; the girl who’s face he couldn’t even recollect.He met Christina a week or so before his break up. He got to know her as a friend’s friend. She wasfive years elder to him, married, with a son and seen a fair share of life as compared to him.It was a day in which the gods were angry with the city and had poured like crazy. The day had beena reflection of his mood- furious, dark and gloomy. He had had the most imperfect birthday theprevious day and it was getting no better. Every quarrel he had was hastening the breakup and hecould do nothing to help it. He needed a break. He had to do something to break the monotony of hislife. But it was raining cats and dogs and he couldn’t step out of the house.Thankfully for him, his friend called him out for a drive. He latched on to the idea and so found himselfin the car with his friend, heading out to some place he had no clue about. This was when Christiejoined them. Through the coffee, she had spoken to him about a lot of pursuits in life other than love.She had brought out the concept of living ones life for his family. She had spoken about how thesearch for peace could be fulfilled by the simple act of chasing ones passion. She had spoken aboutpositivism, objectivity and a lot more of complex concepts in the simplest of terms.“Look for happiness through the eyes of those who you love. Look for it in those who realize howmuch of a difference you made in their life. Treat everyone with the same amount of care that you 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 11
  12. 12. would show when you see sadness in “your kiddo”. Set your heart free and you will find it influencethousands of hearts around you. Maybe she will come back, but if she doesn’t just make sure youdon’t grow old with the feeling that your life so far had been without a purpose.”These words, he had repeated every morning since the first time he had heard them fromChristie………………… That was five years ago.He took a pen and wrote,“To Christina, with love………Today, I can say I have lived my life as best as possible. I repent not for any mistake I had done or forthe pain I had put my heart through. For I have grown successful in my career and in my social life.No one can be loved by everyone, but I can surely say that I am loved by most people who know me.I know not where you stay. I know not how you are doing. I know not whether you remember me. Butif you do, I say, “Thank You for turning my life around.”And if you don’t, I say, “Thank You anyways”.” 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 12
  13. 13. 6.Moment of truthSep 20, 1929.It is a special day for me. I have a feeling this might well be my most significant day. Today is the daywhen I am going to prove to the world that I would stand by what my I believe in, come what may! Iwould rebel the world for my love. And today I would prove it.It’s a hot day. Its brown everywhere! The wind kicks up the dust and sand and carries it wherever itgoes. The leaves in the trees are filled with sand. Even my eyes are filled with the sand. The scene istense, I am sure I am not imagining it to be so.I can see him even with the dust, the sand and everything in between. There, about a hundred metersbefore me, sizing me up. I can see his hands, as tense as mine. His face, as passive and stony as Ialways imagined him to be. I can see the reflection of myself approaching him in his big darksunglasses.My heart must be beating at the speed of knots. There is a bead of sweat, threatening to reveal mynervousness. And yet I see myself as a figure of steely determination. Each step I take towards him,my heart pounds louder, and the world seems hotter. Every second seems like they would takeforever.Finally I am face to face with him. Now I am going to say the words that were going to change my lifeforever.“Inquilab zindabad!!!!”I saw his stick rise above his head and felt it fall on my forehead. For a second everything felt hazy.Then, a wave of pain took control of my body. I felt the blood trickle down the side of my cheek. Myknees gave way and I fell on red sand. I thought I would blank out.I saw him, looking down on me, wearing a wry smile on his face. I saw myself bleeding. I felt proud.There was peace. Peace so pure, and divine. Adrenaline took over. I slowly pushed myself back tomy feet. I smiled back at him. That must have hurt his ego. This time I raised my hand. With everymuscle of mine working in harmony, I could feel my own voice resonate all around my body andbeyond.“Inquilabbbbbb zindabaddddhhhh!!!!”I remember only a few happenings after I said those magical words. I remember myself being beatenon my crotch and on the center of my head, and on one of my legs, I don’t remember which one. Iremember the pain. I remember the musical flow of blood within and outside my body. I remembermyself getting up again and shouting the words –“Inquilab zindabad!!!!”The words that gave me power, the words that gave me purpose, the words that gave me pride, and asense of belonging. I remember those words being the last that I ever spoke before the stick broke myjaw. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 13
  14. 14. I remember myself being carried somewhere. I see my people around me. I see the look on theirfaces. I will not ever forget the mix of admiration and concern on their faces. These were my people.There names, I did not know, yet these are my brothers and sisters. These are the great men andwomen for whom I am prepared to give my life for.These are my people. These are my blood. These are my brothers and sisters. These are myINDIANS. This is my INDIA – the love of my life……This is my IN…………………………….!! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 14
  15. 15. 7.HopeHe was the person one would look up to for inspiration. He had braved many tough situations. He hadshowed the way for people to approach difficulties. He had had more than his share of misfortunesand he had braved it all, come what may.He was the benchmark when it came to setting standards in education. He spoke little, but what hespoke was listened to.He had shouldered the burden of running a household even before he completed his studies. He hadeven sacrificed his teenage for the people around him. He had looked out for his sister. Everyonearound him was happy, and for most part, he was either directly or indirectly the reason for it.He had no extreme habits. He knew his limits and often presented the best picture of self composureand temperament despite all his problems. He had worked his way to deserve the respect of thosesurrounding him and he knew that too.So, why was he not happy? What was wrong in his life?The youth was standing at the top of his apartment, higher than the terrace, up the steep ladder andat the top of the water tank. It seemed that even the weather was unkind towards him, for there wasnot a breeze to speak of. It was sunset time and the sky was graying. The doubts in his mind weregraying too.He walked to the edge of the tank. He had no fear in his heart, for it was full of other doubts. He thengot down to the only sunshade some five feet below the tank. One trip and he would plummet somehundred feet down.He was contemplating suicide. What was so wrong in his life for him to think of this extreme end?He was fighting multiple battles inside his head. He could put an end to it all. He would never haveany doubts about himself. He would not exist to feel them in his head. One step forward and he wouldend it all. One step and he would be in peace. One step and he would be a subject of the past.What was wrong in his life?He thought of taking the next step forward. Then there would be no return. He would have passed intooblivion. He would have passed beyond the point where he could realize what lacked in his life. Hewould have passed beyond which he could do nothing about his past, his present or his (hazy) future.He sat down on the edge. Something stopped him. He would not take the extreme step. His sanityhad prevailed. He realized that he had no right to end his time on earth, something that was bestowedupon him by someone else.A slight breeze blew on his face. Maybe it was the change in the weather. Maybe it was the change inhim. Maybe he felt his inner voice communicating to him.It dawned to him that in his pursuit of worldly desires, he had lost his identity. He realized that thepicture of who he was in the eyes of others had no resemblance to the picture he had created for 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 15
  16. 16. himself. He decided then that he was going to change the way he approached life. He decided toexplore himself, spend his time and energy in finding peace within himself.The sorrow of humanity is that it is easily diverted from seeking the invisible spiritual peace by theenemy of visible and tangible worldly pleasures – An oppressive enemy which threatens to swallowthe earth and all of its inhabitants.He also realized that there lied hope in the Pandora’s Box. Hope manifested in the form ofenlightened individuals. Hope manifested through him and all others who would follow his new path ofexploring their own self.He rose up and once more went to the top of the tank in the terrace. He let his arms open wide. Thistime a strong gust of wind blew over him, taking with it the bad omens of a life which was now asubject of the past. He, who was born out of his mother’s womb and into the world, was now reborn,out of himself, to cleanse his world and that of those around himself.Where darkness had once threatened to engulf the night, there shone the silvery light of the full moon. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 16
  17. 17. 8.BedazzleI have always wanted to be a writer. Being a smart one, I have always found some topic to build astory upon. I found stories lying everywhere. I see an unwritten story when I see beads of sweat onthe face of the old woman who makes her life serving coconut water outside the huge shopping mall. Isee another story waiting to be written when I see the girl hugging her guy from the back in the bike.The smile on her face and the peace in her closed eyes would make one good love story.When I sat and thought about it, these topics seemed too common to me. Love stories and tragicstories of life were available everywhere. How were mine going to be better? It was then I decided Ihad to add the touch of experiencing life to the stuff I wrote. It was a new renaissance for the writer inme.I starved for days to really understand how tough things would be for those living in Somalia and eventhe remotest part of India. I worked out hard and lifted weights like crazy to understand the effortbehind six pack abdomens. I shut myself into dark rooms or stared hours at blank screens tounderstand how stale life can be and how frustrated an idle mind may get. I took my bike and zoomedat a hundred kmph to understand the thrill of speed.I made note of all my experiences and attached contexts to them and thus evolved my stories. Mystyle of writing and attention to detail appealed to a greater audience. It was no wonder the number ofreaders increased for my posts.Today I am going to take on my next experiment. I am going to subject myself to yet another of mycrazy experiments. I have always wanted to write about how doing drugs would feel like. So I shutmyself into my bedroom. I ensure the draws are locked and the keys are outside the room. All sharpobjects are far away from where I am going to be. I am all set. My note and pen are at my side. I amready.10:15am:I slipped in the pills just now. I have already shut the door and barred the window. It is stifling hot inhere. I switch on the radio. It’s a soft rhythm that is being played. My eyes are automatically closing. Ifeel free. I feel light. I can still sense everything around me.10:30 am:Its Mariachi music that goes on now “Aye Aye yei yei”. I am on the floor, nodding my head along. itdoes not feel so hot anymore. I can see patterns of light inside my head. It’s a hue of red and pink andyellow. They are bands entwined within each other. My feet are tapping independent of the other. Myarms swing around myself like a Mexican wave.11:00 am:“Played until my fingers bled, was the summer of sixty nine” .My hair is all standing up straight. What lyrics? What excellent music? Truly Brian Adams is a genius.This shirt is too tight. Am taking it off. Aah, much better! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 17
  18. 18. God, am sweating too much. My face feels hot. The heat is unbearable- my cheeks, my forehead, myneck, they are all heating up. My head is banging. Or is it my heart that is banging?How can I hear my heartbeat through my head?11:20 am:God, please stop this. I cannot bear the heat. I cannot bear the head ache. I can hear nothing but myheart beat. Is the radio on?I am scared of the light. I cannot comprehend its prismatic vagaries. I cannot switch it off, the dark istoo threatening. What if I black out? What if I never get out of this state? Is this ecstasy, or is this acurse?Have I wronged my parents? Have I lied to my girl? Wont you stop the questions? Wont you get meout of this mess? Or is it I who is questioning? Am I you?Is that not religion in a nutshell, I am you and you are me?11:45 am:What happened? Where am I?Yes, I am in my room. Yes, the book is here. Yes, the fan is running. I am safe. I am safe. I am thirsty,but I cannot go out for water. What if I get blanked out in front of everyone? Let me sleep it off.11:46 am:Consciousness!I am here. This is my room. The fan is running. It goes round and round. Why is it mocking me? I amhungry. My stomach is carved in. I need food. My throat is parched. What time is it, surely it must bean hour past noon.Its only 11 46? But I slept long, dint I?11:50 am:I feel fresh. The bangs on the ear are gone. I feel light. The effect must have gone. I must have slept itoff. I am safe now.Its only 11 50?They say a human eye can sense 25 frames per second. That is how fast pictures are shifted incartoons. I have the capacity to observe 50 frames I think. I can listen to far away music. It is “LaCopa lida Vida” by Ricky Martin that is being played. I am superhuman. This feeling is awesome.7:45 pm:Aah, this headache. I can barely open my eyes. It feels gloomy and dark. I can see black circlesaround faces. I am not maintaining eye contact.Is mom staring at me? Let me move to my room quickly. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 18
  19. 19. I need food. Apples in the fridge. Apples are good for health. They keep the doctor away. But doctoraunty is hot.Why is mom shouting? Can the lady not close the fridge herself? Am heading back to the room, tohell with her!9 30 PM:I still feel groggy. I am never going to do drugs again. I feel guilty of my indulgence. So what if Icannot write about it , there are very many topics around.I won’t do drugs again. I swear! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 19
  20. 20. 9.‘Blog’ – For LifeThe following story has more truth than one can imagine.Jan 01 2008, 12:10 A.MThe new year has started for me in the perfect fashion that I did not want it too. Here I am, lying downin my bed, staring up at the silhouette of the ceiling fan. It is dark and black and going round andround. Almost synonymous to the downward spiral that is my life. My present life looks like this:– Just out of a break up and not yet over it.– Mom’s crying because of uncle’s cancer problem.– Dad’s new job in Dubai not paying well.– Sister not yet got to terms with dad’s absence at home.– One standing arrear in college.– Project not shaping up well.– No bank balance.– No girlfriend– No football for another six months because of what looks like ankle hairline fracture.In summation, life is a disaster. Sometimes I feel I am so worthless and insignificant that I considergetting lost. In fact, I am curious how long it will take for people to realize that I am lost if thathappens.………………………………………………………………………………………………My blog was about 15 days old when I wrote this diary entry. Little did I know olarral.blogspot.comwas going to change my life around.………………………………………………………………………………………..It was during one of those days of extreme depression that I decided to let go of myself and write myheart out. While no one was there to support me over my heart yearning for the lost love, I had todouble up as a vent for my mom to pour out her tears for her dying brother. What came out was thispost – Redemption.My friend (Mani), read this post of mine and urged me to write more saying he would help makemoney through blog. And on 30th Jan 2008, I wrote my first paid post. I got a modest Rs 700 out of it.I did not tell mom I was earning. I was not ready to shoulder the weight of her expectations yet.Instead, I bought myself sunglasses. Though this might seem brash and irresponsible to the normaleyes, those sunglasses were the only bit of indulgence I had done ever since things got bad withdad’s business.……………………………………………………………………………………………… 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 20
  21. 21. My whole attitude of life changed with this money making discovery. Within a couple of weeks, I madeenough to buy myself a mobile. This time, I told mum that I was working during the nights and earningdecent money. Mom, who always felt dad never gave his 100% towards work, kept this secret awayfrom him lest he became complacent.A month after I started to blog, I ordered my first and only digital camera. I bought my Canon sx-100through my best friend – Kiran who bought a $400 camera for half its price – an amazing deal indeed!No wonder I took his picture first once i got the camera on my handA couple of months since I started to blog, I took the task of painting my house on to myself. This hadbeen dad’s wish for almost three years and his son was going to fulfil it. Still, mom had told him shehad borrowed the money from Gran thus denying me the opportunity to see the pride in my dad’sface.Soon I saved enough to fulfil dad’s next wish. I bought a new cot for the house. To describe it in aword, it was HUGE. My little sis could sleep on it in every possible angle. The purchase of the cot wasnot even told to my dad. We left it for him to come home and see it to believe it.………………………………………………………………………………………………June 08, 2008:I am very sad. I met my ex today. The girl I once loved looks like she has lost all in life. There issadness on her eyes. Her smile is more of subjection than happiness. She has lost so much weight.Was I imagining it or did she actually place her head on my shoulder during the bike ride? I cannotwalk away from her when she is in this state. True, we broke up. But I cannot deny that I still like her. Iam going to get her back to her old selfThat day, I wrote Red Tears for her. I did help her get on her feet. I got trampled upon in the processbut that is another story altogether.………………………………………………………………………………………………Sep 24,2008:My uncle just passed away. It was inevitable. He struggled hard, maybe it is the best for him. I join mynew company tomorrow. I had told mom about the new job I got and how I talked my way into it bytelling the interviewer about www.chinamouli.com. She could only offer me a weak smile.………………………………………………………………………………………………I was making double income. One was through my company. The other was through blogging athome. I had already introduced six of my friends into blogging and showed them the way to earningeasy money. They earned money, I earned their respect. I learnt to manage cash and yet staynormal. I had already lived both sides of economic life.………………………………………………………………………………………………My new job never took off. To be frank I had absolutely nothing to do. I felt wasted. I used to face ablank screen almost eight hours a day and do nothing. I was going mad. My life was going nowhere. Ibelieved I was much better than the way I was treated. If pay was the reason the others stayed, I wasbetter off at home, blogging. I quit the job. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 21
  22. 22. ………………………………………………………………………………………………I knew to blog. I knew to market my blog. I knew google analytics reasonably well. I had my ownwebsite. So I started my own company. www.chennaibuyz.com was mine. I had written about it here.Though the company flopped, the six months helped me learn a great deal. I could speak withcustomers directly. I could catch their moods. I could manage attitudes among my team mates. Icould direct people elder to me. I could inspire my juniors through my passion towards work. If I wasinterested in something, there was no stopping me.………………………………………………………………………………………………Meanwhile, I read the Zahir, by Paulo Coelho. Inspired by it, I wrote this post on Obsession. In orderto get to Paulo himself, I wrote ‘To Christina With Love’, a story of life beyond breakup. This, I feel isone of my best write-ups till date. I nurtured the dream of becoming an author.………………………………………………………………………………………………Jan 01 2009,The last year has been topsy turvy for me. My uncle passed away which has hurt mom and grandeeply. But I have grown into a huge emotional support for her. Dad knows about my blogging andmoney making and is real proud of me. I bought gold bangles for my sister for her 16th birthday. Asfor myself, I am going to buy my own bike by April. As regards to getting committed again, no luck asof yet. But Aarti is there, so I don’t feel too alone these days.………………………………………………………………………………………………True to word, I bought my bike on April 08,2009A few comments about my writing style“I love your writing. You have a knack of churning out wonderful stories from little events with lot ofemotional undercurrent in them”- Deepika Prabhakar“There is a lot of negative connotation in your blogs”- Aarti Suresh“I find your blogs too heavy to comment immediately without reading twice”- Raji“It has become a habit of mine to comment twice on your posts”- Soya diI no longer feel depressed. I dream of becoming a writer one day. I am confident enough to faceanyone and everyone though I am shy by nature. I never had that arrear in college as it got erasedonce I applied for a re evaluation. My mom is now happy. Almost all my father’s wish list items aretaken care of. I am now looked upon now as a bench mark for the kids of my apartment. All this hasbeen because of blogging and the confidence it has instilled in myself. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 22
  23. 23. Blogging changed my life. People say blogging is a waste of time. They say it gets you nowhere. It gotme to where I am today. It got me a meet with the SVP of the company within 11 months of joining.Never again say bloggin gets you nowhere! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 23
  24. 24. 10.Silence! Darkness! Peace!Silence! Darkness! Consciousness!The sound of someone calling out a name-My name!I open my eyes. Blinding light!Pain-Blinding pain!“Easy, easy now!” I hear him say- the man in white. A calm external voice amidst the chaotic internalvoices that are asking me questions. “Where am I? How did I get in here? What happened? Where isshe?”Someone stop the memories. They are rushing back at me with so much force I can barely holdmyself and keep track.“Easy, easy now”, the doctor said as he lifted me and got me to a sitting position. My eyes hadadjusted to the light and I now could get a picture of where I was. But my mind was elsewhere.……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..We were on my bike. She, holding me by the waist and hugging me from the back and I smiling frominside my helmet and being relentless on the throttle. The road lay barren and grey before me.Everything else were a blur at the speed at which I was going.“Go slower.” She yelled. I obliged.We were cruising now. The blur had ceased and I could see the trees on the sides of the highway.…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………We had slipped out of office, the two of us. We had decided to take a ride to picnic town, an hour fromwhere we worked. No one would know us out there, and we would have our moments together asplanned.……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….I was only getting to know her. I had seen her for the first time a month ago when there was a mockfire drill in office. I liked what I saw and apparently, she had noticed me gaping at her. It was she whocame over and spoke to me first. Though I always felt I was smooth with women, that day Istammered and stuttered like a Bangladeshi cricketer speaking English. She later said it was cute,and that was all that mattered to me.…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 24
  25. 25. Office never gave us a chance to spend time together. Both of us were popular by our own rights, Iwas a well known blogger and she was the best looking HR of her company. Not five minutes couldbe squeezed without someone interrupting one of us to say a casual hello.…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..My bike approached the signal where we had to take diversion into picnic town. The light was red andthough the road was empty, I waited, law abiding citizen that I suddenly pretended to be.The truck behind us did not expect me to be so.……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..And so, here I am, draped in bandages, being helped up by doctors. But where is she?……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….The door opened. In entered two people I never knew. And yet I knew who they were. Without a wordspoken, I knew what had happened to her. Tears uncontrollably flowed down my eyes. I closed myeyes and let the guilt engulf me.………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………He held my hand within his palms, smiled at me and said. “Son, our daughter survived. We all know itwas not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for something you had no control on. Get well soon.”The tears never stopped flowing. Words were beyond me. The relief was overwhelming. I closed myeyes.……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..Silence! Darkness!.................................................................Peace! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 25
  26. 26. 11.An act of humanityI have known Rasheed for the past five years. During his stay here in Karachi jail, he was the oneprisoner who still commanded our(us wardens’) respect. He was the man who’s words still echo in myears.“Carry no value!”Those were the wretched words that turned Rasheed’s life around and brought him to his death, inthis jail.“Was he meant to die as a prisoner or should he have rather been heralded as an honorable man?”,is a question I rather not ask myself.I do not know much about Rasheed’s childhood. To me, they are immaterial. I know that he was oneof the most promising young soldiers of the Indian army during the first year that he joined, 1943.During the next four years to follow, he had risen in rank and reputation faster than almost all of hispeers. An un-expected leg injury led him to an early withdrawal from the battle front and more into theofficer’s enclave.Post partition in 1947, Rasheed had found himself as the officer in charge of the exchange ofabducted men and women between the two countries.It was that fateful day in 1948 when Rasheed’s career and life took a turn forever. He and three otherhigher ranked officers were overseeing the exchange of 30 women between the two countries.Rasheed was rather surprised when the officers of the other country demanded that the womenuncover their heads. Yet he remained silent and waited for his seniors to handle it. As ordered, thefaces of the women were uncovered. Then they were each closely inspected by the officers of theopposite ranks who made no attempt to hide their vulgar thoughts. Rasheed had bit his teeth andrestrained himself from strangling them to death.“We do not accept this exchange. The women you have sent us are old, ugly and carry no value.”What were they talking? These were women who had been abducted from their houses, abused bythe people who had held them captive, been robbed of their chastity and most of them would now noteven be accepted in their families.“But look at this one. She looks young and fair, what better would you want?”, his senior officer wasnegotiating with his hand on her cheeks, as if he held a horse. His other officers were picking out theirchoices from the group too.Rage had taken over Rasheed, he could no longer stand the exchange of ‘valuables’. While the restof them saw items of beauty, he saw women of flesh and blood and feelings.He took out his weapon and killed all the officers; not caring whether they were his countrymen orotherwise.His justifications were that he had killed animals; they deserved to be killed, irrespective of theirnationality. He would go to jail, happy that he had rid the world of seven bad humans. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 26
  27. 27. I do not believe Rasheed did wrong. I rather salute his act and bow my head down to the only heartthat sympathized with those women on that day 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 27
  28. 28. 12.Life, Peace & SanityI like cats! They say when a cat closes its eyes, it imagines that night has fallen upon the world.I was not born in the best of families. My father was a businessman who lived a cockroach life. Hecame drunk in the night and often left the house before I woke up. There were times I recollect wherewe met once every fortnight or even less. My mother took to ‘social welfare’, the term she used tojustify her absence from home and hanging out with similar ,rather sad ladies who claim to look afterothers while their own lives are in tatters. This situation often left me all alone in a four roomed house.I had never been the brightest kid in my school. As a matter of fact, I hardly managed to clear half mysubjects. Math and science were my worst enemies and English was my best friend. Speaking offriend, I was shy by nature and I hardly made any. With my curly hair and braced teeth, I was oftenmade fun of as the bunny of the class. I truly was a dork who kept to himself and stayed away fromthe normal world.So at an early age, I took to books. I started off with Tintin, graduated to and Archies and Asterix.Soon I indulged myself with Agatha Cristie and Sydney Sheldon. I plunged into reading fantasy oncefiction became predictable. I sometimes used to recreate some plots and enact them inside my room.My life changed when the time I reached my high school. By then, I had lost my interest in fictions andfantasies and turned to personality development. I needed a girlfriend too. As a matter of fact, Ineeded friends, full stop! So I plunged myself into books on how to improve my life. I learnt how to beeffective. I learnt when to say no and how to say no. I learnt many ways to achieve success.One particular book(ask me later for its title) said that we have to recreate the day’s events beforegoing to bed in the way we would have wanted it to have happened. I liked this method of living life asit gave me a chance to erase my memories of disappointment and look forward to recreating my lifethe way I wanted it to be.I became a better person. I got rid of my glasses and switched over to lenses. I visited the salon andhad a neat haircut. I even carried out a wardrobe change. I practiced making speeches every morningbefore the mirror and within a month I was transformed.Every time I got snubbed by a girl or every time I made a fool of myself I corrected my mistake overthe evening and would come back better the next day. Eventually, Mary Jane became my girlfriend.Boy was she a beauty. She always came in her lolly pop red dress. Her pink hat with a feather on topcomplimented her dress perfectly. She wore white stilettos and white stocking. She was smoking hot.I never got tired of seeing her that way. We had the perfect time together. She would always let mehold her hand and guide her through Central Park. No matter how many times I explained the historyof New York, she would listen to me patiently.Aye, she would ask the right questions to keep the conversation going. She had an awesome senseof humor and would be the first tease me when I acted silly. She was so full of life, and my love for hernever hit the dip.Soon Mary Jane introduced me to my Danny. Danny was a junior director by profession. He waslooking to create his own movie and the time we met was indeed God given. For, in me, he found the 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 28
  29. 29. perfect ally and also a source of funds for making his idea a reality. Together we produced a numberof films which were later to be box office hits.We created films of all genres. Be it romance, action or Horror, we gave awesome movies. I was thesecret behind Danny’s success. I gave him amazing stories. I tweaked the script to achieve the cutestdialogues when it came to romantic films. We were a success.Danny married Gloria, and I married Mary Jane. Along with Jack and Jill, our Norwich Terriers, we arefamily now, living under the same roof. Mary Jane and I bought us a Benetton and Danny got Gloria aBentley. We have everything in the world. We are at peace with life. Thank you God, for showing mehow to live life, like the cat.Jimmy WelshPS: Jimmy Welsh is an inhabitant of the Wonderland Association in NY, an asylum for the insane.Often people hear him demand for checks to be sent out to a certain Daniel Crowe. He has beenreleased five times only to be brought back for claiming to be the husband of anyone who wears redtops and white stilettos. It is ironical that Jimmy Welsh scored the most in the latest NY psychometrictest to identify the many who is the most at peace with life. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 29
  30. 30. 13.Through a father’s eyesCall it paternal instinct, but he somehow knew that he was in for a shock when his daughter calledhim up into her room. While he strode up, his mind was dismissing one crazy thought after another ofwhat the news might be. “Had she got a poor rating in office? Had someone misbehaved with my kid?Did she want to do higher studies? Did she want to quit her job? Was she upset about her mother?”Once he entered the room, he got even more tensed when his daughter asked him to sit down. Shethen began to talk about some guy she had brought home a good few months back. She was talkingabout how much she liked him and how much he liked her. She was talking about his future planswith her. But all this was just a blur to him. His mind was elsewhere. Finally, she knelt before him andheld his palm between hers. Her eyes shone of expectation and a mild fear.“Pa, I want you to trust me when I say I love this guy. I want you to give me this chance to follow whatmy heart says. I want you to really consider this guy and let me go ahead with my plans with him.Pa….. Please!”__________________________________________________________________His mind was elsewhere. He closed his eyes. He saw his little girl pushing a cycle that was almost herheight and approaching him. She could barely reach the height of the seat, yet she begged him tohelp her to cycle. What turned out to be a one off event turned out to be a daily affair for dad anddaughter. He would run behind his kid holding her lest she fell.A day later she had cried out in an excited voice, “Pa, please let go.” He could not trust her. He couldnot let go of the cycle as he knew she would fall. Against his better judgement he let her go. His heartskipped a beat when she fell and bruised herself.But his daughter’s spirit was far from bruised. She was overjoyed that he trusted her. She was willingto try again. No wonder she learnt balance within a day – She had her dad for support.__________________________________________________________________He opened his eyes. The small kid he had known all his life had grew up into a fine young lady. Yetshe had the same eagerness in her eyes – The eyes that seemed to demand and plead his trust andapproval at the same time. He smiled at her and said, “You are my daughter. I trust you in everythingyou do. Bring him home soon.”He knew there were tears in her eyes as she instantly hugged him. For they were present in his too.He had decided to trust her. And by doing so he had given her wings to fly. He felt proud of himself. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 30
  31. 31. 14.LonelinessThe weather was playing havoc with his life. To him it felt as if nature was conspiring to keep himunhappy. Whenever he looked out the window, all he could see was a grey sky and a wet road. Whenhe stepped out, the chill winds would remind him of how friendless his world was. But today he hadwork to do. He had to go out and brave the climate.He knew he was failing in his attempts to keep his cheer. The weather was depressing. His bodyclock was not accustomed to staying awake long hours in the dark. Out here it got dark very early intothe evenings. It was murky in the morning when he left his house and dark again in the evening whenhe was returning.Sometimes he felt like he was the Frodo of this world. Right now, his world reminded him of Mordor.He walked out to what he thought would be yet another depressing day.………………………………………………………………………………………………………..She set up her books in the shade of the shop in the city centre. That would ensure they did not getwet. But it was not an option for her own self though. It was part of the process for her. She had toundergo this as it was what she had chosen for herself.She was there, in the heart of the city, on a mission – a mission to speak about HIM. His glory, hiskindness, His love.But she had no audience. All she could see was a wave of people walking here and there. All of them, held up with their own lives. They had no time for HIM or for her.She knew that HE was testing her faith. She had to live through the disapprovals to show HIM shebelieved in HIM. So she picked up her microphone and started on her story. It was one that calledthem all to HIM. A story that assured them they had HIM for company. It was one that propagated himto be ‘The ultimate cure for all loneliness’.………………………………………………………………………………………………………..As he walked down the street, he saw the girl, a microphone in her right hand and a book in the other.She was shouting her lungs out and waving the book here and there. It was as if she was fighting abattle against a wave of indifferent passers-by. He could see the disappointment in her face and howhard she was trying to get over it.He smiled at her, and he felt a sense of camaraderie when she returned his smile.In this busy town, there were the two of them fighting loneliness, and he knew they were not the onlyones! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 31
  32. 32. 15.TimidityI am the little boy who hid behind the cylinder.Meeting new people freaked him out. Whenever he heard the creak of the gate being open he wouldstealthily look out of his window for who was entering. His face would begin to sweat when he did notrecognize the face of the person who came in. He would run into the kitchen and occasionally peepout the door as his father spoke to the stranger. The louder the persons voice, scarier it seemed for tomeet the new person.The back of the gas cylinder was his favourite spot. It was not too dark , with ample light beingallowed to sneak in through the cracks of the kitchen tiles; And the warmth of the place always madehim feel secure. He would close his eyes as he crouched beside the cylinder and his fear wouldbecome manageable.His father always felt ashamed to show him to his friends. For, every time he called his son, his voicewould be suspended in space for (sometimes) long moments in time before his timid son couldmuster up his courage to walk up to the guest. The times when the kid never showed up used to beembarrassing for the dad.The kid was who I was back then. I was timid. I was scared. I was shy. I did not like meeting people. Afew years later, I grew older and changed. I learnt many new things, some that condemned my pastbehaviour as being introverted, not being confident, not being outgoing, as being aloof.Looking back, I never really had a good or bad opinion about my past. Even these days I see the kidin me. He arises from within me when I walk up to deliver presentations. I feel his presence when Imeet someone for the first time in my life. I still am disturbed by people with loud voices.I have grown to acknowledge the presence within me. It gives me a strong root to my inner corepersonality. It is what I have built my life on.All that the poor kid needed was an assuring word or a hug from his dad; not his ‘you failed me onceagain’ looks. My dad was more obsessed with his own image and saw me to be a failure. In hisindifference, he let the kid be. I stand before him as I am now, and I let it to him and the outside worldto judge me for what I am. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 32
  33. 33. 16.Change“Bring with you an egg sandwich for me.”Even while I was waiting outside Alsa mall for my turn to order the egg sandwich in the make-do stalloutside I could not believe I was hearing her utter those words. It had been rather surprising for methat she of all people would want to meet in a place such as Alsa Mall, one that she would claim to be“just a stark reminder of the so called modernity of the nineties.”“An egg sandwich – That would be what my father had for breakfast when he was a teenager”, wouldbe her response if someone had suggested her that.Well, you never know, people change, their habits change and their attitudes might change with time.Even I have changed ever since the breakup. When was it, it must have been about three years ago-when the world seemed to be much wider and less networked. The years since, I have changed somuch that I myself would not remember the person I was back then.She was right, as always. I lacked style – wearing a formal dress on a date is unpardonable by anycountry’s rules save the British. I lacked chivalry – Many a time I had left the glass doors of cafésunattended to that some of them almost slammed on her face more than once. I lacked conviction –how many times have I left her by herself to cross the road and come to me. I lacked any sense offashion. My 1990 bike would hammer that fact into your head for sure. And I had the most boringfriends around. Talk about Gudiyatham Giridhara Moorthy and Sri Ramulu Leela Abhiram to havearound you!I was a dork. She had every right to feel we would not match. She was right in leaving me. That wasthree years ago.That was three years ago. From then on, there was no turning back for Lee,Giri and me! I have turnedinto what she said I was totally not. I bought myself the coolest racing bike which I would not rideunless I have my Raybans on; I have a writstwatch which shouts out Move on; I have my touchmobile with which I network with over 700 friends; I attend parties, I wear my low waist cargos fordates, I treat my girlfriends with as much chivalry as they can expect. And I definitely would avoidhopeless places like Alsa mall.But then, the first love is first love. (And when she invites you to Alsa mall, you dare not propose tomeet at Ampa, right!)So there I was, with a green plastic plate of hot egg sandwich in my hand and walking to where shesaid she would be. She saw me, (aah I missed those eyes) took the plate and moved away a littledistance to finish her talk on the phone. I found myself facing three pairs of eyes.The eyes belongedto girls who were wearing salwars and having their hair plaits by the sides. One of them had thickround glasses. And she was giving me an “is this the guy” kind of look.Man, this was awkward. This was like I just walked into my past. But then I have changed, and so I tryto make a conversation.I point at the three of them one by one and say , “Well, I think I have seen you somewhere, and Iremember seeing you in one of her pictures and you my friend………..” 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 33
  34. 34. I am cut short by the girl with the thick round glasses, “We know you have not seen any of usanywhere. That is no issue. I am Manimegalai, this is Girija Vaidhyanathan and this is PriyankaMohanasundaram.”I turn around to look at my ex. The expression on my face can be summed up as one with a singlequestion mark shouting out “why”. She understands it, smiles at me and shrugs.Then I get it. She had changed too. She had mellowed down to what she had rejected three yearsago. She had called me to check if I was the same old guy and if we had a chance for a secondinnings.We both stare into each other’s eyes. We had both changed into what the other wanted. We wereboth new to each other. Our differences were once again going to surface, only that the tables wouldbe reversed. I advanced towards her to give her a hug, then seeing the expression on her facechange the hug was replaced by an offer for a handshake.As I left the building, I turned back to see the hoarding read ALSA MALL. I felt a sudden urge to bemy old self again. My racing bike suddenly seems too fast for me. I locked myself in my room andstared blankly at the wall.“Who am I? What have I become? And for who have I changed?” I stared at the wall hoping it wouldmagically reveal my true identity. All I could see was pale and white! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 34
  35. 35. 17.The destroyer of art “No matter how much industrialization has moved the perception of perfection towards the degrees ofstandardization, there still remain a fragment of men who dare to pursue their creative geniuses andproduce works that the common man can only stand in awe and marvel. Today’s column salutesthose artists who hold in them the future of artistry which though seems so fragile in all its beauty yetlingers on through the harshness of time and will remain immemorial.”KP was reading this article from The Guardian in this rather outcast day in Essex. He was padded upto go next and was of the habit of reading the paper in order to divert his attention from the pressuresof the game. Nevertheless it took no great eye to note that the bowler PK was on a purple patch.Some of his deliveries were unplayable. With Andy nicking one down into second slip’s throat it wastime for him to bat.True to his assessment, PK was in tremendous form. He had a rhythmic run up, not too fast, not tooslow. His wrist position during the time of delivery determined which way the ball was going to moveoff the pitch. The direction at which he released the shiny side of the ball determined which way itwould swing in the air. The most dangerous bowlers were the ones who could control bothmovements. PK at the moment was dangerous. He released the ball from over the wicket to move itin the air towards the batsmen, pitch in middle stump and then move the ball away from the batsmanoff the pitch. Most of the deliveries squared the batsmen up and were threatening to take the edge ofthe bat. Some could even venture to call the bowling ‘artistic’.KP was no fan of art. Hailing from a family that owned a tanning industry he had learned from hisfather that quality meant conformance to the customer’s requirement. Perfection meant fulfilling all ofthe customer’s needs to the dot. There was no room for artistry in his father’s industry.There was no room for artistry in his cricket too. His coach taught him to play shots from the book. Hewas taught to play the cover drive for any fullish delivery bowled outside the off stump. He was taughtto flick it down to fine leg if it was towards the leg stump. He had grown playing that way. There wasno secret of success, he followed the rules and they brought him up to this level.He took his middle stump guard and stood a good foot outside the crease. That would negate theswing and also make PK to change his line of bowling. It would also mean that he could use his padsas a weapon as LBW was taken out of the equation by standing that far outside. Being tall he had noqualms over facing short deliveries and pulling them to the boundary.The ploy worked wonders. He was plundering PK for runs. He was flicking and cutting and pulling himall over the park. What initially looked like artistic bowling felt to him and all others around him asmediocre. Soon enough, it was time for him to raise his bat up for his fifty. As he was enjoying thecelebrations, he thought to himself , “There stands KP, the destroyer of art, in all his might andvalour”.‘Thwack’ ……………… The destroyer of art was bowled by PK the very next ball. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 35
  36. 36. 18.Stories untold “…………… and his blade gashed through the dragon’s scales. A fresh burst of fire came out of thedying beast as it cried out with anger, pain and a hint of fear. No one in the dragon community hadheard of Lord McNicholas or his blade……..”The writer, unhappy with the story, dropped his pen down in disgust. He threw the sheet into theshredder calling it his “greatest flop” and picked out a new sheet of paper. Feeling it to be as blank asthe current state of his mind, he laid it down on his table and walked out of the room closing the doorbehind him.The room was predominantly silent except for the air conditioner that set the base tone for themoments that were to follow. The yellow old clock went about tick tock tick tock as he had done eversince his initiation into the room. He had seen it all before and it all seemed pointless to him. He knewwhat eventuality was, he was, everything said, the master when it came to handling the ways of time.The soccer player was busy looking at his goal. For years he had been in that position, about torelease his shot towards the goal, with the defender lunging towards him in a sliding tackle, his studsjust a few centimeters away from the ball.“Dragon, Soldier, Sword- Fire, valor, and blood.Come ye to me, and ye all b’come but mud”It was the shredder. Though he spoke in a not so loud, smug tone, his singing could be heard byeveryone in the room. Quite clearly by the white sheet that fluttered about in nervousness.“What is it missy, you seem white and pale?” That arrogant shredder again. He was happy andcontent that he had his meal. And now the sadist was having fun tantalizing the paper. “Oh don’t lookat me like that. It is the pen that stains you. It is when he writes up something abysmal that youbecome my food. Don’t blame me, am just doing my job here.” And in an undertone, “Though I mustsay, I ‘quite’ like it”.“Hey come on” said the dejected pen. “You all know that is not true. In fact, I shed my own blood togive these characters life. And when anyone dies, I at least have the solace that they will remain ineternity as dead characters on the paper. It literally kills me when I think of all the wonderful storiesand creatures are not given a chance to live and instead become meal to you Mr. Evil Shredder. Don’tyou believe him Miss White (paper); I lose as much as you do when these stories are scrapped. Ihave nothing to do with those killings.”Chaos prevailed in the room as the shredder sent in accusation after accusation and the pen was someekly trying to defend it. Phrases flew around like “killing a pretty damsel”, “should be one yummymeal” and “it’s not my fault”, “I am hurt too” until the pretty damsel could bear it no more.“Shut up you too. You are freaking us all out here. I am already worried about my fate. It is a life ordeath issue for me and not one that you are going to simply debate about.”“And so were the last words that she spoke”, mocked the shredder while “oh you poor thing”sympathized the pen. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 36
  37. 37. “The only way I survive is by either being pure and pristine (blank) as I am now or by you writing onme a story that is worth living forever.You are the mighty pen. Where is your confidence? You are the creator of so many legendarycharacters. Where is your spirit? You are the one that can give immortality. Where is your creativity?You are the conjurer of good and evil tales. Where is the genius? You are the only one that can saveme. Pull yourself up Mr. Pen. Only you can save me. Hell, I cannot even cry lest I smudge and die inthat fatso’s tummy.” Thus lamented Miss White, with emotions of fear, helplessness, anger, futility anddisgust all fighting to get expressed through her spotless face.Realization dawned on to the pen. He was indeed a legend. He was indeed the creator. He wasmightier than the sword; in fact it was he who created the sword just a few moments back. He couldbe what he chose to be. He could be more evil than the shredder, more wise than Mr. Yellow Clockand more adroit than the soccer star on the poster.With new invigoration he created the most interesting fantasy story. It had dragons, warriors, elves,dwarves, princes, queens, witches, wizards, wands and even a couple of friendly ghosts. This was hismasterpiece. This would bring the writer fame beyond his wildest imaginations. This would be thegreatest best seller of all time.…………………………………………………………………………………………..The door opened and the writer returned with a cup of steaming hot tea in hand. The room wentabsolutely quiet except for the sound of the air conditioner and the tick tock of the clock. Everyoneheld their breath as the writer took his seat. Even the soccer star had turned to know the fate of MissWhite.A few seconds later….“Dragon, Soldier, Sword- Fire, valor, and blood.Come ye to me, and ye all b’come but mud”The greatest story in the world was mistaken to be the writer’s greatest flop and gobbled up by theevil Mr Shredder. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 37
  38. 38. 19.Fly High “The legend of Pegasus says that the ill fated Bellerophon tried to use Pegasus to fly above themount Olympus. Zeus, the King of the Greek Gods was not pleased by the efforts of Bellerophon andsent an insect to bite Pegasus. Pegasus shook off his rider who fell down the mountain. NeitherPegasus nor Bellerophon was seen ever again.”……………………………………………………………………………………Zack was born in the stables of The castle of The Duke of Edinburgh. He was a white male foal whofrom birth had all the makings of a fine chariot horse. He was the pride of the castle and taken care ofby the head caretaker himself. The children of the Duke loved to watch him trot behind his mother inthe barn. He would show off by holding his head high and his neck straight as his mom did when shelead the way.Of all the foals in the castle, Zack was the first to learn to gallop. Anyone blessed enough to watchhim prance and take off would agree that if ever there was a thoroughbred, Zack was that.………………………………………………………………..The fairytale life ended for Zack when the war came and The Duke was defeated. The duke, however,escaped and hid in the bushes taking with him his favorite possessions which included Zack.In the woods, Zack was made to pull the chopped wood that was used to set fire to the camps. Hewas also used to take the kids around the forest for their entertainment. He was rarely given a bathand was forced to stand outside the makeshift open courtyard just outside the house.Yet Zack served his master with utmost sincerity and hoped he would someday get rewarded for hisefforts. He hoped to be the one who led his master to victory in the battle to re-conquer Edinburgh.Living in the woods was tough on everyone, especially Zack. He was no more celebrated. On thecontrary, he was rarely given a word of encouragement. His contributions were seldomacknowledged. Deposits of soot were found on his body by the smoke from wood which was oftenneglected by the new caretaker. Soon, his skin had turned pale and ashen as compared to theoriginal dazzling white.As time passed, Zack’s self belief began to waver. He felt he was being used as a donkey rather thana horse. He rarely got the opportunity to gallop in these thick woods. His grey skin and the dull eyesmade him look more of a donkey than a horse. He grew quiet and went on to his work of drawinglogs. Once the Duke was away on his plans of war, Zack was reduced to being one neglected soul.____________________________________________________Some say Zack found her lying alone amidst thorns and bushes.Some say she found Zack when the latter had wandered away from the camp in distress andfrustration.Nobody knew how the princess met Zack, 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 38
  39. 39. but everyone agreed this was meant to happen.She had found him when he could bear his work no more. Here was a horse that was ready to pranceand gallop, and he was instead made to sit quiet and pull logs. He was in a deplorable condition andhad forced himself not to believe in his true identity. He was fighting a war within himself – a war ofwho he is and who he believed he was destined to be.The drop of tear from the princess’ eyes touched his pale grey skin. Abashed, she hastily rubbed itaway. The gleam of white seemed to dazzle her eyes. Astonished, she rubbed all the soot of his skin.And lo, there he stood, the white mare that he was destined to be. He looked at her with gratefulness.Her soft hands caressed the cheek. Love ebbed through the two of them.He bowed his head to the one destined to be his rider. She mounted on him and issued the magicalcommand.“FLY”They were both unaware of the fact that Bellerophon and Pegasus had been reincarnated. This time,Zack/Pegasus would fly over the Olympus. Mere insect and mighty Zeus can but watch him go. 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 39
  40. 40. 20.The Break-UpTrue, she was a really wonderful girl. True, she cared for him; a bit too much, at times. True, shemade him feel very special. True, she would do anything for him. If he wanted space, she would givehim space. If he wanted comfort, she was there for him. If he wanted time alone, she gave him timealone. If he wanted company, she gave him company. He was everything for her.But that was exactly what bothered him. He has wanted a girl who would demand her place in his life.She was not doing that. With each day passing and each new way in which she put up with hisactions, he was more and more convinced she was not the one for him.Today was going to be the day that he would talk it out to her. He would tell her all that he wanted andthat she was giving him an overdose of exactly the opposite of it.………………………………………………………………………………………………………………She sensed something very wrong in the way he was today. There was a certain purpose in the wayhe looked at her. It was as if she meant the world to him, and he was sad about it. It was as if she wasa china doll in his arms and he was worrying about his butter fingers. He felt very soft to her today. Orwas she just imagining everything?…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………He was being real nice to her today. He was kicking himself for being so. If he was going to break upwith her, then this was not the way he expected to prepare her for it. The way she looked at him madehis heart ache that he was going to break her heart.But it had to be done…. today!…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….It was a lovely evening. There was the breeze, salty and refreshing; there were the waves, soft andalluring; and there was the vast expanse of water which always brought about a profound respect forthe sea and a serene calm to her heart. She wished she would float all the way to the tip of thehorizon, where the green of the sea met the azure of the sky…Away from the world and her thoughts.……………………………………………………………………………………………………………Such a cliché – the weather was perfect today; a bit too perfect; bordering on romantic – no, it was aromantic evening. And here he was, about to tell her they were not going to be together anymore. Ithad to be done. It had to be done now.“Poorni, I want you to know that you have been absolutely awesome ever since we got committed toeach other. I really like you a lot and I must say you are the best girl I have met till date…”Tears dripped out of her eyes. Oh, the poor guy. He was saying the nicest of things about her. Shecould take it no more. “Ram, before you say anything, I want to tell you something too. You have beenan amazing guy and I do like you loads. But sometimes I have had this feeling that this relationshiphas been all about you. Off late, I have been making so many sacrifices for you. I have let you alonewhen you wanted to be alone. I have given you company when you need company. I have given you 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 40
  41. 41. the space when you ask me for it. I have been there for you all the time. And I can take it no more. Ihave my own life to live. I have my likes and dislikes. I have my mood swings and I expect the guy forme to take me for what I am. I have my fears and I expect my guy to know them and be there for mewhen I need them. I cannot be totally devoted to you all my life and be at peace with not beingreciprocated by you. Am sorry, but this relationship has to end. It breaks my heart as much as it doesyours for us to come to this point, but this is necessary for our lives and I have made up my mind thatwe ought to split.”…………………………………………………………………………………………She turned away and ran off away from the beach, away from where he was. Though he could seeher back, he knew she was crying. He stood there, watching her go, shell shocked at what happened.He had wanted a break up – he had got a break up.The girl who was running away from him was the girl he always wanted. He could tell her this, butwould she believe? Would she believe?……………………………………………………………………………………………He was going to try! 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 41
  42. 42. 21.But I am ShyMy Dear Dilip, 31-Mar-2011Hope this letter finds you in the best of health. I know it has been a really long while since our lastcorrespondence my sincere apologies for not having replied to any of your letters in this period ofgoing amiss. I do have my reasons for the same and so I urge you to read on.Actually it was a mid-summer morning in April when I first saw her. She was sitting in the seat next tome. You know about my obsession with soulmates. I saw her and I swear I could see a strange lightin her eyes. There was a spark when our eyes met and we definitely felt the need to know each other.Though I am a shy person, the urge to talk to her was so overwhelming that it overcame my shyness.By the end of the bus journey I had talked to her for over an hour non-stop. You might have presumedthat she got real bored by my Yak-yaking, but on the contrary, she really liked me for what I was.Needless to say, I liked her too.I know this sounds crazy, but in three weeks, we decided to get married to each other. We were bothmad about the other and felt this was the best thing to happen between us. I had at last found theperfect girl and I saw no sense in waiting for things to happen.But then, unexpected events happened. Her father had other plans for her. He refused to get usmarried. In fact he sent a group of rowdies to beat me up. I know this sounds very filmy but I had nooption but to run. The only way I could save myself was to get married to the girl and fall in thefather’s feet for mercy in the name of his daughter.That is precisely what I did.So, here I am, apologizing to you for not inviting you for my wedding. In my defense, I was corneredand helpless and forced into a marriage that I anyway was planning for. I hope you understand meand forgive me for not letting you know earlier about developments.APRIL FOOL !! Got you, did I not?I never spoke to that girl. You know how shy I was, I took out my I-pod and played the cool dude. Wesit in the same seat every day and the cool dude image of mine stays. I have not been able to breakthe ice and talk to her. Still, every time our eyes meet, the fire burns bright.There sure is somethingbetween us.Help me Sirji, you are the God when it comes to making contacts!Yours lovingly,Imraan 50 Short Stories from http://www.chinamouli.com P a g e | 42

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