The Quote -

"Nope, I don't really have anything new to say. but then, I always have something amazing to tell about things that you already know!!"

-Muthu

Monday, July 27, 2009

The Guidance-- A 55 fiction

The Snap-



The Fiction-


"Papa, He took my ball...... took my ball...."

The child came whining at the top of her unbroken virgin voice.

"It's your ball. Right??"

The six year old looked up at her father and nodded.

"So, What are you going to do about it??"

The sharp question put the child to silent thinking.

Her father just smiled.



Author's note-

A child is an individual with it's own thinking, capabilities and creative intuition. More often I come across parents who feed their children on what to do, rather than kindling their own child's problem solving quotient. In a culture like ours, where kids stay with the parent until almost they get married, I think parents guide their children a little too much.

After all, how many times have we heard parents saying- "I made all the decisions for her till now. I care for her. So wouldn't it be appropriate for me to find her a good suitor."

Parenting is a gift, a bliss. To see a child make it's own mistakes, it's own choices and to take part of it's tears and laughs in it's life is a privilege in it's own right.

ps-
Guys, If you would like to read more of my 55 fictions, kindly do so with given link. Hope you enjoy the same, Cheers.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Rest In Peace – A short story.

The Snap-



Even the most daring of the prostitutes, avoided that alley, not because that it did not have customers with deep pockets and weird fantasies to be fulfilled but because it was a bad omen. In better words, a suicide wish. Death was blatantly splashed across the walls like cheap paint peeling away at it's frayed corners. Life just decayed there, breathing into the environment it's remains, dark, damp, putrid smell of rotting soul. A better stage could not have been asked for, for the drama that was about to happen.

It was inhumanly cold like the silence that cloaked and drank the alley in it's darkness. The three men stood there staring at each other, daring the others to make a move. One of them, a dull red shirt was the first one to make the move. He rushed at the other two with his knife, eyes full of murderous intent, no wonder he missed the misgivings of the ground below him. He tripped and fell down with a dull thud. He laid there on the bare lifeless gravel, with his own life slowly ebbing out of him along with the blood dripping out of his broken forehead.

The other two looked at each other and exchanged a smirk. “What a shmuck!!!”. Fucking died; without even putting up a decent fight. One of the standing two, the sadistic leader slowly came forward, with measured steps, eying the red shirt for any last signs of life. After all they will have to confirm the kill but what really is the fun in rushing things. After all, the fun has just started. Hasn't it?? .

He tried arousing the dying man with his feet, which answered with no response. “Shit!!” He thought. He never got his arousals until he heard them cry and beg for mercy, to just finish them off and when people went out without that last cry of anguish, it enraged him. He kicked with his heavy soles into the abdomen, the victim cried out in the bliss of the pain. The tormentor grunted his approval with a malicious grin that lit his face in the dead darkness of the alley. He turned and looked at the face of his partner and beckoned him to join the fun.

It was then that fate started to cast it's own dice. He felt pain, sudden succumbing pain. A knife stuck into his shin was so hard, it ruptured a few veins that blood didn’t just ooze out but slowly flowed to paint the alley road a dense dark crimson. Instinct took over all his senses and be simply bended over holding his leg. A mistake and just as he realized that the knife was all the way through his left eye, tearing apart the softer tissues of the brain. He fell down dead.

Exhausted with his vengeance with the knife, the dull red shirt laid there panting and fighting for air in the cesspool of blood. The third guy now shivering and white faced enough to term him a corpse slowly edged towards them; dead and the nearly dead, and stood there twitching in fear not knowing what to do. Must have been a bit of a gutsy guy for his first murder, he slowly knelt down to check on his comrade and just then, it happened. The red shirt in his attempt to breath through all the gathering blood opened his mouth and started to choke in his own bloody mess. He died, giving gave away his last breath;A ghoulish guttural.

That low haunting sound broke whatever remaining guts, the third guy had. He started to run as if he was possessed. Not just out of the alley but he ran until every single muscle in his soul was totally exhausted. His fear washed away with the remnants of his sweat. He did not want to be there. He wished he did not see what he just saw. He did not want to stop running. He just ran.People, when they fighting death after putting up what they think it is their final struggle, simply surrender themselves to it without even trying. Maybe that was why, when the third guy realized that he had stopped running in front of a speeding truck, he didn’t even try to dodge. He became one of those hit and run casualties, dead even before hitting the ground.

The sky slowly darkened in mourning and the sound of the rain drops mixed with the sirens of the ambulance and resonated all along the alley as distant echoes.

Three were dead. There was no relation or any similarities that were found between them in investigation except of course in the burial ceremony, where all the three were said to be the children of god who were pure in soul and though good in character, had been corrupted and forgiveness was asked, for the almighty is all forgiving and benevolent.


And the dead could rest in peace. For after all, the dead rarely lament.





Amen.



Author's note-

I have always loved dark stories & I think that this is just my own version of a very short murder story. I wrote this a while ago. I just thought it would be apt for posting after editing a few parts of it. Hope you guys like it.


I am a bit busy traveling and may not visit your blogs regularly. Please do bear with me. I will catch up with you guys soon.


Cheers...

Friday, July 10, 2009

The tag- A few books that have stuck to me.

The Tag-

A couple of days ago, I got tagged by pranksygang to name 15 books that will always stick with you in your memories. Thank You for tagging me girl. I am a voracious reader (both fiction and non fiction). I love to try out new genre of writing, new authors and after almost a decade of reading a whole lot of books- I found it funny that, my most memorable reads were just a few(have written detailed description of them).


The Books-




Don’t stand too close to a naked man- Tim Allen

An outrageously funny, truthfully bold, satirically sincere book by Tim Allen. He talks about men, women, the differences, the quirkiness, the compatibility issues and everything else in between. Even his silly rant on sex seems to have a mild philosophical edge to it. A bawdy laugh-out-loud-book that I guarantee will sure tickle your humor ribs.

Men look at women the way men look at cars. Everyone looks at Ferraris. Now and then we like a pick up truck, and we all end up with station wagons. -- Tim Allen



The day of wrath- Sever Gansovsky

A book that I caught my attention when I was going through aimlessly at a garage book sale. A book that cost me just Rs.6. A book that redefined my entire perception of what science fiction should be. A book that was not only original in idea but also revolutionary in what it incited me to think. A book that I am addicted to read whenever I feel down.

I researched the author after I read the book & found out very little information about his work. Most of the articles were in Russian & there was not much in any encyclopedias either. I was a bit disappointed. Why is that people who are doing research thesis in their post graduation studies always choose the much treaded path like Shakespeare to work on. Why can’t they take an initiative & work on much less recognized authors like Sever Gansovsky. How else will people know the geniuses that are lost in the treading of the time?


Pillars of the earth-Ken Follet –

Not just a novel, A epic. Not just a story, a memory. Not just words, but lives. Not just plots, but people. Not just cathedrals & churches, but history. Not just faith but love that eats up eons on its path.

Such is the intensity of the Novel by one of my all time favorite authors. And also it is in this novel – that Follet brings to life the fictional girl who I will eternally pine for.

Ellen -- A rebel who defies the orthodoxy of the medieval church. A free thinker who stands up against every form of oppression, a beauty with a passion for life that will burn even the sun, a virago with a tongue that can sting & curse with vengeance when scorned, A lover with a zest for love that will throw you off guard, a drizzle that wets you to your heart but, still somehow her warmness refuses to wash off you.

The Sicilian – Mario Puzo

Yes, Of course- Godfather is the holy grail of all mobster novels. No questions. The perfection of the plot, the staggering visual display put up by the easel of Puzo’s words, the bluntness of the violence and gore, the twists that always keep you on the edge – It has no rivals.

But I think “The Sicilian” has something more. It is not perfect but unlike Godfather, it has a rawness to it that attracts me. It has poignancy to all the blood shed. A dark deep satire in the plot that wretches the soul. People lost in a way of life that reeks of greed, money, freedom, fiefdom, beauty, love, violence, governance and a lot and lot of Sicily, so fresh and sunny that U may smell the olives that are grown
over there.



The other books that I seriously recommend reading are

White out- Ken Follet ---

One heart gripping page turner that has so many twists & surprises that take care, you don’t fall down as you read along. :)


Air Frame - Micheal Cricton ---

The world’s best science fiction writer gives you a bite of what it is that makes a aero plane fly all the while keeping you on the seats edge.

The timeline- Micheal Cricton ---

The most perfect snap of history to be done by an author with strong characters and a story line that leaves you wanting more.

The life of Pi- Yann Martel ---

My most favorite booker prize winner – a book that treads between the realm of reality & fantasy. A fairy tale set in the modern times. Said in words that will not only make you believe but will make you doubt what you imagine as real.

Angels & Demons – By Dan Brown

The da Vinci Code – Dan Brown

The horse Whisperer -Nicholas Evan

If tomorrow comes – Sidney Sheldon

Faking it – Jennifer cruise


Lord of the Rings – J.R.R.Tolkien (Strictly for people who love epics with verses.)

Mahabharatha – Vyasa (Again strictly for people who love epics with verses)



Happy reading guys--

am kind a working on a short story-

Will post that soon.

Until then. Cheers.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Poems tweeted-


The snap-




Her smile-

The curve of her smile- The crescent moon's isle; The sound of her laugh- a few flowers broke, bloomed & coughed- love is bliss.


My love-

In the silence of the night, I am in bliss. The symphony of her voice - thy music. My love - the crescendo of thy orchestra.


The rant-

No I am not a poet. It's just that my heart overflows with so much love seeing her smile that it cant help but rant a bit.





The soul music-

The curve of her rainbow earlobes jingling with the dance of the dew drop earrings is music,life,reason & treason to my soul.


The difference-

My love is a solitary lass. Wither it will not; Tethered with hopes; I will wait; a few seconds or a few centuries makes no difference.


The dawn-

Dew drops few; on the green leaves new; grinned to yew; with sun shine skew; Just born dawn sparkled & smiled.


Art-

It drizzled & then drenched- rainbows rained- She blushed & brushed spectra amok. Picasso's & Van Gogh's failed miserably in vain.


Author's note-

Guys, these are a few poems that I tweeted a while ago. & no these do not form any rhyming patterns. They are just a few wild thoughts put together. Hope U guys like them.


Cheers.. :)