My trip

This was my first trip and I learnt a lot of things. I learnt to be patient. I waited for the tide and felt the rush. I waited for my mind to open up in ways I did not know it knew. I felt the energy , the universal ether spreading its arms around me. I listened to music not  to tap my feet but to move my soul. I saw the floor dancing to it’s rhythm. I saw myself from an unbiased level, not judging but understanding. I saw these things and it made me realize, that learning is more inwards than outwards. I pondered about the stuff  I have written so far and why I don’t write anymore. For the first time I took and oath to write only from my heart, every word articulated to perfection, because this medium is indeed so powerful. I wish to write now but stories come and pass. I wish to write now, about this journey I am going through. I wish to be honest and upfront, and I hope no word of mine is taken in second stance. Like every leaf on a tree serves it’s purpose, every word of a novel is meant for something. Nothing extra nothing less, that’s a pledge I took on my trip. So if the stories from now on, tickle you in a strange fashion, upset you, or even stay with you, my work is done.


The funny Incident on some mountain

His headphones echoed with AC DC, while he was merrily making his way to the foot of the mountains. Actually Ravi took a 2 month leave from  office, 1 month for the expedition, and 1 month to get into shape. His friend at office had always warned him. “You see, smoker’s loose stamina and the air goes thin there”

As he clambered towards the camp, he felt his youth coming back.

“Hey Ravi is back.”

“How was the adventure.”

“Good lord you returned alive”

Ravi was unusually not so excited. He didn’t say anything. Well, a bit, a bit about sitting on the edge of a cliff at an unimaginable altitude. He even said that if he would be given another long leave he would embark on a next higher target.


That day he was feeling a little uneasy. The fresh mountain air, and some stuff he got from the locals. The purest he was told. So the next morning he missed the group starting on the daunting journey. He then wandered off into the local town to get some guide and a quick way to catch his companions. However he was taken to more exciting places, and indeed it did feel like on the top of the world. He had a good time, local people, local food and a lot of fresh grass. And for many reasons he chose to show the picture on his mobile, as a just expression of his expedition.

Prompted at The Sunday Picture Press

The Writer

The little lamp on his desk fizzled out. An antique gifted to him years back. He wandered off to his balcony. Bangalore was now thwarted with power shedding.Many people including him had realized this would happen sooner or later. The urban landscape was bruised at it’s foundation. Huge houses, societies,malls and tech parks. He missed going to office.

Most of the tech parks were converted to hostels. Single rooms, boarding for people who were new to bangalore. And a million bucks project 2 years back connected all office goers to their company’s cloud. He had given up following technology when all this happened. It was a little disconcerting how his ornate kernel work became obsolete too. It was not that the work had stopped, but now the linux community worked individually on legacy systems. Google was scrapped and desktop companies like dell and HP could not compete with the virtual machines that came for free.

After all the mess Sohail started to work for a horticulture company. In fact, after the letting go of office hours and extinction of software people earning in double digits, these were the few companies which came to prominence. The reasons were obvious, technology had to save the city, and earth eventually. Many of his friends had gone back to their hometowns, living peacefully with their old folks. They worked somewhere on the cloud.

Soon the eco friendly job made him feel uneasy inside.He left and decided to start writing.He started writing for a local magazine, called “How and when”. The articles in this magazine basically sympathized with people who didnt have a clue how they became so lost with respect to the current developments. It was a huge hit because most of us that time were really scratching their heads.

He then prepared his manuscript, a series of short stories on life. love and times of before. His last story warned the cloud enthusiasts that the best way to save nature was to let go off the cloud.Live like farmers. And it is still not clear what was the reason of the massive cloud attack, and suddenly all infrastructure collapsed. Big names vanished. And Sohail became a writer.


Bejo was tired. The same things that any day had to offer. He was bugged with the monotony. So one morning he opened his window and started typing into his laptop.

“Dear sir,
In order to save my soul I have decided to go on a short trip. Request you to grant me two days leave, from Monday you shall find the cheerful Beejo active in office.


His boss woke up a little late that morning. He opened his window too. Today he would be released from the project he was handling.Little did anyone know that he would put his papers few hours later. And only he knew where he was going next.

But Bejo was going and he had to pass on some vital information to him. He called his phone, only to find it switched off.

Two days went silently and Bejo’s friends went to his home to check on his sudden disappearance. His stuff was there. His desk was full of papers. Research and study, it was on his shoulders this startup company had been built.

“Where do you think he has gone?”

Malini frowned. She knew about his condition. She opened his laptop. There were two users. If she were able to login maybe some answers would come up. Then her eyes went to the stack of papers kept on his bed. It was a doctor’s report and she quickly kept the papers away.

“You think we should try to hack his password? Maybe we get something”

Malini smiled. ” I know where has gone”.

Her colleague was still blank. “Where?”

“To find himself.”


“Hear up!”

“Ya I got the deal”

“Must me good times for you”

He smiled. Fresh air and a lot of time. He was used to the city now.

“then what’s next?”

“I think I am smoking too much tobacco. Joined the gym, let’s see what happens.”

“so no grand plans?”

“see these routine things are grand plans for me”


He did not talk about anything personal  at work, well, not much. He was reserved, Sushil. And he had his gang, back at his place where they laughed and joked. His plan worked well, he did feel stronger that night.



It was not me

He sat on the edge of his seat. “Something’s changed”

“Things change, all the time”

“I don’t know, something’s happened bro, while I gone getting the whiskey”

He straightened up. Shook his head a bit. He didn’t know how strong this thing was.

Poured out a glass of water and handed it to me. I drank it rapidly.  The walls were still moving. And i had a heady feeling.

“You didn’t kill anybody right? You said you were out of that mess?”

“That’s right  man!”

I looked down. He grabbed my hand and forced it on the table.

It was spotless, it was clean.

“That’s the only spoil of this drug, you forget what you did”

He leaned back. “Just be careful man”

We drank a lot and I headed home. Just behind the huge park,I grinned and wiped his blood off the shiny knife.


The man who was not sure part 4

The next day went wonderfully for him. Calls during lunch. And questions like “What do you want to eat for dinner” was symphony to his ears. He was smiling at everyone. Even at his boss. The happiness was overwhelming and somehow on his way back he shuddered at the thought of loss.


He was happy. A new life with an old friend.

The door was open.

He looked inside. There was no one. It was odd. If she had gone shopping for the chicken she promised to make him, the door would be locked and a message would be sent. She had left.As  unannounced as she had come. He was too tired to ask why. He was too tired to think.

And from that day he started drinking just wine.




To be contd. hopefully.

the previous parts










The man who was not sure

Things were getting out of hand, from some time back. The booze was getting him overboard and the grass was getting him quieter. So much so that his social life was constrained to places he could walk to during weekends and get wasted. Obviously he knew things were better. But like form in cricket, good times come and go, if you force it, it goes further away.

He had gone to the bar late. Around 10 30 in the night. And with all the drunk revelers he got out late too. It was a strange day. Because this day his ex was getting married, his brother was getting married and his best friend was getting divorced. Which was a celebration and which was a funeral only time could decide. The thing that made him so happy was that he wasn’t part of any of these, his stand was single and off the hooks.

When he was young he had read about the ghosts of Christmas. He was not lonely or old like Scrooge but he felt something similar that night. And it was strange, almost unbelievable than when he reached home, he found his front door open.

Part 2 here by Ladynimue

The Place called Home

Something had changed in him. I know I met him after a long time, so my views were a little blurred. But something  was different. You could not point a pin on it. Just was, and I knew it. I kind of waited for them to go, his new mates. They all spoke nothing yet constantly kept speaking. I have aged enough to know the difference. But he did not for once, glance at me understandingly. It was assumed as if I would mingle in with them.


By the end of the party even I was unsure whether I should have stayed back or not. Not that he was unwelcoming in his gestures, but it was too artificial for a school friend. He kept on pouring out drinks. I stayed. I waited for him to speak.


“I know you are skeptical about my life here”

That took me by surprise. The hours of feeling out of place vanished. And he was sitting in front of me. Just like he would have 10 years ago. The restraint in his voice and his manners had vanished into thin air.

“It’s not my place to judge. But don’t you ever think of coming back. It must be suffocating at some point of time?”


” The place of birth is consequential”. He took a large gulp pf whiskey. ” Of course it would be strange to hear your son blabber in cockney London slang when you had trouble in clearing your english papers. Things be different. But what happens if the people you leave everything for don’t exist anymore. That leaves you in between doesn’t it?”


“How did this happen?” I asked.


“A car accident.”. His eyes were wet now.

“I don’t have words to console you or express my grief but can you listen to me just one more time. The last time”

He leaned back and smiled.


“Come home with me”





A note to my readers

I know the unannounced exit from my blog has diminished my readership to almost zero. But, yes after a series of incidents and an accident just last Saturday, I think I am ready to write again. I have new stories, and new conflicts. the accident was not serious and am on a week long holiday because I shudder to think of travelling in bangalore traffic now. Been sleeping most of the time. Thinking and watching horror movies. So sorry for the gap. Do keep reading for new stuff.


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