Puchh nahi raha; bata raha hun..

He looked up at the sound of someone asking, "lal shirt", since he also was wearing a red shirt that night. He looked at everyone else in the room, trying to find another red shirt, but he couldn't. "haan haan tum hi. idhar udhar kya dekh rahe ho." said the sleepy looking looking policeman from his desk. "idhar aao", the policeman continued. He got up slowly from the wooden bench he was sitting on, still not sure why he was there in the first place. He has not done anything wrong. All he was doing was, having a quiet dinner with his friends at a restaurant. He walked up to the desk of the sleepy looking policeman and spoke in a confused tone, not sure whether it was a question or acknowledgement, "ji sir!". "naam kya hai tumhara" asked the policeman. He was scared now. He was thinking whether to give him correct name or be smart and try to get away with giving fake information. "What if he asked for an ID? How would I produce the ID for the fake identity? What if my friends spill the beans, who are still sitting at that bench waiting for their turn?" all these questions cropped in his head. Besides, he was not even sure why the policeman was asking his name. He hasn't done anything wrong. "Ajay", he said and gave his correct name to the policeman.

"Ajay. Hmmmm." the policeman repeated his name and wrote it down on a piece of paper, which looked like some kind of form. He tried to read the headings on the form but was too tired and sleepy. "tum wohan par restaurant me danga kar rahe the" policeman said, while looking up at his face. He at first thought it was some kind of joke, because looking at his size nobody would believe he is capable of doing any danga. He cannot even slap a person of normal built, forget about doing danga. "tum wohan par danga kar rahe the", the policeman repeated. "Nahi sir!" he said, trying to protest. "Poochh nahi raha hun, bata raha hun", the policeman said in a calm and firm voice. He tried to protest, "lekin sir, jab main kuchh kar hi nahi raha tha...". "Dekho.." policeman did cut him in between, "tumhare paas do choice hain, ya to tum pe 160 lagega ya fir 189 lagega". Policeman looked up and noticed the blank look on his face and realized he did not understand what 160 and 189 mean. "160 better hai, usme saja kam hoti hai," he said trying to sound helpful. As if he was doing some favour by helping him chose among the two. Well, no police in the world would have such facility, where they allow convicts to choose between the charges and even help them with the selection.

"theek hai sir, 160." realizing that there is no point protesting further, he surrendered to the policeman's suggestion. Keeping with the helpful image of Indian Police, the policeman helped him even further by informing him that now since there is a case against him on IPC Section 160, which means creating nuisance in a public place and will need someone to bail him out.

At this point he was allowed to make one call and was handed over his cell phone, which was taken from him during the raid at the restaurant.

The Last Goodbye

He was sitting in a sofa, staring down fiddling with his cellphone. She was standing across the table looking at him. The silence in the room was getting uncomfortable. He did not have the courage to look up and face her. He was afraid, he would not be able to stand the look of pain in those eyes. So, he kept looking down. Though, not being able to speak was almost killing him. He would rather die than see the pain in those beautiful eyes.

She was so shocked at what he had said and was unable to react. She kept on staring towards him waiting for him to look up and meet his eyes. Finally he looked up. Her eyes met his and few drops of tears fell from her eyes. "There has to be a way", she said wiping her tears from her palms. "There is no way", he replied and tears dropped from his already wet eyes. He continued, "They are outside, waiting for me. I have to go." "I will talk to them", she protested, "they cannot do this." He asked, "Do you think they need permission from anyone to do what they want?" "But..." she paused for a moment, then continued, "but I cannot let you go. I will die without you." There was silence again. Neither of them had the courage to speak, or may be they were just not able to find the right words.

He stood from the sofa, held her face in his palms and did the most brave thing he had ever done in his life. He looked straight into her wet eyes and said without blinking, "you will live. Nothing will happen to you. They want me and they will not let me go." He pulled her close and hugged her. "I must go now. They are waiting outside and if I don't go out soon, they might break in." he said in her ear and moved away from her. He did not have any courage left in himself to look into her eyes again. He turned and started moving towards the door.

She came behind him and grabbed him. She was not ready to let him go. "I will come with you," she said and opened the door. A bullet hit her on her neck and she fell on the floor bleeding. He could not believe what just happened. His heart could not take this shock and stopped. He fell on the floor lifeless.

Dead Sanjeet Kumar

He walked inside the police station, which looked like the busiest place in the world. Everybody seemed to be occupied with something but he could not figure out what exactly they were doing. Probably he had never before seen so many people busy doing NOTHING collectively and in a seemingly well choreographed manner. He stood there near the bench at the entrance and kept looking at everyone passing by. He felt as if he was invisible, since nobody took notice of him, or probably they all ignored him, thinking he would add to their work. Which was justified, since they were so busy doing nothing, imagine how busy they would be when they have something to do. Finally he realised that just standing there quietly was not gonna work out, he decided to ask someone. He was not sure who to approach. He was also afraid of offending anyone by his enquiry. A policeman would be the last person he would think of offending at his state. He tried to bring the best smile possible on his face and looked around searching for the right person who would answer his query without taking offence. At this point he noticed a policeman, who from his get up looked like a hawaldar, entering the police station. He decided to approach him before he also got busy like his other colleagues. As the hawaldar was passing him, he spoke in his most polite voice, "Sir!" The hawaldar stopped and looked at him. He got scared by the look on that hawaldar's face. In a moment he visualised himself behind bars facing charges of possession of some godforsaken banned drugs, which he never heard of. "What?" the hawaldar asked him in an irritated tone. He felt like waking up from his painful dream. He held himself together and asked, "Sir! I want to file a complaint but I don't know where to go." The question irritated the hawaldar even more. He spoke, "to file a complaint you go to a police station and if I am not mistaken that is where you are right now." He again visualised himself behind bars sharing the cell with ugly looking criminals scaring him with their scared faces. He gathered all his courage and asked again, "Sir! if you could please me which desk I should approach for filing a complaint, I will be really grateful." Hawaldar pointed his finger towards a corner and said, "Go there, your complaint will be taken there." Although he could not figure out the exact desk where the hawaldar was pointing, but he decided it was not in his favour to ask anymore questions. He did not want to imagine what those scarface criminals would do to him. He did not forget to thank the hawaldar and started walking towards the direction he thought the hawaldar pointed.

He was standing in a corner in front of a desk full of registers and files. The pile of files gave him a feeling that he must be living in the most criminal locality of the country. There was another hawaldar sitting behind that table busy chewing a pan and reading Mayapuri. Hawaldar was smiling. It might have been some joke in the magazine. He stood there for a moment waiting for the hawaldar to notice him. Finally he decided to disturb the hawaldar. The fake smile came back and he said, "Sir!". He waited for the hawaldar to stop reading and look at him. The hawaldar did not seem to hear him. He said again, "Sir!". This time hawaldar looked at him and pointed him to sit on the chair in front of him. Hawaldar started reading again as if he had to finish some very important article that he could not stop in the middle. Suddenly hawaldar started laughing as he closed the magazine and kept it on the table. Hawaldar picked up the dustbin and spit the paan in it. Hawaldar looked at him and asked, "Once Haathi and Cheenti were going on a motorcycle and met an accident. Haathi suffered serious injuries whereas Cheenti was all fine. Do you know why?" He kept staring at the hawaldar not knowing what to say. The hawaldar waited for a moment for him to answer then continued, "because cheenti was wearing a helmet" and bursted out laughing. He resisted the urge to slap the hawaldar and tried to bring a smile on his face to make the hawaldar believe that it was a really good joke. The hawaldar asked, "tell me, what brings you here." He said, "Sir! My name is Sanjeet Kumar." Hawaldar cut him in between, "You don't have to come to the police station, if you don't like your name" started laughing again. It took him little more effort than before to stop him from slapping the hawaldar. He in fact even managed a fake smile again. He said, "Sir! I am here to file a complaint against my brothers, who have snatched my house." He continued, "I was away for few months and when I came back they threw me out of my own house and threatened to beat me up if I went back." Hawaldar passed him a form and asked him to write his complaint. He did as told and left.

Few days later Sanjeet visited the police station again to find out if there had been any progress on the FIR he had filed. This time he was prepared to hear some PJ's. In fact he even memorised some himself just in case. He walked directly to the same hawaldar who took his complaint. The hawaldar did not seem to be in a jolly mood that day. He did not know whether to be happy about it for he would not be compelled to laugh at unbearably bad jokes or be worried for he was a hawaldar and he did not want to offend him. Hawaldar stared at him and then started shuffling through the files in front of his desk. Hawaldar opened one file and looked at the carbon copy of the FIR. Hawaldar checked the file again and said, "your FIR has been closed because there is no case." Hawaldar's answer surprised him, he said, "but sir, how is it possible?" Hawaldar answered, "it is possible because a dead man can not file a complaint and Sanjeet Kumar, the complainant is dead." He could not believe his ears. It took few seconds for him to hold himself together. He finally spoke, "but sir, I am Sanjeet Kumar and I am very much alive standing in front of you." Hawaldar was not interested in what he claimed. Hawaldar handed over the file to him and said pointing towards the death certificate of Sanjeet Kumar, "you see here? Sanjeet Kumar died on 12th Dec last year. It means you died more than 10 months back and since a dead person cannot file a police complaint, we have closed the case."

He could not figure out what to say. He could have never dreamed of the situation he was in and that was the reason he did not know how to handle it. He kept staring at his own death certificate and somehow he managed to smile. There was something funny about this situation. He perhaps was the only person in this world who got to see his own death certificate. He did not know what to do, so he decided to ask the hawaldar, "sir..what should I do now? If there is a way to prove I am dead, there has to be a way to prove I am alive." Hawaldar looked at him, thought for a moment and spoke, "I don't know. There has never been a case in my life where someone had to prove that he is alive." He realised staying there in the police station was not going to help him, so he thanked the hawaldar and decided to leave. While he was going out the hawaldar said, "see a good lawyer."

He left thinking of meeting a lawyer who would help him prove that he was alive. That was the first thing to do, because as a dead person he could not have done anything else. What he did not know at that moment, as a dead person he would not even be allowed to file a lawsuit.

..to be continued

Raat Lambi Thi

He switched off the TV and was ready to go to bed. He washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror. There was something unusual about it. He could not exactly say what but it made him uneasy. He ignored it thinking may be it's because of the busy day he had had today. He dried his face, switched off the bathroom light and entered his bedroom. He could not understand why he was feeling uneasy.

He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was not able to sleep. He picked up his blackberry to check his mails one last time before going to sleep. As he looked at his blackberry, he felt a sudden rush in himself. He got up with a jolt and kept staring at the blackberry. He was shaking. He started to sweat. He threw the blackberry away. As he threw the blackberry, he heard a sound. He was not sure if the sound was from the fall of the phone or it was something in the kitchen. He got up and moved slowly towards the bedroom door. He slowly turned the door nob and waited for a moment before opening the door slowly. He scanned the room in the dark making sure there was nobody in the room before walking out of the room. He reached the switch board and switched on the light. He could see the living room clearly in the light and he saw nothing unusual about it. He wiped the sweat on his forehead with his sleeves and started moving towards the kitchen, where he thought he had heard the sound from.

He was inside the kitchen searching every corner but he did not notice anything out of place. It made him even more uncomfortable. There had to be something and not being able to find it scared him even more. He started collecting every sharp object in the kitchen and started throwing them out of the window. He scanned the kitchen once again and when he was sure there was nothing unusual he shut the window and locked it. He stood there for another minute, waiting for something unusual to happen. He reached to the switchboard to switch off the light but he didn't. He was too scared to leave it dark. He came out of the kitchen and when he was locking the kitchen door he heard a sound. It startled him so much, he almost fell back. He stayed there resting his back against the wall trying to figure out the source of the sound. He realised the sound was from his bedroom and it was his blackberry. Someone was calling him. He locked the kitchen door.

He ignored the call. He was too scared to go inside the bedroom. He did not go inside, instead he locked the bedroom door from outside and stayed in the living room. He switched on all the lights in the living room and looked around the entire room. He sat on the sofa. He was still sweating. He tried to relax and pushed himself back on the sofa. He closed his eyes but was startled by the ring again. He stood from the sofa started walking towards the bedroom, as he was about to open the door the ring stopped. He stopped and realised the window in his living room was open. He walked to the window and closed it. He was still feeling restless. He opened the drawer of his TV table took out a gun, loaded it and kept it on the table in front of the sofa. He moved the sofa so that he could see the door and sat on it spreading his feet on the table. He could not relax. He was still restless, still sweating, still scared. He picked up the gun from the table and held it in his hand and it made him feel little better.

He could not close his eyes and kept on staring at the door, as if someone is going to walk in from that door and kill him. He could not tell for how long he had been sitting in that same position, when he heard the sound of key entering the keyhole of the door. He picked up the gun and aimed it straight towards the door, ready to shoot. He fired as soon as the door opened. He saw someone fall but could not tell who it was. He raised slowly from the sofa and started walking towards the door. He looked down at the dead body and started trembling. He felt weak. He did not have enough strength in his feet to stand. He fell on his knees near the dead body and started crying.

Next day following news story appeared in the local newspaper's city section.
BIG SHOT BUSINESSMAN KILLS WIFE: Aug 13, Friday. Early morning a businessman living in city's posh Baweja Gardens shot his wife to death. Neighbors called the police after hearing the gunshot. He was found lying near the dead body in unconscious state by the police with murder weapon in his hand. Looking at the nature of the case police has sent him to the city mental asylum for preliminary check up. On further investigation police found an unchecked voice mail in his phone, which was from his wife informing him about her return in the morning.

Umbrella

Mirpur must be one of the smallest railway stations in India. It had only one small platform with just one bench and no shades. Only short distance passenger trains stopped there. He was waiting for one of those trains at almost noon in the month of may. The sun was over his head and he was using an umbrella to protect himself from the sunlight. It would have been one of the hottest day of the year and hot summer wind made it even worse. He was holding the umbrella with his right arm and was trying to read a Ved Prakash Sharma novel to kill time while he was waiting for the train. It was difficult to concentrate on reading with wind blowing the pages. Suddenly a strong wave of wind blew his umbrella and he ran to catch it, holding the book in one hand. He managed to catch the umbrella at some distance, where it got stuck on some dead wood.

When he was coming back towards the bench holding the umbrella in one hand and the book in the other, he spotted a girl standing near the pillar covering her face with a veil and holding a bag in her hand. She was probably standing there for a while but he did not notice. May be the novel was too captivating to divert his attention anywhere else. She was trying to hide behind the small shadow of the pillar to cover herself from the sun, but her efforts were all going in vein. There was no one else on the platform. He walked up to the girl and offered her his umbrella, "ye le lo. bahut dhoop hai." She nodded rejecting his offer. He insisted, "le lo" and handed over the umbrella to the girl. She accepted the umbrella reluctantly. "tum chaho to wohan bench pe baith sakti ho" he said pointing towards the bench. She nodded in negative. "theek hai, jaisi tumhari marji" he added and went back to the bench.

He tried to continue reading but could not. All he could think of was about the girl. Who she was? Why she was alone? Where was she going? Why had he never seen her before? Was she from Mirpur or just visiting someone? So many questions in his head about the girl were not letting him concentrate on the book. Afternoon sun was also not being very helpful. He held the book over his head to cover himself from the light. While he was busy thinking about the girl and trying to figure out the answers to so many questions in his head, he realised she was standing behind him holding the umbrella above him covering him from sunlight. He looked at her and pointed towards the bench. She sat beside him holding the umbrella. Her face was still covered with the veil that she was holding with her teeth. He could see only half her face and he could tell she was remarkably beautiful. Nothing like he had seen in all his life.

She was feeling uncomfortable sitting with him and he could sense the tension. He spoke, "hum Sitapur ja rahe hain. hum wohan patakhon ki factory me kaam karte hain. tum kahan ja rahi ho?" She was shy but she answered, "hum bhi Sitapur ja rahe hain. humara ghar hai wohan." Her veil fell from her face as she spoke and he could see her remarkable beauty. That made him nervous. He did not know whether he was sweating because of heat or because of nervousness. He tried his best to speak, "to tum Mirpur ki rahne wali nahi ho. tabhi main sochun, maine tumhe pahle kabhi kyon nahi dekha. chhota sa gaon hai humara yahan har koi ek dusre ko janta hai." he continued, "hum har 3-4 mahine me ek baar gaon aate hain apne ghar walon se milne." He waited for a moment expecting her to say something but she did not speak. He kept on talking, "Mirpur me kiske yahan aayi thi tum." "Banwari Lal" she answered. He was not very pleased, when he heard the name, but he tried his best to not let it show on his face. "Banwari Kaka. Kaise hain Banwari kaka, tabiyat kaisi rahti hai unki aajkal. pichhli baar mila tha to chalne firne me takleef hoti thi unko" he enquired trying to look genuine. "theek hain abhi" she answered. He could not imagine anyone so beautiful anywhere even remotely related to Banwari for the kind of man he was. He was the local moneylender and everyone hated him. He asked, "tum Banwari Kaka ko kaise janti ho?" She hesitated for a moment, then replied, "hum unki biwi hain. pichhle mahine hi humari shaadi hui. humare babu ji ko paison ki sakht jaroorat thi aur Banwari lal ne humare babu ji ko 50000 rupaye diye humari shaadi ke badle me." She was almost to tears when she said those words. His heart almost sank, he could not hear the sound of the train coming towards the platform.

First Date

He reached the Barista at exactly 6 pm as agreed and checked his watch to make sure he was on time. Before entering the coffee shop he pulled his phone out of his breast pocket and made a call. "Hi" he said, "I have reached Barista. Where are you?...ok, I am going in. Don't take too long...I am wearing a black trouser, a blue shirt and a yellow tie. In fact right now I am the only one dressed in formals in here, so you will easily recognise me." He scanned the almost empty shop and found himself a place to sit near the window, where he could see the traffic on the road. He sat there watching the traffic and scanning the menu with lacking interest. He was more interested in the traffic, it always fascinated him. He was looking at the moving vehicles going in opposite directions. Some old, some new, some ordinary, some extra ordinary, some slow, some fast all of them with their varying qualities and abilities survived on their own without colliding into each other. Yet there was one thing common among all of them, they all served the same purpose. The ride in some would have been more comfortable than the other, some would have reached the destination faster than the other, some would have used more fuel to reach the destination than the other but in the end they all were working on the same purpose. When they decided to cross paths, may be in the hurry to reach the destination faster or may be in proving themselves better than the others there were collisions and when they collided most of the time it was the weaker one who took more damage. Somehow he could relate all this to life.

While he was busy in his thoughts still staring out of the window, a soft female voice distracted him from his thoughts. "Vishal?" she said as he looked up enquiring about him name. He nodded in affirmative and she continued, "Hi! Shefali. I am sorry I am late." He checked his watch it was 6:15, she was 15 minutes late, but he didn't seem to notice the delay because he was busy in this thoughts. "Hi! It's alright." He pointed towards the seat across the table in front of him, "take a seat." She sat on the chair. "What will you have?" he asked while passing her the menu. He noticed she was looking very pretty in the white dress she was wearing. Her long black hair falling over her shoulders made a wonderful contrast. She was not wearing lot of make up, which he liked. She looked up for a moment and noticed him staring at her face. It made her nervous so she again started looking at the menu. He also noticed it and realised his foolishness. He smiled like a little child. He could sense the tension and the nervousness, so to lighten the mood he spoke, "I will have a Cappuchino. Have you decided what you will have?" he waited for her to speak for a moment and when she did not say anything, he continued, "I would suggest you have devil's favourite, it has a lot of chocolate and ice cream in it. I hope you will like it. If you want to eat something, they have very nice brownies." "I would go with devil's favourite. I like chocolate and ice cream," she said it with a smile. "Great" he said while standing from his chair, "I will just place the order and be right back."

She was watching him standing at the counter talking to the waiter. They both were smiling while talking as if indulged in some friendly conversation. He was tall, well mannered, polite, had a good dressing sense. He was punctual, was nice to her and above all he was being nice to even the waiter. To top it all her parents also liked him, otherwise why would they insist her on meeting him. Overall she also seemed to like the guy. She was still busy in her thoughts, she noticed him coming back looking at her. She smiled and he smiled back. He joined her on the table and spoke, "I hope it didn't take long. He will call when our order is ready." She had the urge to know more about the guy but she was not sure how to start. She was too nervous to ask him any questions, besides she has never been much of a talker anyway. He somehow sensed what was going on in her head and tried to control the situation. He asked, "so, what do you do to survive through the day?" She understood what he meant and liked the way he asked the question. She answered, "I am a writer. I write short stories for Readers Digest currently." He looked impressed and said, "wow, that's nice. It must be interesting creating your own world and playing around with it. You must feel like God at times." She liked that he found her work interesting and had a reason to believe so. Now it was her turn to ask, "what about you?" He answered promptly as if he was expecting the question, "well, my work is not as interesting as yours but it's somewhat similar. You play with characters and I play with numbers. I am a financial analyst for an investment banking firm." he continued, "It's not as interesting as it sounds but I like the work." Their order was ready and he stood to get it from the counter.

They kept on talking about their work, families, hobbies, likes and dislikes while sipping their respective drinks and after almost an hour they decided to leave the place. He offered to drop her home but she said she had got her scooty and would be able to go. She however did not forget to thank him for the offer. They both bode farewell to each other and went their separate ways with a promise to meet again. They both liked each other. While riding her scooty on her way back home she was thinking about Sameer, who she wanted to marry but the idea of marriage never seemed to cross him mind and whenever poked he would try to change the subject. She had to take a decision now. On one hand was Vishal, who seemed like a perfect man and was chosen by her parents to marry her and one the other hand was Sameer, who she liked despite all his shortcomings but he was not ready to marry her. She had to choose between waiting for Sameer to change his mind about marriage but did not know when that day would come, if ever or go by her parents choice.

PS: try and link it with the Hero story I posted earlier.

Come with me

"Come with me" she asked and I started walking the path she took me to. I did not ask where we were going or how we will reach there because it did not matter. It did not matter because I was walking with her and that made me happy. We walked together to a path where I could see no future, but was sure she did. I never asked her what she saw. I trusted her judgement, so we walked. We walked for days without seeing the destination, but we enjoyed the journey and that kept us going.

After walking for many days together I realized she was no longer there by my side. I stopped, turned and looked back. She was there, standing, not sure about the path anymore. She did not want to go further. She did not tell me why and I did not ask her. I did not have to. I just raised my hand towards her hoping she would come as I did. I waited for her to come, but she did not. I was disappointed, but I knew what I had to do. I continued my journey further.

Now I am alone, still walking the same path. Still not sure of the destination. Yet I am walking because I know it is the path she had chosen for me and I know she would have wanted to see me reach the destination, wherever it leads. I don't know why she gave up halfway, she would have had her reasons. I will not give up. I will complete the journey. Her journey. Our journey. My journey.

Deception

"I trusted you" he says softly with tears in his eyes. "I trusted you" he says again even more softly this time. She is standing in front of him staring at the floor below. He sits on the chair in front of him and buries his face in both his hands. She looks at him. He seems to be in lot of pain. She wants to hold him and say something to him, but she is afraid. She is still standing at the same place looking at him. There is silence in the room.

The silence is broken by the beep on his blackberry. It's a new mail. He moves his hand slowly off his face wiping his tears and looks up at her. He raises his right and to pick up his blackberry from the table while still looking at her. This time it's not tears in his eyes, it's contempt instead. She hasn't moved a inch, still standing at the same spot. He checks the mail. "This was only expected", he says with an unusual calmness in his voice. He looks up at her again and says, "look what have you done" and throws his blackberry towards her. She is caught by surprise and cannot catch it. The blackberry drops on the floor. She bends on her knees and picks it up. The screen is broken and it is switched off. She tries to switch it on. "It's not switching on" she looks at him and says, still on her knees "I am sorry".

"You are sorry?" he says, "of course you are. For what? Breaking my phone or ruining my life?" She has never seen him so angry before. She gathers all the courage and speaks, "what was it about? I mean the mail." "I have been fired from my job for selling company secrets," he answers without any expression.

She loves me

He is holding a red rose in his right hand, held close to his lips, kissing it not smelling it. His eyes are closed as he moves the rose up to his nose and smells the flower. He opens his eyes slowly and there is a strange smile on his face. He tears one petal from the flower, "she loves me". He tears another petal, "she loves me not". He is sitting on a sofa and there is an empty glass on the table in front. There is also an empty bottle of Black Dog lying on the table. You can also see an ashtray overflowing with ash and cigarettes buds. On the edge of the ashtray there is a lit cigarette. "She loves me"; "she loves me not"; "she loves me"; "she loves me not". He continues playing with the rose removing one petal at a time. There is a ring lying on the floor close to his feet. Rose petals are falling over and around the ring. He keeps going "she loves me"; "she loves me not".

A smiles comes across his face every time he says, "she loves me" and a look of worry, when he says, "she loves me not". There are only two rose petals left on the flower and he looks worried. "She loves me not," he says and tears the second last rose petal. His smile comes back, as he removes the last rose petal, "she loves me" he says.

He looks at whatever is left of the beautiful flower and says out loud, "I knew she loves me". Suddenly his face turns sad and says, "but why wouldn't she say it" and throws the flower remains on the dead body lying on the sofa in front of him and starts crying. "Why", he screams, picks up the gun lying beside the dead body. He points the gun to his forehead and screams again, "why".

He pulls the trigger.

The Pick Up Artist

"Do I know You?" she asked. "Of course not; but that's my fault. I have not done anything significant yet to be known" I answered. She asked again, "What do you mean? Who are you?" This is where I had to be innovative. A wrong answer to that question and I knew I would never speak to her again. "It's a difficult question to answer. It would have been easier, had I been Shahrukh Khan." I answered. My answer irritated her and I could see that on her face. I suddenly had a sinking feeling. I don't know if the disappointment show on my face, I tried my best to hide it.

Someone once told me that I lack perseverance and I decided to prove him wrong this time. Damage control was the only thought in my head. My head was processing at lightning fast speed. I had to say something. Say something that she would like, may be something to make her laugh. At least a smile, that frown was anyway irritating me. What to do? What to say? I had pain in my head. Not knowing the answer can be so irritating at times.

My mind was desperately searching for an answer. I must say something which will interest her. "I got a feeling, you are a good dancer" I said. "I am not a dancer, but yes I can dance well. How do you know that?" she spoke. I was not very hopeful about getting a second chance, but I was glad that she was talking again. I have to be careful now. "I got superpowers" I replied with a smile. "I don't think so" she said, with a smile this time. That smile relieved me a little. "Just because I don't wear my underwear over my trousers doesn't prove anything" I said, with even broader smile this time. She burst out laughing, "you are funny" she said.

"I am Tina" she introduced herself. "Nice to meet you Tina, I am Aman" I replied. "So Aman, what do you do?" she asked "I mean instead of using your superpowers to flirt with beautiful girls." She was smiling; looking at me waiting for an answer. "I am a writer" I answered. "What are you writing?" she asked again. "I was looking for a story. I think I have found one tonight." I answered back. "and what do you do for living?" she continued asking. 'I like this girl. She is leading the conversation, asking questions. She seems to be interested.' I thought. "Well, like all superheroes, during the day I dress up in formals, wear specs and work as a journalist." I answered. She laughed again. "I really like you." she said. 'She is dropping signals. Is that a signal? That has to be the signal. I must act now. This is the time.' I told myself. "Well Tina, I must go now. You seem to be staying. Give me your number, would love to talk to you again." I made the move. She tossed her cellphone to me and said, "dial your number." I liked that move. I dialed my number. Waited for my phone to ring. Disconnected the call and tossed her phone back to her. She winked. I smiled, waved my hand and walked out.

Little Birdie in the City

I am a little birdie in the city. Not any ordinary city, city of Mumbai. My mother told me that she had to come here when her home was destroyed to make way for some buildings. She had nowhere to go. She was homeless and without the jungle there was no way she could have servived. She did hear someone say that everyone survives in Mumbai. So she came to Mumbai. She found a place to live on the window of an apartment in Mumbai. It was a tin sheet on the window where my mother collected some sticks and made it look like a nest. My mother told me that it was not like our nest back home. It used to be so big and comfortable but this one is just few sticks here and there just enough for us to rest.

I was born on that tin-sheet and that is what I remember as my home. Mother used to bring some food from somewhere. I never wanted to know from where she brings the food. I was too small to move so I stayed there all day. It's summer time and this year it is so much hotter than any other years, my mother told me, when I asked her why I feel so hot. The lady in the apartment used to dry her wet clothes on the window, which used to help us survive the heat.

It was the hottest day of the summer. I was feeling very hungry. Mother saw the hunger in my eyes and she decided to bring something for me to eat. She looked at me. I saw the assurance in her eyes. As if they said, "we will survive." She flew off the window.

It was almost night. The lady was picking up her dry clothes from the window. She saw me. I got scared. Mother was also not back yet. I was not feeling hunger anymore. I decided to wait for mother. Few minutes later the lady came back with a long stick in her hand. She started poking me with that stick. I flew from one place to another in that small area to save myself from the stick, but the stick followed me wherever I went. I could not understand why she is doing that but I realized that she would keep on poking me till I was there at her window.

I remembered the look in mother's eyes before she left that day. I remembered what they said and I decided that I will survive. I somehow managed to climb to the ceiling of the window. I saw the stick coming to me. I knew the stick was to push me off the window but before the stick could reach me, I jumped. I jumped off the window. I was falling. I closed my eyes. I tried to flap my wings. I thought I would hit the ground and die. I tried harder to flap my wings and before I was about to hit the ground, I was flying. I did not know how to feel. I was happy because I survived. I was sad because I lost my nest. I wanted to cry because I did not know what happened to mother.

I am still surviving in this big city. I do not have a nest. I do not know where my original home was. I fly from one place to another and rest whichever cool place I can find, but I come to that window everyday for some time hoping mother would return some day. I feel I am not alone, because I see so many people living the same life in this city.

Hero

"You better stop shooting and save some bullets. You only have limited number of those." says a voice in the dark. Rajat opens the chamber of his gun and sees that there are only 6 bullets left. He looks around from behind the piller, which is covering him from the gun fire from the other end and sees the mess around him. He sees plenty of glass pieces scattered all over the place. There are bullet holes in almost everything in the room. The cotton pieces from the sofa are floating in the air. The only thing that is not damaged in the cross fire is the TV, which is at the far corner of the room and it is playing the dubbed version of the mandarin movie Hero starring Jet Li. It's 7:30 on the wall clock with a broken minute hand, which seems to have stopped ticking when a bullet hit it. He checks his watch, it's 10 now. He says, "as if you have an unlimited supply." "No, I don't and that's precisely why I have stopped shooting already" replies the voice from behind the bar table. Rajat remembers hitting him on his foot before he jumped behind that table.

There is silence for some time before Rajat speaks,"how long are we planning to sit like that? It's really painful sitting quietly waiting for eternity." "We can talk, if you are interested." the voice replies. "What should we talk about?" Rajat questions. "Have you seen that movie? The one on the TV right now." the voice continues speaking, "can you please increase the volume a bit?" Rajat looks for the remote and finds it lying in front of the TV on the floor. He answers,"Hero! I have seen this one, in mandarin though. Had to read the subtitles to make sense of the dialogues. It's really painful watching the movie reading subtitles when you don't understand the language. By the way, remote is too far from my reach and I am not exposing myself to your gunshots." "I am not shooting at you right now." the voice explained. "But you will at the first opportunity" added Rajat.

There was silence again. Rajat puts the gun on the floor beside him and pulls out his vallet from his pocket. There is a picture of a woman. He looks at the picture and touches the face in the picture gently with his thumb. A smile runs over his face, which soon changes into comtempt. "Don't you wanna know, why I want to kill you?" he asks looking back towards the bar table. "I know and I don't blame you for that. I might have done the same, had I been in your situation," the voice replies, "but I cannot let myself die just like that. I will try my best to live, even if it means killing you."

"So, do you remember the story of this movie, Hero?" the voice said after few minutes of silence. "Barely. I watched it mostly because I like this Chinese marshal art. People flying in the air fascinates me." Rajat replied with little indifference. "In the movie a nameless warrior played by Jet Li conspires with three other great warriors to get an audience with the King, so that he can kill the king and revenge the killing of his family by king's men." the voice continues, "When he finally is in front of the king and is about to kill him. The king unafraid of his death, examines the scroll by one of the three great worriors involved in conspiracy and realises that the ideal warrior is he, who has no desire to kill." the voice speaks further, "When the nameless warrior realises the true intentions of the king, he leaves him unharmed."

"What's your point?" asks Rajat looking at the picture of the woman in his vallet. "Nothing. I was just talking about the story of the movie. By the way, in the end we are told that the King of Qin united the Middle Kingdom under one rule, unifying the Chinese language, its weights and measures system, completing the Great Wall of China and ushering in the Qin Dynasty of a unified China. The King of Qin became Qin Shi Huang, the First Emperor of China. So you see, his intentions were never wrong and had the nameless warrior killed the king that day, China would have never been the great empire it became later." the voice answers. The voice speaks further after a small pause, "When you barged into my house, you were very angry. You were not thinking clearly. Now you seem calm. Think about it. My intentions were never wrong." Rajat doesn't say anything.

The voice has stopped talking and there is silence once again. Rajat, who is still looking at the picture, takes the picture out of the wallet, puts the wallet back in his pocket, picks up the gun, stands up and starts walking slowly towards the bar table. He walks behind the bar table from where the voice was coming and looks down. He keeps the picture on the table, pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the gun clean of any finger prints. He keeps the gun on the picture and looks down again. Rajat gets his cellphone out of his pocket and dials a number. "Hello!...Rajhans Hospital?...I am calling from Swarn Bhavan, there is a man lying unconcious here and he seems to have lost a lot of blood due to a bullet wound on his foot." He disconnects the call and slowly walks out of the room.

What forced Shashi to resign?

PM is back from his foreign visit and before he landed at IGI Airport, Delhi; he knew he had to deal with a big problem. A problem which could have been smaller, had he banned his External Affairs Minister of State Mr. Shashi Tharoor from tweeting, when he first tweeted about travelling with cattle class. He was cursing himself for leaving him just with a warning then and not forcing him to delete his twitter account. He regretted the day when he failed to explain Shashi that Indian government is still formed with MPs selected by the population for whom twitter is just a bird noise and blackberry and apple are mere fruits. How come Shashi did not understand this simple fact that most of his 700K followers on twitter would not even go out of their cozy rooms to vote for him. These people are only good for signing online petitions in his favor, which are sadly not recognized and understood by major section of Indian population.

PM reached his office thinking about damage control. He was certain about one thing, "jo ek baar ho use galti kahte hain, lekin jo baar-baar ho use aadat kahte hain. galti ko sudharna aasan hota hai, lekin aadat badalna mushkil." He knew that this time he cannot leave Shashi with a warning. He had to take an action and the action had to be strict to set an example. While his mind was occupied with these thoughts, his personal phone rang. It was his wife. The conversation went something like this,
PM: I am so sorry. I promise it will not happen again.
Wife: Good. You dare not do this again. I am watching the TV and I see that idiot is just getting inside your office to meet you. Do the right thing this time.

His personal phone rang again as soon as he hung up. It was Sonia madam this time. His hands started shaking, because it was him who supported Shashi for the ministry despite madam's doubts. He answered the phone after waiting for good 30 seconds, which seemed like eternity to him. This is what they talked,
PM: Yes, madam. (trying to control his weight on his shaking feet)
Madam: What is this Manu? I told you keep him under control.
PM: Madam, I was out of country.
Madam: Then you better stop going out of country. Send only Krishna to all such trips. Isn't that the reason we appointed him the external affairs minister? You better keep check on these internal affairs.
PM: Don't worry madam. I will find a solution.
Madam: You better.

He hung up the phone. A peon entered the office, while he was wiping sweat off his face. "Tharoor sahab aaye hain, bade pareshan dikh rahe hain", the peon said. "Uski wajah se to main pareshan hun. Ghar me biwi bolti hai foreign vacation ka plan kyon cancel kiya aur wohan madam bolti hain internal affairs samhalo. Bhejo andar, aaj uski khair nahi", he replied.

Shashi entered the office holding a neatly folded paper in his left hand and his cellphone on the other. "Sir, I have prepared a statement explaining my situation in this entire episode", Shashi said looking at his cellphone following Lalit Modi's tweets. "I wonder, why you had to come with an statement, when you could have tweeted me the same", PM said fuming with anger. Shashi hurriedly kept his cellphone in his pocket sensing the anger in PM's voice.

PM walked to Shashi, held him from behind his neck and looked into his eyes. "What is this Shashi? Every time I go out of country, you do something that forces me to cut short my trip." he said in a soft voice, as if hushing it in his ear. "I cannot have a nice quiet foreign vacation with my family because of you. Madam is asking me to concentrate on internal affairs first and I have decided to start from my home. That is the reason I am planning a foreign vacation with your bhabhiji to compensate for all the foreign trips those were cut short because of your continuous careless tweeting habit." he continued. "I am sorry sir, but this Modi fella.." Shashi apologized. "We were struggling with one Modi already and you have given us another Modi to fight with. Were you out of your mind? I think, we will handle this Modi. PC has been working on it for over a year now and I am sure he will come up with something. He sure is 100 times smarter than you are." he said looking away from Shashi.

When PM looked back at Shashi, he looked calmer. "You must resign Shashi, I cannot afford to cut short my next trip and anger your bhabhiji and madamji. You must go Shashi," he said.

The Ride

"You always do this," Akash told Priyanka and looked away. She could not see the irate look in his eyes, but she knew the look as she had seen it before, many times. This is normally how all their fights end. Him turning away but making it a point to make her realise that it's her fault before he turns away. Akash gets a beer from the refridgerater and switches on the TV. It's wrestling on the TV. He knows she doesn't like wrestling, in fact she hates it. He keeps the TV tuned to wrestling. She knows he is doing it just to irritate her. It means tonight he is not going to look into her eyes and say how much he loves her and cares for her. It means that he is not going to offer her a hot tea or drop her home on his old yamaha RX 100. It makes the worst noise and never starts in a single kick, yet she likes to sit on the back seat when he is riding. She is not sure, whether she will like it if someone else is riding. Since there is no ride back home and he seems to be in no mood to talk to her any longer, at least not tonight. She stands from the bucket chair she was sitting on, picks her handbag and gets out of the apartment, closing the door carefully behind.

She is on the street at 2 am and it seems like the darkest and the lonliest night ever. She holds her bag tight in a hug and looks at the sky. It's a clean sky, why cannot she find any stars. There are no autorikshaws tonight. Is it like that always or she had always been thinking about him to notice the empty roads on her rides back home with him. She just hopes he comes after her and offers her a ride. It's already 30 minutes she has been waiting on the street but he is nowhere to be seen.

She sees a bike pass her, the boy riding the bike turns back and looks at her but he moves on. Her feet hurt because of standing there for so long, and she so much wanted the boy to stop by and offer her a ride. She is no longer thinking about Akash, she is thinking about the boy on the bike instead. It's strange for her, because she has has not thought about another guy except Akash in last 2 years. She no longer wants Akash to come, she wants to boy on the bike to come back for her instead. It's strange, because she doesn't know anything about the boy, but she wants him to come back for her.

She is no longer able to stand and decides to sit on the footpath. She is almost to tears when she sees the bike coming towards her. The bike stops in front of her. The boy is wearing a helmet and she can only see his bespectacled eyes. He takes off the helmet. She stands up from the footpath and is facing the boy. She is almost to tears, and not able to tell whether these are the tears of sadness because of the fight with Akash or of joy of seeing her knight in shining armour.

"You seem lost?" the boy asks. "I was, I think," answers Priyanka and suddenly there is a smile on her face as if she has realised something. "You want me to..." the boy speaks, "will you drop me to Andheri?" she interrupts. They start laughing. Priyanka sits in the back seat and feels more comfortable than she used to on that old RX 100. This was the last time Priyanka thought of Akash.

I wish it happened like this.

It was the bright ray of light from the window or may be the sound of my alarm that woke me up. The alarm told me that it was 7:30 in the morning. It started as any other day, although I was hoping this day to be different as I hope almost everyday. I so much hate the routine, but there was nothing extraordinary about this day to make me believe that there will be anything different about this day too.

It was 8:30 now and I was ready to go to work. I took the stairs rather than the elevator, just to start the day differently. It was a sunny day and at 8:30 in the morning the sun was shining as if it was noon. I put my glares on to protect my eyes from the brightness of the sun and started waiting for a rickshaw, which would take me to my office.

I could not find any empty rickshaws today to take me to my destination. It was unusual, and that's exactly the reason I felt little good about it. What I felt even better about was the fact that there was a beautiful girl standing beside me, waiting for a rickshaw to her workplace, which I realised was at walking distance from there. We stood there for good 10 minutes without speaking a single word. It is when my robotic brain gave me a logical idea and I spoke, "You better learn to walk. I am sure this happens everyday". She looked at me, smiled and said, "I think so". I think it encouraged me and I spoke further pointing towards two other girls walking towards the direction of her office, "See those two girls have already started walking". She didn't respond this time. Deja vu, same thing happens every time I try to have a conversation with a pretty girl.

Disappointed, I called my colleague, who I know passes from there in his car during that time and asked for a ride. He agreed. I was waiting now for my colleague to pick me up. At this point there was a rickshaw and surprisingly it agreed to take the girl to her workplace. The girl looked towards me and asked, "you want me to drop you somewhere?" At this very moment I saw my colleague's car approaching from a distance, it was getting late for work and I could not afford to be late. I did a quick thinking and for once my brain did not behave like a robot or may be I did not wait for the answer from my brain. I jumped inside the rickshaw with the girl.

Before I could realise, I was inside an auto rickshaw with a pretty girl, whom I knew nothing about. I don't know if I was nervous or excited or worried and at that moment I couldn't really tell the difference. I knew this ride was not going to last more than 5 minutes. I had to think right and think fast. I decided the better. Don't think, just say whatever comes to my mouth. Couldn't really rely on my brain in such situations.

To make the situation easier, the girl spoke first, "where do you want me to drop you?" "I think it would be easier for me to drop you on the way and take the rickshaw to Kanjurmarg." I replied. "You work for Lionbridge?" I asked. "Yes, how did you know?" she asked looking little surprised. "It was just a guess" I said with an innocent smile. "By the way, I am Gaurav." I continued. "I am Riya" she introduced herself. I for the first time wished to be caught in traffic. It's not usual to be caught in traffic at 9 am in Hiranandani but today everything decided to favour me it seems. A best bus broke down blocking the way. I suggested, "we better start walking now, we are almost halfway to your office already." I know there was a smile of joy on my face, however not sure if she noticed it.

We started walking and for the first time I saw her properly. She had brown shoulder length hair, her eyes were blue and she had a very bright smile. I kept on looking at her admiring her beauty while she was walking looking at the road. I couldn't speak a single word and kept on walking beside her. I remember, she looked at me twice and I am sure she had noticed my stare. I am so sure because I realised how it made her uncomfortable and how she looked away almost immediately.

There is a thing about time, it moves really fast when you so much want it to move slow and the same thing happened. Before I could gather the right words from my limited vocabulary, we were in front of her office. I noticed her looking for something in her handbag. I was still searching for words, to my surprise she pulled out her cellphone from her bag and saad, "give me your no, may be you can walk me to office more often. I really hate waiting for rickshaw." A smile ran over her face. :)