Tea Cup- Short story (hindi)

I came to the blog with the determination to write something and then I checked my last post. Guess what, it was on 20th of August, exactly a month ago. In that very post, I had mentioned about writing more frequently which I failed to do. A lot of reasons but let’s not get into that.

I am sharing something I recently wrote, it is in Hindi and is in raw form (not edited). So go ahead, read it and let me know what you think. (Source for photo)

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Aadha piya hua chai ka woh cup, mez par rakha tha, chai toh behraal thandi ho chuki thi lekin uska abhi tak koi pata nahi tha. Neeche se achanak kisine awaz lagai thi toh woh daudta hua chala gaya tha. Mujhe lagaa koi khaas azeez aaya hoga aur yahi sochte sochte mujhe kaafi waqt ho gaya lekin koi nahi aaya. Mann mai khayal sa aaya ki uth kar chala jaata hun lekin fhir yaad aaya ki ghar khali tha aur is tarah ghar khula chod jaana theek nahi hoga toh main wapis baith gaya.

Mann behlane ke liye kuch toh karna tha toh waha padhe akhbar ko lekar maine saalo baad khabre padhna shru kiya aur keval istehaar dekh kar woh bhi mez par patak diya. Akhbar se adhi chai ka cup gir gaya aur poori mez par chai fhail gayi. Maine socha lo, yahi baaki tha and yahi soch kar main safai main lag gaya. Itni hi der main ek mohtarma zeene se upar aagayi aur boli Chacha jaan ghar hai kya, maine bola nahi woh nahi hai aap batae kya kaam. Woh thodi der ruki aur fhir boli, aap hai kaun, pehle toh yaha nahi dekha. Chacha jaan ne yeh ghar bech toh nahi diya?
Jispar maine jaldi se kaha arre nahi chacha jaan gaye hue hai bahar main unke bete ka dost hun. Paan chabati hui woh mud kar wapis zeene se utar gayi. Utarte utarte boli ki unse kehdena ki Sakeena ayi thi. Maine zehen main dobara naam dohraha jisse ki main bhool na jaun.

Mujhe baithe hue kuch adha ghanta hua hoga aur ab mere intezaar ki intehaan aage badh chuki thi. Mujhe apne dost par behisaab gussa aa raha tha par main yeh bhi soch raha tha ki kuch galat na hua ho. Thodi der main andar ek kamre main rakhe telephone ki ghanti baji toh main uthane ke lye gaya. Phone uthaya toh……..

 

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Woh Shaam

I wrote this back in March this year. Enjoy reading it!

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Incidences in Fahistan

This dates back to 27th of February 1952 and it happened to be a leap year when Mrs. Singh gave birth to a baby boy who’d grow up to be the protagonist of this story.

The boy was named Rajendra Singh and had a pleasant childhood despite the fact that he was a thin boy who always looked 3-4 years younger than he was. An average student in school who was later pushed by his parents to study in one of the prestigious university of the country and that is when he left his home for the city called Fahistan.

This city of Fahistan was far more developed than any other in the whole country. There were better horse carts in the city and paved roads for them to go around smartly, even the houses were made of bricks and cement. The university attracted brilliant minds from all the places and Rajendra was lucky to get admission there. It was a little difficult for him to adapt to this new style of life where people spoke differently and also ate different kinds of meals but 4 years of his life passed easily.

Now it was time to return home and see what he would do next. From many options he could join his father’s shop and expand the business or he could go and work for someone else and possibly earn more. Little did he know that luck had something else in store for him and that is precisely when the trouble struck and due to a series of events he couldn’t go to his hometown.

One of his acquaintance had called him for an important matter during the last days and on arriving he realized that it would take him months to solve the problem his acquaintance had ventured into. He could have said no and turned his head but that’s not how he was raised. He sent a telegram to his parents in the village and told them that some important matter had come up due to which he won’t be able to come home early and he let them know that he was safe and sound which wasn’t completely true.

Two months had passed but the rounds to the police station and court didn’t decrease, they even contacted some influential people in the city of Fahistan but no one helped. Left to their own, Rajendra and Shamshad fought for themselves or say Rajendra and Shamshad fought for Shamshad.

After 4 months, it looked like they might win the case and go their ways happily but something had to happen again. One night both of them were returning from the small hotel, two men on motorcycle came to them asking for an address when the pillion rider took out a gun and shot Shamshad in the chest. They sped away while Rajendra stood there too shocked to react and when he looked down he realized that Shamshad had died and was in the pool of blood. As he leaned in to shake Shamshad, he saw his reflection in his eyes which still held some life.

Rajendra couldn’t stay in the city of Fahistan any longer and soon returned to his hometown. He joined his father’s business and tried hard to forget what happened to Shamshad. But he never could.

 

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That call

None of them believed me, for the thing I told them was of a very strange nature. Most of the people would have never heard such a thing and imagining it was beyond the capability of many. After I was done speaking, I realized my throat was dry and the strange silence had enveloped us all. Suddenly the telephone rang and broke the silence and the occupants of the room looked at each other with puzzled looks wondering who would be calling at this odd hour.

Mr. Anderson finally got up from his comfortable leather chair and picked up the phone, relieving us of the terrible sound. He said ‘Hello’, and then exclaimed how could this be possible? I soon realized that he wasn’t talking to the caller but to all of us in the room.

Things were beyond the level of my belief, the confusion was now overwhelming and the face of Mr. Anderson told another story which we all were guessing now. I could now see the tension and the fear building up amongst the occupants and realized that I wasn’t only one afraid in the room. This thought was both comforting and scary in a way.

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Duty Calls- Short story Part 1

This morning he was sitting in his jeep outside the government hospital. He had parked under a tree beside the gate, a few steps away from the bus stop where in every 5 minutes a bus came and a hoard deboarded the bus. A few went into the hospital while others rushed towards the metro station, he saw all those people but did not focus on anyone particular. He was just seeing a group of people moving from one place to another, in the distance, an auto waited for the customers in front of the gate. He thought how he is to stand right there, wondering what would happen if an ambulance was to come, or someone who had a heart attack was rushed in through the gate. He sure was unaware that he could be the reason of someone’s death and the worst part was he might not realize that and would do the same thing again.

He knew that he was losing his focus and was instead looking at people, complete strangers, auto-wallahs who came and stopped and looked for customers followed by a bus. He looked in the rearview mirror of his jeep and saw his sweaty and a tired face, then he looked at his uniform which he didn’t get time to change for three days because this investigation was sure a different and a difficult one. He looked around, checked his dying phone and decided to step out of the car and stretch and have a cup of tea. He thought he deserved a cup now, at least.

He locked the jeep and walked and told the auto-wallah to move and not obstruct the gate. He ordered tea and a cigarette, asked for a Gold Flake and lit it, a few puffs and he realized that this was stupid of him, to smoke near the hospital. Before throwing it, he took one long puff and held the smoke in while his lungs burned. He threw and squashed the cigarette under his brown shiny shoes, he wondered how come his shoes were still so clean. He had taken a few sips when he got a call on his phone, he took the call and got to know that the suspect has left the hospital and entered the metro station. He was also asked if he saw him, he took a gulp and said ‘I think I did’, he had to lie.

He threw a fifty rupee note at the chai-wallah and ran towards the metro station. At entering the stations, he saw a long queue and started wondering that the suspect could be anywhere, he could have already boarded a train. He felt useless and irritated but tried to take control of the situation by taking deep breaths. He had heard somewhere that it helped in situations like these.

He came back to the jeep and took three long breaths before finally calling his senior on the phone and telling him that he lost him in the crowd. He turned the key and the engine came to life but he stepped out of the car and went to chai-wallah and asked him for the change before finally leaving to the police station.


Note: I might write a second part of this with a different perspective very soon. Let me know your views about this. Thanks!

A book you want to finish

Page 410- “The kind of a book that you want to finish but you also want to read slowly”


I finished reading The Book Thief yesterday. Now imagine, completing a book like this when you are in public and that too in an almost overcrowded metro. A wrong decision there but I had to complete those last 50 pages because if I didn’t do that then I would have got time to read only late at night.

Something about the book- Just a short story about a girl called Liesel Meminger and believe me you’d want to read it. And this one won’t take much time! Why? Because you will find yourself turning pages, or scrolling if you read on electronic devices. An amazing journey with many different characters that I will remember for a long time. Would really recommend it.

Here is one photograph I took when I was reading it late at night- view it in HD here.

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Tell me

Tell me
What happens when
You stick a knife
Into a man’s stomach
And he spurts blood
From his mouth
And then as life leaves him
He grabs your collar
And looks you in the eyes
With a pleading look
And questions you
Without a sound.

Do you for once
feel sad?
Were you at unease
When his soul
Questioned you
And you just stared
Into those dark pits
Which by the way
Had no tears
But only questions
And then you waited
For the light to go away
So that you could
Make a final call
And spurt the words
Job done
Would you ever think about
Those eyes
When they were
In their final moments?

-Jafar Rehman


So, I have started to write whatever I get, be it dark poetry or anything else. Tell me if you liked it.

Two People

Tell me
What happens
When the sun goes down
And moon shines
Bright in the sky
And a wolf howls
In the distance somewhere
And a gust of wind
Plays with your hair
And you feel a shiver

And you hear someone talking
In the distance
Could it be him?
Finally returning
After gathering some wood
So that you can fight this cold
And spend the night
Under the stars
And open the map
And plan for the next day
For a new adventure?

As the smoke rose up

I think I could have done a better job if I had my camera with me but anyway I like this photograph I took. Looks like a scene from some movie, where a bad guy is standing at a train signal and waits for the train to pass. As he waits, he is smoking a cigarette or a cigar as I like to imagine. Tell me if this photograph triggers a story in your head as well. Now I could write a story on it and it would go like this-

He had committed a heinous crime and after that he rose up from the ground and kicked the body and grabbed the curtain to clean his hand. After cleaning his hands and removing the blood, he took his phone out and called someone and said, “I am coming out.”

He came out and found his friend waiting with a motorbike and they both nodded their head. He then took the motorbike from his partner and drove it away from the town and arrived at a railway crossing. As he waited for the train to pass, he took out a cigarette and lit it, hoping that it would take some of his headache away.

daeadw

I hope you liked what I wrote. It would be great if you could avoid looking at the mistakes if I made some. Let me know your views. 🙂

Point Blank

He pointed a gun at me
And looked me in the eye
His hands trembling
But a strange determination 
On his face

I could see the hate
And pain in his eyes
I very well knew
What had triggered 
This and who was 
To be blamed

As I stood there
In front of the barrel
Very near to my end
I thought of the ways
To lie once more
And make a promise
That I won’t keep

And then 
Before I knew
He pulled the trigger
And I was dead!

      ___________________

-Jafar Rehman

Death is a fasinating subject and I like how it affects people, it invokes fear, pain, regrets. I will die one day and so will you, but the question I ask is are we going to die after we have lived the life we wanted or the life we never wanted in the first place.

Okay, this is where I stop asking you the stupid questions. Hope you liked what I wrote! Let me know anyway.