Metro Ride #521

I got into the metro and the guy ahead of me looks at his reflection and dances. Maybe that’s what late nights do to you, they allow you to be more expressive. Anyway, I get myself a seat and the gate of the metro stays open so that more people can board it, it reminds of those even-odd days in Delhi when bus number 507 that I usually took would stop until they got a good number of passengers on board.

I sit on the seat with an empty mind and stare at my phone. After a few stations, a gentleman comes and sits on the empty seat on my right. He has his headphones on and is listening to Ae Kaash Ke Hum. I used to love that song once but then I listened to it so much that I started disliking it, does it ever happen to you?

So, the metro continues to find its way on those zig-zag tracks until it enters the dark underground tunnel only to move like a snake through its burrow. After two stations, I’ll have to get down and find my way home.

Doors will open, people will board and deboard the metro until this moving box gets to its destination.

Continue reading

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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……..

 

Garmi ka ek din

Hello again. I recently invested in a diary and now my aim is to put it to a good use. Today, I wrote a short story and a sher. Now you will have to wait for the sher because this post will have the story. Read it and let me know your views. ­čÖé

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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!

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.

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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. ­čÖé

That house

Date – 27Dec 2015 11:13pm

Entry 1

The weather is cold and it is a moonless night. The wind is fierce tonight and I hear a wolf howl somewhere in the distance.

I am writing from the haunted house where I have been stuck for weeks now. There are no doors and I see no way out but I find food on the dining table everyday and all the other necessary things one might need.
To be honest with you I find this place nice but I would need someone with me here because it gets alone and the days seem like years.
I hear people going about in the hall when I try to sleep in my room but I never see anyone in the house.

Date – 30┬áDec 2015 11:45pm

Entry 2

Little did I know that it was me all this time. I was dead and that was a normal house,┬áthere were people alive there but they couldn’t see me like I couldn’t see them.

You must wonder how did I arrive at this conclusion and I must tell you about it ……

The man

There was a man
Standing outside a shop
Under the streetlight
He had a cigarette in his hand
Which he puffed every other second

The smoke mixed well
With the fog
And the cold night
Gave it a more mysterious feeling

He didn’t hurry with his cigarette
It seems he enjoyed it
After a while
The door of the shop opened
A man came out
And called him inside

Everything fell silent
Then two shots were heard
Followed by silence again
The door opened
But no one came out.
– Jafar Rehman