Tag Archives: story

Critically Yours !


Team This post has been published by me as a team member of Tiger Trails Team for the SUPER 3 round of Bloggers Premier League (BPL) – The first ever unique, elite team blogging event in the history of blogging world. To catch the BPL action and also be part of future editions and other contests, visit and register at Cafe GingerChai

 

Yes Dear I’ll start in next half hour or so. I’m in a small interview. No they are interviewing me. Honest. I swear Dear. Err… Listen I’ll call you back. Half hour max. Text me the address. I will… Listen… OK gotta go honey… Bye… Bye bye…
 

Err… Eh he he, sorry dude. That was the Missus. Have some family function to attend tonight. Some distant relative of her is opening some store somewhere. You know how crazy these things are, don’t you? Alright, let’s get down to business. I’m still not sure if you are serious Sudhi. Hey before that, Coffee? These guys serve the best coffee in town. Take my word for it. 😉 Excuse me, two coffees please? Thank you.

Alright, so let me get this straight. You want my story for a Blogging Competition? You’re kidding me right? Did Sasi put you on to this? And did he tell you everything about me? Everything? Even the beach house… Oh boy, that guy is so dead the next time I see him. Anyways let’s get started then…

It all started when Yours Truly came into this world naked and crying. Mom used to say how much of a commotion I would create. I’d keep wailing every time someone would come near me. But strangely, I would fall quiet, and even hint a smile, when placed with other girl babies or when that good looking nurse would lift me to change my diapers. I had an eye for spotting the good stuff, my dad used to say, and more importantly the talent to find faults, which is why perhaps; I would cry the loudest when that plump, old, matron was on diaper duty. 😉 Karthik… Karthik Rajan was what they named me. Fault finding was in my blood. 🙂

It was in my childhood is when I realized that I had this sinister knack of calling a spade, a spade. Fortunately that’s an age when the children don’t really mind if you are frank and honest. Unfortunately, their grown up parents do. Once I told Raju’s father that he looked like a big water tank on a lorry, when he drove his scooter. Another day I told Subha Aunty that she did not look like Deepa’s Mom at all. She was pleasantly surprised, expecting perhaps that I’d say she looked like her elder sister. I said she looked like her Granny. Hell broke lose, angry stares were exchanged, my little ears were promptly pulled, and other kids were told to stay away from me and my ‘bad influence’. Countless sermons on how I should talk to adults were administered to me by the entire neighborhood. Oh yeah, I was the little devil with a big mouth.

College wasn’t too different either. In college I would flatly tell the lecturers when they really made no sense and hence was quite popular with the rest of the class. This popularity did not extend to the HOD though, in whose office I spent a good deal of my time, helping him give his hoarse and guttural vocal chords some exercise. I was also quite famous for my Hot List 10. That was a weekly top 10 list of good looking girls of the college. I was the only guy who could do the fairest assessment of the maidens of my college. I was also perhaps the only guy to have been slapped by the most women of the college. On one such assessment, I rated an absolutely gorgeous looking girl as number one right on the day she entered college. Everyone seemed to agree, but there were only two miniscule problems. Turns out, she was the newly recruited lecturer for Advanced Mathematics for the first year students, and she also happened to be a relative of the Principal’s. I never saw her after that day; or anyone else from that college for that matter. I was politely asked to leave, but there was nothing polite about the manner in which Dad reacted to that. Years passed, Colleges changed, but I didn’t.

I was a good student in college. Maybe that’s why I never used any of the skills learnt there in my many jobs. I started my career as a Software Tester in a small IT company. My job was to find where they had screwed up during coding, which they politely called defects. And they didn’t call me Mr. Defect Google for nothing. I had some fun initially, but soon it became way too boring. One day when I openly panned a module calling it the worst piece of programming ever. Turned out, the Manager had coded it. He said nothing, but his stare seemed to say everything. IT wasn’t cut out for me, but I really had no other skill or no other source of income to afford losing this job. Hence, I toned myself down and hung in.

I had always wanted to be a reviewer. In fact, every one of us tries to be one at some point of time. When elections happen, when India loses a big cricket match, when budgets are announced, or even when a new family with a good looking girl moves into the neighborhood, the hardcore reviewer in each of us surfaces. But I wanted to make a career out of it. “When you are good at something, never do it for free” a wise man once said. But a reviewer of what, I did not know. I had always loved books, so I started blogging my reviews of them. It wasn’t a huge hit, and there was no moneyin it. But it was liberating. Tearing a book apart in a review, gave me a high like nothing else. A friend of mine recommended me to a local book store and they hired me to do reviews of some books and put that up in their website, hoping to perk their business up. I relished the opportunity. I decided to concentrate on new Authors, because they were a safe bet. The first few books I read were really good. Swaroop, Aarthi S, Pradeep Prasanna and some other guys were truly good. But the rest of them were stale and very clichéd. And I minced no words when writing about them. I was beginning to get noticed. Well perhaps a tad too well noticed, as I found just a few weeks later. Apparently, my reviews were so effective that people stopped buying the books I had reviewed badly. And it was a good number that fell into that category. The book store began to notice that and the owners began pulling their hair out. They told me that I had excellent skills as a reviewer. So much so that I could even make the Bible go out of sales if I ever reviewed it. It sure did prove my power as a critic, but sadly it also cost me that job. I later realized that reviewing books was not for me.

I can review absolutely anything on the planet. From cigarettes to ‘after smoke’ mints, the best watering holes in the city, the most happening place in town to do a bit of, err bird watching, the best joints to hangout with friends without spending any money, to even the people who will lend you money when finances are a bit dry. I’m not too much of a sports guy though, but thankfully, this country of ours isn’t short of critics in that department. I once tried reviewing a politician when he was giving a speech near the bus stand, but I decided to not do that anymore after his crazy follower threatened me at knife point that day.

But one thing I’ve enjoyed doing more over the other things I do, is reviewing and tearing movies apart. After having spent a decent amount of money and a few hours of my time, if a movie doesn’t live up to my expectations, I find nirvana, in tearing it up like there is no tomorrow. Having seen the critic in me from boyhood, Sasi gave me a chance to put my reviews up in his website that was quite popular among his friends. I became instantly popular. Some movie websites would call for reviews from the public, and I would invariably have the reviews of all the movies releasing on Friday, penned and sent on the same day. Slowly, one of the leading movie review portals of the country, FlickBox, offered me a full time role as their in-house movie critic. I gave up my software job, and began to watch movies for a living. 😉 I was loving it.

My reviews were usually cut-throat and spared no one. I was blessed to have employers who believed in being equally forthright. One day there was this over hyped period flick which was releasing to huge expectations. It was made by this new, rich producer, who spared absolutely no expense in promotions for the movie. I hated it to the core. I hated it so much, that I could not even sit till the interval during the preview show. I started typing out the review on my mobile and by the time I reached home, I had my review ready to be sent out to be published. We were the first web site carrying the review of the film. “A Guide On How Not to Make a Film – A Review by Karthik Rajan – A FlickBox Exclusive”. It was a hit. And that was unfortunately, a problem.

A couple of extra strongly worded lines, in my equally strongly worded review of the movie read – “I imagine the Producer of the movie must be one of those rich, plump, dumb, dhoti-clad, business man from a remote village, who has so much money lying at his palatial bungalow, that he does not know what to do with it. After having decked himself in gold, and buying himself some well built, 8 pack endowed, henchmen to move around him, this movie must be his way of challenging the other wealthy, show-offs out there, that he has some mighty big, gold plated balls to make the biggest flop that this country has ever seen.” Turns out I was absolutely right in every respect. (Except perhaps the gold plated balls, which was only a figure of speech, you see) But I had missed one small yet crucial point. The Producer Govardhan Sachidanandham, was also an MLA from the nearby district.

And thus, in true filmy style, I was kidnapped from the parking lot of my office, my face covered with a black cloth, and delivered to the beach house of the MLA. The table with a single bulb hanging from top, the gag on my mouth, the goons brandishing knives, sickles and other sharp objects the size of my leg, looked straight out of a movie torture scene. The lighting could have been scarier, but then, I was not exactly in a position to point that out. Even the MLA standing before me, looked every bit a menacing villain, I’d seen in Bollywood movies. I nearly felt that it was ‘The End’ of my story, when my past came back to save my life. Aarthi, the girl from my college, whom I had never rated above 5 in my Hot List 10 in college, and whom I had once given a big lecture about creative writing and why her writings sucked, happened to be his only daughter. She noticed me being brought in and spoke to her father about me, who I was, and how much I was responsible for her success as a writer. Oh yes, Aarthi S was now an emerging author and was even reviewed favorably by me when I was doing book reviews. She was the angel of the Sachidanandham family. In the huge family of business magnates, she was the only spark of creativity, and the entire family loved her for that. Soon the hanging bulb was replaced by chandeliers, the henchmen replaced with family members, and the gag in my mouth was replaced by laddoos. This was one crazy family. Aarthi’s dad’s ‘loving’ thump on my back had me confused if I was still being tortured. But I was alive, and I had only Aarthi to thank for it. I smiled at her with gratitude in my eyes, and she acknowledged it with a simple smile back. This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Now Aarthi and I, we weren’t exactly made for each other. Aarthi Sachidanandham was a girl who was fed on fairy tales and stories of brave, young princes fighting for love and slaying dragons. Sadly, all I’d ever ‘slayed’ were a few mosquitoes with that ‘Made in China’ mosquito zapper bat. And I wasn’t even good at that. She was the most diplomatic, and the most politically correct person, I had ever seen in my life, while I could not even spell diplomacy. However, she would tell me that she was in love with my no-nonsense attitude, and the frankness in my mind. She admired my honesty and outspokenness, and my lack of thinking about consequences. Oh, the things that love does to a person. This was what I’d call being blindly in love. But trust me, Aarthi is a wonderful girl.

I had once remarked to her, on the day that she had saved my life, that I would be indebted to her forever. I told herthat I wouldn’t mind to be her slave for eternity if she wished. I guess she took it rather seriously and proposed marriage one day. Now I sure did love Aarthi, but was in no hurry to get married. But, having seen her father from quite close quarters earlier and the love he had for his daughter, I had now understood when to open my mouth and when to simply nod. And soon enough, the same Govardhan Sachidanandham, who played a cameo as a villain in my story, had now turned character artiste and thus an even bigger baddie in my Technicolor life. He had become my Father-in-Law.

After my marriage I continued to do movie reviews, but had toned down my language significantly. “The director must have been an idiot to have done that” became “With all due respect to the director, he could have handled it differently.” The Sachidanandhams continued to make awful movies, and I continued to avoid them. I felt sorry for the many young men being paraded into the beach-house, their faces covered with black cloth. And besides, everyone was trying their hand at movie reviews, so I thought I’d try something else.

And that’s how Foodline happened. I have been a hardcore foodie right from my college days. So when I decided to leave movie reviewing, Aarthi suggested I pick up food review. It sounded like a fantastic idea. I jumped right in and tried to review a few joints I had been to. It came out brilliant. Aarthi pulled up some of her contacts in a leading magazine, and they gave me an okay to feature my column in there every fortnight. They’ve made me quite a star. I get called by all the big restaurants in the city on opening night, and they usually have a table reserved just for me. I got my ruthlessness back and if some joint doesn’t live up to its promise in quality of food or its decor, one 500 word write up in my column, and they’d be thinking of moving shop. Like that awful Italian restaurant that closed business recently. But if some place manages to impress me, like this place did, I put in a few good words about them in my column, and their business simply takes off. You must read the latest column I’ve written, that comes out tomorrow. Its on this new posh joint called Rendezvous on Khader Nawaz Road. Awful, I tell you. Bland, Pricey and Awful. If you want to see how ruthless I can get, you should read that. I’m now considered the leading food critic of the city no doubt. But behind this success, there is a lot of struggle and a lot of hard work.

What would I tell your readers? Never give up your dream, even if it changes every month. 😉 Be the best in what you do. Speak your mind, but remember this. The key to success is to know when to open your mouth and when to shut up.

That’s all I’ve got to say. Alright boss, gotta run. Say Hi to Sasi for me. Got to attend this function with the Missus. Let me see where that is, she must’ve sent me a text. Khader Nawaz Road.. Rendez…

Give me a minute, I’ve got to make this call.

Hello? Hey Jose, Karthik here. Dude what was the name of the guy who owns Rendezvous that we are tearing up in tomorrow’s edition? Bharathan S? What does that S expand to???

Oh bloody no…

–x–

24 Comments

Filed under Review, Stories, Uncategorized

Dog Days Of Love


This was originally supposed to be my entry to the Non Human Love Story for my team in BPL’s Super 6 Round. But I found it a bit too ‘conventional’ and to be frank, quite long, for my own liking, and decided to go ahead with ‘She, Me and a Love Story‘ instead. On hindsight, that turned out to be a good decision, but I couldn’t resist posting this anyway… 🙂

As the harsh Summer Sun dimmed down over the horizon, life that was sheltered inside concrete buildings and air-conditioned rooms, gradually started coming out. Cries of children playing in the park waded through the air. Men with their cups of coffee stood on the balcony and watched the world. Bikes and cars zoomed on the street, perhaps ferrying eager occupants of them, to places of amusement on that warm Sunday evening. 1st Cross, Vivekanand Nagar – That’s what most called this place. But some… called it home.

One among them was a sprightly, young canine who lay on his side across a thick patch of grass before a rickety old gate, visibly tired and deep in thought. His fur wasn’t as shiny as some high pedigreed breeds brought up in luxury, but his athletic build and pointed ears introduced him as a very intimidating creature that could be fierce when defending his territory. And yet, those quiet eyes, brought in an air of charm around him. His brown colored body, lay there breathing heavy, with his tongue hanging out and eyes half closed. He was perhaps, in pain. His old, leather, collar read RAJU across it, amidst chipped edges and bite marks.

A stranger passing through the picturesque Vivekanand Nagar, chanced upon Raju’s street, and found the line of shady trees and a gentle breeze blowing through, immensely inviting. He decided to stop here for a break and walked towards an emotionally occupied Raju.

“Hello Partner!” the stranger barked at him, as he raised his neck up to see a dark, ragged, old, street dog, with a patch of white just above his head. He wore no collar, and his coat was dirty. However his eyes glowed with wisdom that could have only come from experience of having seen life, and whose legs bore scars from his journeys across the lands. “Hope you don’t mind me resting here for a while. I have a long journey ahead.”

Raju just nodded…

As the stranger settled himself down in the shade near Raju, he introduced himself. “I am Guru, dear friend. Guru da, is what people I love call me. I am a traveler. I love moving on and meeting people. The world, with the risk of sounding clichéd, is truly my home.”

Raju acknowledged with a customary bark. “Welcome Guru da. I am Raju. I stay with my master in this shack behind us. This area between that lamppost and this bin on the other side, well that’s my territory.”

“I see a collar around your neck, but I can spot a lean, mean, street dog when I see one. Been here all your life?”

“My mom, they say, was the meanest street dog to walk these streets. She died shortly after my birth, and Ram Singh, my master, who is a Goorkha here, has taken care of me like his own son. He gave me a name, this collar, and shelter in this old shack behind us. This is my world.”

“But… If I may say so… I see there is something eating you. I can see it on your face. I am an old timer my son, I’ve seen the world. I may be able to help you. Come on, tell me. What is the reason for this gloom in your heart?”

Raju raised his head to look at Guru. Nobody said anything for a while. Then Raju buried his face between his paws and let out a soft bark.

“Sheela”

“Ah… young love… Tell me all about it.” Guru settled in close. This was going to be yet another love story.

— —

“I was your regular neighborhood dog, Guru da. People were scared of me. Strangers could never walk past me. The milkman, postman and the newspaper guy, all of them almost quit their job when asked to deliver to this street. I’ve chased cars and bikes, scared people away, got pelted stones at by innocent kids, got into brawls with the rival gangs of the nearby street, extorted meat and bones from the butcher down the road… and yet managed to be called a good dog by the people in this street. 🙂 I was blessed in that way, having Ram Singh as my master. I belonged to the street. I could do anything I want. I wasn’t like those wimpy rich dogs who barked their loudest behind the tall gates of their masters and never even let out a purr when they saw us in the streets. I always liked to leave my mark, if you know what I mean. 😉 This was my street and I enjoyed that power.

But then all this changed after she came to our street, Sheela. That cute, feisty, beautiful animal – Sheela.”

“Love at first sight eh? Typical at your age, boy.” Guru chimed.

“Woof!” Raju’s mood changed from introspection to excitement. His eyes gleamed with joy.

“They told me that the mean streak in me was from my mother. But I’ve been told many times by Mani, that my mom had a heart of gold. But I realized that a heart beats within me only after I saw Sheela. I still remember the day when she and her masters moved into that posh bungalow 3 houses down some time back.”

“Who’s Mani?” enquired Guru about the new character in the story.

“Oh he’s a very old, wise, family friend. A ghost is what I think people call him; He’s been haunting these streets for decades now. He knows these streets and the people in here like the back of his palm. He’s perhaps the only one who’s been in every house and knows everyone in and out. Perhaps as learned as you Guru da. Perhaps even more…” replied Raju.

“Oh no. These ghosts are far wiser than us canines. They’ve seen world differently. Pity we are the only ones who can see them in that light. The rest of these humans fear them.” said Guru. “Go on.”

“She arrived here, and my whole world changed. Word had spread to all the neighboring streets about her beauty. The other dogs from nearby had an eye on Sheela as well, which had to happen. But I wasn’t going to let go without a fight. Love is truly, survival of the fittest. And she was in my area boss. You see, I have a reputation here of being quite a ‘bad-ass’. There were a few rough fights. Bittu, that mean hound, from the 3rd cross, was one mean competitor. You see these scars on my neck and limbs. Some of them were from that fight. But then, yours truly came out tops. And hence I became the only eligible bachelor dog of this area, who was the only one fit for Sheela… Well that was until that ‘Tiger’ arrived at the house opposite to hers.

Sheela mostly kept to herself, spending time inside that posh bungalow. I spent hours before her gate to catch a glimpse of her, but with little success. Her master was an aging, balding gentleman, who took her outside only during mornings and evening for a walk. And what a walk that was. Believe me Guru da, you should’ve seen her. Damn she was beautiful.”

“I can see that in your eyes, son.” Guru chuckled.

“Yeah, and it was in one of those walks that she saw me and said ‘Hi’. I swear on the Dog Star Guru da, that was the sweetest sound, I’d ever heard a canine make. I was head, over heels in love with her. And I think she knew it too. But a big ‘Tiger’ was in the way.”

“Tiger sounds bad…” Guru said.

“Yeah, he felt bad as well. He was a huge Doberman, the size of a cow. His bark could wake up the ninth street. Good thing he was on a leash, inside a big, black gate which seemed to be built with a purpose of keeping him inside, rather than keeping others out. I would’ve been history, if he was on the streets. He was terrifying. And coming from me, that’s quite a complement. a clear threat to me. Once he confronted me and told me to stay off Sheela’s trail. His Master and Sheela’s bald guy were thick friends as well. Hence his arrival was like a villain in my love story.”

“So he got Sheela in the end?”

“Nah, not really.” Raju smiled. “I decided to use brains than brawn to deal with Tiger. I went to Mani for help on how I could woo Sheela. He was a master in these situations as he himself had spent considerable time wooing the pretty and scary Mohini who haunted 8th Street. He told me that I had to gift her something she loved if I had to create a first impression. He promised to take care of Tiger. I stole a new tennis ball that the kids used to play in the ground, and gifted it to Sheela one day. She was delighted. I was well and truly away. Sometimes she would sneak in some dog food that she was served in her household. It was delicious, but nothing could match the large bone from Ahmed Bhai’s shop. I brought it to her one day, and she loved it. We were in love.”

“But what happened to Tiger?” asked a curious Guru.

“Aww that was a masterstroke. Mani bhai paid a very visible visit to Tiger’s master’s bedroom that night. I heard he left the locality with his dog the same night. :D” replied Raju.

“Woof.” Guru shrieked in appreciation. “But I’m curious, did you ever tell her how much you loved her?” Guru enquired drawing himself closer to Raju.

— —

“I did. One day, I mustered all the strength that I had and decided to confront Sheela with what was in my heart. I waited for her during her evening walk. She came out with her balding master around sunset and took the usual route. I jogged up to her with my tongue hanging out in expectation. Her master spotted me and shooed me away. I didn’t give up and kept chasing her. She seemed a bit uncomfortable. I barked out to her. That bald guy tried kicking me out, I got irritated, was about to charge at him, when…”

“When… What?”

“Sheela barked at me. Asked me to get out of there.” said a crestfallen Raju.

Guru shook his head. “That’s it. I know what would have happened next. Young one… Take my word. That’s how the opposite gender are.” Guru said in a condescending tone, getting up shaking himself. “They might show interest in you and throw you off balance, and turn your life upside down. And then when you’ve changed into someone who can’t live without them, they’ll wag their tails at you and leave you forever. You should’ve moved on dawwg. There are a lot of good looking pooches out there to pick up and hang around with. There are always choices.”

“Well that sounds like a great idea… But wouldn’t Sheela have bit my neck off if I did that?” Raju enquired?

Guru stayed silent for a while trying to understand what Raju was trying to say. He opened his mouth to say something, but all he could manage was a cat-like purr.

“Wha… How…?”

“Well I never gave up you see. I was way too tough for that. You need to be tough for love.” Raju growled, with a touch of pride in his voice.

“So Sheela…?” asked Guru.

“…was always in love with me. She was just playing hard to get. I bet you know these girls much better than me. Don’t you? I never missed Sheela’s morning walks after that. I realized Sheela’s bald master was sleepier during mornings than the evening walks, allowing me more time with Sheela before being shoo-ed away. During my conversations with her, I found out that she had barked me away earlier, because she was scared what her master I might think, and that I might hurt him. She always had loved me. Now imagine what would’ve happened if I had moved on leaving her behind and move on as you had said.” Raju clarified, Guru silently nodded.

“I kept following her. One day, when I helped nab a thief trying to break into Sheela’s household, I became her hero. The bald master grew very fond of me after that. And slowly I became a part of the family. Sheela and me are together now. And that’s how our love story goes…”

“But why the long face then? You are happy aren’t you?” enquired a puzzled Guru.

“Of course I am. But then no-one said lovers always keep smiling, did they? There are challenges in our everyday life. Having each other for company, just gives us more strength to face them. We’ve had our fights and our disagreements. I’ve screamed at her, she has screamed at me. But that doesn’t mean we are any less in love with each other.”

Guru nodded in agreement.

“And about now, well Sheela’s in labor. I’m worried about her…”

Guru was taken aback.

“Holly Scooby Dooby doo… And I had almost thought you were a love failure, you dog.” exclaimed Guru with a wink.

“You see Guru da… Any fool can fall in love. But it needs dogged determination to stay there.”

Guru waited till he got news of Sheela’s delivery. He wished and blessed the new pop of three wonderful pups. He wanted to meet Sheela, but he had to continue his journey. He bid goodbye to a madly excited Raju and as he crossed the street, carefully negotiating the tricky, traffic filled, intersection, he kept thinking about what he had heard from Raju. “Any fool can fall in love… But it needs dogged determination to stay there.” He could only smile in agreement. “Love stories never have endings” he told himself. He kept on smiling. He kept on walking. 😀

—x—

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Filed under Romance, Stories

She, Me, And A Love Story


Team This post has been published by me as a team member of Tiger Trails Team for the SUPER 6 round of Bloggers Premier League (BPL) – The first ever unique, elite team blogging event in the history of blogging world. To catch the BPL action and also be part of future editions and other contests, visit and register at Cafe GingerChai

They say, Love is hopelessly blind,
A feeling that can make you laugh and cry.
I thought, these words, belonged to love songs, alone,
Until, that day, I saw her pass me by.

I considered myself a bad, ‘Accidental Poet‘,
So bad, that I made ‘site’ rhyme with ‘with’.
But this time I confess, this was no accident,
It was she who made me a full-fledged lyricist.

It was purely, Love at First Sight,
When I saw her, and fell in love, sometime back.
But not surprisingly, I wasn’t her only admirer,
I was the proverbial – ‘Needle in a Haystack‘.

I’ve seen her, going out with other men,
And my poor heart, skipped a beat, each time.
A dark cloud of gloom, crept over my tiny heart.
But deep inside I always knew, she was going to be mine.

There were a few strange ones, who hated her,
A few mortals, who I thought, needed vision correction.
I’ve spent my energy in explaining to that crowd,
That the cutie, that she is, she has no competition.

After a while, I had almost given up,
I was sure on this story, remaining a fiction.
I thought, my love epic had come to a premature end.
But then, science can’t explain the laws of attraction.

And then, that day, she saw me with her big round eyes,
I was head over heels, hopelessly in love again.
Through that thick sheet of glass I could see her smile,
I knew it was time to break open the Champagne.

I asked her for her hand in marriage,
I promised I would take good care of her.
She said nothing, but smiled in affirmation,
And I knew, we’ll be spending our lives together.

I spent a long time convincing my parents,
They thought, she was just too good for me.
She was a spoilt, rich and glamourous girl,
While a plain and simple professional, I was trying to be.

But love, they say, knows no odds,
Opposites attract with brute magnetism.
It is when each partner completes the other,
And Life becomes colourful as light through prism.

Our coming togeter, now had everyone’s approval,
There was still a tiny problem, however.
I still had to take care of the marriage expenses,
And as luck would have it then, I was a pauper.

I didn’t think twice and loaned money from the Bank.
For a rate of interest, that made the Banker smile.
I was doing this for the love of my life,
And I knew, I would be repaying this for a while.

And then one day, it all fell into place,
And the both of us were solemnized in a quiet ceremony.
It happened in her house in a quiet little corner,
She and Me were thus bound in Holy Matrimony.

She was all dressed up, looking beautiful as ever,
While I looked as shabby as I ever could be.
But even then people saw us and remarked,
We looked every bit the couple that we were meant to be.

And finally I took her home, amidst rousing reception,
As friends and family rejoiced, a few had concerns with her colour.
But, deep inside, my love for her had only started growing,
My Little Red Car and Me were just made for each other.


—x—

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Filed under Humor, Poetry, Romance, Stories

55 Fiction: Playboy


Team This post has been published by me as a team member of Tiger Trails Team for the SUPER 6 round of Bloggers Premier League (BPL) – The first ever unique, elite team blogging event in the history of blogging world. To catch the BPL action and also be part of future editions and other contests, visit and register at Cafe GingerChai

Mala was beautiful, Tracy was hot, Kayal was homely, and Divya was just about perfect… No, I’m not a Playboy. I love all these women equally. I’ve never missed meeting them whenever they’re in town… Everytime I watch my wife Viji play these characters on stage I fall in love with her one more time…

—x—

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Filed under 55 Fiction, Romance, Stories

Valentine’s Day Special: Short Story: One Love Too Many


Ok, this one’s a fairly old story of mine. But this is pretty close to my heart. And its V-Day tomorrow. Couldn’t think of anything better to start off the blog with. Those who haven’t read this earlier, hope you enjoy it. Those of you who already have read it, well, hope you enjoy reading it again. Its the season for romance, baby. 😉

One Love, Too Many

One Love Too Many

Hey there. How are you doing? My name is Vignesh. Vignesh Narayanan. Friends call me Vicky. Male, 28-ish, and married for almost a year now. I manage a small mobile showroom just off the Vadapalani main road. Well, one of the many that dad owns. I drive an old Esteem and have a truck-load of spare time on my hands. Yeah, I’m exactly the spoilt rich kid types, that you’ve seen on TV. But then, trust me, it ain’t that bad. I understand that you might be interested in listening to a Romantic Story. Well, I hope you can keep a secret, because I am going to tell you one. I love Janaki, my beautiful wife, and my best-est friend, ever. No, that’s not the secret I wanted to tell you. Janaki isn’t the only woman I was/am/would be in love with. This is my, strange, dysfunctional, alleged ‘Love’ story. 😀

I am not exactly sure, if my story qualifies to be a ‘Love’ Story in its true sense. But, I’ll be honest with you. I actually did, (and perhaps still do) love all the women I am going to tell you about. It has never gotten serious, and I think even Janu knows about this. She has never raised an objection, and there has never been a quarrel. She is so sweet that sometimes she just laughs these off. Perhaps it is trust. Perhaps this is what they call true love. What could I do, if Cupid actually uses me for target practice. I just can’t help falling in love.

My mom keeps telling me, that when I was born, some good looking nurse in that small hospital in Kumbakonam, planted a kiss on my cheeks, looked at me and told me that I was one handsome guy, who was sure to have a whole lot of girl friends when I grew up. I must have taken her words very seriously. Oh yeah, I was born a Casanova. I apparently had more girl friends in my LKG than guys, and I, I’m told was absolutely possessive about each and every one of them.

Off late, all this started that day, when I first saw Elizabeth, talking to her friend in that building, near Mount Road. Just one look at her, and I was in love. She looked like an Angel on earth. Her eyes twinkled with mischief; lips curved the right way to show a beautiful smile, and that little lock of hair that kept falling on her face, perhaps as much in love with her as I was. My words can absolutely do no justice to her divine beauty. And, as it happens a lot with me, she did not notice me at all. But I was undeterred, and as most kids of my age did, I kept following her. And it was during this time, that Janu came into my life.

Janaki Gopalan. The unbelievably talented, and insanely beautiful, Ms.Janaki Gopalan. “Gosh, you are beautiful” those were the first words I spoke to my ‘would be’ wife, when we were introduced by a common friend, some years ago. She blushed initially (rather uncharacteristically, as the friend told me later), gathered herself, and hit back at me immediately with a smile – “I wish I could say the same about you, Mr…”

Holy cow. I was in Love. Err… Once again.

Janu was an artist, and an absolute no-nonsense woman, with no time for useless talk, and with a very bright head, firm on her shoulders. And me? Well… I, to put it mildly, was exactly the opposite. I loved books. Oh yes. Especially the big, hard bound ones. They made excellent pillows. However, Janu, sadly, didn’t share my enthusiasm. To her, books were her ‘best friends’ (Oh yeah, that’s what she called them), someone she can go to find solace and peace, when she needed. You know, she could quote Shakespeare as effortlessly as the Bard himself, whereas I used to ask doubts even in the comics I read. Her idea of a movie was to understand the shot picturisation, admire the acting of the lead actors, the direction and all the other artistic elements of the movie, whereas, my idea of a movie was, to sit and drool at the actress/actress’ female friends/their friends, etc.

For some weird reason in this world, atoms and molecules are so precisely arranged, and Physics so strangely schemed, that somehow, opposites always seem to attract. And trust me, I must have been the most happiest person, that Physics is always right. Forget about me, the only opposite I need to get attracted to, is for it to be of the opposite gender. (Thank God, atleast for that) But what was even more surprising, was Janaki seemed to like me too. It wasn’t sudden in any way, and me being me, it did require a considerable effort to woo Janu. I remember it like yesterday, I had parked my car at some spot near Tnagar, and jumped out to walk Janu home, in true filmy ishtyle. We had only met a couple of times then, but always with some of those pesky friends around. This was my ‘once-in-a-long-time’ chance to walk her home that wet evening, and perhaps attempt to indulge in some sweet nothings, just me and Janu. It was beautiful, the faint drizzle on our faces, she, loving the drops of rain kissing her cheeks and her beautiful eyes almost jumping out with joy, and me, just looking at her and loving her love the rain. It was totally beautiful. Though, it would have been perfect, had my car been not towed away for being parked in the no parking zone. 😀

I was head-over-heels in love with Janu, but that did not stop me from being me. I came across the absolutely hot headed and short tempered Priya. Priya, oh Priya. Her anger was very well known. Things defied gravity when she got angry, and you had to hope against hope when you met a fuming Priya, that you don’t come in the way of the flying projectiles. But then she had a very sensitive side to her, that not most people realized and would have been a wonderful companion if only you could understand what really ticked her off.

And then there was Kayal, the gorgeously traditional Ms.Kayal Vizhi. She was truly, a refreshing ‘sight’ for sore eyes. An oasis of the classic ‘paavadai dhavani’, among the sea of jeans and churidaars. She was everything a guy looked for in his lady love. A pretty face, a shy smile, and a voice so sweet, that she almost sang every time she talked. I would have fallen for her, when a radical antonym of Kayal, grabbed my attention.

And then, enter Divya, who could give Kareena Kapoor and her size zero, a run for their money. I fell hook, line and sinker for Divya, when once while talking to a friend of hers, I guess she just totally forgot what she was saying, when she saw me looking at her. Ok, I agree, I am not exactly ‘Imraan Khan’ material, to have warranted such a speechless reaction, from an absolutely stunning lady like her. But then they do say Love is blind after all, don’t they.

But, in spite of all these distractions, I just could not stop thinking about Janaki. A few months after our first meeting we had become pretty good friends. I began planning my days with her in mind. Running your own business had certain perks, that my friends in the IT industry never seemed to enjoy. I had a lot of time, after business hours to pursue my ‘other activities’. By this time, Janaki had totally understood my interest in women, and she never seemed to mind or turned jealous, which brought with it, both, a sense of relief and a whole tinge of concern if she really liked me that much. 🙂 Our mobile bills followed the inflation trend, and as time went on, our parents, slowly but surely, kind of smelt what was cooking. I was beginning to contemplate the option of spending my life with just one girl. And obviously, I wanted that girl to be Janaki. And then one warm September evening, when I was walking Janaki home, I popped the question all of a sudden. I never intended to be so abrupt and so sudden, but I guess it just came out. I asked Janaki if she would marry me.

Now if this was the movies, there could have been 2 distinct possibilities. 1) the heroine would have nodded her head in coy affirmation, and hugged the hero and broken into an impromptu song and dance routine in the Swiss Alps. Or, 2) the heroine would have looked at the hero and 2a) Slapped him, and insulted him before the entire public, or 2b) Pitied at the hero and said “I never thought of you like that, let’s just be friends.” But then, it wasn’t the movies anyway. She just stood there for a few seconds, and then burst out laughing like crazy, with me standing there looking at Janu, wondering if she indeed was mentally unstable as I had thought of earlier, because she has already shown signs of liking me. Then Janu, got in control of herself as we reached her apartments, looked at my serious face and said, “Oh my God. You are serious?” She went in, and I felt absolutely stupid at myself. I swore that if Janu ever talked to me after that incident, I would never ever pull off something like that. I vowed, never to talk about what had happened that day.

She was absolutely normal the next day, and I decided to leave it at that. A few weeks passed, with me ogling at Freeda in the meantime. Then one day, when I was driving Janu home, she asked me in a very matter-of-fact manner – “Were you serious that day?”

“Which day?” I quizzed her, although being perfectly aware of what she was talking about.

“Do you really want to marry me?” She asked, and then I finally realized, that there was a God. There was finally traffic from the other side as well.

I will save you the embarrassment by not revealing the mushy emotional dialogues that we exchanged that day, and by just letting you know that Janu and I got married a few months later, sans major opposition from our parents. And 11 months down the line, we are loving every bit of the wedlock that we got us into. But if you are tempted to believe that marriage has refined Yours Truly, or has tamed the Casanova within, then I can’t tell you how wrong you are. I still am the same old Vicky. There is still the occasional Shalini, the very rare Sita, and the tomboy Kalyani who grace my life, week after week.

Yet, there was something common in all these beautiful ladies that I’d known. Something so enchanting, and so mesmerizing, that when I look at them, I forgot myself. It was those beautiful blue eyes. Beautiful, blue, eyes, that made me fall in love all over again. Now you can’t hold that against me now, can you? I wasn’t a roadside Romeo. I was in fact, a connoisseur of all things beautiful. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is my love story.

Well then, I’ll see you around. I have a date again today. A date that I’ve been on, week after week for so many months, sitting in the front row of some auditorium and drooling like crazy watching a play.  My blue eyed sweetheart Janaki is on stage at Alliance Francaise tonight. Apparently she is playing a hilarious, shy, Brahmin, wife, travelling to America for the first time. You should see her; she just floors the audience with her sense of comedy. But frankly, all she needed to do was stand there and smile, and I would have given her a standing ovation until my hands turned purple and broke off.

Janu’s character in this play is called Bharghavi. 🙂 And as I had been doing it all along, in the line of Elizabeth, Priya, Kayal, Divya, Freeda, Shalini, Sita and Kalyani, the characters that Janu has played on stage, I’m in love with Bharghavi now…  😉

*** THE END ***

Liked it? Read this and more in my Ebook of Short Stories – Life As I Know It! Download it here


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