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Rediscovering Passion

This post won 'Indi Happy Hours Voucher' in Micromax Canvas Tab P666 with Intel Inside campaign organized by IndiBlogger in association with Micromax Mobile.

The biggest challenge in life is living the life happily. For some or the other reasons, we get demotivated and start living a miserable life. Some even have to give up dreams or lose the passion for the sake of temporary happiness. But will that suffice?

You can give so many reasons – call it as Lack of Inspiration or whatever, but the fact is we lost it for the sake of temporary happiness. No one to complaint.

It so happened to me as well. I miss the joy of writing a poem in this mechanical world. I have so many reasons to support it, but the real fact is “I”

This month on a not so good day, I sat by the windowpane staring out the window. The sky suddenly turned dark and all of a sudden, it started to drizzle. First, I ignored it complaining my mood, then the 'Little Kid' inside pushed me to open the window. I did. It was so chill. I cupped my hands and blew hot air into my hands, which turned cold. I complained the wet winds at first, and then started to enjoy the feel. The nature has the power to heal anything and everything in your life. And it did. My writing hormones started working. I searched for a paper and pen to scribble a poem. But my wonderful luck, I had nothing in my room.

I took my mobile phone out, created a new note and typed in it. The words flowed like a perennial river that is flooding due to the change in weather. The keyboard hanged now and then, as the processor inside the phone could not match the speed of my brain. I really wished I had a better phone or a tablet.

I browsed for a good tablet on Internet. That’s when I came to know about Micromax Canvas Tab P666 that runs on Intel processor. The look and feel of the Tablet was class apart from the ones currently available in the market. I went through the Technical Specification. I was impressed. 1.2 GHz Intel Atom Processor with Hyper Threading for Multi-Tasking, 1 GB RAM, 8-inch screen, 800x1280 pixels resolution, 16M color depth, 325 hours standby time, Android Kitkat 4.4.2, (what a battery backup!) and everything else I saw on the page inspired me.

Something inside my head told me that this Tablet is going to help me rediscover my passion for writing poems and sketching, anytime, anywhere on the earth. That's my New Year resolution too... I have added Micromax Canvas Tab P666 to my list of buy in 2015! Now, it is your turn to rediscover hidden passions and interests with the all new Canvas Tab P666 powered by Intel Atom Processor that gives you a lightning speed performance. Watch the Demo video below!


This post is a part of Micromax Canvas Tab P666 with Intel Inside campaign organized by IndiBlogger in association with Micromax Mobile. For more details on the Tab follow the link: http://www.micromaxinfo.com/tablet/Canvas-Tab-P666

What If?

Welcome to the last day of the guest posts series!

What If I had to start his intro like he wrote the post? What If I had not been to Blog-o-sphere? Would I be friend today with this fantastic poet (my Haiku master) who likes to be called by his nickname? Maybe… or May not be, but we are happy for being writer friends today!

Eight years he has been breathing in Blogsville and five years along with me, he is a fantastic rhyming poet, a talented fiction writer, and a certified book reviewer. Still he calls himself an amateur poet!

He rhymes without reason, because for him writing is love, an art that he is trying to be perfect. (He is the perfectionist!).

Okay, without further ado, let me welcome my friend, Vinay Leo R of I Rhyme Without Reason (my favorite poet) to pen down his thoughts. The stage is all yours da!

What if I had not been to Blog-a-Ton? Would I be friends today with this famous blogger who goes by the name Saravana, or Someone is Special? Our blogging rivers might have crossed and found the same ocean sometime later, but who’s to know if we’d have met in the ocean that is Blogsville.

What if I had not found his blog? I’d have missed out on some nice romantic stories, that’s for sure. It is this dude’s forte. He thrives on it. And yes, a couple of posts (at least) on the maestro Sachin. And some haiku, but I need to have a long chat with him on the form. Not on chat. So he better stop eating hamburgers in Hamburg and return to the garden city where we can discuss it over masala dosa.

What if I had not met him in person? I wouldn’t have had some nice talks. I think the first time we met, we discussed mobiles. We had the same one then, if I remember. We discussed God knows what in the presence of God, coz we met at ISKCON during a blogger’s meet, but the time flew by. Maybe it’s this camaraderie that makes him say I’m his brother, and part of his family, which I’m glad to be.

What if I had not had that camaraderie? Well, not something I think of, so no answer to that. But I wouldn’t have been friends with the super friendly, brilliant cook and pretty gal who is Someone in Special’s special someone (credits to CS who coined this term). VV, hope you’re feeling better now, out of that Germany weather and back home. I do miss you on Candy Crush Saga :P

What if I had not been friends with VV? Well, that’s for a different guest post. This one’s for Saravana. LOL. Sarav asked me to guest post on the theme “5” which is odd, coz come March 2015, it’d be 5 years since we became friends. This post is written like that topic on which he debuted on BAT, "What If". Like I began this guest post, we met on Blog-a-Ton, which he marshals now. I wanted to write a 5 star story for him, but the last 5 days have been hectic, and it’d have been a story of an irritated software engineer, which would drive away all his fans, so I thought I’d walk down memory lane instead. And this is the 5th paragraph of this "What If" post too. So lots of fives for you, SiS. Hi5. ;)

I’m not one to ramble on in posts, so I’ll keep it short, wish the host and his missus a wonderful, happy and successful New Year 2015, and sign off saying this little amateur poet is happy to have a special friend in Saravana Kumar “Someone is Special” Murugan.

P.S: I’ll try the 5-star story sometime when the hectic schedule gives some leeway and send you to post here in 2015. For now, adjust maadi.

Thank you so much Leo for writing the last post of the guest post series. It is my pleasure to have you here. And to my dear readers, thank you so much for reading!

காதல்

Welcome to Day 6 of the guest posts series!

Today’s guest writer is an anonymous writer dedicating all the poems to someone special in life, a passionate Tamil lover, and a God gifted personality. Okay, let me welcome the anonymous writer to pen down a Tamil poem. The stage is all yours!

காதல் எனக்கு

கண்ணாய்
காற்றாய்,
கிலிஞ்சலாய்
கீதமாய்,
குழந்தையாய்,
கூந்தலாய்,
கெம்பட்டிகையாய்,
கேணியாய்,
கைக்குழந்தையாய்,
கொண்டலாய்,
கோவலனாய்,
கௌஸ்துபமாய்,

நீயாய் நானாய்,
நாமாய் காதலால்,
காதல் ஆவோம்!

Thank you so much anonymous writer for writing the sixth post of the guest post series. It is my pleasure to have you here. And to my dear readers, thank you so much for reading!

Five

Welcome to Day 5 of the guest posts series!

Today’s guest writer is an ex-Software Engineer, now a life’s Student, a PhD Researcher, a passionate Blogger, a magical Story-Teller, a picture perfect photographer, and an explorer. She is gifted with ideas, creativity and originality. Her works have been published in many magazines including Femina and Filmfare and The New Indian Express. Her blog is a place for exploring miracles.

Okay, without further ado, let me welcome Anita of The Explorer of Miracles to pen down her thoughts. The stage is all yours!

I thought of 5 & my mind sprung up the following -
Olympic Games symbol has 5 inter-locked rings;
5 Ks of Sikh by Guru Govind Singh;
5 is the number of sides in a Pentagon;
5 is the Atomic Number of Boron;
Enid Blyton's Famous Five book series;
High-Five of friends makes us say cheese;
5 toes & 5 fingers on each foot & hand;
The Star on the Christmas tree & wand!

I thought of the number 5 as it's the fifth anniversary of Sarav's Blog. Congrats Sarav! Wish you many more special milestones on your way!

Thank you so much Anita for writing the fifth post of the guest post series. It is my pleasure to have you here. And to my dear readers, thank you so much for reading!

5 Little Cupcakes

Welcome to Day 4 of the guest posts series!

Today’s guest writer is basically a dreamer, a very hyperactive student, an enthusiast and a person who seeks peace in what he does. He loves scribbling poems, short stories, and performs a bit of stand up comedy depending up on his mood. His Talk-a-thon series of online podcast is an added addiction to his fans. He could solve the Rubik’s Cube Puzzle in less than a minute. His blog is a mirror reflection of his heart - a dream mausoleum!

Okay, without further ado, let me welcome Sulaiman Sait of Sulaiman's work - my dream mausoleum to pen down his thoughts. The stage is all yours!

Somewhere on the other side of the world, there was a famous baker, who made some of the best cupcakes ever. He bakes every single cupcake with care and love, like he would want to dedicate it to some one special. He ices them with frosting of love and hands it over to everyone who visits him. And, every year, he runs down a few miles to collect every single item, that adds to his secret recipe to success. I have always visited his bakery when I could, ever since I first tasted those cupcakes three years back. Every time I visit, I taste the best cupcakes ever made and always wish to carry a whole lot them back, but leave only with the memory and taste on my taste buds. This time when I visited, there seemed to be something special, blue and white frosting of peppermint and blueberry's were waiting for me. I was about to leave empty handed as usual without anything to say, but he sat beside me and gifted me 5 little cupcakes. I happened to take them home with me to see they tasted like. Each of those 5 little cupcakes tasted different, and left behind a memory and taste of - happiness,morality, love, care and brotherhood.

Thank you so much Sulaiman for writing the fourth post of the guest post series. It was my pleasure to have you here. And to my dear readers, thank you so much for reading! If you want to read more of Sulaiman's work, stop by his blog. He has recently completed the milestone of 100 blog posts, visit him here and wish him Good Luck.

Happily Ever After

This post won 'Indi Happy Hours Voucher' in Kitna chain hota hai na sachchai mein campaign organized by IndiBlogger in association with KINLEY INDIA.

In the corner of the party hall stood a beautiful brown-eyed angel with a cup of Appy Fizz in her hand. Simplicity was the biggest asset of her. She had put on a pair of red belly shoes that invited the people in the party hall to travel upwards. She wore a red colored party wear that ran from the bottom of her tights to the top of her chest. The slim fit cotton dress hugged her figure following the curves to elegance. Teamed up with a statement neckpiece that hugged her neck, tiny heart-shaped earrings dangling on her ears, and she wore a little makeup that made her radiant face gleam in the party light. She looked much like a perfect dream girl.

Hey, you look drop-dead gorgeous! Sid forgot to breathe. She thanked him without having any eye-to-eye contact and walked away. He held her right hand and requested her to stop. She did stop and turned towards him. Her eyes were filled with tears; the kohl and the mascara were messed up.

Is something wrong? He asked tightening the grip on her hands. She said nothing.

Come on speak up, Isha. He said in a worried tone. She adjusted her make-up and said, I’m fine.

No, you are not. You look disturbed. Look in the mirror. It will tell you the story. He spoke non-stop.

Yes, I’m not fine. I admit. Why should you be concerned? She shouted crying like a ten-year-old kid for her first mini skirt.

He could not take it at all. He helped her to sit on the cushion sofa at one corner of the party hall, sat opposite to her, held her hands and said, Because, I care for you my dear, Isha.

She broke into tears, which his heart could not digest. She spoke in a dull tone. You like Samantha more than me. She paused, wiped her tears, and continued. Don’t say no. Last week, when you are very drunk, you said it on the phone. Even today, you were dancing with that bitch holding her hips.

Sid laughed within, as his ploy worked well. He looked into her eyes, and asked her, But, why that bothers you?

Because, I... she swallowed rest of the words, for which he was waiting for two long years. And, she started crying like a baby, this time.

Enough is enough, Sid said to himself. He sipped water from the water bottle “KINLEY” placed on the table. He thought telling the truth was the right thing to do. He took a ring box from his suit, went down on one knee, and proposed her.

I love you so much, Isha. I wanted to hear it from you for two long years, but you always failed me. That’s the reason I acted, as if I like...

Before he could complete his sentence, Isha came down and sealed his lips with her lips for three tasteful minutes. He then slid the ring on to her finger and she uttered those three magical words, for which he was waiting for two long years.

Happy Birthday, Isha said kissing his lips, mouth, face and everywhere.

From that day, they decided to be true to each other. And, they lived happily ever after!


Watch the KINLEY 2014 TVC video below!


This post is a part of Kitna chain hota hai na sachchai mein campaign organized by IndiBlogger in association with KINLEY INDIA. Watch the TVC here: http://www.coca-colaindia.com/products/kinley_water.html

Epoch

Welcome to Day 3 of the guest posts series!

Today’s guest writer is a wonderful woman, a published author, a blogger with secret things in life which are of little importance, a passionate dancer, a wonderful friend, a non-stop chatter box, a colorful painter, a soulful singer and a die-hard romantic poet. Above all, she is a fantastic soul blessed by God. She loves scribbling about everything and anything that catches her attention in this world. For her writing is like being on a roller coaster ride of emotions. Her writings might make you laugh, make you cry, tug your heart and take a trip down the memory lane – but they all will definitely touch you in some way and set you thinking.

Okay, without further ado, let me welcome Privy Trifles (Namrata) of Memoirs of Me to pen down her thoughts. The stage is all yours!

Sharada stood at the balcony staring at the pitch dark sky aimlessly. Tonight there was no moon and due to clouds even the stars weren’t visible clearly. Not something she would have wanted, but then she had no choice. Tired and fatigue clearly writ on her face the starless sky seemed to reflect her agony so well. Darkness is what she felt deep inside her heart, as if some strange power was pulling her into an abyss from where there was no coming back. She felt utterly helpless not knowing what to do. Was life such a burden for all, she wondered.

As the cool gust of wind touched her body before passing ahead, her mind travelled back in time when such nights were synonymous with exams.
“Sharadaaaa…..its 7:15!” her mother would scream.

“Amma… just 5 minutes more…” she would grumble from beneath the blanket. Since the time eternal Sharada always loved her sleep, for her it was the most precious thing on earth. But it seemed as if everyone was against her thriving love affair with sleep. In kindergarten it was the early morning school and then as the age progressed so did the burden of studies making the sleeping hours lesser and lesser with every passing year.

Once she had reached her high school her mother would sit next to her to ensure she was awake studying till late in the night and would always cajole her with hot cup of coffee, “Just finish these exams then in the vacations you can sleep as much as you want. Promise, no waking you up at all!” She would smile. The gullible Sharada would get excited and start dreaming about sleepy holidays. But the moment vacations arrived her sleeps seemed to vanish like the stars tonight. Reading books till late, watching movies… everything other than sleeping was done in those nights.

She grew up, began working and yet those five minutes of precious sleep that she always fought for seemed to be evading her forever. Time flew by once she got married and had kids; sleep became even more rare and precious. Today she was a fifty year old lady with her kids settled in the lives and a husband who was too busy to notice anything. She smiled as his snores reached her ears, “He cannot even notice my absence on the bed next to him due to my inability to sleep! Oh God! All I want is to have just five minutes of his peaceful sleep… just five. I haven’t slept properly in ages. After all these years I at least deserve that much.” she was almost pleading.

Then she opened her fist, there lay five minutes of sleep nicely coloured and wrapped; waiting for her to make a move.

Thank you so much Namrata for writing the third post of the guest post series. It was my pleasure to have you here. And to my dear readers, thank you so much for reading! If you want to read more of Namrata's work, stop by her blog. You can also have a look at her published works here. My personal favorite is "Metro Diaries: Seventeen Love Classics" :D

Five Younger Gods

Welcome to Day 2 of the guest posts series!

Today’s guest writer is once known as ‘The Fool’. He believes life has become too hectic and mechanical. Finding idle time is like an oasis in the journey through the desert of day-to-day life. He reads and writes (speaks his mind without fear or favour) during his free time at “Lucifer House Inc.” He churns out fiction, poetry, satire and other literary art works. He believes any true work of art is priceless and appreciates a kind word of appreciation acknowledging his work.

Okay, without further ado, let me welcome Cart Hick TF of Lucifer House Inc. to pen down his thoughts. The stage is all yours!

This was a long time ago. A very long time ago! There were people then and people now. But all that people then did was going to office. Every day they got up in the morning, brushed their teeth, finished their morning ablutions, had breakfast and went to office. From morning to evening, they slogged and came back home, tired. Waiting for them at home, was this small box, made especially for idiots. It held them glued till they feel asleep. Next morning they got up, again brushed their teeth, finished their morning ablutions, had breakfast and went to office. So their life went on and on, never ending in its drudgery.

Some of the people tired of their wretched lives escaped from the concrete jungles into the mazes of imagination and prayed. They did severe penance for years and years till finally the Great God Intahnato appeared before them. They told Him their tale of woe and sought salvation. He thought for a while and then said, “Let there be blogs.” And then there were blogs. Over the next five days, the God worked without rest – creating blogs of every genre – tech blogs, fashion blogs, satire blogs, travel blogs, literary blogs. On the seventh day, tired after his toil, He sat down to rest. As He rested He broke out into a song.

This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed home,
This little piggy had roast beef,
This little piggy had none,
And this little piggy cried wee wee wee all the way home.


Out of the song emerged the five younger Gods – the Gods of the blog-o-sphere. As the time passed, grand temples were erected for the Gods, filled with high priests, medium priests and low priests. Devotees flocked to the temples to receive the blessings of their favorite deity. Huge tomes were written enshrining the teachings of the Prophets of the Gods.

The followers of the first God were the most energetic. You would find them everywhere – in the markets and the streets, in the inns and the town halls. They climbed on to the roofs and shouted till their throats went hoarse, “Come one. Come all. Come read my blog post. Come! Come! Come! All you need to do is click this link to find out how lovely are my words. Come discover all the wonders of the world. Learn about Samsung, Mountain Dew and Dove. Here there be shampoos and jewels, cosmetic and drinks. Here there be medicines and foods – real and unreal. “

The second God was the most demanding one. He told his followers – “Thou shall stick thy posteriors to thy seats and write. Not for you the contests and prizes. Not for you the fancy trips and sponsored revelry. Thy only friends are thy words.” True to the word of their Lord, they just wrote, dedicating their lives to the service of the words they loved. Their words, dug out from the deepest of dictionaries and thesauruses, polished through edits and reedits, shone with the brilliant dazzling light that blinded their readers. Such was the grandeur of these palaces of words that those of feeble heart even feared to walk in their shadows.

The third God was the most merciful. He showered bounties on his followers. They were bestowed with Midas touch that turned the humblest of words to pure unadulterated gold. People flocked to their blogs by droves and they were soon becoming demi God themselves with their own priest hoods. People treasured and shared, quoted and retweeted their every word. Laurels awaited them around every corner. That was the benediction of the roast beef.

The fourth brother, unable to compete with his elder brothers in terms of quality decided to make it up through quantity. He gathered all manner of followers to himself, promising all that his brothers offered and more. Everyone was welcome to his temple irrespective of caste, creed, color or gender. Like all the younger siblings of more illustrious elder siblings, this God lived in constant despair that often caught up with his followers as well. The devotee bloggers tried their best to promote their posts but could not quite manage the missionary zeal. They tried to work their spell with words but the magic was missing. They strived hard to turn their words to gold, but achieved as much success as the alchemists of the old.

The fifth brother was the crippled God – bitter and disgruntled in the knowledge that he would never match the three illustrious elder brothers. His children rose from the depths of his temple – dark and hungry – mocking and scoffing at the children of the ‘Greater’ Gods. “You cheap spammers and mercenaries – you are the filth of the blog-o-sphere,” they said to the children of the ‘One who Went to the Market’. “You prudes- your high and mighty ways will lead to your downfall. Your ivory towers shall be razed down and you shall be brought shattering to the ground,” they said to the Children of the ‘One who stayed at Home.’ “You cheats, you frauds, you pretenders! Wait till Lady Luck turns her face the other way, you soldiers of fortune. Then your Midas touch shall bring you the same fate as Midas of old,” they said to the Children of the ‘One who had Roast Beef’. “You losers, leave your losing ways behind and come join us,” was all they had to say to the Children of the ‘One who had None’. “Wee, wee, wee,” wailed the God spreading sorrow amongst his followers. Into the world they went wailing ‘Wee, wee, wee,” spreading the sorrow and growing their tribe by the day.

And that my dear friends, is not the end of the story, but the beginning. The final battle is still coming. Choose your side wisely.

Thank you so much Cart Hick TF for writing the second post of the guest post series. It was my pleasure to have you here. And to my dear readers, thank you so much for reading! If you want to read more of Cart Hick TF's work, stop by his blog. You can also read his story "Bellary" published in the book "Sirens Spell Danger."

Here is a contest for the readers, all you need to do is to guess the next guest writer. The person with the maximum number of correct guesses will win a FlipKart Voucher. Clue is "She is a published author and writes in a secret place!" See you tomorrow! Stay Tuned!


I Say Of RED Without Saying RED At All


Few Miles turned five on October 20, 2014. It was indeed a special day in my life and I wanted to celebrate it in a grand way. Even I had so many plans in my mind, but the situation I was in, demanded me to postpone the plans. As time passed by, I thought of dropping the plan, but they very thought of it hurt me. That was when one of my close friends, pinged me on messenger, and spoke to me about guest posts. “Guest posts” it made me think, so I invited a few of my blogging friends to write guest posts on the theme “Five”, and they graciously accepted my invite. Starting today, there will be a series of guest posts, from the Kings and Queens of blog-o-sphere.

Today’s guest writer believes friendship is the best relationship in this world. Her simplicity in thoughts, words and behavior, makes her my sweetest “Little One”. She has a great passion for writing poetry, and I am sure that she has inherited this talent from her Grandmother. She feels writing is the best way of expressing emotions powerfully. She writes a blog named “My Friendship”, where she pours down her thoughts and feelings, especially about nature, love, relationships and friendship. Besides writing, she loves doing photography and cooking.

Okay, without further ado, let me welcome Simran Kaur of My Friendship to pen down her thoughts. The stage is all yours!

There are a few things you feel yourself associated with. It can be any person or a name or may be a line that sticks to don't leave your brain. You count 'that thing' every time in whatever you do and try best to link it as a reason. Since the time I discovered that my lucky number is 7, I started noticing if all good happens with this number or not. To my surprise, it proved to be a good luck to me. I feel extremely confident when I find this number with me.

There is a color that she has seen in her thick and thin days of life. The first time she noticed it on her mother's forehead ; a bindi. Many a times she would try to touch it take off from her forehead to play. As she started walking on her own, every morning when her mother adorn herself with bindi, a pinch of sindoor and bangles; she used to sit by her side and stare at her resplendent beauty. When she turned fifteen, for the first time she didn't see but felt this beautiful color. The color of love. She was ecstatic to see her lipstick mark on his cheek when they had kissed for the first time. She glowed and blushed even more seeing herself in the mirror. It was the biggest and most special event of her life - their marriage. She was fortunate that even the rituals adhere to this color and she felt the most happiest person on this planet wearing her bridal dress. On that day, she saw a beautiful reflection of her mother in herself. She loved adorning herself over and over again. For now, she had own a right and a strong reason to use it.

Life is uncertain and so its instances; unpredictable!

She silently shed tears of blood on a wintry night when he lashed her hard in the name of making love. For the first time she found this color so unwanted and rancor. She wonder as she finds the same color in various moods and meanings. The color of his rage and Santa's dress is the same. Then, why do one shatter all her dreams and the latter fills her with hope and happiness when she look at it? Like he feat with the elves who make the toys in the workshop she wish him to come on his sleigh from all the way with his flying reindeer to bestow her the lost spring of her life and the positive mood of the color that his coat and trousers bring to her.

Thank you so much Little One for writing the first post of the guest post series. It was my pleasure to have you here. And to my dear readers, thank you so much for reading! Okay here is a contest for the readers, all you need to do is to guess the next guest writer. The person with the maximum number of correct guesses will win a FlipKart Voucher. Clue is "He is a published author and writes beautifully in his Inc!" See you tomorrow! Stay Tuned!


My Teddy Travelogue

This post won 'Indi Happy Hours Voucher' in #TeddyTravelogues campaign organized by IndiBlogger in association with Club Mahindra.

They say, “Life is magical when you are with kids!” I am no exception to deny it. I, too, happened to travel to one of my favorite holiday destinations with my family and friends. It was a planned trip to Mysore from Bangalore. Everyone backpacked clothes, food, water, electronic gadgets, and what not… the list was big, though the bag mouth cried.

But… one bag was different. It was small, pink-colored, heavy for a three-years-old, and had items that could take you to the world "Kid-o-Mania”. Ashik, my nephew, was a naughty kid, but at the same time, he is a kid with extra-ordinary dreams. He would play all android games, thousand times better than I would, in his tab. On the other hand, he would draw a bird inside a cage, erase the cage, set it free and smile happily. It was his wisdom. To such a kid, his mother, my elder sister, packed his bag, in a way he wished it to be packed.

His toy “buzz lighter” (sorry, if there is a typo) was kept at the bottom in a corner, the small football in another corner of the bag, Frisbee, the dress to play in the mud, a small spade and other stuffs (the names I could not recall), his favorite cream biscuits, the best homemade popcorn, extra pair of sandals, the kids guitar, his shades, the tab, the pink colored water bottle (he is a pink lover) and his favorite books (includes his homework, notebook and pencil box... these days kids have to write homework even in their holidays :P).

I had no idea on what he was up to. I observed him from the very first minute of our trip. He read his book for the first thirty minutes of travel, then he played “Subway Surfers” for twenty minutes, he took a small nap, before we got down to have our breakfast. After the breakfast, he was playing with his toys. Once we got down at Mysore palace, he was not so active, but after noticing the big palace, he got excited. It was fun to watch him jump, shout and do all sort of stuffs. When we were done with the palace, we sat down. He quickly wore a coat and started playing with his spade; I really wished that I be his company. Might be, he read me, so he invited me to play with Football. Trust me; I’ve never enjoyed playing Football that much before. He then washed his hands in the nearby tab, and ate the delicious homemade popcorn, and drank water from his bottle.

We roamed around the city all day. We were tired by the evening, but he was not. He was still up with the guitar in the return journey and danced to the tunes we played in our mobile phones. I had a great experience that day.

If vacations are Pizzas, then vacations with kids’ means “Pizzas with Cheese Burst”! True that! I wish to have more Pizzas with Cheese Burst. Okay, for now, I'm signing off… keep sending your thoughts on comments and emails. Have a nice day!

This post is a part of #TeddyTravelogues campaign organized by IndiBlogger in association with Club Mahindra. Check out more Teddy Travelogues here: http://membership.clubmahindra.com/TeddyTravelogues/index.html



#PeshawarAttack




when humanity dies, world becomes void

Rise Above Fear

This post won 'Indi Happy Hours Voucher' in #RiseAboveFear campaign organized by IndiBlogger in association with Mountain Dew India.

‘Inspiration’ is all around. All you need to do is to get inspired by it. When I was browsing, I watched an ad made by Mountain Dew. “Rise Above Fear” is the concept of the film. In the film, the very popular South Indian Actor Arya, with two of his friends, take risks to click pictures of rare KURINIJI flower and ultimately gains them the limelight. It reminded of an incident that happened a year ago in my life, and I decided to pen it down at half past two in the night.

I always loved two things in life – one is ‘Writing’ and the other is ‘Cricket’. While the former is my way of venting out my anger and cherishing a happy moment, but the later is my “Happiness”. But do I get time to live it? Well I keep asking that question to me every day every hour every minute and each second. I do, only once in a year, when I represent my company, and play cricket with my customer. Eleven months and 28 days in a year, I live a mechanical life, and the rest is for my “Happiness”.

They say, “Race with time to win big!” That I second. When you get to play for only two days in a year, then you have really race with time. In such a race, the fear of losing plays a major role in failures. ‘Fear’, it did hurt us for the first two years, when we ended up losing the cup to our customer. We reasoned that lack of match practise (actually, without any match practise) for our loss. But was it true? No!
With the tagline ‘losers’, we took the field for the third time last November, but under a new captain, Veera. He taught us a mantra “Rise above fear”. It boosted our morale and strengthened the spirit of the team.

We lost the toss, as usual. Maybe, we were not lucky to bat on a flat pitch first. Our fast bowler Ranbir started the proceedings by bowling two full tosses and giving away twenty runs in the first over. I came on to bowl the second over of the match. I always loved bowling more than batting. That day was no different. I bowled a magical over. Six perfect balls, the first two balls swung in sharp taking the batsman by surprise, the third ball bounced high and hit the helmet, for which I apologized to the batsman, the fourth took a faint edge and was caught by the keeper, but was ruled not out and the last two balls hit the batsman on his pads. Veera ran to me from slips, patted me on back, and appreciated for bowling a maiden over.

Ranbir bowled the third over of the match. I advised him to ignore generating extra phase to surprise the batsman and asked him to concentrate on the line. It did help, as we gave away eight runs, but the run rate was still large. The fourth over was a disaster. I started off well with two sharp deliveries that swung out almost close to the bat. The third ball changed the momentum of the over as the batsman picked the slow ball from my fingers itself, and pulled it over long on for six. It was a drop chance. The fielder misjudged the catch, as the ball tossed out of his hands to sail over the boundary line. I lost my cool. First was a bad decision in the last over and now a drop catch. I ended up giving 18 runs in the over.

The fifth over got us back into the game. Our sensational fast bowler, KV, bowled a dream over. The seam position and the line, made the balls unplayable. He also struck twice and missed out on a hat-trick chance and his seventh was a maiden over. The sixth and eighth was bowled by a spinner Rahul, who took two wickets and gave twelve runs. At the end of eighth over, we were in a commanding position, but lost to a brilliant batting display from our opponent star all-rounder Ali who scored a century is 45 balls. I bowled the seventeenth and nineteenth over the match giving away 12 runs in total and bowled Ali in the last ball of my fourth over when he misread the slow ball. They scored 153 runs in twenty overs, which was a huge target for us, as we failed to score three-figure mark in our last two outings.

During the team meeting, Veera spoke to us positively. I, too, supported saying that if we manage to score 70 runs in first ten overs without losing a wicket, then we could win easily. KV, not only a dream bowler but also a wonderful batsman as he along with Arun gave us a dream start. We scored 80 runs in ten overs without losing a wicket. You know, the mantra “Rise above Fear”, worked well until KV miscued a short pitched ball to third man. Arun was run out in the next over, Sumit was stumped, Revanth was caught in deep, Rahul was out for lbw, and Karan was clean-bowled. By the end of fifteenth over, we were 101-6 and I joined the crease with Veera.

The ‘Fear’ inside my head played on, as I edged the first ball to four, second ball hit me on my elbow, third and fourth was unplayable, fifth ball went for four after it brushed my pads, and the sixth was a dot ball. We needed 44 runs to win from 24 balls at a run rate of 11. We are neither Pollard nor Sehwag to pull off things in the last few overs. It was a refreshing drinks break. Veera tried to calm me down and asked me to stick to my instincts.

Veera scored two consecutive fours and stole a single to Midwicket. I took a deep breath, recalled my school days, walked down the crease for two steps even before bowler started to bowl, and waited for the ball. Almost everybody laughed, but that’s my way of playing unplayable balls. Hit before it pitches. I was right. I hit him for six, as I walked down two more steps when he released the ball and smashed it over the bowler’s head. It got my confidence back. I hit two more six – one over Deep cover and the other over Long on scoring 27 runs in that over. He was happy that his mantra worked “Rise Above Fear”. With 17 runs needed from 18 balls, it was a cakewalk for us in that mood. Veera played the eighteenth over, scored twelve runs, and the target was now five runs from twelve balls.

Ali came running from the boundary and bowled the first ball. I stepped out of the crease in a flash and smashed it over his head for six. I jumped up in air, pumped my fist in air, in happiness. Veera pulled out a stump in his hand from the bowler end and I took all the three from my end after, went to him running, and hugged him. All our team members came out and appreciated, as they celebrating before our customer for a win could invite us into trouble. But a game is a game and a win is a win. Celebration is always on!

The moral is simple and straightforward. “Rise Above Fear To Win!

Hope you liked reading this incident that happened in my life a year ago. We even won this year too, but sadly, I was not a part of the team, as I was in the hospital with my wife. She is back home now to home and is feeling better. Will keep you all posted. For now, watch the video, and I'm signing off… keep sending your thoughts on comments and emails. Have a nice Sunday!




This post is a part of #RiseAboveFear campaign organized by IndiBlogger in association with Mountain Dew India. Like on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mountaindewindia



Let's feed a child!


If my words have the power to feed a child for a year, then I have no reasons to sleep on that. I may be late to join the party owing to the hectic work schedule, but you know it is better late than never. It is hard to read that every day millions of children are forced to choose hunger over education. But that’s the fact and you cannot deny it.

I know the exact value of education and the taste of hunger… I chose to stay hunger to get educated. It did help me a lot in my life. The taste of every grains in my food, the fruit of being educated, the happiness of earning money and the value of living a healthy life… I know them all. I want them to know it and the best way to do that is to help them fight classroom hunger. Because if we are successful in fighting hunger out, I’m very sure, that these kids will do wonders in future.

How do you think we can eliminate classroom hunger?
  • By visiting each children separately and help them.
  • Cooking food for them at our leisure time.

It won’t work out for longer run. But then how to help these children fight classroom hunger? We have many feasible options. We can work with NGO’s to help feed a child. Akshaya Patra (unlimited food for education) is one of them, a not-for-profit organisation headquartered in Bangalore, India. Just like their name, the organisation strives to fight hunger in India by implementing the Mid-Day Meal Scheme in the Government schools and Government aided schools and brings children to school. All we need to do is to support them endlessly and to do that visit here. Get involved now!

I have done my part in the past, and now, for this blog post, BlogAdda will sponsor meals for an Akshaya Patra beneficiary for an entire year, as a part of our Bloggers Social Responsibility.



I am going to #BlogToFeedAChild with Akshaya Patra and BlogAdda. Happy to be a blogger! Happy to be associated with this activity. Do you want to be happy? Write a blog post now!

A Missed Opportunity #WillYouShave

Okay, I know, with my wife fighting out the infection in her right lung back home in India, and I, sitting alone in this unknown land, words gets choked inside my fingers. But not when I receive an interesting invite that is good enough to inspire me to write, and I must say I’m not an exception to sleep on that. Yes, I’m talking about BlogAdda’s #WillYouShave activity!

Stubble is bigger than a sky-high mountain. It’s true, at least for campus placements. If I’m not wrong, the date when I had my first disappointment (a missed opportunity, a heart-attack) is 1st June 2007. My dream company came to our campus for placements and I was very sure of getting placed. It’s not overconfidence, but you know, the kind of belief that I had on myself. I cracked all the preliminary rounds on the previous day and I was waiting for my turn to attend my HR round that day. That’s when I could feel the stubble on my face. My initial reaction, how on earth I got stubble within three days? And then I ignored it as I’m looking cool (that’s what I felt when I saw myself in the mirror minutes before), hoping that the HR might not notice it. I was sure that my grade, my technical skills is enough to get my first job. But the reality is very tough to digest. When my College Campus Coordinator informed me that I missed the opportunity just because of the stubble I had in my face. Disappointed, I kept cursing myself that day and felt bad for it for years. It’s a missed opportunity, but for good or bad, I do not know…that’s life!


This post is a part of #WillYouShave activity at BlogAdda in association with Gillette. Visit here to buy Gillette Products from FlipKart.com An invite from BlogAdda is special, but a tag is more special. So, in this post, I happily accepting my friend Cifar’s tag in this post and pass it on to the following friends in random order.

| ​Cifar | Simran | Ayushi | Thewhitescape | Uma | Ekta | Anita | Heena | Vaisakhi | Anmol | Sulaiman | Nandini Garg | Preethi | Priyanka | Aditya | Khushboo | Afshan | Tarun | Rat | Chinks Lounge | Knita | Sreeja | Neo | Richa |

And if you are not aware what's the contest about. Here you go...

BlogAdda in association with Gillette brings you the #WillYouShave activity. The rules are simple - Write a blogpost on any of the themes given below:

Missed chances- Stories or instances where you missed out on an opportunity because of a non-shaven face.
Luck or Confidence?- Will you leave your fate in the hands of destiny or will you step up and say yes to a well-groomed face to be at your best everyday? #WillYouShave.

Ladies, you have a say in this too! Write a blog post about the men in your life on the following themes.

An instance when a stubble came in the way of a man's chance to make a good impression.
An instance when a well groomed look ensured that they struck gold on an opportunity given to them.

The advantage? This contest is being presented to us before the rest of the world gets a wind of it. So spread the word!!!!!!

What can you win?

1. 1st Prize: An Apple iPad
2. 2nd Prize: 2 Moto G phones
3. 3rd Prize: 3 vouchers of Rs.5000 each/Cash
4. Assured vouchers for every blogpost and more
So how do you win?

1. Write blog posts on any one or both the themes and win an assured gift voucher worth Rs. 300
2. Tag as many friends as possible to take up the #WillYouShave Challenge
3. For every two friends who take up the #WillYouShave challenge and blog about the given theme(s), you win an additional gift voucher of Rs.400

We're sure you are all geared up to start writing, but take a look at the rules first-
1. The deadline for this exclusive offer is 1st December 2014, so make sure your entries reach us before this date
2. The word limit for the blogpost is 300 words.
3. Each participant can submit a maximum of 3 entries.

Please accept my tag and submit your blog post here.


Thank you BlogAdda and my blogging friends!

साधना

जब चिथड़ो मे लिपटे कलाकार ,
मोटी मोटी रोटियों निगलते हैं,
तब एक प्रश्न चिन्ह उभर आता है ,
इन ईंट सी रोटियों मे क्या इतनी ऊर्जा है ?
निरंतर अगड़ित ईटों को ढोते हुए वे कलांत नहीं होते ,
हम मेवे खाने वाले  मे इतने  अच्छम है की एक ईंट भी उठा लें ,
तब एक आकाशवाणी मन मे होती है ,
तुम तन के केंद्रित्करण हो ,
वे मन के केंद्रित्करण हैं ,
तुम भुक्त भोगी  हो ,
वो मुक्त भोगी हैं ,
तुम जीवन की  सम्पूर्ण शक्ति को तन मे समोते हो ,
वे जीवन की सम्पूर्ण शक्ति को मन मे समोते  हैं ,
तुम जीवन के समस्त माध्र्य को रो कर पीते हो ,
वे जीवन की समस्त कड़वाहट को प्रेम से पीते हैं ,
तुम साधन हो वो केवल साधक हैं I
-स्वर्ण कौर

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Konigsee: a must visit place #Germany #TravelStories



This post won Third Prize in Ultimate Travel Stories Contest hosted by CupoNation India

This post is a part of Ultimate Travel Stories Contest in association with CupoNation. If you like this post then vote for me on the Contest Voting Page



They say, "A Picture is worth a thousand words!" Live in it! Konigsee, a eye-catchy tourism destination in Germany.


The first thing we (Me & my partner in crime, my best friend Siva) did was having our lunch. Guess where? I know you would guess it right!


We're waiting for the bus. No, actually, he is waiting and I'm clicking..


The first thing we did after reaching there... :-P We took a walk (did we?)


The captain of the ship was on time. I wonder how they follow their timelines.


Pam..Pam...It's an ECHO POINT. And it did echo whatever music he created. (oh buddy, I'm sorry, but you need to learn how to play a Trumpet.)


People of all ages looking forward to land at Konigsee, the island of tree fossils.


Ah! The entrance...


Much closer!


More people joining us. It's going to be fun!


That's what we call as picture perfect!


Twins, and you know what, they made the trip lively. We enjoyed clicking them.


Ah! What a priceless reaction. She inspired us to get into the water...


That's me, flaunting my six-pack body! (#TrueStory :-P)


The divine path of nature. (oh yes, I'm speaking about the place :-P)


In life, we always stand at the crossroads. It's just that one decision can take you to the right path. (Too much philosophy, is it?)


My partner in crime, wants to click a photograph, as if he is looking for frames to click :-P


Life has a 'L' board, and that's Love. Make sure you learn properly before you drive in a highway called 'Marriage; (Again too much philosophy here)


One of the tree fossils... I just loved it. If you are a lover of tree fossils (have you visited Brindavan Gardens of Bangalore?) This is five time bigger than that in terms of fossils.


That's the route map (Dear techie's this is not powered by Google)


A much closer look at the park name, will help you walk smiling :)


Ah! That's what we call as a perfect frame!


Family and Friends having fun!


Time to click our face :-P


Yes, that's a classic pic !


A family living on the opposite side of Konigsee.


Guess where we are heading to?


If you guessed it right, yes, we're in Salzburg, Old City!


More pics to come in my next travelogue post. Stay tuned.



Konigsee, be it any seasons, it is a fantastic place to visit. We've been there in winter as well as in summer. It's an treat for the eyes. It's an ideal place for couple who wants to spend quality time for them, for family who wants to dedicate time out of their busy lives, and for wanderers like us!

If you like this post then vote for me on the Contest Voting Page, search "Sarav", enter your email address and click on VOTE. Thanks for the time you spent here. Keep visiting for more fun!

Love you ♥

The Scribbler's Orchard: PART 28


Do you want to see your evidence?” Acharya asked and then he ordered his men to bring Shekhar, Tara and Jennifer to the rituals room.

Arjun stood there unmoved waiting for the right time to attack. Shekhar, Tara and Jennifer were brought to the room. On seeing Shekhar, Roohi ran to him and hugged him. Shekhar and Tara lost their nerves, they wanted to hug their sweet child back, but their hands were tied, so they stood helpless and hopeless.

Acharya let out a loud laughter again. “Do you have any other evidence Arjun?” he roared. “Even if you have, I do not mind because with this sacrifice, I will become invincible.”

“You will not be invincible by human sacrifices, Mr PM” Shekhar raised his voice. “You shall never be powerful. You were the Honourable Prime Minister of India before a couple of hours, but no more, Acharya” Shekhar laughed, “Do you think that I handed over the original photographs to you? Am I that dumb? Is that the only evidence we had? Do you think so? If yes is your answer then you failed miserably.”

“The photographs revealing the true face behind Kochi’s Political Leader murder, the video showcasing Ahuja and your conversation revealing the plan of sacrificing Ismail Abdullah in his place, the audio recording of your plan to bomb during the Ganesh Chaturthi festivals, the photographs of Cyrus and Roohi’s abduction in a van owned by a private sector that is registered to your real name, and finally, the video recording of our conversation couple of hours ago that went live on Tara’s channel.”

Acharya stood his ground. Shekhar continued, “We live in a Nation where media can go anywhere. You forgot that. Check the news channels Acharya. Your fake face is unmasked an hour ago!”

Acharya smiled at Shekhar, “That’s impressive, but not enough to defeat the invincible.” He ordered his men to set the Tomb on fire, so that nobody escapes from here.

Arjun was quick enough to order his team to break into the Tomb. Arjun’s Team was well equipped, though they suffered minor injuries, still in less than two minutes, they managed to shoot down all the goons. In the meantime Arjun set Shekhar, Tara and Jennifer free.

Arjun took his revolver out and said, “Be a good man. Your cooperation is the ticket for the rest of your life.”

Acharya appeared unruffled. “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be. There is only one God out of which all life is born, and that is the Fire,” he raised his arms upwards closing his eyes. “Let the Glory be to the true God!”

He looked at them furiously. “It’s not easy to defeat the mighty Acharya you little prick.” He let out a loud laughter again and then he jumped into the fire sacrificing himself to the God.” Roohi without her knowledge shouted, “Nana-ji.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

To read the next part please visit here, thanks.

“Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”

down memory lane #truestory




Down Memory Lane has been compiled into collection of stories and published on Amazon: Sixteen & Half. If you enjoy reading the story, I sincerely recommend you to give the book a read!

 



 


Down Memory Lane’ won SILVER BATOM in 49th edition of Blog-a-Ton.



 


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 49; the forty-ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

 


“SHE SHOULD BE BACK IN AN HOUR. THESE DAYS SHE ALMOST LIVES IN THE CHURCH.” HE MUTTERED ADJUSTING HIS THICK-RIMMED SPECTACLES THAT WAS GIFTED BY HIS WIFE NISHA FORTY YEARS AGO.


The sun had gone down, the birds flew to their nest, the ants marched to their hole, the two-legged so-called human-beings jogged to their homes, and the wonderful four-legged pets followed. He sat on the wooden chair placed in the garden in front of his house with a photo book in his hand. He wore a round neck t-shirt, the favourite blue jeans, and a scarf wrapped twice around his neck and tucked into a thick sweater, both knitted by his lovable wife forty years ago. As usual. He did not look as old as his age. In fact, he looked very young. And his skin did not feel cold. Perhaps, Brussels was not as cold as it used to be.


He lighted his short-lived sixth-finger after three unsuccessful attempts. He inhaled its smoke, and after a minute or so, he let the smoke out through his nose, much like a train spewing out smoke through the chimney. He looked at the watch, then he muffled under his breath, “She used to complain that I spend very less time in the initial days of our marriage life, but these days she spends very less time with me. Maybe, when she is back, I should propose her the plan of visiting Bruges. Honeymoon at sixty-five is not at all a bad idea!” He spoke the last line a bit loud, blushing like a twenty-year-old young man.


A loud horn disturbed his train of thoughts. He saw a truck that passed by his home. He abused the truck driver for spoiling the peaceful evening, while completing his nineteenth cigarette of the day, his best friend for life.


Waving bye to the kids passed by the garden on skating shoes, he opened the photo book one more time to travel deep down memory lane. A habit he developed during his late twenties. On seeing the first photograph, his face curved, then it shone in his eyes, and finally the smile lit his whole face.


It was the same photograph, which she gave him in their second date, when he asked if he could have her photograph to show it to his mom. She was just nineteen at that time. She looked very beautiful in blue shorts and pink t-shirt. He could still recall the colours despite looking at the black and white photograph. Her face complimented her size zero figure and the smile she carried on her face is a medicine for all the traumas he had suffered in his life. And her blue eyes were something he always loved looking into till eternity. He kissed the photograph whispering, “My Dear Lady Love, I love you so much.”

It took three licks on his wrinkled fingers to move to the next page. His face lit up again on his achievement, he looked around to check if someone acknowledged it. Nobody noticed him, except a small dog, which barked on seeing his face. He laughed and then looked into the photo book again.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


The golden sun went down, the beach roared loudly, the birds flew into the sky, and she went down on one knee, making the moment picturesque. Usually, it happens the other way, but his charm always made it possible.


“I might sound weird or trashy, but this is how I am. This being our fourth date, it might be early to confess, but I have to admit that I am in love with you. Even if this were our third or fifth date, I would have proposed you because I am heads over heels in love with you.”


She paused for a second, for his response, but he kept mum. She continued, “Just nineteen, yet to kiss a man’s lips, say something…”


“Ouch, my knee hurts. Will you at least take these rare pebbles?” She whispered much like a six-year-old offering a chocolate.


He took the pebbles from her hand, helped her to get up, and then sealed her lips passionately.


“I love you right from the moment when I first saw you in the flea market. You were wearing a blue jean pant and white tops. You looked like an angel. My heart told me that you are my life. Maybe, it is God’s wish. Otherwise, He would not have made us meet again and again.”


They sat there, hand-in-hand, drinking champagne, celebrating the day of love.


***


“A girl going down on one knee, confessing she is head over heels in love, offering a few rare pebbles she had saved from her childhood, and asking me to take at least the pebbles as her knees hurt. It is the best proposal I have received so far. By the way, she looks very cute when she blushes,” he blushed looking at the photograph, and then he took his handkerchief out, pressed on his lips, kept it back in his pocket.


He heard an old woman voice from behind, lifting his head up, he checked if his Nisha was coming... No, it was somebody else living in the neighbourhood. He shook his head before turning to next page.


He gave a flying kiss to the photo book. It was the picture of their first kiss on a not-so-hot Sunday, which apparently turned out to be the day they lost their virginity. He recalled those romantic conversations.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


“Give me a break. I need to breathe.” She said pushing him away.


He hugged her from behind and pressed his lips all over her neck. It sent down thrills under her spine.


“I am feeling butterflies in my stomach, my hands are shivering, and I guess I am melting down.” She said in one breathe.


He held her hands tight, pressed towards her bosom, pressed his lips all over her neck, and whispered ‘I love you’ umpteen times.


It took less than five minutes for them to undress and move toward the bed. He pushed her on the bed and went on top of her.


“Do you love me?” She asked biting her nails in tension.


“I have no doubts in that!” He said pressing a kiss on her bosom.


“Wait...I’ve questions to ask.” She said pushing him away.


“Do you want me to answer now?” He said almost brushing her bosom.


“Not exactly, but I want to know if this is love or lust.” She said before they become one.


When they were done, he said, “I am and I will love you in a way that nobody has ever done in the past, neither read in books nor be seen in movies in future.”


***


“Hello Amol, how are you and your family?” The hairdresser said while locking the door of his salon that was next to the lawn he was siting.


“Hello Ron, Nisha and I are doing well. Cutie is living with her boyfriend in Bruges. How about you?” He said without a pause.


“My family and I are doing fine. Do you need a haircut? Do you want me to book an appointment for you?” He said looking at his shoulder length hair.
Amol checked the length of his hair and then he said, “I think I am good,” paused for a minute, then he spoke, “Maybe, you can give me an appointment this Saturday at half past nine in the morning.”


“Sure, I will book that slot for you.” He paused, looked at the watch, then he insisted, “It’s six in the evening, Amol. Do you need my help in getting to your home?”


“No, I am okay. I am waiting for Nisha. She will be back any time from Church.” He said sitting on the chair.


Ron smiled, greeted him good night, and left the place. Amol greeted him back, waved bye, and fixed his gaze on the road. The car flew into the street along with other cars, a few pedestrians walked by, but Nisha was nowhere to be seen. He turned to next page in the photo book. It was indeed a very special photograph for them. The dream came true moment when they stood next to each other in the wedding hall in the most beautiful dress to swore the oath that make them one.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


In the centre of the wedding hall, they both stood next to each other. She stood on a high-heeled white-coloured sandal wearing a snow-white splendid sheath wedding gown that ran from the bottom of the toes to the top of her chest and it perfectly hugged her figure following her curves to elegance, as if it had been made for her. The one-shoulder strap bodice adorned with subtle floral embellishments on the edge and the skirt part, the echoing floral embellishments had drowned from the left side waistline in front and become more to the sweep train. A small heart-shaped pendant hanged from a thin necklace around her neck, tiny heart-shaped earrings dangling on her ears, complimented her radiant face gleaming of happiness. She looked much like a queen in the bridal set. Amol, the king of her heart, suited and booted in dark blue, was smiling broadly. His white shirt glittered like the diamonds complimenting the diamond studded watch and the oxford dress shoes. He looked much like a king!


The Church Father started the wedding ceremony after completing the usual formalities.


“I, Amol, take Nisha, to be my Wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till the pebbles she gave turn into sand or death do part us, according to holy ordinance; and thereto I plight my troth.”

She blushed when she heard the line, “till the pebbles she gave turn into sand”


“I, Nisha, take Amol, to be my Wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till the death us do part, according to holy ordinance; and thereto I plight my troth.”


He kissed her for eternity before they drove to Bruges for an extended honeymoon.


***


“This is the moment that means a lot to us. This is what defines us. This is our life.” He said lifting his head up. A pedestrian passed by smiled at him, and he smiled in return.


He knew the next photograph is going to be special, so he lighted the twentieth cigarette of the day, inhaled its smoke, and after two minutes or so, he let the smoke out through his nose, and flipped to next page.


Michael, a young kid, 6 years of age, entered into the society skating along with his mother. On seeing him, Amol shun the cigarette in the ashtray, and spoke to him.


“Hello Michael,”


“Hello uncle, how am I skating?”


“You have learnt the art of skating well. I appreciate your talent boy. You should also learn playing football. Okay?” Sid spoke in one voice.


“Sure uncle, I will be next Courtois.”


Michael’s mom greeted Amol goodbye, and took Michael inside.


Amol smiled on seeing the boy mastering any art he learns felt happy. He saw himself in the small boy. He smiled and then opened the photo book and continued to travel down his memory lane. It is the photograph of Nisha confirming to Sid that she is pregnant.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


“Amol…” she called him aloud. He was busy fixing the broken pipe in the kitchen. He did not respond a word because he wanted her to fresh up as soon as she is home. She searched for him in the bedroom first, living room, and then the kitchen. On seeing him, she hugged him.


“I’m dirty, almost done with fixing these pipes. Please wait for me in the living room. I’ll come there after taking bath.” He said without touching her.


“We are pregnant!” She exclaimed holding him tight.


He turned and looked into her eyes. She kissed him all over his face. He did the same to her. And they both bathed together in the tub holding each other for a long time. That night they slept holding each other tightly.


***


He would never ever forget those happy tears she had in her eyes in this life. In fact, he would call it as diamonds of happiness and not tears. He flipped to next page. Nisha was nine months pregnant when he clicked this photograph. He remembered how he teased his lovable wife complaining her growing tummy.


*** DOWN MEMORY LANE ***


He made her sit on the chair, came in with the measuring tape, and wrapped it around her waist.


“Oh my God!” He screamed looking at Nisha, and then he said, “It is 36 inches now. You can never be a size zero figure again.” He winked at her.


“Amol...I’m not going to kiss you again.” She said kissing his palm.


He got up and said, “Our baby must be happy now! She has got a good space inside to play football.”


The moment he said that, Nisha felt tickling inside, and when Amol kept his hands on Nisha’s tummy, the little angel kicked him. They broke into laugh, sat near the window with a glass of apple juice and sipped together.


***


He kissed the photograph again and turned over to next page. It was blank, but he knew the reason behind the blank page, so he ignored it, and flipped to next page. His eyes gleamed in happiness and he slipped into a beautiful world that only he could see. It was the first photograph captured when their cutie set her foot on this earth. When he held her for the first time in his hands, he felt that she is the God’s gift for their true love. He kissed his lovable wife on her forehead and the little angel who completed the family.


The light was inadequate, the weather was very chill, and yet he sat in the lawn patiently waiting for his lovable wife to return home. He felt the need of another cigarette, but all he had done with all the twenty cigarettes. He made himself warm rubbing the hands on his arms and his body.


He flipped the page. When she was three, he clicked this photo, and the ones that followed were captured the most beautiful days of his life!


***


“Uncle, it is getting colder. Can you go inside your home?” He heard a voice from behind.


“You are disturbing me, Sid.” Amol said fixing his gaze in the photo book.


“Nisha aunty is back home. She is looking for you.” Sid said in his maximum voice.


Amol’s face shone in happiness. He got up from the chair much like a young boy, carrying his photo-book in one hand and opening the entrance door with another. He turned back and said with a million-dollar-worth-smile, “Thank you, Sid. That’s so sweet of you.”


“You are welcome uncle. Aunty is tired so she asked you to cook today as well.” Sid said with a smile on his face.


“That’s okay. I can cook for my sweetheart. Good Night!” He walked into his home waving bye to Sid and Isha.


“Nisha aunty...but you never introduced her to me.” Isha paused for a minute, “but I never saw an old woman inside.” She questioned with puzzling eyes. Sid signalled her to come inside, after which he narrated all he heard from his neighbour.


“Nisha aunty died in a truck accident when she was nine months pregnant while returning from Church. On hearing this from his friend Richard, Amol uncle had heart attack and was admitted in hospital. He did not attend her funeral too. Though his friend informed all that happened to Amol uncle, still he was not ready to accept it, and when he accepted it, he was unable to handle to life’s misery on him. So, he drank thirty beers and smoked fifty cigarettes or more that night, after which he became lifeless. He was hospitalized for a week. When he came back home, he started acting weird. Initially, Richard uncle thought he was teasing them, but later he realized that Amol uncle started to live with his imaginary Nisha, and they were blessed with a baby named cutie; the worst kind of hallucination. After the second heart attack, Amol uncle stopped working, and it seems that in this period, he developed the habit of travelling down memory lane by viewing the photo book. Initially he cried after seeing a blank page, he even filed a police complaint that his first family photograph is stolen, but after that incident Richard uncle made sure that he diverts Amol uncle from viewing the photo book after the wedding photograph. It works out well for him.”


“This is the height of madness.” Isha said in disbelief.


“Love itself is madness!” Sid said.


Isha hugged Sid, and he continued, “Amol uncle loves to cook for his wife, so the best lie is what I said minutes before.”


“Is he cooking daily?” She again asked in disbelief.


“Yes, he does. After having dinner with his imaging wife, he starts drinking. He drinks ten beers and smokes twenty cigarettes a day, sponsored by Richard uncle.”


“But he should be treated.” She insisted her words firmly.


“They did all they could do, but nothing helped Amol other than the photo book, the imaginary Nisha and cutie. At a point of time, Richard uncle got irritated when Amol asked to click a photograph of his family, so he tried to convey the truth, which resulted in third heart attack. After this incident, it seems that Richard uncle follows this technique to get the things going.”


Isha gave a blank look and Sid continued, “Today, Richard uncle informed me that he will be late so he asked me to divert Amol uncle. I hope I did my best to stop him travel down memory lane.”


“It’s a beautiful love story, Sid!” Isha said before closing the door.


“Yes, it is a beautiful story of love filled with emotions. And, it’s going to be fifth story of my short-story collection.”


“That’s awesome… good luck to you, Sid.”



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