Life is a mix of both: Sweet and Sour!

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 41; the forty-first 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. The theme for the month is "SWEET AND SOUR"

Dreams crushed. Self-confidence lost. Do we have a life now? Or was it just a crushed dream? I wonder.

Wires and tubes are running all around my body. Huge bandage is wrapped on my head and I cannot see anything clearly. Is this what people call as ICU? Definitely, this is a new place to me and for her. She is afraid of injections itself; I have no idea on how she is going to handle this life’s misery.

Is it our mistake to board that last bus to my place? Or is it my mistake for being unable to protect her? Or is it God’s mistake to create humans unable to withstand animal attacks? Whom to ask, God? I doubt if God still exists?

Heart rate increases. Alarm beeps. A team of five nurse rushes in and an injection (Morphine) is given. I doze off; slowly and painfully. The horrific memories of that ill-fated day occupied my mind: the day when our dreams were shattered into pieces and life became nothing.

Whom to blame? Boarding that last bus? Deciding to go to my place at that time of the night? Calling my parents on our land phone getting permission to bring her home? Taking her out for a movie? Visiting her place speaking with her parents and getting their acceptance for our relationship? Coming to Mumbai in search of her? Deciding to breakup for the sake of our parents’? Or falling in love with that stupid idiotic cute little devil?

I do not have an answer for this; but of this, I am sure: they are not human beings, not even animals’ as animals would not hunt that way; they are something which words cannot describe. They shattered our dreams. Had I known this I would not have boarded that bus, tinted windows and curtains and those 8 bastards who would even f*** their M***** if their loins are heated up.
Alarm beeps again. The team rushes in again and injects another dose to keep my heart rate under control. I calm down.

They laid a trap for us. The bus occupants had everything planned. Apart from the driver and the conductor, others behaved like they were passengers. We even paid Rs 50 as fare. They then started teasing her and it led to a brawl. I beat them up but then they brought an iron rod and hit on my head first, face second, then on knees. I fell down in pain and they took her away. From where we boarded the bus, they moved around for nearly one hour and 17 minutes. She even fought with them, but those animals hit on her head with the iron rod. She passed out. And those M***** F****** raped her; brutally and repeatedly.

They snatched our mobiles and tore off our clothes in order to destroy any evidence of the crime. And after throwing us off the bus, they tried to run the bus over us but I pulled her away in the nick of time. No one came forward to help us for about 30 minutes, finally a police man helped us; he took us to the hospital in his own jeep instead of waiting for the ambulance.

What happened to her? Is she alive? Alarm beeps again. This time my heartbeat raced like a tsunami. And I...

...after three days: conscious and okay, for the first time, I felt ashamed for being born as an Indian; cut me into pieces or set me on fire for saying that, but I meant what I said. I felt ashamed for being unable to protect her and for so many wonderful human beings, who ran away from us fearing that they may become an eyewitness for the case if they help us instead of lending a helping hand.

I asked a nurse about her condition. She first resisted, but then said that she has undergone a major surgery to remove her gangrenous intestines and she is unlikely to recover. I do not have a big heart to hear what she said, so I requested her to keep me sedated until she recovers.

...after seven days: I woke me up hearing that she is recovering well. She has undergone another major surgery and a bionic intestine is now stitched. I hurried to her bed in a wheelchair and whispered her name. She opened her eyes, I held her hand and said, be my life forever.

...after seven years: we are married, living happily with our kids now. Maybe, life cannot be only sweet and not definitely be sour; life is a mix of both: Sweet and Sour love story.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count:25

This post has won the second maximum number of votes in the contest, since I am the hosting marshal, I have passed on the BATOM to the next eligible winner. See the results here.

I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 1st - 7th September 2013.

PS: The theme for The Write Tribe Festival is Seven. This post has 777 words and has several sevens in it. Find them out. Good Luck!

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Dreams crushed. Self-confidence too. Do we have a life? Or is it a crushed dream? Stop by: http://t.co/mVSlljdqjs #WriteFestival #Blogaton41
— Someone is Special (@FewMiles) September 1, 2013

...A reason to celebrate

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 33; the thirty-third 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. The theme for the month is 'Celebrations'

I fly across the winds under the clouds amid the people carrying an untold story of a heart counting his last few hours. He may not see her again, but his last few words will tell her, how badly he missed his lost love. I need to find her, and I do not have any other choice. I have less time left. Can I make it to her? I doubt if I can. I continue flying hoping I can be a reason for someone’s happiness.

Someone has caught me. I guess it is a little baby. She has small blue eyes, tiny ears, and a sweet curve on her round face; her tender hands complete her. She is a Goddess. I would be happy if she handover me to her mother or someone who can read me, will she?

Oh, God she throws me down, this is bad :( I need to fly… I need to… I need…to…fly… But my bad, I’m lying in the streets of Mumbai :( Will someone pick me up? I wonder if it can happen.

Ouch! It’s hurting. What could be this sharp thing? I guess… It must be a… Dog, is it? This is bad again. I should fly to reach her. Dog, please leave me down. I beg you. I beg you… please… When I’m almost lost, a ray of hope came in the form of burger as he let me down in the process of filling his stomach. I’m saved. I start my journey once again in search of her with the help of winds. The wind current is amazing as I feel being loved whenever the wind touches me softly. I’m lucky, as it is a windy day.

Winds…please do not stop. I love this feeling but…the happiness does not last long as I land on a chair. I wish someone can pick me up from here and help me reach her. Will it happen? I’m depressed as no one came touched me so far…and after an hour of desperate waiting, someone took me in his hands. He must be in his forties I guess and I’m glad as he starts reading.

Wet Winds blew again and I fly from his hand to a nearby apartment, pass through the window and finally I found her... She reads with her pink lips...

Sweetie Pie,

So much has been said to you over the years. I have exhausted the vocabulary explaining my situation on that fateful day. Still you are not ready to either accept me or forgive me. I’m not sure what to do or how to get you back and I cannot tolerate this pain. Hence, I have decided to end this in an easy way. I’m sorry to say I’m writing to you after having consumed seven sleeping pills. I know you hate writers who kill English; hence, please pardon me and ignore the typos and grammatical errors.

Still I feel like it was yesterday I saw you in pink colored frock riding her bicycle…but ten years have passed by and we have grown; in fact, a lot. I wished you would be my better half, even dreamt a life with our kids, but our fate, we had to part after living together for a year. I agree it is my mistake, though I can blame the situation I was in; still I did the repair work, and I waited for you to accept me, but…

“The beautiful word found my human being for the unseen feeling is love.” Do you remember this? I said holding your hands in the rain when I first kissed you. I felt the same whenever I kissed you as you always throws up newness and mystery in our life. I love every second I lived with you and hoping to live at least for one more second with you.

“Men know better than the language does.” You said after we made love for the first time and I have said, “I now know how an Angel looks like.” Do you at least remember this?

I have heard people saying, “If our life is short then God gifts happy moments!” I have had enough. I wish to write more but I’m unable to see anything clearly and my eyelids close without my order.

I need you… The fragrance of flower still reminds you, the sounds of chirping birds reminds you, the tender hands reminds your touches, it kept me alive, and I realize that there is no life without you.

I want to say I still love you with all my heart. I would love to hear your voice once before my end. So, please…call me Sweetie Pie when this letter reaches you. I would celebrate dancing for our favorite song, if I’m alive by God’s grace. I do not think I would be…

PS: Isha must be two I guess. Say that her Dad will come someday to meet her.

♥
Me

A teardrop fell from her eyes to wet me. I’m sure she would call him and I wish he had come out of coma to pick her call.

I can hear her voice… “Sid…I…”

Sid has a reason to celebrate life with Hassini and Isha. I too have a reason to celebrate as I reached her in time.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 23

PS: I'm participating without contesting for votes. Hence I've published the post a day before Blog-a-Ton. Good luck!

PPS: This is part two of An Untold Story published in last edition and the story will continue in the next edition and the storyteller will be the letter. :) Please encourage with your words :)

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

PS: Creativity is a result of inspiration. A paper was flying across the road amid the people to land on my face. To my surprise, someone has written “I Love U Idiot!” and that’s pretty much the inspiration of this post. WoW or not? Do let me know :)

and BlogAdda says...

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Last Few Words..

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second 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. The theme for the month is 'An Untold Story'

I fly across the winds under the clouds amid the people carrying an untold story of a heart counting his last few hours. He may not see her again, but his last few words will tell her, how badly he missed his lost love. So, until I find her, let the story be untold please!

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. I'm introduced by Nethra, and this is my 22nd post for Blog-a-Ton :)

PS: We Marshals have decided that the hosting Marshal should not participate in Blog-a-Ton, but my love for Blog-a-Ton does not allow me to do so. Hence, I will participate without contesting for votes, which is nothing but I will write the next day of Blog-a-Ton.

Do you like the story? Promote on IndiBlogger, Share & Like on Facebook, Pin on Pinterest, Plus & Share on Google or Tweet using the button here.. and the story will continue in the next edition and the story teller will be the letter. :) Please encourage with your words :) Thanks in advance!

The Untold Story of Riti; Strangers, in the Night!

This post won in 'Blog-a-Ton 31' organized by Blog-a-Ton. I thank all the sweet hearts for pushing me to win with their GOLDEN VOTES... Thank you thank you thank you...

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 31; the thirty-first 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. The theme for the month is 'Strangers in the Night'

Warning: Please do not watch the video if you are weak-hearted or if you are under 13. Thanks! Kindly use headphones or earphones to experience the real effect of the video. Here you go...

I hope you like the video, if not, I’m sorry :( This is my second attempt to make a video for my blog post, and my first attempt in sound mixing. I did give my best, but my bad, I’m unable to find the sounds I imagined in my mind. I hope next time I will try to better myself. Thanks for your time! The post for you!

The long road was completely empty due to heavy rain. Every strong clap of the thunder increased the heartbeat like a cosine wave. The flashing lights in the sky lighted up the sky from one end to the other, blurring images of the vehicles that buzzed every odd minute. The moist winds were continuously blowing on my face. A ray of hope kept me waiting hoping for the last bus to my hometown, even after half past midnight and I was the only living creature sitting on the bench of silicon city bus stop – the bus stop known for buzzing IT Professionals!

A blurred woman image holding a white colored umbrella was seen at a distance of 100 meters, which came closer and closer each passing second and at last, it was a beautiful girl and she sat next to me at the bus stop. She was wearing a white colored Salwar Kamez. She had a face of an angel. She had worn kajal instead of kohl that added beauty to her powerful eyes. Her nose was drafted perfectly like a triangle. Her perfect pale pink rose bud lips were inviting to kiss them. Her white complexion could put technologies to shame. Her white colored sandals were her pride, I believe. She was hot despite her small faulty tummy; in total, she was an Angel and she mesmerized me!

She was reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and I was reading her lips. PS: Lip reading : P

She was irritated, so she asked, ‘What?’
‘I’m dying of loneliness. Can you please?’ I said smiling.
She smiled broadly for the first time and said, ‘Okay!’
‘Tell me about yourself?’

‘I’m Ritika, working as a Senior Software Engineer. I’m a Facebook addict; in fact, that’s how I met my boyfriend, who happened to share the same corporate tag, and he calls me Riti!’ She said, forgetting to breathe.

I cursed Mr. Zuckerberg and his co-founders of the social networking site Facebook, managing a smile, as it’s rare to meet a girl aloneat night, and that too a heart stealing beauty.

She smiled and asked, ‘Tell me about you!’

‘I’m Siddesh, working as a Senior Executive Engineer. I’m passionate about writing and I write at Few Unsaid Words. I had a girlfriend but my bad we broke up, a month ago :( ’

‘Really? Even we broke up last week :) I realized he is not the right guy and all he wanted was flesh.’ She said with tears, looking down, and she kept silent for the next few minutes.

She asked, ‘Are you still in love with her?’
I smiled and said, ‘It’s time to move on because she is not going to comeback as my life.’

‘I’m sorry! Anyway, move on, because love is not the life, it is just a part of life. But when you love someone; love her heart and not her flesh, okay?’ She said in a demanding voice. I nodded my head because I loved my girl.

The rain started pouring down heavily in all directions and we were drenched completely by the time she opened her umbrella for us. Her inner was completely visible as her white dress became transparent; she looked like an ice cream and I could not stop staring at hers, she was hot!

I wanted to stop staring at hers so I started reading a-day-old newspaper, which I had in my back bag. As usual, the hot news was “Pregnant woman found dead in her flat!”

BANGALORE WORDS – Bangalore Police officials are trying to determine the cause of a doubtful suicide of a pregnant woman found hanging in her flat, who is working as a software engineer in ABC Enterprises.

‘Am I too hot to handle?’ She asked smiling mischievously!
‘Well, you are damn hot!’ I said, still looking into the paper.
‘Maybe, that’s why Harish always wanted sex I guess,’ she said.
‘Harish! Did she say Harish? Harish and Ritika? What the F!’

I was shocked! I read the same names in the newspaper. Ritika was found dead in her flat. She had committed suicide by hanging and the police suspects that her boyfriend Harish could have murdered and hanged her.

She peeped inside the newspaper, laughing, and said ‘I’m Ritika Chaudhary!’

I fainted!

***

Three hours later, a loud honk helped to open my eyes to greet the wet windy drizzles and I was sitting at the same bus stop with the same newspaper, and a diary titled ‘Strangers in the night’ was on my lap; my heartbeat raced and I fainted again!

***

An hour later, a paperboy woke me up, to check whether I was alive or not. I bought a tea for him to express gratitude but he wanted the tea in exchange of newspaper and he was very sweet. I was sure that he would be a star some day in his life. He advised not to sleep at bus stops and left the place. I opened the newspaper only to read the headline that that Harish was found dead in his house last night.

‘What the F? He is dead?’ I rushed back to room because I wished neither to faint again on road nor to get drenched in rain.

‘Is she dead? Is she a ghost? Did she kill Harish? Is she alive? Why she came to me? What’s her motto? Why did she leave her diary? How can ghost write a diary? C’mon can someone find me an answer?’

I had gone mad, completely. Should I read her diary? Should I read the newspaper? Chill let’s read the Newspaper.

image courtesy: Someone is Special

The newspaper confirmed that Ritika and Harish were dead but how did I meet Ritika. Was that my dream? If it was a dream then how did I have her diary in my hand?

The cover of the diary was unique as she had titled her diary, “Strangers in the Night” and the tagline was, “me. my life. my days.”

Even tears could not help. I felt sad! In fact, I wanted to kill Harish, and people like him. Glad Riti, did it!

Dear Riti,
I’m glad I met you! Let your soul rest in peace!
I’ll destroy this diary, as this is yet another untold story; let it be untold!
Stay Blessed!
Sid!

My mobile phone beeped, ‘You’ve a text from Isha!’ I jumped in joy as she texted ‘I miss U :( Please come to Forum Mall by 4 PM, ♥ U'

A Thought: “Love your special ones truly and heartily! Never ditch your better half, and this holds good for both the genders. Live beautifully! PS: Strangers in the night cannot be couples”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Nethra, Participation Count: 21

Copyrights: I hold the copyrights of the images & video used in the post © Someone is Special All Rights Reserved.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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... yet another untold story through my lens!

It's my pleasure to narrate a story through my lens. Get ready for yet another untold story...

It was once a beautiful and memorable place in his life. He used to visit with her now and then just to spend time with her. That day, he was alone and his camera clicked that untold story of his life!

He walked all the way from the beach to the Island alone.

The path he walked that day was the path he had some sweet memories with her, those kisses and hugs, Mmmm…

The path was not too dangerous but not that easy to walk, yet he walked once again, alone :(

Those steps were not too cruel because it helped him; she held his hands whenever they had crossed it.

Those ups and downs on the pathway, those small pillars were the places they kissed and hugged!

Those broken pillars were the ones they sat to rest themselves.

Those clicks she loved madly were his best clicks!

He could relive those moments as he walked once again.

He had walked a long way, alone, and for the first time.

He reread the board “Dangerous Building,” might be they should’ve had given heed to it on that disastrous day, but :(

He went inside the Island again

to the beach side,

and to their favorite place!

He saw a couple standing there holding hands; it reminded those old sweet days, when they stood holding each other hands.

And her favorite glasses of his!

the flowers..

and the lonely beach!

And the place where she lost her life, accidentally. That photograph she clicked was the last one clicked by her. Although, he jumped and to save her, she … He searched for her but…

Still even after months he came again, searching for her, but it ended in vain, so he decided to end it

Days passed...

the beach became colorful and people flooded on weekends to enjoy the beautiful picnic spot, but they (he and she) never came back again.

That’s how people are, they forget things easily, as days pass painful memories fade away and new memories starts blooming, whatever lost is still lost, and it is painful only for those who are involved in it, and for everyone else it is just an accident. Stay safe and be safe, because you’ve only one life and only you can care about it! Live your life!

---

I’m not an expert in photography and I’ve used software to add beauty to my clicks. The concept of the story - The black and white photographs represent his memories and the one he jumps represents both and the rest are what happened that day :)

I did make a video for the same story! Do watch them! Do leave your footprints!