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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.”



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: 32


down memory lane #truestory




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.

This short story is now a part of the upcoming short story collection as requested by multiple readers. Thanks for the love!

It’s a beautiful love story Sarav!” Vidhya says before she closed the pressure cooker.
Yes, it is. Someday, I will pen it down for sure.


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: 32

CupoNation organized an ultimate travel stories contest. They handpicked some of the best bloggers in India to share the story of their greatest backpacking adventure and I'm happy to be one of them.

Please visit the website, search for "Sarav", enter your email address and vote for me: http://www.cuponation.in/blog/online-travel-blog-contest/travel-stories-contest-voting/ You can read the post here: http://bit.ly/SaravTravelogue

The Scribbler's Orchard: PART 19

Read the previous part of this story here

Everything was set ready for the rituals to start. Acharya sat before the fire, he being a worshipper of fire believed that human sacrifice would get him all he wished. Mr Ahuja was there with Archarya and they were waiting for the clock to strike twelve.

Acharya said, ‘The time has come. Bring him now.’

Ahuja’s men brought a hooded man, hands tied on back, and both the legs were locked with an iron chain. He was made to sit into a pit next to the fire and his hood was removed.

‘Ismail Abdullah...’ Acharya laughed loudly and then continued, ‘The face of the nation, now to be sacrificed to fire, for the good of the bad.’
Ismail Abdullah lifted his hand up, raised his head and prayed to God, ‘Allah, let the peace prevail in this world!’ He looked into Acharya eyes first and then Ahuja and the goons there and said, ‘I promise on Allah that none of you will escape from the eyes of people. They’re watching you.’ He laughed pointing Ahuja’s men.

Acharya and Ahuja confusingly looked at the men standing before, shouted in unison, ‘Who’s the black sheep?’

Abdullah laughed again and said, ‘Before you find him, he will kill both of you.’ Irritated Acharya ordered the goons to set the pit on fire. They heard a gunshot outside, followed by one more and many more, which created confusion amongst them. Ahuja ordered his men to take away Abdullah. Acharya ordered to set him on fire. The goons just stood there confused. Ahuja kicked the ritual powder into the fire in frustration, which let out heavy smoke and the whole area became invisible to naked eyes.

Arjun and his team, entering the ritual area, ordered all of them to hands up, but because of the heavy smoke, they were unable to see anyone there. He heard someone shouting for help. He fired a shot to the rooftop and said, ‘Do not move. Stay, wherever you are. Otherwise, I’ll shoot all of you.’

They heard one more gunshot. It was not from Arjun. He stood puzzled waiting for the smoke to be cleared.

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

Shekhar and Jennifer, who were waiting for Arjun outside of Ahuja’s residence, spotted people dragging Roohi into a van. They saw Cyrus on a stretcher lying half-conscious inside the van. Quickly they locked the door and the van started.

Shekhar started to run towards the van shouting his daugther's name, but a passing car did not allow him to do that. Jennifer luckily clicked photographs of the van, the goons, Roohi and Cyrus.

Shekhar broke down into tears. Jennifer tried to pacify him. And they heard a gunshot from inside, which terrified them.

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

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.”

The Scribbler's Orchard: PART 6

To read previous parts follow the links:
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5

Cyrus…Tara recalled speaking to a stranger on phone. She corrected her tone, 'Rohan, can we meet at my place?'
‘Ma’am sure, can we meet today as in a day I’m getting married?’ Rohan conveyed his point.
‘Shekhar Dutta, The Orchard, No…’ Tara gave her address and requested him to come in half-an-hour and left for her home.
_____

Shekhar was almost done with his post “An analogy of me” capturing his beautiful days with the cutest flower – Roohi – all that happened till that last hour. He clicked on Publish and tweeted to his million followers. He knew the power of pen.
‘…Roohi’…he cried instantly. The doorbell was ringing, with urgency. He looked at the wall clock. Quarter past two in the afternoon.
‘It’s not Tara. She will be back only by five.’ He thought for a second…‘Roohi…’he rushed to open the door.

Tara was standing, tears frozen in her eyes. She told Shekhar about Rohan and Cyrus. Scratching his beard, Shekhar was thinking of someone who could help them at this situation. “Arjun”, a young police officer who won a gold medal for his bravery in last year New Delhi Bombings. They saw Rohan entering the gate.

Rohan's lips curved a little, but his worried face conveyed his pain. ‘Tara?’
‘It’s better if we go inside.’ Shekhar said in a grave voice, Tara and Rohan followed.
Rohan narrated the entire episode right from the moment Cyrus landed in Mumbai, handed over all the proofs to Shekhar and pleaded them to save Cyrus.
Shekhar and Tara thanked Rohan for his help. Rohan left the place.
‘Are you going to let this information out?’ Tara asked.
‘Arjun…’ Shekhar took his mobile phone out.
_____

‘Arjun,’ Shekhar said.
‘Hello uncle! How are you? How’s Tara aunty and my little angel?’
‘Arjun…I need your help badly to save Roohi.’
‘Roohi…What happened to her uncle?’
Shekhar narrated the entire episode to Arjun.
‘This is something cruel uncle. Moreover this involves lives of many innocent people. It’s time to play my game.’ Arjun said.
‘I trust you Arjun. I want my daughter back.’ Shekhar paused, after a minute he continued, “I’ll forward the recordings to you. Also, I’ve got something interesting for you. We’ll talk about it in detail tomorrow.’
_____

Jennifer called Shekhar on his mobile phone.
‘Mr Dutta, I’m in Mumbai. I need your help to get out of this sticky situation.’ Jennifer said.
‘Tara will help you in this regard. Moreover, it all started because of me. I will put an end to this.’ Shekhar said firmly and gave the phone to Tara.
_____

Arjun faxed Roohi’s photograph to the head office. He ordered his team to find Roohi.

To read the next part visit here.

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

Happy Birthday Devil 2014!!!

A decade has gone by since I met her first, but it sounds like ten months to me. It should be same for her. Never know when we became so close to each other. Maybe in the second semester when we spoke for hours, all credits to Hutch! Or in the fourth when we had no secrets between us or maybe during the inplant training days? Don’t know when, but we are happy for whatever we were and we are now.

I never called her by her name, and she did that ever. I never thought I will write again, and she did the trick and named this blog, “Few Miles” and I wrote again dedicating verses for her. So many never, ever and forever, I still remember the days I used to call her saying “I have written something new today!” and she read it the next moment. Many a times, I felt bad saying nobody reads my blog, but her words, "I'm sure someday you will have viewers from more than hundred countries! Touch wood!", always boost my confidence. And you know what her words came true in 2012!

Not just that, we have so many memories to cherish. Maybe I can write a book. Actually, she has done that and gifted it on my 21st birthday. Maybe, she realised that we may not spend more time after that. We did spent time after that too, but not like before, not 24x7, since life demanded us to work and concentrate on life and eventually, I moved to London and then to Germany, and she moved to Seoul, we kinda became busy with life, still our hearts knew that we were, we are, and we will be blood friends forever. No matter how many times we speak in a month or how frequent we meet, it is heart-to-heart connection. And it so happened today when I phoned her on the mobile phone and wished her “Happy Birthday!” She was happy to hear my voice and so I. We spoke only for few minutes, but the magic in her voice and the happiness in our heart is still the same. And that’s the beauty of true friendship, otherwise I will not write this one at quarter past twelve waking up from the sleep.

Happy Birthday once again Devil! And I made this card for her!


Gift

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 48; the forty-eighth 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.

Sweetie Pie,

They say, “Anger is a madness that lasts for few seconds, but leaves its footprint forever.” I second that.

I do not want to argue again, on whose mistake it was. In fact, I forget all that happened that day and wish to start new because I still love you with all my heart. I am waiting in the hostel reception.

PS: I do not believe in reincarnation, so do not make me wait until next life.
PPS: Sincere apologies


Me

I left the letter in her textbook.

***

What happened then?” My grandson asked me with puzzled eyes.

Well, the last few seconds of my college life, was the best thing happened to me; otherwise, I would not say this story to you sitting next to your grandma.” I smiled and continued, “I am lucky because your grandma believed in me and accepted my apologies.

He smiled clapping. My darling smiled. And I said, smiling, “Apology, the best gift one could get or give!”

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: 31

#WHATTHEBLACK


This post is a part of #WhatTheBlack activity at BlogAdda.com



Below is the post describing my experience of #WhatTheBlack campaign. I wanted to dedicate an album for the activity and the outcome is what you see below. I must admit, #WHATTHEBLACK activity was really fun! Want to know the surprise, see below:


BlogAdda wanted to make it special, see the package that they have done for us!

And that yummy black chocolate! Wow!!!! We're lucky!!!


He is smart. He loved the surprise and within no time, he completed the chocolate. See...see his face...

And his eyes says it all!!!


DAY 2: They say, "Break the rules" and BlogAdda did it! Newspaper in black color? Are you serious? If that is your question, then see to believe it!



They did it! They did it!!!




I waited...I waited...and I waited... The courier boy did not turn up, but after reading Cifar's status, I came to know that the clue is Black paper cup and black tissue. Also, the site whattheblack.com was down too. I then seeked the help of who.is resulted negative, but with the help of clues, my sister said, it is a brush from colgate, which she saw while she was shopping. #AMWAITING



And finally, the much awaited day in Indian History arrived. The story revealed. My sister was right and the website was redirecting to Colgate website. Colgate did the trick, the black innovation, the feast for the eyes is like no other. Presenting, Colgate Slim Soft Charcoal toothbrush. It's black bristles are infused with charcoal that helps remove plaque bacteria. With bristle tips that are 17 x slimmer than the ordinary toothbrush, it can effortlessly reach right tight spaces between teeth and along the gum line that other toothbrushes can't. See more at: http://www.colgate.co.in/app/ColgateOralCare/Toothbrush/ColgateSlimSoft/IN/home_charcoal.cwsp


Thank you @BlogAdda for the opportunity and Colgate for the innovation!!!

Let's welcome the amazing black revolution. Help us to spread the word using #WhatTheBlack on social media sites.

Cheers,
Sarav