Thursday, June 28, 2007

the man who died leaving 12 small chests behind(part 4)...a tall order I

12:57 p.m.

written again was a cryptic message

when the giant sleeps
then snippety snap you go
armpit hair you take

and before the clock struck 1, our protagonist whom we refer for now as r took his position inside the chest. after the lid had been secured, r waited patiently till the grandfather clock hanging over the chests i.e. cranky man's bed struck 1. the machineries inside the chest(wherever they were) started whirring and r experienced weightlessness and felt himself hurtling at a great speed to godknowswhere.
after approximately 10 seconds(trusting r's slow counting) of this rumbling tumbling, the chest came to a halt with a dramatic flinging open of tis lid. r hurried out for he knew about the hour deadline of completing each task. the task as r thought, was difficult. but challenges were something he enjoyed.

the strange land in which he had landed was indeed very strange...



...if liked may be continued


the great football match

at the time when copa america has come to enliven us, we can never forget this football match between the two giants i.e. germany vs greece, truly an unforgettable match.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Soulmates

She caught his eye as she boarded the bus and sat next to him. Their arms brushed, her perfume reminded him of happier times. He smiled at her

She found him attractive in a faintly familiar way…we’ll get married, have twins and live happily ever after, she thought… she smiled back.

They never met again.

the man who died leaving 12 small chests behind(part3)...the plot thickens

12:55 p.m.


so the first task was done, finding the boy. for the lawyer it was all following his twisted knotted plans. in 11 hours 5 minutes he would be the owner of the mansion and the various other estates that cranky old man had possessed. he knew the remaining tasks would not be so simple. the cranky old man with all his secrets, worshiping the occult and performing black magic was sure to complicate his plans. again he cursed the old fool, squandering his family estates doing his mumbo jumbo, it did not make good business sense. the lawyer felt it was his obligation and his duty to take upon himself the role of the custodian of the estates and the mansion. more importantly the mansion, a nice heritage hotel could come up, it all made good business sense.
and caught in the midst was our protagonist, promised money, food and bedding for a day he had been whisked away from being a beggar to being a heir. he was not complaining but looking wide eyed at the riches all around.
now for the next task the lawyer thought, it was almost time, the clock was striking one.
opening the lock of the second chest, he read the second cryptic message and yet again cursed the cranky old man.


...if liked may be continued

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Not the same

Everything was exactly same…
Splashes of red on the wall, jagged glass shards,

Wrap your lips around it, inhale, pull hard,
and you wont feel nothing.. he told himself

Mum and Dad came easy, so did the school bully…
Now for the tough part, he sighed a deep sigh

Killing yourself isn’t something playstation teaches.

the man who died leaving 12 small chests behind(part2)...arrival

12:03 p.m.


except only a cryptic message was left behind

a boy not too tall
has to be thin lean and poor
can complete the job

and then in the doorstep stood our protagonist fitting the description for the same message had reached him along with a set of twelve keys. more questions no answers. the boy was unaware of what had happened, a distant relative he said. he showed the letter gave the keys and all 12 chests were opened. inside each was a note all filled with different gibberish messages. finding nothing there after upturning each chest, the whole house was searched. no one else lived there and the mansion had no other secrets to hide. the family lawyer who had also arrived with our protagonist was also questioned but even he called the old man cranky and showed them his will where our protagonist was mentioned. so they left, sending the body to the morgue and writing it officially as a suicide attempt for they suspected no foul play except the old man was cranky.

and so the boy was left behind with the lawyer. the boy was no distant relative of the cranky man, the cranky man had no relatives. he was just picked up from the street following the instructions given by cranky man.


...if liked may be continued

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

a direction required

what i feel from this blog is that what we are writing here is the same thing we are writing in our respective blogs. this blog should be a bit different. say some order or disorder or some topic or subject or some gossiping or some thing it should concentrate on. it should not be the same kind of posts as found in our blogs. i think i am repeating myself but i hope fellow blogggers we can achieve something new.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

glass rose

And when it drizzles, these tiny comforting drops, and your friend is there to lend a ear, or shoulder, somehow it all seems ok. Talk of lives and dreams over home made screwdrivers, or stare up at the night sky -cigarette smoke instead of conversation...And all is well. For today, you don’t need 'em rose colored glasses.

Tomorrow I’ll find new ones

Friday, June 15, 2007

feeling yellow

a horrific week that has been a horrific month lies ahead. dehydrated in my hostel room, burning with fever, continuous vomiting, diagnosed with jaundice imprisoned in a multi specialty hospital becoming maniacal bout food. i have been there, seen it all.
with a mad statistician suggesting i act like a dead crow giving me utter bullshit bout karma, Geeta and rising above one self. my friend stealing charas from me, hallucinations about my next magnum opus(a novel idea bout a man dying of thirst) and about becoming a painter, my room mate mostly silently (at times violently) suffering it all, endless bottles of electrol. then admitted to a swanky hospital with a posse of keralite nurses taking care of my poor self.
but one sorrow remains... i have never craved for food as much as i do now, the maddening thought of biriyani recurs, i salivate at the thought of toasts i chart out imaginary feasts. all i have is boiled food and fruits. but i am home at last, away from the madding heat the furnace loo, tis nice to breathe again muggy air.
i retreat for its time to rest.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Bangalore Blues

Its raining hard in bangalore, as i write this, safely ensconced in my chair in the office. The chatter surrounding me about running sas codes to the french open final does nothing to put me at ease. The city it seems does nothing to put me at ease. Its almost that i miss my home town,or maybe my reign of exile in delhi. Somehow the city makes me feel alien, somehow it prompts me to search beneath the surface. Any city, i believe, is not remembered by its wide roads or the towering buildings nor the lack of it.. its the memories that they give you, the drama that is played in your imagination where the city becomes the stage,actor and the audience, the scenes that it evokes, canvasses in your mind that are so vivid you feel one with the city. All i see here are thousands of cabs and buses getting people from point A to point B (point B being the workplace).. and i see the same thousands of people frequenting the pubs and the restaurants on the weekends. Theres a single underlying theme of monotony and boredom..
either i am blind to all thats there to bangalore or maybe i am just paranoid about things which shouldnt bother me..
either ways i am scared shitless!