an unfinished story...

And that night he couldn’t sleep well.

It was raining heavily in the hot afternoon when Rohit was having his cup of black coffee. He was sitting in front his Dad’s computer and keenly watching a movie of a kind which he couldn’t have watched even if a single person was around. Yes, he was alone. His dad had gone out to work, and mom was in the market. Rohit was the only child to his parents. The rainfall had made the mercury go down by a few degrees. The cool breeze was adding glamour to the climate. It was about 2.00 Pm, but it seemed as if evening had already arrived.

As thunderstorms became very frequent, Rohit decided to switch off the system. He was well aware of the poor condition of electricity infrastructure of his rented house. During one such thunderstorm, the previous renters had to sacrifice their television. Rohit had no intentions of letting something similar happening to his dad’s latest machine. But he had no real work to do. The coffee was almost over. Before he could think of anything the telephone rang. He was indeed waiting for it. He thought it must be his mother, asking him to come to her by car and pick her up. Rohit’s mother liked him driving their car; so much that on his 18th birth day, she gifted him a driving license.

Rohit picked up the phone, but it was Sourav there on the other side. Sourav was an old friend of Rohit. They had known each other since, std. III. After their plus two, they had to separate. Rohit had gone for engineering, and Sourav had joined NIFT, to study fashion designing. They were still best pals, and remained in regular touch.

Sourav could only say “hello”, and the connection broke. Rohit put the receiver back and waited. But another call did not come. He then decided to call back. But the line was engaged and he could not contact Sourav. After a few attempts he gave up, and left the room. The rainfall had almost halted. The sun was again preparing to roar. The weather was still fine, and Rohit decided to go out for a walk. He asked Vicky, if he would accompany him. Vicky nodded and both of them stepped out of the house. Vicky was his dog.

He crossed the first corner, and then the second. There were the same old shops. The same old men, at least they looked same; the usual ones. But this one was not the usual one. He was taller than everyone else present there nearby. It wasn't only the height that made him look different in the crowd. There was something else. May be in his eyes. Or the way he was staring around was too peculiar, too noticable. It appeared to Rohit as if he was the only one able to spot him with a difference in that place. The reason must have been his joblessness, at least that is what he thought. He looked at Vicky. He could see the same curiosity in the dog's eyes, as were in his. Doggy dear had noticed that tall guy too.

There was nothing more to do after all that observation, thought Rohit, and so he moved on. It had become hot again. The sun was smiling at everyone for no reason. No one smiled back.

Getting back to myself ..

Getting back to myself
Is what I’m doing
Yes getting back to myself
All the time
At least I’m trying
Getting back to myself
All the time….

The days come
Come to me like pigeons
They keep on flying
Flying all the time
And I see you every day
Think about you
Yeah that’s you in my mind
Nothing great I can do
Man I am getting blind
But still trying
Trying hard to get back to myself
And trying that all the time

professor, professor

Professor, Professor,
why don't you teach?
All that you blabber,
is out of our reach.

Blabber you do;
and you give us pain.
When in your class
nothing we gain.

Simplest of things
look so complex;
courtsey to you!
You come to perplex.

There was a time;
on bed, we'd sleep.
Now in your class
we can sleep, real deep.

In your lectues
no joy we find.
Leave us dear prof.
We won't ever mind.

listen this on :

it is my life

It’s like the sea
The dreadful sea
It is my life
why can’t u see

It roars and it cries
It always tries
It is my life
It’s in disguise

At times it is calm
So smooth, so calm
It is my life
It spells its charm

And then it roars
With all its force
It is my life
It’s mine of course

It’s like the sea
The dreadful sea
It is my life
why can’t u see

love at saloon

here's a short story i finished writing today:

He said nothing when he entered the room. I was passing the best of my razors back and forth on the strop. He took a seat quietly. Only traces of beard were present on his face. He was looking into my eyes; his eyes calling me. It was the fourteenth time in a single week that he had come for shaving in this saloon.

I stopped my work. The time for duty had come. He was staring at me as I approached him. A slight smile appeared on his face. His face was good to look at. His body was better. But then people like him kept coming to this saloon. This was the only saloon in town were all the staff were females. I was sure the same reason brought him here, more number of times than needed, that brought everyone else. That was the reason why this saloon had only women working in there in the first place. We were twelve women there. And I wondered sometimes, how he always managed that I be the only one available whenever he came.

I applied the shaving cream. I didn’t need to ask him anything. We had developed some kind of mutual understanding. I knew he was still staring at me. I never liked men staring at me. But he had been different from others; different since the first day. Today however seemed a day, more different from others. He looked so nervous today, and yet he had a ‘never before observed’ feel about him. His eyes wanted to convey something to me. And the thought of that sent a shudder through my body.

His face appeared cleaner as I approached the end of my job. I looked into his eyes, and before I could know, I was smiling. A chemistry was developing; or had it already developed? But I knew all this was going to vanish soon. As soon as he would know who I was. I was sure I would refuse him before he could do so. But I was sure of something else. I was already in love with him. And yet I could never tell that to him. I could never speak a word.

My job was done. He sat there clean shaved. He sat there silently. And then suddenly there was a movement. He had taken out a piece of paper from somewhere. He wanted me to read it. I knew this was the time to decide. And I did decide. I took the paper from him. If that was going to be a proposal, I knew I had to answer in negative. I was not sure if I should read that.

The next moment I was reading it. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read that. And as I finished I could see tears in his eyes too. He had proposed to me and I had accepted. I had accepted to be his wife. And there had been no need of even a single word.

On our wedding, my father overheard someone saying “isn’t she the girl who worked at that saloon in front of the town hall”? I heard she is dumb; can’t utter a single word. Who agreed to marry her?” ‘That man has an extra feature, he is deaf as well’, came back the reply.


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