I got up some time ago. At five in the morning! I got up because I saw weird dreams and started feeling restless. I had slept at some time after three. And I am still restless, though not very sure why.

I decided to write a poem. Couldn't. I typed. I deleted. I typed again. I deleted again. Nothing! It happens with everyone at times. Right? Say right. Vatsap?

May be not a poem. The craziest blog till now at least. Something!

She realized that her cell-phone was ringing. Before she could press the receive-button, the call got disconnected. She checked if the number was saved on her cell. Yeah, it was. It was a missed call from none other than 'B' himself! He called finally! He is back!!

As she waited for his call so that she could pick up this time, her mind drifted back in time. B had been everything to her and this was so not a very long time back. She adored him as a person, loved him as a friend, respected him for his principles and deep within her she also had a liking for him. She was not sure if it was love or anything, but then she couldn't deny the possibiliy too. She didn't know what love was after all!

Things were going on fine. They met regularly and they often watched movies. They used to have fun in the beach followed by coffee in restaurants. And then suddenly, one day B had to go out of town. He never gave a reason. She tried to know where he was going to and what for, but he just didn't tell. And he left.

It had been almost an year now. She had no clue where he was, how he was. He never replied to any e-mails, his cell was always unreachable and the permanent phone no: or address was unavailable. She had almost given up on him. Yes, she had almost forgotten him, when suddenly today she saw his missed call.

The cell was ringing again. It was him. She pressed the 'receive-button'. And as soon as she pressed it, there was a blast. A pretty powerful blast which should have shaken structures even five miles away! She was blown to pieces. The entire office space was reduced to steel and concrete skeleton and the building had collpased and was kissing the earth.

Yes, he was back for sure!

And when the sun had set, she came out of hiding. Two hours! It was impossible to do what she was planning to, in such a short span of time. But then this was all the time that she had, and she knew she had to do it. This was the only thing she could do to free herself. Only time could tell, how this freedom was going to be like!

As she slowly and cautiously crouched along the railing of the terrace, she rechecked her possesions. The weapon was in place, and so was the letter. The typical sound audible to her on her earphone indicated that the miniature video camera attached to her head gear was still operational. He will feel proud of me when he sees the video!

She reached the main door on the terrace which lead downstairs to the seventh floor of the building. Action time now!

And then suddenly, out of nowhere a spot light fell on her. She was caught by utter suprise and reflex made her jump away but it was too late. Whop! Whop! Two bullets from a pistol, landed straight at her heart. And there she was, dead on the concrete.

Freedom!

She was looking more than mere beautiful that evening. I got up from my chair as she came towards me, smiling in her trademark style. She got seated on the adjacent chair, and we were soon busy talking.

This woman defied her age. As she spoke, telling me about her good days and the not so good days, her eyes gleamed and her face shined. I was hooked to her, listening to all she had to say. It took me some time to realize that suddenly she had become quite. She was no more talking. She was not even looking at me. She had apparently got lost in her own world.

I waited for some time, and then waved my right hand to bring her back to where we were. Her eyes didn't move. She didn' move. She was dead! She had left this world.

I closed my eyes in grief and saw her face. That slowly turned into mine. I opened my eyes again. She was there no more. The chair was empty; only one of them. There was a body on the other chair. That was mine.

'By the way, did I ask you how was your day today, honey?'

She responded without even looking, 'you are trying to be sweet, aren't you?'

'Why are you talking like this, hmm? Angry with me? Oh cummon, you should tell me if there's something going on inside you. Shouldn't you?'

She didn't reply.

'Do you really wanna know, what feeling hot is all about? Hmm?'

There was a spark in her eyes as she replied, 'Oh yes mom, please tell me.'

'Tell me first, what do you think it is. Do you really believe it had anything to do with standing out in the sun?'

'No.'

'So? What do you think?'

'I don't know. I am too small. You should tell me mummaa. Please, tell me now.'

'Okay, kiddo. You feel hot when you get sick and you catch fever. You forgot the last time, mumma was sick, and she was so hot? And mumma had to take medicines to get well?'

'Oh yeah, you are right mumma. I remember now, you were like sooo hot and then dad was like, I mean he just helped you all night. Yeah I remember.'

Sanjana just couldn't control her laughter at this. 'You got it kiddo. So now, start with your homework baby. Will you?'

this conversation follows this story

The sun was shining on her innocent beautiful face. But the sunscreen lotion would save her from turning darker. As if she cared. Sanjana saw her in the sun and called out.

'What are you doing there in the sun?'

'Feeling hot'.

A smile appeared on Sanjana's face as she listened to this. 'And why do you want to feel hot baby? It's already so hot. And days will turn warmer as the summer is going to mature.'

'When does one feel hot?'

Now this is really getting messy. Sanjana went to her and brought her back inside the shade of the room.

'You shouldn't be watching too much of TV. What about your homework, finished it? Cummon, chalo mumma will help you do it.'

I was tagged by The Helmet. I carried forward this story (without any expected twist!). And then I tagged three more (lucky bloggers!).

What you read below is a story contributed by count-them-how-many bloggers. The story is interesting enough to excite each tagged blogger; and excite him enought to carry on the legacy of his taggers by contributing to it while following the rules at the same time (the rules are listed at the end of the story).

Have fun as the journey continues...

>>

He thought it would be an ordinary journey. Standing behind the pillar he watched the train snort arrogantly into the station. With each snort he was reminded of his grandfather's words "You will fail in the city and return penniless"; with every heavenward whistle, he heard his cousin, "Don't worry. Come here and I will get you a job at the construction site." Now he had a 34-hour journey to prove one of them wrong, and he expected the excitement at the end of the journey. He looked at his ticket once again: compartment S9 berth 23.

>>

Pushing his luggage under the seat, he sat close to the window. "Papa, when will you be back?" - his four year old daughter Munni asked innocently. He stared into those soft brown eyes of the motherless kid. He held her frail palms in his, through the window. "Munni, Papa will get you a nice gudiya from the city..Say tata," his sister spoke to the kid, to avoid an emotional outburst. In a minute, the train pulled forward, and Munni's little fingers parted from between his. "I need to go..", he thought, "I have to, at least for Munni's sake.."

>>

The humid summer breeze and the rattling train coaxed him into an uncomfortable state of drowsy consciousness. He dreamt that Munni ran away, the closer he ran to her, the farther she was, like a mirage.

He woke up with a start and squinted at his watch."What is the time please?"A smallish woman, a meek voice as if she was scared that her existence would annoy someone. Her only noticeable feature was her rather large, expressive eyes."4.30"Something made him look at the woman again. He had stopped noticing women long back. Ever since Meenakshi passed away...

>>

But this woman was different. She reminded him of someone he knew. In an instant he realized who and the painful memories came flooding back. She looked exactly like his childhood sweetheart Madhu. As teenage lovers in a conservative society, they had often met secretly and had declared undying love for each other.

Then someone had found out and all hell had broken loose. The elders in the village Panchayat had ostracized Madhu's family as she was from a lower caste. Unable to bear the humiliation, she had committed suicide by drowning. That was twelve years back...

>>

Could it be? Could it really be him? He seems different, weary and downcast. Oh no will he recognise me? No, I am dead to the world. Still she cautiously wrapped her saree end around her head and across her face.

Behind the cotton screen, her mind drifted to happier times, languid strolls in the corn fields, games at the riverbed, his gentle caress, whispered sweet nothings, stolen glances at the temple fair.

Tempted to take one last look, she consoled herself that he wouldn't notice.

Slowly she lifted her eyes only to find Rupak staring back at her.

>>

She quickly glanced the other way.

No, this girl looks too close to be any other person. She is infact Madhu!! “Hey, Madhu!” he called.

She struggled hard not to respond to that call. And successfully managed it too.

Hey Madhu, you forgot me?” he inquired her and came closer.

The old lady sitting opposite to him was looking at this unapprovingly.

“No, you are mistaken, My name is not Madhu.. I am Supriya”, she lied.

Hey Ram! a young girl cannot travel safely in this country without being stalked!” the old lady muttered angrily.

>>

The girl walked briskly away from him, trying to escape his glances, as though she was hiding something, not wanting to be discovered. He stood confused, she had said her name wasn’t Madhu, and should he run after her? Or should he let it pass, after all he still had a train to catch.

His heart told him it was Madhu, followed her, all thoughts about going to the city vanished; he was on delighted to have met Madhu after such a long time. He was filled with memories of their time together. He finally caught up with her. Looking into her eyes he said, ‘Why Madhu? Why this to me?'

>>

"Please dont lie to me anymore"; sounding more like the Mani he used to be ten years back when he had first met her at the Village temple, rather than the arrogant side that seemed to rule his life now. "I know it is you, nobody else but you Madhu". Tears roll down her cheecks as she tries to remember why they ended up this way. Was it destiny or fate that they had to meet now?

As she speaks up, the train which for a while had be at a halt, slowly starts to move.

>>

“I was asked by the Panchayat to leave the village. They said they’d manage by saying I’d drowned. Everyone was led into believing I was drowned. I went to the towns, so no one would recognise me. My family disowned me. I struggled to live. Anyway, it’s all made me too immune. Life being a struggle is passé to me! I’ve learnt it the hard, cold and sharp way.”

“But Madhu, you could have written to me…”

“It’s all over between us Mani. You are now Rupak. I am now Mita. We couldn’t possibly….”
Train no where in sight.

>>

He was jolted into consciousness.

Somebody had yanked the chain.
Some talked of escape. Some, of someone jumping the train.
Others of how this someone had failed.

What?
Alarms rang in his head. Madhu!

Breathe! He commanded his senses.
She wouldn’t. Perhaps she went to the toilet, he reasoned.

He took out a checkered handkerchief from his breast pocket, delicately took off his glasses, and wiped his forehead.

Down, he saw the book lying on the floor.
He shook his head in disbelief.
He got off his seat, onto his haunches and looked for his pen.

>>

He could not find his pen and neither could he find peace.

A reassuring yes is all he was looking for…..Alas! ‘twas still coming.

Then he turned his attention towards the book and what he read was not immensely satisfying. This made him think of what he had seen….how can this happen? Perhaps I am overreacting or maybe not…

He saw the old lady sleeping in peace and thoughts of Munni comforted him, only for a while though. All the chit chatter made no difference to him and hence he decided that he needed to do something.

He rushed towards the door and saw a crowd which made him fear the worst. Delightfully, the outlook of the gathering was not serious enough to make him feel jittery, but he still needed to find someone, he lit up a cigarette and started gazing at the moon

>>

He paused for a moment. Closed his eyes and blew out a stream of smoke.

He had start smoking when Meenakshi had passed away. Anything to ease the pain he had thought. The melancholic tale of the lonely heart is one which repeats itself much too often. He still wondered how he made it through those days. Those terrible days that had sequestered him, from which no one thought he would ever recover. But he did.

“Papa…” He heard Munni’s voice in his head. That one word was perhaps the only reason he was still alive.

>>

It was a cold night and the cigarette was quite comforting. He kept staring at the moon through the train door. The moon! It brought back old memories.

How could he ever forget those sweet nights spent with his wife? They used to stare at the moon for hours. It was during one such cold night that he had told Meenakshi about a story from his past. He had told her about Madhu. She had cried like a child after knowing about the ill-fated end of their love story and had given him the warmest hug in this world.

He never ever missed Madhu after that night.

“Where are you lost?” a feminine voice interrupted his thoughts.

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Everything below the dashed line above should be copied and pasted with every accepted tag

This is a Story Tree and is best nurtured as follows:

1. A blogger can add only 90-100 words (not more or less) at a time
2. All previous snippets of 90-100 words need to be copied before the new set of 90-100 words are appended.
3. Each entire snippet should be linked to the respective author (and not just the first sentence or so)
4. Characters, scenes, etc. can be introduced by an author
5. Bizarre twists, sci-fi, fantasy sequences are best avoided.
6. A tag must be accepted within 7 days else the branch is a dead branch
7. After appending 90-100, the Story Tree can be passed on to at most 3 bloggers.
8. If more than 1 branch leads to a blogger, s/he is free to choose any one of them but cannot mix the snippets of the individual branches.
9. The Story Tree is best left to grow than concluded
10. Please attach the image of the Story Tree below with each accepted tag (the link address can be copied and used).

Here I go now. The three lucky bloggers are :

Pahwa, Shankar & Sandeep

It started raining. There was no place to hide. Did he even want to hide? He had always loved the rain, the flow of drops from up above. He wanted to get wet. Well, sure enough, he did get wet.

The road was empty. The rain went heavy. He was enjoying. And then he saw someone out there on that empty road. She was a girl. She seemed to be the same age as his. She was enjoying the downpour as well. And why had he not noticed her until then? He left the question in the air and kept looking at her.

She looked tall and fair. She was there at a distance, sometimes looking back at him. He couldn't see her face. She was far enough for that. And the rains; they had reduced the visibility furthur. Shall I try to get closer? He asked himself. And even before he could get an answer from his inner self, he was walking in her direction.

She had stopped noticing him. She was too busy with the water falling all over her. Her blue colored jacket and the denim trousers gave her the look of a college girl. He stopped walking once he was close enough to have a look at her face. Was she smiling at him? No, obviously that was his fantacy. Wait a sec, she was indeed smiling. Smiling at a stranger! He had to be sure. He had forgotten about the rain. Now it was only her. He had to be sure how she was taking him and then he asked himself. Shall I go to her and ask? And even before he could get an answer from his inner self, he was walking towards her.

She was indeed smiling. Smiling at him in the rain. Who was she? The rain had slowed down to some extent, but it was still thick. Now her face was clearer. He looked at her but didn't speak (or rather he couldn't speak?). He did not know what to speak. She did know. And she spoke

"Hi, this rain is lovely. I am P"

"P? hi, nice to meet you. This is Q"

"Am i beautiful?"

"What? Oh yes, sure you are. Of course, you are. In fact you are awesome. "

"Can you do anything for me?"

He was confused. This girl who called herself P appeared to be crazy. Or may be she was acting like one. What did she mean by 'anything'?

"What is it that you want me to do?" He replied with the tone of a confused man.

"Do you see that bird there, besides the bush?" She asked him as she pointed towards a small bush on the other side of the road. He could see the bird.

"Thats a duck. Do you want me to catch it for you? I will surely do that." And even before he could get an answer from her, he had started walking towards the bush.

"No wait. I Want you to kill it"

He paused. He thought he had heard something wrong. May be because of the rains. But had he heared kill? He turned back. She repeated her desire. His face turned dull. She was indeed crazy, he told to himself. Why the hell in this world she wanted a duck to be killed? He had no clue. And why the hell would he do such a stupid thing? He was standing there, frozen. His mind was throwing so many questions and this time it was impossible to move any more before he could get an answer from his inner self.

Why should I kill a bird? Just becaus a crazy girl wants me to do so? Even before he could get an answer from his inner self, he saw the duck moving away. He followed it with a blank mind. In fact he ran towards it. The bird was soon within his reach. And he grabbed it. He brought the duck to P and asked her finally.

"Why do you want me to kill it? What has it done to you? Are you crazy?"

"I will answer all your questions but only if you do what I have asked you to do. And you don't have much time to think. I want you to do this before the rain stops. And I can already see its slowing down. Do this fast Q. Please kill this bird".

He turned back. He was still not sure. He could either leave the bird from where he had picked it and leave the place. Or he could actually kill the bird and then get to know why did she want him to do so. He looked at the bird. It was not making much noise. It appeared to be sick. It was sick. He realized that if someone didn't take care of this creature, it would anyway die. And then he looked towards the sky. The rain was indeed slowing down; time was running short. And then suddenly he felt the bird go cold. The creature had collapsed in his hands. It had died. He didn't know how he felt. He hadn't killed the bird but it was dead.

He turned back. Oh my! What did he see? She was lying on the road. Unconscious. He took his right hand to feel her breath. She was not breathing. She was dead. The blue jacket had turned red at places. That was blood. She had killed herself. He ran away.

He commited suicide the same day next year.

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.