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Enid Blyton,Pets And A Clowder Of Cats

                                          My association with animals started a long time back; when I was 10 to be exact. The acquaintance took its inception in the delicate, dust scented pages of Enid Blyton’s ‘Secret Seven’. While the exhilarating adventures of the kid gang insinuated deeper into the avid reader in me, the loyal dog Scamper never failed to amuse me with his charm. The chord that connected me to dogs strengthened a year later or so when a friend introduced Timothy to me, the adorable dog who stole the limelight in the Famous Five series. Harking back, I remember nurturing a heartfelt desire to own a pet as enticing as Timothy, someone to play with, someone to be my partner in crime, someone to keep me company in the dark hours of solitude.
Continue reading “Enid Blyton,Pets And A Clowder Of Cats”

Beauty, Bits From Life, Blue Rose Publishers, Books, feelings, fiction, hope, http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post, Life, love, Passion, revival, September

Love And Other Enchantments – The Dream Ship

In one of my previous posts, I had mentioned about a short story anthology, titled Love and other enchantments which has been sailing, albeit along crests and troughs, for a few months now. Two days back we received the design of our book’s front cover.The publishers had asked us if we had any particular suggestion regarding the diagrammatic representation of our collection, and we had conveyed the theme that was brewing in our minds. The theme was solely love and its essence, although a bit skewed towards the poignant nature of it, more than the picture of mushiness that most people tend to associate love stories with. And this is owing to the fact that each story in the anthology is soulful, portraying the sheer intensity of the varied shades of love, rather than focussing merely on the exhilarating nature of it. Continue reading “Love And Other Enchantments – The Dream Ship”
Beauty, Fire, http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post, Life is such, love, Memory, music, POETRY, Reminiscence, Rivulet


A flash of beauty,
The crack of dawn,
Shimmering sun’s ray,
The scent of rain.

A surreal soundtrack
Or a soulful note ;
They take me back
And leave me sour.

I tried my best 
To make you mine;
The fire in me
But,burnt me whole.

I let you go
As someone told
For if only you sought
You were mine.

 Counting tides
I waited days
But no one came
Nor anyone spoke.

Why didn’t you notice
That i was gone ?
My screams had echoed 
Through mountain mounds.

Tears rolled down
Formed eddy streams,
Till my rivulet grew
And left you far.

Wasn’t he right ?

Who faithfully said;
That things sans reclaim
Were never truly ours to claim.

And that was when
It struck me hard;
That life was such –
So undeniably real!

Diary, doctor, fiction, love

Unfinished Tale – Short Fiction

Image Source: here 

I sat huddling on my chair, slowly sifting through the delicate white leaves of Ruchita’s diary, the only faint sound echoing through the room being the alerting beep of the monitors perched on bedside tables. The elegant cursive letters, with a characteristic oval notation instead of the dots for the i’s, written in jet black ink, allured me more into the mystic tale each passing second. Ruchita was a writer and the prowess of her talent was evident from the tangled manner in which she moulded her sentences, even though the lines spoke of her life story and not of a tale churned out by her creative mind.

For the past one hour I had been drifting on a completely different world, traversing through the intriguing life events of Ruchita and Abhay, narrated through Ruchita’s beautiful words on her diary. She was amusingly garrulous at times and at other times, embarrassingly romantic. Ruchita and Abhay had been married for two months now. However, the journey that concluded on an exhilarating note in them getting married, hadn’t been a smooth joy ride all through. Tumultuous it was when Abhay refused to marry her on grounds of his parent’s disapproval; harrowing it was when Ruchita spent days encaged in her room cursing her unhappy life in between suppressed sobs and liberating wails; miracle it was when Abhay finally returned back to his only love defying his parent’s obstinate demands, to seek refuge in a completely alien city where he and Ruchita could carve a niche out for themselves, without being deterred by both their families.

The final account on the diary, the one that was written by an exuberant Ruchita madly in love with her husband Abhay, ended on 20th November, 2010. Today was the 30th of November, same year and the time was 8p.m.

At the far end of the brightly lit room, i could see the duty nurse, hustling through her duty report which was to be handed over to the person handling the night shift, with the fervour of a school kid ready to prance out at the first toll of the school bell.

Placing the light brown shaded diary softly on the side table, I grabbed the B.P measuring apparatus from its usual position near the head end of the patient. My movement, though mild it was, might have irked her, for Ruchita peeked at me through the narrow slits of her eyes. A smile broke out on her weary face on seeing me, but her eyes eluded me for i could hardly make out her gaze through the multiple cotton bandages fastened around her head and face, drenched in a repulsive shade of pale red. Even as the numbing cold waves from the air conditioner lashed at me, not sparing my overcoat clad body or my glove adorned hands, i could see tiny pearl sweat beads glistening on her bruised forehead.

Her speech which was almost lost the day she and Abhay were rushed to the casualty from the site of their accident on the wee hours of the morning nine days back, was gradually recovering, though she preferred to remain silent most of the times, lest it should cause her to wince out in pain on each movement of her lips.

“ Did you read it?” Ruchita asked me with much difficulty, her speech slurring, while I wrapped the cuff onto her arm.

I replied in affirmative as she continued in broken sentences.

“I never thought that his parents would make it here despite their enmity. How is Abhay today, doctor?”

“He is keeping alive, Ruchita. His parents are with him. And your mother will be here tomorrow morning too. Now i need you to get back to your sleep. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself much “, saying that i gestured the duty nurse to administer her the night dose of sedative. She curved her quivering lips while the medicine seeped into her slowly. Before long, surrendering to the drug, Ruchita was sliding back once again to her relaxed sleep, her chest heaving up and down heavily as she sucked in life air with utmost direness.

An uncomfortable dark cloud started looming in the back of my mind, as I watched her serene face glowing in the ever luminescent I.C.U room. I saw her smiling in her sleep, a smile that only a woman in love would be blessed with, even amidst the most trying of circumstances.

No tear clustered in my eyes looking at her heavily tattered body. My eyes had been trained to remain alert, sharp and dry twenty four hours a day, while I was on duty. But i could sense my heart weeping silently for the shriveled fate of this dainty young girl. A part of my disheveled mind cursed fate, not for her debacle, but for the strong effervescing emotions that she nurtured towards Abhay even while she was clutching onto medicines, barely conscious, for her revival.

An inexplicable overplay of peace danced on her face, on the sight of which I felt my conscience weighing down heavily, as the thought of the blatant lie that i had helplessly uttered a few minutes back as the answer to her concerned query gnawed at me, leaving behind a searing pain.

“He is keeping alive, Ruchita”.


fiction, love, outlaw

The Havoc

Image Source : here

Rita watched unblinkingly at the shimmering silver disco ball wavering in the air, her throbbing pulse pounding fervently against her clammy skin.  She gasped every now and then as her heart seemed to be sucked in more and more into the mysterious depths of her insides, weighed down by her distraught thoughts. 

The thumping sound of the sturdy glass being knocked against the pedestal on which she rested her arms snapped her back to the present. The rewarding sight of the amber coloured liquid sifting swiftly inside the glass pacified her, for hadn’t been for the liquid, she would have swooned right there in the middle of the exhilarated flock of party goers. Not that anyone would have noticed considering the dwindling level of orientation amongst the youngsters gathered there, still the fact that she had not a person to assist her if such a dire situation arose crippled her. 

In a swift irresistible motion of her hands, she had gulped down the drink which eased through her parched sweltering throat. 

Rita huffed in between her conflicting thoughts. When she accidentally tripped onto him that particular wry night while hustling back to her house, not even a fleeting thought had passed through her mind that he would later be an inevitable part of her love life.

The many enticing nights they had huddled together in his bed sprang to her mind and along with that treasured memory, also strolled towards her his promise that he would never ever part her, come hell or high water. He wasn’t lying that much she knew, for she alone possessed that gratifying power to pry behind the mystic veil that cloaked his gaze every time he smiled at her. Or so, she always prided. 

But how unexpectedly things had started changing shades! How bizarre had been the turn of events since he started acquainting with that rusty looking guy from the neighbourhood.

With the gusto with which he was advancing with his nefarious motive, she feared that he would be cornered by the law one day or the other and this daunting thought had been haunting her night and day over the past one week.

‘ Was i wrong in threatening him to go public on his misdeed? But that was just to bring him around, why don’t he get it! ‘ 

She winced in agony as the hurt expression that loomed on his flushed face, when she disclosed to him that she knew about his unlawful deeds, flashed across her mind. He was tranforming into a queer personality, utterly weighed down by insanity day by day and that was something which she couldn’t simply sit back and watch happening. 

Nervously, Rita tapped her fingers against the sides of her glass as a gazillion unbridled apprehensions started pestering her one after the other.

‘Maybe if i talk to him once again tomorrow morning, scraping back my disconcerting tone, he would pay heed to my words and abstain from his rapacious deals ‘

The slight movement of a couple heading to the exit hand in hand, chuckling in between sweet whispers, reminded her that she needed to drive back alone. She couldn’t afford to binge and that sensible nugget pulled her back from opting to stretch her meandering at the place into the dark. Mustering the strength to pull herself up from her seat, she walked towards her car parked in the dark, the staggering more owing to the turmoil strutting inside her than due to inebriation. 

The moon was shining the brightest, showering a milky blanket over the surroundings. A light refreshing breeze swished past her, on the cue to which she wrapped herself in her arms, pacified by nature’s comforting gesture.

An eerie silence reverberated in the deserted parking lot which made her quiver a bit. All at once, as if to prove her worst fears right, a sense of vertigo blinded her which seemed to over haul her more and more in each passing second. Whether it was due to the overpowering drink or due to the hot rush of hormones seeping  into the kinky recesses of her cacophonous brain, she couldn’t conjure a reason that harrowing moment. 

For the very next second, she had slumped to the floor as if in a bolt, a groan escaping her throat.

She watched in bewilderment and disbelief as warm gush of blood spurted out from the nape of her neck, as if in a hurry to escape its caged life inside the strangulating vessels that channelled through her body. Rita felt her soul draining out from her body with each beat of her thready pulse. As the tired shutters of her weary eyes started drooping forever, she felt consoling hands hugging her close in between muffled sobs and apologies. 

His hands which grazed her cheeks a final time, instead of the scent she was so familiar with, now reeked of the unpleasant waft of fresh gunpowder.