Live.Laugh.Love.

Streets were his love. He loved to roam around, observe people, sit by the tea joints and listen to people ranting. He didn't meddle in anybody's affairs. That day, he was walking on the street, when he suddenly saw a little girl and a boy - probably siblings - play around. They were talking about a recent story their grandma had told them. He tried to listen to their voices - young and full of grandeur. "My dad likes to ride like a hero. No one can drive faster," the boy said. The girl continued, "When we go back home, we need to talk to our mom. She never replies back." "Idiot, mom lives in a photo, I don't know if she'd ever talk. We should tell her what granny said. Maybe then, she will talk back," the boy said. He was listening to them intently. His attention was disturbed by a big crash. A trailer was parked just next to where the kids were playing on the road. A car was speeding down the road - the driver was probably off-balanced -...

"Why won't you love me," I said, "I am the Sheriff, I save this village from goons. I let your little bastards grow up and become able workers in the county! I look at your filthy ladies with all the respect I can muster! Why won't you love me, then?" "Dear Sir," the headmaster put up a conniving smile and answered, "You take us in care which is good but that's all you do! Unlike the old man over there. Treating every visitor from his barrels some good ol' malt! Spreading love and good knowledge of the 21st century among those little bastards you despise! Helping ladies burn their midnight lamps and learn knitting, or nursing or some useful chore!" He said, "That old man you disrespect so much has a big heart," and then he asked, "Do you have a big heart, sir?" I was appalled at the extent this man looked up to the old man. "That man has wasted his good age in serving unworthy fellows like you, but I....

“Who builds a big house with such a small door that’s hidden behind a vine?” Said Anushka to her friend, her business-cum-travel partner. Their cycle trip had been broken short by sudden rains. Having business matters to discuss, they had hitched their bikes, walked up to the house and sat on the porch to talk. They talked of their business affairs until it grew almost dark. The evening was oppressively warm, the air stagnant. About seventy miles from Delhi, on the road leading to Alwar, stood an old house that was last occupied by a family named Parihar . Since more than a hundred years no one has lived in it, nor is anyone likely to live in it again. Time and the negligence of persons dwelling around have converted it into a rather picturesque ruin. Unacquainted with history, any tourist would put it into the category of "haunted houses,” Its windows are without glass, its doorways without doors and there are wide cracks in the ceiling. But these signs of the supernatur...

Thud! I woke up because of the noise from the back yard. I yawned, stretched my arms, and shuffled towards the back window. As I paced by my kitchen, I took a glance at the clock. 1:00 in the dead of the night. I need to stop being afraid. As I continued towards the window, I saw a shooting star out in the sky. But it was getting larger! It got so large that, Oh, it was a meteor! A meteor! I followed the meteor’s trajectory as it came plummeting from the atmosphere. It landed so incredibly close I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see it! A thick, black smoke bloomed from the crater, almost suffocating me with a terrible stench. I gradually inched closer. Small tongues of flame licked the pale air, stinking as they reached my nostrils. The smell worsened as I approached. I tried to hold my breath, but when I finally reached my destination, I gasped in horror. It wasn’t a rock that fell from the sky, but eh.. a body. A strange body, only two arms near its neck and another pair, ...

There was a fine cover of heat outside. Every little crust of snow that was left, on the road-sides, by the tree-trunks, and the roof-top - was slowly melting away. People were beginning to move. The whistle of the intermittent train was largely involved in forming a melody with the hustle and bustle on the backdrop. The sun was beginning to break through the rest of the snow-cover. The old house wore a beaten-down look, laden with aged moss on the eroded walls, a few ferns bursting out of the cracks and damp surfaces here and there. But it would see some fight back, now that the sun was finally there. After some dark days and chilling weather, Shimla was lazily waking back to life. Winter was finally over. Inside the woodden house was damp, dark and dusty from unuse. The closed cupboards reeked of mothballs, a smell that was slowly turned to stink, the rotting wood peeled out of its polished surface, the cracks bulged in places and most corners looking like a failed battle with th...

Is it all over? As I look up at the sky from the terrace of my apartment, I see white clouds dotting the entire sky. It was the same when I saw, as I entered the last class before exams in the sixth semester of engineering. It was the same when both of us drove out of town and lay down on the stones near a mine. The evil sky wore the same look as I set my foot on Delhi’s soil. It was the same when we had our first getaway out of Delhi. It was the same when I came to Pune, for her. And it’s the same sky now. Laughing at me, mocking at me, annoying me with those white clouds. Why isn't the sky plain and simple? Why isn't Life smooth and endless? Then I looked down at the street. Dotted sparsely with random people. Who would never care of me, I thought. No one ever would. Who am I, after all? I gave it a final look. A Life, that would be taken, at last. A boy, who has a mind as constant as the Humming bird, and a heart as peaceful as Mount Etna. A girl who has been raised on the...

What is it about some fantasies that have kept us in awe for so long? Why are we so inquisitive about movies like the Twilight series, the Ghost rider series, or even the retro Americanized versions? What is it? The answer is simple. Power. Power to make things happen, power to burn, power to kill. That's what makes them different. From the humans. And how much we wish that at least one ounce of that power lie inside us somewhere. How happy and how much better off we would've been with that one ounce of power, we think. Well, for me, the devil-may-care attitude that I had, boy, a mere thought of that aroused a big hope in me of power. I wished fantasies could be so true. Well, till that day, or the night in the train. To Pune. Train coupes have always bored me to death. For a lad who's not game to gossip and socialization, who likes to lead a lone life- of travel and discoveries; what can he do! I came out- to the passage between two bogies, opened one of the doors- and st...

Dear readers. I hope you did read my previous post, my first in 55 Fiction, "Why did you do this?" Well, this is the prequel to it. Read it and fall back into the imaginative world. Any suggestions/guesses are totally welcome. Here it goes. "Why did you do this?" - II "Why did you do this? Six years I was down the drain and now I get this?" "She is brave.. would understand.." "It's over! I'm going! Good Bye!" Back home, the mobile vibrated, showing an unknown number. "Hello.." .. .. "Hello..." .. .. " JAAN ..." The voice completely jolted her. She sat down in utter dismay. "Hello.. You there Ma'am?" Did you like it? Keep guessing. :)

I have had this idea of writing 55 Fiction since a long time. So this is my first try. Do read it and suggest some improvements or ideas. Note:- 55 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of fifty-five words. "Why did you do this?" "Why did you do this?" The lady looked at his eyes scornfully. He was still smiling, with those mocking eyes. Tears flowed down her pale eyes. The grey sky roared. Wind whistled and howled and fluffed the window-screen hard. It scuffed past the room. She froze. From the top shelf, a photograph had fallen down.

2.00 AM. I did not know how I woke up that day. At that time. But I was eager to go to Keonjhar, with friends Abhijit and Baijayanti(accompanied by her sister, her heavyweight brother and a newly wed Bradhna sir and his beautiful wife). True, I did not like it when Abhijit was adamant to take me along, but I gave in beacuse both were good friends of mine, and I like to travel a lot. I got ready quickly, and packed whatever I got my hands on(I am not that much of a good packer, though.) I put a lot of dry food(thanks to my papa), and somehow got myself ready before 3.00 AM. Abhijit and I, both went to Baijayanti's house, as from there we had to start our journey, in their new Maruti Omni, which they had got from Lalchand Jewelers. December early mornings, then, were truly chilly. Thanks to my 2 kilo Woodland's full fur jacket, I did not feel that much of a cold. Actually, I was sweating from the inside.When we got out of the city, the driver pressed the accelerator to the ful...

Imraan wakes up in a district hospital at Simdega, Jharkhand, recovering from battle wounds. The CRPF soldier is shattered by the violence he had witnessed in the battle with the Naxalites and now he desires to go to home and reunite with Jayashree, the woman he loved. He keeps murmuring about wanting a peaceful life for himself. When he meets a blind man there, he realises that losing something one already has is more painful than not getting what one wants. He writes to Jayashree that he would return, and one night he leaves the hospital through the window and leaves for the village of Rubed, his homeland. Back home, Jayashree is left alone to mend the cattle after her father died of old age. Being alone in a village under the active Naxalite zone, she is afraid to earn a life all by herself. A local foreteller sees a man walking through the woods and wishes good luck for Jayashree in the coming days. Her neighbours send a girl named Rubi to help her with her living. Soon both beco...

The bouquet of flowers she held in her hands was trembling along with the rest of her as she approached his tombstone. Her dead husband's. Tears already started to cascade down her face, and she sunk to the ground. She slowly reached out and placed the flowers in the empty vase, then lightly ran her hand over the engraving. Far away, a figure was looking keenly towards her. She moved closer to the tombstone and laid her head against it, then began to cry. Three years. Three years of silent promise that she had to keep going. Last time when his husband was alive, they were at the Cafe Coffee Day, and he was telling her something about misunderstandings. She didn't speak, he was aghast, and walked out. She realized her folly, and walked after him. The next moment he was run down by a truck on the road. Terror-struck, she had been senseless for 2 days. She remembered her best friend trying to console her, "I had tried to make you understand, but.. Don't worry dear, ...

A group of balloons hoisted up the evening sky as I looked on down the snake-like path of the park. At a distance, few ragamuffins were intent on getting paid by a threesome of youths. They held on to a pretty girl's legs, and were literally clawing along when she was trying to heave them away. Couples were enjoying their time as they sat on those wooden benches and talked endlessly till nightfall. " No bench for us.." "Kya kare Pratik?" "Kahaan baithe?" We were walking together down a park for the first time. I was just looking for a dry place to sit on the lawn grass, but she asked this question. Why do people like to sit on the benches which are almost covered by the dark shadows of the nearby trees? I wonder, why aren't the benches put under the light? "Ghaas par nahi baith sakte kya?" Why did she hesitate to sit on the fine grass? Anyways, we sat on the grass near a yellow light post that, despite glowing boldly from amo...

I hope all my readers are having a great time. The writing below discusses about the ongoing late night conversations between me and my new friend. Well, she's no more a new friend for me. It seems that she's been there for quite sometime now. We have become great buddies now. " Hello. Pratik. " " Hmm, say. So, how was your day? " Again that question. " It was. . You know na, Today I haven't read anything yaar. " Huh; I hadn't asked about studies. She had not read anything. She was worried. That meant she might talk less tonight. My brain started thinking of how to take this forward. " But you know, I have slept all the day, slept for 11 hours! " 11 hours. That meant I had a hope. She would not feel sleepy quickly, I thought. Anyways, my stupid talks bored most of the friends to sleep. " So gaye kya? Pratik? " I like it when I stay quite a couple of minutes and she asks the above question. "11 hours! Tha...

With due apologies to my best buddies with whom I talked all through that night, I put forth my first real (albeit, a little funny) experience of what I thought must be a juicy slapstick long late night talk over the phone. Well, you guys check out for yourself. "Good Morning, Sweet Dreams!!!" This was how our 5 & a 1/2 hours late night telephonic conversation was going to end. It might have even ended before about 2 hours. But, " Ae let’s not go to sleep right now, we must watch the sun rising!" As Fate had its own way, my brain had to conjure up more bizzare lines to withstand all the crazy stuff put forward by them. " Chalo lets play Rapid Fire," she said. "Pratik, are you asleep again?" "No, no, let’s start. Don't worry, I would definitely sing." If only I had little more practice, I thought. All those years of being a spoilsport in my school came to my mind as she had already started singing. No more ...

Ajay was deeply in love with Rani, they worked as colleagues in the same office. Rani was the most beautiful girl in the entire Airway office, the smartest, wittiest, and the most charming woman, every one’s dream come true. Ajay was a small town guy, who has shifted to Mumbai, he was a pilot in a famous airways, he used to visit his home every alternate month, that month when he went home his father called him up for a discussion, his father was a very reserved person of very few words, he asked him to sit down and then told him that as he has crossed his thirties he should get married, and before Ajay could open his mouth, he said that he has fixed his marriage with his child hood friend Mr. Bakshi’s daughter, Ritu. She also worked in Mumbai. Ajay was shell shocked but his up bringing stopped him from saying any thing to his father, instead he went out to his best friend Rakesh’s home and asked for his opinion, he said he will think and talk later. Ajay spent an sleepless night a...

I looked at the big golden sun flower. She opened her eyes with the golden sun in the dawn. She admired him in hot and humid afternoons. She waved him farewell as he sank down the horizons in the evening. In the night, she cried in pain. She cried in pain and anguish of separation. She cried for the golden morning, the hot and humid afternoons and lonely evenings. Her tears shone as the silver pearls of dew in the morning sun. I was amused by all of this. “Oh flower, why are you crying? “ I asked. “Oh boy, I am crying because I can not bear the pain of separation from my beloved,” She replied. “Oh dear flower, you cry for something you shall never achieve. You cry for that morning start that shall never be yours.” I continued. “You can not be close to him. You will vanish in the warmth of him. Your soft petals would be vanquished in that scorching heat.” She keenly gazed at me. Then with a deep sigh it replied. “My dear boy, I love him and the pain of that love is sweeter t...

It was that time of the day when the sun wanted to embrace you for the rest of the day. Some of its rays were peeping through a huge boundless tree. He was sitting there. He was reading a book. His face said that he liked the book. The sounds of birds and squirrels on the huge tree and the voices of children accompanied his excursion towards the next page. He was reading a book on travelling. Travelling fascinated him. He loved to explore new places, new people, new cultures, new perspectives, new sounds, and new visions. His dream was to go on a world tour. His mother thought that it wasn’t possible. In fact she used to always laugh on him saying, “Why do you need to travel? It’ll be of no use.” His mother loved him a lot. She was very protective of him. He loved her too. He used to be awed by his mother whenever she was around. Being their only son, contrary to perceptions, he had big responsibilities. But he always used to paint himself as a free bird. He liked drawing too....