Then came the Liebster !

Few days ago my facebook  inbox popped up with a message from Reema. 

It said 'A Liebster awits you on my blog'.

I am glad that Reema (http://reemadsouza.blogspot.in/)  awarded me with a Liebster and I happily accept it.
Next she asked me to write a poem in about ten sentences about myself. Well the poem below describes me and my self.

In my Dreamland~  

I have walked on those pebbles,

a thousand miles

far far away.

In a land of dreams,

where I would forever stay.

And there,

beneath that old peepal tree.

I would sit,

scribbling out something ,

that someday people will read.

And then they would fall silent,

for a moment only if.

A dry wind will blow across their faces.

A dry tear would give them relief..

At the end of the day,

all this will be a long forgotten tale.

The clouds would cover the moon

A new day would be at the door soon

I would hope for sunshine again,

but then it would rain.

but my hands won't stop,

instead of emotions,

there would be a rain drop.

And when the sky shall stop weeping,

I shall step out again.

to discover the world,

of which I had been dreaming!

Well, thank you Reema for the Liebster Award. Now I would like to pass on this award to Daneshwari Mirji. I ask her to write anything that describes her, be it a haiku, a poem, a story whatever she likes.

Broken Bangles

Her face looked the same as it was the time I had seen her first. I was amazed about how just in fraction of seconds I took down every detail. The locks tucked behind her ears, her cheek with a slight pinkish touch. Her beautiful deep eyes, they spoke so much, they led me inside her. 
It was a frigid overcast day. Though I had caught some glimpses of the sun sometime in between but at that very moment there were only clouds hovering above. The bus was nearing and my heart almost stopped beating when I saw her. She sat still, on that very place. Her eyes were melancholic today; her emotions struck me somewhere deep. I wanted to ask the driver to stop, get down and hug her. I couldn't, I didn't. The bus crossed her and I just kept looking from the window. She sat still, absolutely motionless. I tried to put my head out of the window and through the corner of my eyes I saw hers'. Shedding a pearl like drop of tear. The bus sped and I got drenched in my memories. 
Manish brought me back to life.
"The farewell was amazing. I will remember it throughout my life." He said. 
I had just bid farewell to the love of my life I thought. 
"Verma sir's speech was excellent." 
I remained mum.
"What is with you?"
Manish asked when he noticed my lack of interest. I looked at him blankly, my throat dried. It was the first time I was narrating my love story to someone. 

Few months earlier...
~The rains had just started. I was sitting beside the same window that day, looking outside at the sky which now had stopped weeping for a while. Maybe I was looking for someone, maybe it was her.
Lost in my thoughts my eyes fell on a roadside bangle stall. A girl almost about my age sat there. It was rather a temporary one, moveable on four wheels. On it she had neatly placed the bangles. A strand of hair fell over her face and she tucked it behind her ears. Her cheeks were red. And as the bus honked, she turned around revealing her eyes. Those with which I fell in love instantly. Soon she was out of sight leaving me to myself in the bus. I reached school, the classes commenced but it was impossible to forget those eyes.
I didn't find her there on my way back home and couldn't spot her the next day even. My thoughts about her gradually went down the well. It was again four to five days later that I saw her. This time she had a broom in her hand, sweeping off the dirt around the shop. Even in the swarm of dust she looked as beautiful as ever. Her lose hair hanging and one hand behind her. As the bus sped leaving a cloud of dust and smoke she covered her mouth with the rear end of the dupatta. I thought about her, she had a broom in her hand and I had books. I wished to find her in my school, right there near the window of my class looking out and tucking her hair behind her ear but she was not there.
The slow paced rains were heavy now. Time passed rapidly and my one sided love for her grew stronger and stronger. On my way to school I would sit by the window think of her, about what she might be doing, and sometimes about how ignorant she was about me.
The rains had just started that day, the clouds were joining hands and drops of rainwater hit the windowpane and through it I saw her, she was covering the bangles with a plastic. It was a moment. The bus halted and let a truck pass, as if especially for me. She looked up and her eyes met mine through the water droplets. My lips stretched releasing a faint smile and her eyes blushed as if she knew. My love for her had been expressed through my eyes. That extended halt had filled in the gap between us. Those few more seconds of the clock seemed like ages.
After the incident, she used to wait for me too. I would know. And would look up at me with a broad smile whenever the bus passed. It was strange, we never talked, physically. Our eyes did it for us. And sometimes I would show her my book, indicating about my exams and she would follow up with thumbs up sign wishing me best of luck. Sometimes she would show me her new glass bangles which she had put on. The jingles would fill my ears for the rest of the day.
I would miss her during Sundays and holidays. And I would wish to ride my bicycle for the full ten kilometers and land up before her. I could, but I never did.
One day during early winters she was missing, so was the shop. Next day said the same story. I got restless, I wanted to see her, her eyes, her locks, I was worried. Finally after five long days I saw her again with the shop. The bangles had reduced in number.
Her eyes narrated a sad story but I was ignorant then. She held her ears, she was sorry for her absence and I thought she meant it, she did and I had to give in.
The winters progressed and my time at school was gradually decreasing. I feared that I would lose her but I kept all those dark thoughts down and continued my journey with her.
In the freezing cold mornings, amidst the fog I could see her standing, sometimes without warm clothes. She would smile although as if it was too painful for her, as if stretching the rear ends of the lip was the most painful job. But she did with tear drops in her eyes. I could see, however hard she tried to cover them with her blanket of smile.
I never knew the reason behind them. I wished I did.
Time did its job again and my school days ended with the beginning of preparatory leave. I longed for her. In my books, out on the road I saw her face but not that smile. It ceased mine too. Sleepless nights. Dull days. And more sleepless nights. And time again. I was getting ready for my farewell day.~

Every word that left my mouth struck an arrow straight at my heart. My face became wet, like it had never been.
When I ended, it was Manish's face that had lost color. 
"She has no mother and her father is a drunkard who beats her up every day." 
As I heard him say those words, I wished I wouldn't have said anything. The bus paced. I thought of her again, spoken unspoken she had said many things. I didn't even know the first letter of her name but our love was inseparable.
Next day the local newspaper's headline read, "Drunkard father, kills daughter." 

~Dying to be free~

Near that old window,

in a rusted little cage.

Lives a bird

dying everyday.

The once bright feathers ,

have faded out now.

It's eyes are dry,

they keep staring the sky.

Flying has been a distant dream. 

Only a bird by it's name.

Never will it feel the fresh air again,

perhaps dying is it's only aim.

The bird never sang again,

All efforts in vain

The voice wrapped up,

with a blanket of pain.

Now Ages have past,

It sees sunrise at last.

Someone left the door open,

But now it's even hard to walk. 

Looking at the sky one final time,

Cries the bird.

Staring the sky, 

was the sweetest thing it had heard.

Between The Letters

Okay then, I will tell you a story today. Not so long, neither too short. Maybe you will love it, maybe you will not. Whatever be it just keep mum and listen.

~Long long time ago in the far far land of Pritampura lived a family of four. A father, a mother and their two children. One of them a boy and the other a girl. 
Santosh the boy was a year younger than Sushree, his sister. When father would go to work in the fields and mother would get busy in her work, both of them would put their jute bags on their shoulders and leave for school. 
"Mumma, I and Saltosh are going to study." Sushree would say in her squeaky voice before closing the door.
Santosh would smile at her, lips closed and almost closing his eyes. Holding hands they would sing merrily and dance their way to school.
"Salaam Sushree beti. Going to school?" The village postman would stop his cycle seeing them both going to school everyday.
Sushree would nod her head and the two pony tails on either side of her head would hop up and down.
"Have you got a letter for us chacha?" Santosh with round black watery eyes in his lean body and half pants with a all time running nose would ask.
And like everyday the postman would playfully glance in his bag and reply, "Nahi, No." Hand them both a sweet and leave. 
Santosh and Sushree would then continue their journey to school.
While at the field, father would keep working hard, very hard. Drenched in his own sweat he would sometimes look up at the sky and then continue without stopping. Be it a thunderstorm or intense heat. Father would be there at the field, watering the plants digging the soil. 
Mother would be busy collecting firewood, cooking and cleaning the house.
At night father would narrate stories to the children until they fell asleep. He would then walk up to the only second hand broken almirah in the little room and take out a letter that the postman had handed him the day itself. He would read it, and then sit outside on the courtyard under the moonlit sky, hear the crickets and the owl. A drop or two of fresh saline water would roll down his cheek. His wife would sometimes sit beside him without uttering a word. 
One day while Shushree and Santosh were returning from school, Santosh sat down under a tree.
"Are your legs paining brother?" Sushree sat beside him.
Santosh just smiled his trademark smile. Lips closed. From his pocket he revealed a pencil, bright red in color, a glittering body, an eraser sat on it's head like a crown. Sushree had never seen a such a pencil before.
"Who gave this to you?" Sushree's mouth still remained wide open.
Santosh now revealed his yellowing teeth.
"Tell me." Sushree knew father couldn't afford to buy such a pencil for Santosh, in case he would then Sushree would have got one too.
"A friend gave it to me." Santosh finally answered.
"Really?" 
"Yes, he gave it to me, but don't tell mumma and papa." 
"Why?" Sushree was curious.
"It's a magic pencil." Santosh whispered. 
Of course it wasn't a magic pencil. Earlier that day in school, Santosh had seen it in Hari's hand and fell in love with it instantly and while no one was watching he quietly slid it into his pocket. Sushree being innocent beloved what Santosh said but as days passed and the the number of items Santosh stole increased gradually 
Sushree realized what her brother was up to.
One night father narrated them a story. Story of a boy who used to steal small items and eventually ended up in jail for the rest of his life. He told the children that theft was a serious crime and that if practiced would yield disastrous results even death. Sushree was worried for her brother.
"I am happy with what father gives me." Sushree said on the way to school the following morning.
"I would never steal, I guess you too wouldn't, I trust you my brother." Even at a tender age Sushree very well knew how to make her brother understand.
Santosh on the other hand realized his mistake and promised himself that he would not steal again. But as days progressed he whitewashed his promise and returned to his destiny.
Several summers and winters passed by, Santosh was now sixteen and Sushree a year older. 
Sushree had stopped going to school, it had been a year, she was ill. Even a minute's walk would tire her and her heart would almost stop beating. 
Santosh now stole money, theft had become his daily habit. The path which he had chosen had no end now and going back was am impossible task.

It was during the winter that year. Santosh and his gang of friends had decided a big loot.
"We will feast with the money." Rajan, one of Santosh's partner had declared. Finding no other option, Santosh decided to steal from his own house. From that same almirah where father kept those letters and the money he had been saving. 
The darkness of the night changed to white, Santosh swiped out each and every penny from his house. 
As usual the postman handed father a letter that morning. 
It was noon by then. Sushree's mother wailed in the courtyard, Sushree wept on her bed, father had hung himself. 
The tragedy was too hard on the family. Bankrupt, Sushree and her mother were left with only tears. And within some days Sushree joined her father too. Those late night stories were now a distant dream. 
That was a intensely cold night, having finished up with all his stolen money Santosh returned home. There was no one there. His father who would smile at him even in his hard times. His sister who from her bed blew him kisses and expressed her love for him. Even mother was missing too. 
Santosh lit up a candle and lay on the bed. He remembered father's story that night. Theft is a serious crime and that if practiced would yield disastrous results even death. 
And then within a flash his saw his mother with a knife in her hand. 
"You rogue! Thief. I am ashamed that I am mother of such a creature. You are not only a thief. A murdered. You stole your father's and sister's life. You killed us." 
Santosh had never seen mother like that. A sweat band appeared on his head.
"Even before you and your sister were born, your father had a dept to clear. Those letters were from the landlords. He cried everyday, struggled, worked his life out to clear them. Saved money for you and Sushree. For Sushree's illness and you you killed them!" 
A tear drop ran down mother's cheek and landed on the knife. Then there was blood. Santosh and his mother lay motionless on a red blood pool. Sushree and father on the other end were waiting for them.~

Okay folks that's all for the day. This story ends here on the road to heaven. I will be back again with another story, some other day. But on this very place... 

Blood and Cigarettes

PRESENT DAY...

Far near the horizon, the sun is setting. The sky yellowish with a tint of red and orange. Prateek who had been sitting under a Peepal tree, gets up. His feet strangling, heavy feels each of his steps. He makes his way through the narrow streets of the hill, they run endless. Almost all the shops have closed down but Prateek manages to reach a roadside betel shop. His eyes scan the initials and stops on a pack of cigarette. He points his forefinger towards it. Though there was something he wanted to say but the words remained inside him. The shopkeeper hands him the pack. Leaving a hundred rupee note, Prateek walks away. The shopkeeper turns to hand him the change, nothing except a monotonous silence is left behind. Darkness had now engulfed the sky. Prateek looks up, his eyes cannot spot a human life anywhere. Beside him are large stretches of tea bed. Green, which is now in its darkest shade under the moonlit night. He creeps in, lights up a cigarette and lets out a deep puff. His windpipe chokes and he starts coughing relentlessly. Shutting his eyes tightly he takes the rear end of the cigarette to his dry lips for yet another puff. 

FOUR MONTHS EARLIER...

The bright luminous rays of the sun enter the room through the lone window with no curtains. An alarm clock on a wooden table loaded with books starts ringing. Prateek is already up, a brush in his mouth. After having a breakfast with four biscuits and a glass of milk he leaves for his long journey. Signs the hostel record book and dials a number from the landline phone at the desk. 
"HELLO" a stern voice speaks from the other side.
"Papa, I will be there by the evening." 
"Is that a great news to be delivered?" Papa grunts.
Prateek hears some sounds from the other side of the phone. Next on the line is the voice of a lady.
"Beta, beta. Come home. It's been almost a year. Almost a year. I have been preparing your favorite dishes." 
Prateek wipes a tear and speaks.
"Amma" 
But the line is disconnected by then.

The big clock at the bus terminus shows six. Prateek gets his ticket to Shyamnagar and gets in bus number five. His heart beat resembles the sounds of a drum, his perfect lips bear a smile, which refuses to go, he carries a box of sweets in his hands, all his yearly savings drained for that one box. He takes a seat by a window, imagines his mother hugging him and having a sweet from that box, his sister and father smiling as he offers them the rest. The roar of the engine is heard next and the bus leaves.

SOME TWO HUNDRED KILOMETERS AWAY...

~ Shakuntala, grates carrots in fine pieces. A jar of sugar rests beside her. Time to time she wipes off sweat from her forehead with the rear end of her saree. Her son was coming back after a year. Her heart dying to meet him the very moment. She has been preparing every food item that Prateek likes to have. 
"Where is my lighter?" A hoarse voice reaches Shakuntala's ear. 
Leaving all her work behind, she runs and enters a bedroom to her right. Parmesh, a tall sturdy man in his early fifties stands before her. He has graying hair and thick moustache, holds a cigarette in his hand. 
"Where is my lighter? You bitch!" He screams and clutches Shakuntala's hair. 
The pain is unbearable to her but Shakuntala somehow lifts the lighter from the table in front of her and hands it to Parmesh. The man grunts and pushes her out of the room. Shakuntala loses her balance and lands on the floor her hands bleed and white floor catches a glimpse of red. 

"What is this that you are preparing?" Sheetal, a girl in her late teens complains with a frown. Shakuntala keeps mum and mixes the finely grated carrots with milk in a bowl. 
"I will make whatever you say for you." Shakuntala replies.
"If that is so then no other food item today." Sheetal points towards the bowl. The carrots had now drowned in the milk. 
Shakuntala keeps working silently.
Sheetal snatches the bowl away from her and sets it free. With a terrible sound the bowl lands on the floor and all its contents gets spilled over. Parmesh reappears again; he sets out a big smoke on Shakutanla's face from his mouth. Sheetal giggles.
"Papa see what mummy did." Sheetal points to the floor.
"Is a king coming home today? Is there a festival?" Parmesh’s hoarse voice and then dead silence. 
"How dare you waste my money for that rogue? Let him come today. I will kick him out from the door." Red was the color of his eyes now.
"No please." Shakuntala joins her hands. 
Parmesh slaps her, "You silly bitch." 
Sheetal hands her dad a small drum and Parmesh empties its contents on Shakuntala. Shakuntala weeps.
"Let me see my son at least for once."
SNAP! a matchstick lightens and Shakuntala is laden with fire.~

Prateek looks very tired after the long day. His legs hurt. Back on the bus he offered an old lady his seat and had been standing continuously for four long hours. But his heart is still as fresh, he longs to hug his mother. Taking hurried steps Prateek reaches his house. The same house where he had spent his childhood. Where he had seen his father die while he was still in school and had welcomed his step father and sister a year later. He longed to see them, his mother. 
The door is ajar and opens with a push. Prateek drops the box of sweet from his hand. He finds Parmesh and Sheetal enjoying Shakuntala's death. A tear now divides Prateek's face. He leaves the house in his step father's and sister's unawareness. 
The sun has gone down, Prateek is running. He keeps going on and on, keeps weeping until blood oozes out from his mouth and he faints.

ONE DAY EARLIER... 

Almost four months have passed; Prateek has grown thinner than he was. Every day he curses his so called dad and his sister. Every day he weeps. He had even walked up to the police station to lodge a complaint against them, his mother's death had been announced an accident, now his life was nothing more than a revenge. 
Prateek is in Shyamnagar. No one recognizes him with his grown beard and his covers.
The milkman knocks the door, Sheetal opens. As the milkman is about to leave Prateek sneaks in his steps swift enough. Sheetal places the milk container at the kitchen and turns back to find Prateek before her. Two streaks of blood flow out from her thighs. The knife in Prateek's hand speaks red. Sheetal falls down on the spot, terrorized she screams and Parmesh runs into the kitchen. Prateek swiftly bends and stabs his legs too but the huge man manages to escape. Parmesh's eyes fall on Prateek’s. Red like they were when he had killed Shakuntala. Prateek hits him on his head with a utensil. Parmesh faints. Sheetal screams. Prateek then lifts up a container quite familiar to Sheetal. He empties the contents on Parmesh and Sheetal. Sheetal begs for her life. Prateek lights up a matchstick. Sheetal's screams die out slowly. 
Out, Prateek climbs up a hill and sleeps soundly on the grass after a long long time. His heart quiet by now.

PRESENT DAY...

Prateek lights the last cigarette of the pack and leaves out a deep puff. His eyes keep running. Lying in the tea bed and looking at the moonlight sky he remembers those winter nights when his mother used to narrate him a story and he would keep glancing at the moon through the window.
"One day when I won't be around, I will be there." Shakuntala would point to a star. 
Prateek tries to find that one star today but his eyes blacken and everything turns bleak.

'BLACK AND WHITE' - A Novel

Dear Readers,
My new book titled 'BLACK AND WHITE' has been published online. Sharing all the links with you all. Have a good time reading :) 
The story begins when the protagonist visits his hometown of Howrah for spending his Durga Puja holidays.A five day journey, meeting of relatives and family members,gossips, Pandal hopping and all the fun. Read a day by day experience of the Durga puja in Westbengal. All the emotions with the festival. Get ready to travel down the memory lane in the land of sweets. And lost in a lucid dream prepare for a nightmare in the end.

http://www.writerbabu.com/book/black-and-white/53/ 
Click on the link above to purchase the e-book for just Ten rupees (INR)
However if you do not wish to buy the book, you can download it.The book is also available as a pdf. Just send an email to the following address- writinsam@gmail.com  
Here is the trailer of the book, have a look-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w23Y9d9LiRU

That Rainy Night

20th September, 2006 
[11:30 pm]
It started raining heavily that night. I was standing near the window watching the glittering lights outside. As the rain took over the few people who could be seen on the road also disappeared.
Then there was a lightning outside which blinded my vision for a while. When I reopened my eyes again. It was all dark.
"Is everything okay?" Esha cried. I switched on my phone to get whatever light I could. As I moved a few steps, I felt Esha's presence. Her warm breath breezed past me. 
"Why didn't you reply?" Her innocent voice hit my ears. Then there was silence. I could only hear her breathing and the rain outside which increased gradually. She lit up a candle. Her face behind the flames, so simple, so beautiful that I wished to capture that image on my eyes forever. 
As the room lightened up, I hid in the darkness. "Rehman" she looked up for me. Then she left the candle behind. "Rehman" She cried again. Her hurried footsteps went past me. I felt her essence, a few drops of water from her wet hair landed on my face. 
Leaving her behind, I left. I re-loaded my gun and checked if I had my hand knife with me.The streets were deserted, bleak, a dog was the only living creature I could see. My Cellphone began to ring. 
"Rehman Sharif reporting, Sir." 
"The target is still in the city, somewhere near the east end. Peter square lane." 
"Sir, if I could have the co-ordinates." 
"The co-ordinates are difficult to track. You continue."
"Jai Hind, Sir." 
My eyes were back on the streets again. Completely dark everywhere, I crossed a pool of water.~

[1:00 am]
26 Peter Square Lane~
He locked the door. His hands revealed a new sim card. After inserting it in his phone, he dialed a number. 
" Pakistan wont take any responsibility for your life. You do or die." A voice from the other side of the phone said.
"Until Allah is with me, they can not even remove a single strand of hair from my head." 
"Then pack your bags, they have already detonated the bomb." 
"GIVE ME THE NAME." He yelled.
"Rehman Sharif."
"He will not see tomorrow's sunlight.I want the co-ordinates." 
"You will get them in fifteen minutes." 
"Khuda Hafiz" 
Wrapped in a long overcoat and an AK-47 in his hands he tiptoed along with the rain drops. His phone beeped again. He had received the co-ordinates.
Re-loading his weapon. He ran for his target. ~

[3:45 am]
It had been almost two hours. And since the last one hour I had been in Peter square lane. There was no tail of him. I called general for the third time.
"He must have left. Return home, report us if you see any abnormal activity. You will be informed when we track his locations again. Jai hind." 
My body ached after that continuous run of four kilometers and my heart ached for Esha. We could at least detonate the bomb, I thanked God. 
I took slow yet continuous steps, I wanted to see Esha. There was a terrible lightning, again I was blinded for a moment. I felt his presence around me. A minute passed and a lightning hit again. I saw him right before me. His clothes were drenched. Not in water, blood it was. He attacked first.I could hear the splashing sound of the water.I dogged. The next moment my knife was inside his body.
"ALLAH" he cried.
My mission was complete. I informed the headquarters and headed to Esha. ~

[1:30 am]
The co-ordinates were stuck in his mind. He had a look at his blade. The lightning showed it's shine as cold water landed on it, it was ready to take out fresh warm blood, it was destined to kill someone that night. 'Insah Allah, I will be victorious today.' He went on. Amid the darkness he saw a candlelit house. The GPS in his phone confirmed the location and in he went. "Rehman, come out now. I have had enough of your jokes." He heard a girl. She looked beautiful even to him, she was irresistible. But he had no place for emotions. He grabbed her from behind.
"Where is Rehman." Immediately he asked. 
"Ugh, Who is this." She struggled.
He searched for Rehman all around the house. Rehman was nowhere. He slapped her hard again, but the result was same, she remained silent. He then threw her to the bed and took out his hungry blade. She had struggled hard, she was dead. The blade had done its job. Even in death she looked magnificent, she quietly lay on her bed. The murderer's robes were now drenched in her blood, he left.
Outside as a lightning hit, he thought he had seen his target. He became still.~ 

[5:00 am]
After another long battle with the rain, I reached home. It was dawn, the darkness of the sky vanished slowly. She was sleeping silently, the first rays of sun hit her face, I hadn't seen anything more beautiful than that. I picked up her in my arms for the first time. Her cold body rubbed against mine. I closed my eyes, she was still sleeping.I kissed her but she remained motionless, a drop of water ran down my cheeks as the rain gradually stopped. The candle, that she lit the previous night died out too, leaving in-uniform wax all around. I looked at my hands, they were red, so were my clothes.~

It all happened that rainy night...