A Grave Problem


“Mama’s boy”, that’s what they called him, and yes he, was a mama’s boy! From his very childhood, he couldn’t stay away from his mommy even for one bit second. One would draw the conclusion that this boy won’t have a bright future as he is so dependent on his mother. From tying his shoelaces to stuffing his bags, his mother had to carry out everything. The boy was a very good student and when he had to leave for a job in the US, it was a very hard time for the boy and his family (which was only comprised of his mother as his dad had left her even before he was born).

Well, that’s a story of long ago!

Now, he is a bespectacled respectable gentleman with a fat pay check and the tag of NRI attached to his name. In spite of being the so-called ‘busy’ person, he makes it a point to annually return to his homeland to pay a visit to his mother, who was very reluctant to leave her homeland.

He takes his family to his mothers’ and spends some quality family time.  He shares all the exciting incidents that have taken place and shows her all kinds of pictures of his family and neighbourhood. Clearly, she wasn’t used to social media.

One fine year (when his daughter was three and could speak all fluently), he visited his mothers’ as usual and spent curiously long hours speaking to her. He described how his life has changed as she wasn’t there anymore, how his wife always takes care of him and how his daughter was growing up. This conversation was different, not like the one he had the previous year, he became all teary eyed and started to howl loudly while hugging her.

At that very moment, his little daughter crept up beside him spoke in a broken but cute manner




Sealed and Delivered


A tall hooded and lanky man banged the door open,he lit the CFL and switched on his PC.
It was certainly the strangest room ever.

A computer was fixed in the middle, surrounded by what seemed like CRYO tubes. While his PC sluggishly beeped to a start, he paced up and down the room and came abruptly to a halt before the window and looked out of it.

From the view, it could be understood that the house in which he was housed was situated on a hill top, nothing could be seen outside but a thick haze had obstructed the ground from viewing.
Finally, the PC came to life!
He had a strange counter placed on his home screen which started to blink rapidly showing “7.4B”.

His mailboxes(he had multiple aliases) was synced to his O.S , as soon as he went online, hundreds and thousands of emails started to crowd his spam folders.

He opened his drafts folder and started to type this huge essay which he couldn’t finish last night as he had to make special appearances at different religious institutions.
The essay went on about 30 pages more and on finishing (the last line was, “then the bullet went through his skull”) he let out a brief sigh and pressed CTRL+S, wherein he named the piece as “FATE of……(followed by the a command which inserts the appropriate date and time)”.
As soon as he had finished, the LED lights atop the CRYO tubes started to blink,while making weird noises on being connected to his PC. He transferred many files from his PC to the CRYO tube named fate,health,education etc..
Once the transfer was completed, the CRYO tube zoomed out of the room and a baby was born miles away, who would die 50 years later when a bullet will go through his skull.


He carried his suit over his shoulder. His shirt was untucked, the tie was hanging low and the collar was unbuttoned. Once polished shoes were now laced with dust and mud.
Everything about him resembled a young rejected lover. He indeed felt rejected, rejected by his own hometown.
He felt a sudden vibration in his pocket, it was his assistant.
He picked up the phone…
*Call Ended*
He switched on the flight mode and placed it back in his pocket.
At a snail’s pace, he
down the lane and….

Only to…
Down the memory lane.

Instantly, he felt a rush, a rush of flipping pages, the pages of his life had turned back twenty years.
Bright sunshine struck his eyes as he saw a ten-year-old rushing past him in a cycle to stop in front of a playground. He got down from his cycle and pulled out his little bat from the carrier and darted to his friends.
For hours, he saw himself enjoying his heart out at the lush green fields (damn! Did he love to play!), no financial pressure, no worry of coping up in the big bad world seemed to bear down on him. He missed himself.
All these things came to his mind when he looked at the signboard his old club. Yes, he was thinking about Durga Puja!
Those five days were pure bliss to him! No relation did he have with his studies those few days and only concentrated on pandal-hopping with his mates! He could almost make out the silhouette of the idol from where he was sitting, and it appeared as if he could touch it if he stretched his arms a bit, he did so, but, Alas!
He used to sing, most of the popular Rabindra sangeet hymns and melodies were absolutely committed to his memory, he was a reciter of some repute in his locality. So, he tried to sing again…….he started with enthusiasm but had to stop as he had forgotten most of it. City life had sucked the soul from his body like a dementor!
Edwin Brock says that if you want to Simply kill a man,
Leave him or her, in the middle of the twentieth century.
Truly, he felt dead.
Starbucks might offer him the best coffee over there in New York but he longed for that steaming earthen bowl of Uncle’s Tea! He might have had loads of pizzas the “Mamas Pizzeria”, but he wanted his mamas “Luchi Torkari”(Dal puri) more.
Starting from the humble corridors of Saratchandra Smriti Vidyamandir, today he is the VC of a large multinational company.
It was his roots that made him what he is.
A tear had appeared at the corner of his eye, he took a crisp white handkerchief and pressed it against it, switched off the flight mode and
left for the concrete jungle once more!