Well Past Midnight

It is well past midnight now and I am here sitting in the railway station with you. Countless earthen pots are lying beside me as you can very well see.

Heyy! Look!—What? Don’t you see?

See that young lady over there, gracefully mixing with darkness at the horizon. She is out my sight now. Fear not! Her silhouette is with me and I will tell her story, yes I am determined now! I will only tell her story!

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And you, will you listen?

She was stranger, true, but in this godforsaken place, she became a stranger to herself as well. She felt lonely. Nobody knew her and she knew nobody.

The isolation was eating her by the day

She had no one to say ‘hey’

We are a rational animal they say

And True!

A social animal, yes, so was she…but an animal without food

Isn’t that an insult to the neighbourhood?

She didn’t know how this world worked; she was an amateur, a hungry amateur.

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Come on let’s get on this train, it’s the last one! We’ll continue our story there. Make sure you put on your woollens properly, it’s chilly.

Ahh! There’s a seat, come.

Whooo does that yuckkkk! Look at that kinky poster and it is stuck with a gum, how cheap is that!

I can never get these people with stupid agendas you know, I mean, how foolish do you think people are huh?  To fall for these cheap tricks? The government must do something to protect the innocent people who perhaps are getting fooled by these tricksters every day! My head is so on fire you know, I will write a letter as soon as I get home to the highest of authorities.

I have a LOT of connections!

Ohh! Damn it why isn’t the train moving yet?! I need to have a chat with the driver, pronto!

Come down the platform with me……

I need to talk to the driver about the problems and the damn posters people are sticking, incorrigible!

Oh, your story! I am so sorry, I almost forgot, happens to creative peo—-

Isn’t this that girl??? Yes, it is her!

What is she doing? Is she, OH MY!

She is putting up a poster… it is the same poster…

IT also reads…

RIYA WANTS TO BE FRIENDS

CALL  **********

She’s the one who really needs the FRIENDS.

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You see I may not be the most popular guy in the world, but I have you as my friend and I am grateful to you for that, and I will be in this year and in the next!

Make friends; talk with people… because you never know who might need one!

Don’t just wish Happy New Year,

Make someone’s New Year, Happy!

CIAO! This train was for the Car-shed anyway.

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Observations of an injured mind

When you are injured…be physically or mentally– it leaves a mark

Can a mark really alter your approach to reality?

Can it play with the very notion of truth?

With Ink Elan I bring a quasi-fictional (*wink wink*) experience to life

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Here

“Observations of an injured mind” (click it)

Please leave your feedbacks, they are important to me.

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A Little Messy

To M.R,

Nothing special about today you know, yet here I am scribblin’ away about the happenings o’ the day for you my sister.

The day was extraordinarily ordinary, regular stuff happenin’ the way it should.

At Ten o’clock sharp in the morn I jostled my way through the dizzy streets and finally reached my destination: my cubby hole in the office (which I had graciously accepted).

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After signing below MACEY in blue bold letters (yes we have a register for cryin’ out loud), I sat down in my rusty chair and started making certain arrangements.

After a few moments, I heard muffl’d voices emanating from the grandiose chamber just in front o’ my humble abode. The ‘show’ as I understood, was ON. It was that good ol’ hag again, his favourite nourishment amongst many others.

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I, on the other hand, work behind the scenes and prefer to relish the magic on stage. He brings people in, shows off his guns n’ whistles whilst I keep ‘em polished and prevent ‘em from gettin’ any wee scratches.

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Okay, the hag is about to leave now, which means it’s my time to look after his needs once again. As soon as the octogenarian was out of earshot, I received his call in a broken voice.

He, ‘Boss’ as people like to call him sat like a duck, drenched in his own tears.

“Not again!” said I and rush’d inside his office to console him.

“How will I pay for all this? The green leather armchair? The electric heating? The bloody wine cellar!?” he whimpered.

“How many times do yea need me to tell yea that I’ll take care of all that? huh?!”  replied I with a reassuring tone.

He picked his turquoise blue tie with shaking hands and said while dabbing gently at his wet bloodshot eyes “It was all for him, all for him” and broke down again while pointing towards a picture of a grim looking boy in a soldier’s uniform.

It was my turn to do something else I would lose him forever, that can’t be good!

So, I went beside him and whispered in his ears “If you are his father, I am his godfather too, you aren’t the only one with responsibilities! Now, do yea want to sacrifice all our efforts down the drain?” Yes, my words were having an effect on him, I could see him clenching his teeth and practising a firm jaw. “Now stop acting like a child and do what you are here for… play the BOSS for god’s sake!”

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No teary-eyed reply came shooting back. He was gone, the ‘Boss’ had finally replaced him for good.

He then gestured me to return to my cubby hole to which I replied with a smirk.

The door chime signalled the arrival of a new client/guest to be taken ‘care’ of. One glance told me it was Katherine, crazy girl, thinks that I am a servant here, well that’s a “win-win” situation for me to be honest. As soon as she entered I gave up the stern demeanour and bade her “good evening” in a very docile voice.

Rumour has it, that the girl writes, god knows if she has written about us as well.

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thepenarchist:

This story was originally intended as prequel/sequel to Katherine Mansfield’s The Fly, which on much introspection I decided to give a stand alone appeal.

 

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Com partment.

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A red digital clock at Howrah station platform no.3 showed 4:29; the diabolical figure resonated through my mind as missing the 4:30 local would surely have been fatal. I dragged my over-exhausted right leg amidst the sea of people and managed to somehow scamper into the much dreaded first compartment. My momentary inflated ego was crushed immediately by a nonchalant “Murshidabad er gamcha” seller who shrugged me off by a very courteous “dada shorun”. Just as I had managed a decent standing place, I saw something very odd lurking in a general local train compartment, a young lady (yay!).

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As fate might have had it, she was directly looking at me(now that doesn’t happen), only to ask me if the train would stop at Konnagar (such a romance killer). A nod came in reflex.

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She was not the one for the poets and it was exactly that which made everything so poetic.

The tired train moved with a grunt and slacked like a baby to school. She couldn’t find the perfect posture in the overcrowded compartment and kept turning; new to “daily passenger-i” I thought. With every turn, it seemed she stole one glance here and another glance there as if it opened up different facets to her.

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I, the skilled playboy that I am, remained silent and observed the proceedings in awe. Her protruding rucksack hit me sometimes as a reminder from my inner Barney Stinson to start up a conversation. I did, in my head of course as the hawker raved on about his “quality cotton maal” in the background.

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I don’t know if it was fact or fiction, but after a few moments, I saw her conversing with another guy. A flurry of emotions wrapped around my brain as if to make folly out of my failures. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry.

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There was nothing romantic, or there was I don’t know! But at that very moment, I realised what could have been! There are so many people, we don’t know, who could have been so much more, if only…

I didn’t know if she knew him or she did not (please be the former), honestly I don’t care! She was all smiles and so was he.

Is this a tale of love lost or stalking gained I don’t know. But what I do know is that trillion tales have been told of this style but very few are actually experienced.

Everything it seems stopped that day, for them, for me; except the train, which wasn’t supposed to stop at Konnagar (which I remembered after getting down at Bally).

What have I done! What have I done! What have I done!

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to SEE is to BELIEVE

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I opened mine eyes to an unfamiliar sight. Through the barbs I saw loads of bodies rushing past.
What might be the case I wondered?
My room was dimly lit. An overhead crack was the sole provider of sunlight which had made a little circle on the floor.
They behaved awkwardly, some were on foot, and some weren’t.
Pretty Strange huh?
They had entered through an archway which had a head stuck on top of it and….
Who cares?? Food was there!
I couldn’t have possibly mistaken the delicious smell of steak and dropping all my thoughts down the drain, I jumped at it and gobbled it all down in an instant, relishing every bit of it!
Having been fed, I returned to the case of my aforementioned curiosity.
Making their way past the marble lanes, they were now looking at my relatives’ in absolute awe!
Sadly, I couldn’t see them very clearly as they were far away. I could only make their silhouettes from where I was, but it was getting clearer as they were approaching me.
The entire herd, with all its hustle and bustle seemed to be charging at me, as if in a battle ground.
At last they were here,
In front of mine very own eyes,
I couldn’t believe what I had just seen!

I went absolutely numb at their sight and only when they moved I was able to read a sign placed just outside my little place
It read
HOMO SAPIENS
Then I saw the animals leave the zoo.
 

thank you for reading!

Catatouille

“There he is!!!!”
Without a moment of hesitation, he geared up all his energy and started running after him.
The man who is being chased of course is a weird looking creep with an eye patch ( thankfully he left the parrot at his home) and had two ‘intact’ legs. #swag
Screaming, “YO HO HO!” he sipped his rum and started running like one legged dog! B)
They scampered through the ghetto, molesting every object that lay in front.
All it needed was a fat black lady saying, “Thoooomassss!!!” and it’d have made a perfect tom and jerry episode!
Parkouring through the rooftops, they came to the main road where strangely enough their mates werejack-sparrow-pirates-of-the-caribbean2 waiting in black tanks…
Exchanging pleasantries? Might be!
And now starts the NFS!
It’s customary, that in every chase a vegetable vendor must be completely destroyed, so they did!
Every single etiquette was taken cared off!
Our hero takes charge of the turret and blasts the entire civilisation in front of him, tearing through concrete like cardboard they went, still maintaining the one hand distance that they initially had!
Time for the climax of the climax!
Suddenly, they are led into an open space and its time for ….
“FOREPLAY!”
They get down from the car and stare at each other for no reason, and the villain speaks in the worst Arabic accent ever!
What does he tell?
There is only thing to tell,
“ Aiiii hevvvv the Rushhian nuuclear launcch codess…. if you whant it, chum and ghet it!”
The hero steps up mouthing the words, “I ain’t here to play doctor! Am I?”
And they engage in an exhilarating battle of dandiya with metal rods, for they have no guns right?

“What a crappy film!” He said, and closed the VLC Media Player!

SHOWer OFF!

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The V-12 Biturbo engine-ed Maybach Exerlero gracefully came to a stop.

CLICK!CLICK!CLICK!CLICK!CLICK!

The front door clicked and ‘He’ came out wearing a black tux, more black shades and blank grin. ‘He’ was absolutely as he had imagined, picture perfect! ‘He’ moved aside and opened the rear door to help ‘His’ mistress to land on the red carpet with obnoxiously large heels. Everything was done in an infinitesimally slow manner for the shutterbugs to capture them inhale fame and exhale attitude. Finally ‘He’ along with his added accessory were able to walk. Swarms of people were chanting ‘his’ name, he felt that ‘He’ had to oblige them. So, there ‘He’ went, to click images with protruded lips!

While signing a diary or two ‘He’ had to uselessly strike ‘His’ beard, run ‘His’ hand through ‘His’ hair and do a lot of “I have money things”. Journalists hovered around ‘him’ like bees to ask those same rotten questions, again and again, to which ‘He’ bippety boppity bo-ed!

Slowly but steadily ‘He’ and ‘Her’ made ‘Their’ way up to the main door and ‘He’ waved for the final time with an extravagant sense of royalty and disappeared inside, it seemed as if no one even knew what had happened!

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The fans were busy tweeting, the cameramen were removing the bad ‘shots’ whilst eagerly waiting for the next celeb to arrive!

Curiously enough,

he also forgot ‘Him’, and didn’t care about where ‘He’ went next! , for he had to immediately turn the shower off and fumble out of the bathroom as his mother was screaming at him for taking too long to bathe!