Sangili Bungili Open the Door

Hi guys! Wish you all a Happy New year. With New year comes the question of constantly reinventing oneself and I decided to experiment by  collaborating on a fictional story with Prason - Humor blogger and CFO of the soora mokkai blog - Chronicwriter . You can check out the blog Here , it is a damn chill blog actually and you can thank me later for introducing this kind of awesomeness in your life. So what Prason and I have done is essentially snowball a story from scratch. He writes a line and then I write one spontaneously making it all up and having tonnes of fun in the process. Hope you have as much fun reading it as we had making it.

Disclaimer - The post contains liberal doses of tanglish.

Prason

Prashanth was frantically searching for his laptop.

It was right here inside my backpack.  And now it's not. The backpack zip is open and my favourite key-chain that was fixed with the zip is missing .

My hands instinctively reached for my Jean zip and I was relieved to know that they were all in the right place.

Someone had definitely stolen my lap top. It definitely cannot be my mom. She already has a mac.

My backpack was under the bed; and hence it cannot be the maid too because she does not even clean anything under the bed.

It cannot be my girlfriend because well I don't have one and it cannot be my boyfriend too because I am not gay.

Yen ipdi mokka potu saavadikiraenaa, technically and basically I'm an IT guy and this is all I have in my life. As I am an IT guy, I do have a photography page and all my pictures are in my laptop. And oh my yesunadha! I just realized there are damning pictures of me trying out my nandu brand lungis

Well, I am kidding; there’s more than just my nandu brand mishaps. There is a floor plan of my office which I am going to rob day after tomorrow.

There are three other people in my team and I hate one of them. It cannot be Surya because he only recruited me. Or could this be his masterplan all along? It could be because we both like the same girl – “Smitha” from our team. Trust me when I say Smitha is worth sending someone to jail. Her eyes! They make my heart beat so fast that if I let it out, it can out run Ussain Bolt and create a new world record in the 100 metre dash.

Her voice makes chinna kuyil chitra sound like kovai Sarala. So I never tell her to sing. I never tell her anything actually. But I do talk a lot with Pooja, the other girl in our team. Surya hated it when ever I talked with Pooja or Smitha.

Why did I agree to the stupid robbery plan? I thought it was a stupid joke of course till it was not and by then I had already revealed too much to Pooja. I think she hated me because I liked Smitha and maybe she was the one who flicked the laptop?

My thoughts are jumping so wildly today. I shouldn't have probably had all the free filter kaapi shots. I guess Surya drugged me with those kaapi; he was too friendly with me. I am sure Pooja and Surya are together on this.

I try to call them with my phone. Alas! My phone is also missing. I had last seen it in my back pocket. What the fruit is happening guys?

All I have is this one Rupee coin. I have no other option but to invest this coin and become a millionaire. And for that I need to leave this damned room. And this is when I realize that the door is locked. Not the sharpest day for the 10th topper today.

Well I gotta pee now. My bladder is full and time is ticking too. I have used all my karate and yoga skills to control this tsunami attack. But aathratha adakkalaam. But moothratha kandippa control panna mudiyaadhu. Let me unload eshwaraaa! I wake up in a pool of sweat from my bed and I look under the bed immediately. I can see my laptop peeping through the backpack.

Prason's version of the same story is up on his blog. Do check it out!

Abducted

I happened to read about the girl in a box , Colleen Stan recently and her story really shook me. I tried to imagine myself in such a situation and find it impossible to sound optimistic , so honest I'm being. 

Dear whoever who gets this,

I hope you really do get this.

But I am pretty sure he will tear this up.

 Another one of his psychological games.

I don’t really know my name

Not anymore

Like before

Objects don’t need names

That is insane!

But I was a person once before

Used to hate my life

For being so normal.

Perfect parents

Enough income

Boring lifestyle

I wish I could get back to that life

haha

He penetrates me everyday

Tearing parts of me for himself

My flesh fully exposed

My limbs chained to the ground

I am his slave now.

He let me escape once

I think 5 years back?

Could be months too

Hell is always for eternity.

I was out in his front yard

Naked except for my cuffs

Unused to all the sunlight

And freedom of my limbs

My starved body wouldn’t move

Shivering in terror

I was almost thankful

when he came with his stun gun

And told me he always knew I couldn’t do it.

Why am I saying all this to you?

Please take my baby

And raise her well.

I can’t be a mother

From the bowels of hell.

Plato's Fault

Tick Tock

Tock Tick

Tick Tock!

Exam in 11 hours , 3 new questions to do and 34 more to revise. They hadn’t slept in 3 days due to the previous 3 back to back exams…..

Crushed Red bull cans and empty mugs which once contained black coffee lay on the hostel corridor along with 4 girls who were splayed across sheetless mattresses dumped onto the corridor from their respective rooms. The corridor overlooked the normally empty grounds of the hostel which was now patrolled by sleepless students scrambling about in despair.

JJ’s eyelids were closing in on her against her will. Not now baby… only 1 more exam then Freedom 4evaaa! Almost echoing the same sentiments, came a voice from the other side of the mattress with a hollow , dreamlike quality “You know what is the true freedom? Sleeping forever…for eternity”

The voice belonged to Kalra , she who loved saying crazy things for the sake of drama and she who sometimes was drama itself in a human shape. The third one , ‘Rambo’ had given up on life after being utterly exhausted and had taken the student’s route to conquer it – apply some Zandu Balm on bread and Bam! You got your energy. In rambo’s case since she was a bit big , she overestimated how much she needed and had way too much and now she was high as high can be and was just rolling around and annoying others.

Wait. What was that noise? Oh that’s anan

“After a certain point you just have to admit that NOBODY gives a flying ___ about what Plato , Aristotle or Aquinas gotta say. What about what we have got to say? I had no say when papa wanted me to follow his footsteps and become a lawyer. I must be the only person in India who wanted to become an engineer and wasn’t allowed to become one!”

She moped in her shrill sad voice as she always did. Her friends had only eye rolls to offer her. Rolling Rolling Rolling   

That’s what happens when you realise that you hate your career choice every exam time and resolve to tell dad you are quitting, only to come back placated, thanks to the latest iPhone he bribed you with. You lose the moral ground pretty fast. Sorry Anan

“ If you keep telling me this story I’ll end up writing it instead of this Hobbes theory lololol” JJ started crying out in laughter. She is losing it! And yes she is one of those cases who ‘say’ LOL. God bless them.

So JJ continued with her Hobbes theory despite lack of sleep and overdose of laughter. That dude apparently believed that law is a social contract that the first generation of beings voluntarily gave up their  rights for and the forthcoming generations have no option to get out of it. Isn’t consent material to any contract? This is just plain fraud and coercion on the state’s part! I don’t want skl , college , job , government , taxes , pathan notes and red bull cans! But I am forced to take part in all this because someone already decided what ‘civilisation’ is. Why can’t there be a strip of land where people who don’t wanna be part of the contract can like chill and make rocks out of fire without the government asking us to pay taxes. wHYY?

But before she could Rambo woke up with a start. She looked into Kalra’s eyes and smiled serenely. Kalra got scared and asked her “ what is wrong with you Behen..”

“ Behen! I have figured out life” she spoke manically not unlike a religious fanatic “ We have been going about it all wrong. The point of life is not being awake , the point of life , the point is to sleep! We are supposed to find food for energy purposes , eat them and go to sleep where we can live in our dreams , where anything and everything is possible. There is no limits of logic and physics in our head. We could enjoy being a millionaire and have an eight course meal and feel everything. Isn’t life all about feeling and perceiving. It is not what it is but what it can be. With more sleep and practice I believe we can control our dreams and that is how we fulfil our destiny. What the hell are we doing reading Plato and Aristotle when we can be our own thinkers? When did the world decide we have finished establishing rules. Omg I’m gonna copyright all this. Yipee! Bye losers , I’m becoming famous”

Rambo got up and ran to other parts of the hostel to scare more poor souls. The other 3 silent looked at each other not sure what they should. Wake up the warden and tell her that Rambo has lost it? But who wasn’t losing it? Some only more than others.

“ We ALL have theories and ideas. But we don’t publish it and force other people to study it in one day and make them go mad” wailed anan.

“I don’t think Plato set our exam papers anan..” quipped JJ.

“ Arey JJ , no one wants your stupid logic. Okay I am getting bored. Teach me something about your South India.” butted in Kalra

“ Kalra , if you can at least tell me the names of the 4 Southern states , I’ll try”

“I know that your name is Jayalalitha and that’s funny cuz your dead CM had the same name. Okay don’t get pissed. Mallu Land, Madras , telugu nadu and the other one I forgot”

“ Wow , I hope that you can retain at least the name of the people you have to write about tomorrow”

Mildly offended Kalra lashed out “ Tell me, does your Chinnai have Punjabi food like naan and butter chicken?”

JJ lost it , “ Enough of this b.s , I don’t live in a village. Obviously we have everything!”

“Saali , what I wrong with villages. Don’t show off your big city arrogance”

“ You started it , you racist prick!”

Sensing a cat fight which no one had the energy to fight Anan chipped in , “Guys! Don’t let Plato destroy our friendship. This is ALL plato’s fault!”

They hadn’t come to an agreement on that quite yet when a loud noise came from above shocking them. No guys it wasn’t Plato coming back to defend his now tarnished image but it was the drug addled Rambo! She had managed to find a dangerously high place to stand on.

“ Everything is fake! Dreams are what is. To prove this truth which no one seems to believe I am going to jump from here because I know that I am trapped in an eternal nightmare called reality.Cheer me on ladkiyon!”

Her friends gaped in horror as she took the plunge and came crashing down. Her eyelids were shut firmly and finally..

Tick Tock

Tock Tick

Tick Tock

The clock was ticking in the exam hall and Rambo woke up from her dreams. Didn’t know how much of that was a dream! Did she have zandu balm , was she on the roof , lol did she have friends by the name JJ , Kalra and Anan even? She didn’t know anything , couldn’t focus. However , she did recall the answer to Plato’s Republic. Truly this is all his fault.

Sharikrida : A game of Political intrigue

It is not every day you get a chance to review a book before it gets officially released and I’m very pleased to announce that I got one such chance. So here comes , the first official review of the book!

Sharikrida , is a book authored by Krishna Trilok and published by Zuna Publishers. The book is set in the future where monarchy and kingdoms rule India ( now called Vehya ) again.

Btw don’t worry, this review is Spoiler Free!

The basic plot is that there are six kingdoms which rule the vehya subcontinent and the supreme ruler is chosen by a game of Sharikrida , a live action chess and strategy game. There is also a running thread about King Bharin Shah of the North fighting for justice against the evil supreme ruler Kesara Gaderia and his evil Shvagnin / Chessmaster .

As you can see , the book conjures up its own world effectively. The author has put in great effort constructing this fantastical realm so comprehensively that you want more stories from this world. Trilok should make a Trilogy!

Things which impressed me about the book especially were :-

1)      Original fantasy elements steeped in Indian mythology tapping into our rich culture

2)      The author’s English which is impeccable and beautiful. I love it that he hasn’t try to dumb down his language.

3)      The way he describes food. I had to constantly reach for snacks when he started describing lamb delicacies.

All the characters are well etched and the action set pieces were very thrilling. I felt that the book kept building its world and moving its story at an amazing pace. However , after it reached it feverish pitch and ultimate peak I felt that the sudden back story plateaued it a bit and made us think – which leads you to predict the twists.

That tiny complaint apart , this is an excellent book. I honestly think that the beginning portions were India’s answer to Game of Thrones ( a much leaner and focused version ) and the author has amazing potential to reach greater heights if he is ready to leave the safe road and start attacking ( like one of his characters said)

The book deals with governance and morality boldly and King Bharin Shah especially delivers a lot of noteworthy quotes. The implied Gender Equality in the book was beautiful to read too.

All in all , a wonderful book which you must read if you like fantasy or action or politics or thrill or just a different story. I also must say , I love the godfatheresque turn the book took and its ultimate ending. It was like there was always something up the book’s sleeve.

Loved the book!

Verdict : Read it. 4/5

You can pre order from December 22nd!

The monster

When you were a kid

You would search for me

under your bed

the same monster

is now lurking inside your head.

Count to 10

Shut your eyes tightly to no avail

I will grow my gospel

In the darkest zones of your soul

Self doubt , green eyedness and low self esteem

Are only some of the seeds I sow

Their progenies will never really let you grow

Poor you ,

think sleep is a sweet escape

You forget each time that

nightmares are my favourite landscape.

I am the evil landlord

That vanquished your brain

When did you become the benami

Against your own benefit?

My name is pessimism

Do you even remember yours? 

So Imaginary Garden with Real Toads had this topic which really piqued my interest , the real fear which lurks in the night, So this is my contribution towards the same topic.

Stay

So a regular reader and friend asked me to write a piece on romantic relationships. A more specific one actually but my mind meandered to this. Purely fictional for intents and purposes. An artistic piece if you can call it that

To think that

the only real relationship I ever had

was

the one I never had.

Beat my chest in pride,

every time I did the courageous karate

in the name of romance 

with almost every other person 

except you. 

I could feel your patient gaze

silently sear through my back 

as I strutted around town. 

For you know for who I was  am.

A genuine hypocrite

Afraid of All. 

Of your gentle embrace wrapping me up

in the near future, 

actually play that reel in my head quite often.

Till I get giddy in fact. 

You are my handsome secret.

Of me having to confront you 

about these stupid feelings which engulf me

and make me powerless , 

you will never.

You rock at this waiting game

Not a level playing field actually.

Of you saying 'no', 

For Fate and Circumstances

spare no one. 

Of you saying 'yes' . 

For Fate and Circumstance

spare no one. 

I didn't want my epic romance 

to be tarnished by the all too real life,

Twas very pretty and pristine

So I never took the chance. 

Cautious for a change. 

There was no element of doubt

about our commitment , 

only time when unspoken words made

so much more meaning 

than the spoken ones. 

Our eyes duelled in anger 

each time we tried to dull our love

by truly moving on from each other, 

So we pretended to fall in love

with likeable people we never liked. 

I am thinking of you 

and you are thinking of me. 

Toxic flames and fumes 

made of our mutual feelings

paralyse me forever. 

I know it may sound sad

but it is real

And that is all that matters.

Give love a chance! 

What about true happiness? 

The lucky ones mutter under their breath. 

Passion would eat us alive , 

Would 

Could 

Should 

I don't want to live in the aftermath

So in this mental cove 

I am going to stay.

Flashes in a pan

"People who abruptly change the name of their blog and not follow it up with a post for a month ,
are people who don't find a place in heaven"                                                                                                                                               - some old scripture of some old religion 

This has been the worst two months of blogging output , quality and feedback for me. I couldn't write , whatever I wrote was so bad that I had to delete it or forever revert to draft and my abrupt name change made a sharp decrease in page views. Yes , lack of pageviews affects me.

I I am still not in the best zone for writing , but any more procrastination will render my blog extinct - the possibility seems more real than ever this time.

< To all those who are surprised by the name change:-

1.     .    It was done to keep the blog ‘fresh’ ( It is nearing 5 years now)
2.      .   Semi’s Stories and Sharings…! was just sounding very juvenile and self-obsessed , two characteristics which the blog will be trying to break from in the very near future.
3.         ‘Steady Meanderings’, this name came to my head in a sudden flash when I was trying my hardest to concentrate during a lecture. And since this blog is an aggregate of sudden flashes in the pan, I hardly doubt this name.

   

   I hope

Steady meanderings promises to put out quality posts, while quantity will be determined by outside circumstances. I've been hearing feedback that last two posts weren't great. My posts are a reflection of what I've been up to at a point of time or what has been cooking in my head for a considerable period of time. An essential contradiction eh?

Talking about essential contradictions, I've started a group blog along with three other very talented people (very unlike me) and you can check it out -à here.

Talking about the quality of my posts, they were flashes in the pan gone wrong. Good seeds with bad germination, execution gone all awry. However, Steady Meanderings promises to do none of the other things.

OR else there will be another name change and we would be lost for all eternity. >

Steady Meanderings will be steady in creativity , if not output. So , we are beginning this new innings with a flash fiction entry I wrote for a recent competition. The prompt given to me was "I'm telling mom" and I had to write within 150-200 words. 

So what did I write? 

Neil Patrick Harris

"I'm telling mom"

"tell her what?"

"That I love you"

"...but you have to tell that first to me , you freak. "

* his face flushed a beautiful Bengaluru tomato red*

" Didn't I just? " he asked a sly smile brightening up his crazy , mischievous face.

" But ..but..."

" But what?"

" I am a guy" he replied his face aiming to encompass all the fifty shades of red.

" So am I? So what?"

" Being gay is illegal in our country"

" Baby it doesn't matter" He gave his worried lover a reassuring smile.

" Just because I'm fictional doesn't mean it doesn't matter" replied his now angry lover.

" I don't care, Neil Patrick Harris. I am telling mom that I love you."

What would you guys write with the same prompt? It would be nice if you all actually posted that or something else  in the comments column ( I know that the comments process can be a pain , but it makes me a writer infinitely happy when his/her reader leaves a response or feedback to their post. And I am in urgent need of infinite happiness) 

yours

Semi

Geography tests

I haven’t written in over a month and I sincerely apologize for that. To make up for this often committed mistake of not writing in SSS , I am going to confess to some of the (small) crimes I have committed in the past.

< Disclaimer: Personal Post coming up >

I know I should be writing about the increasing terrorist activity or the omnipresent rape fear, but I choose to overlook these topics (mostly because better writers have written awesome articles about them already) and am going to choose GEOGRAPHY TESTS instead.

Very Random Right? Well, expecting a sane topic from an insane person is well … insane.

Everyone has an Achilles heel , a special subject that they hate so much that they would rather burn in hell than study it for the test next day. Most people hate math , I also hate(d) math . But coming to think of it, I hated GEOGRAPHY the most. History was awesome;, math dumbfounding ; Biology insanely difficult ; BUT nothing was so irrationally hateable like innocuous looking geography.

I mean who wants to study about the rocks, climate , pressure, river delta estuaries or even longitude latitudes? I learnt so much, but hated every bit. I used to read the most amount of story books during geography. The teachers were actually pretty good but boy! I hated that subject.

(Don’t) worry. I am (not) going to ramble about my hatred and be done with it. Nahi saar, I am going to give two awe some/ful anecdotes about 2 amazing geography exams I wrote in school time.

THIS IS THE STORY OF WHY I DON’T CARRY WATER TO EXAMINATION HALLS ANYMORE.

1.    1   Water on the desk

Sounds innocent enough. But nothing is ever innocent  in semiland, my children J . I was in 8^th standard I think, the class representative – apostIneverdeservedbutdidnoworkanywayssochill- and had this geography test. Our teacher was Nirmala miss, an old but smart teacher who would sit at the back of the class so that copying was out of the picture entirely.

The fundamental duty of the class rep is to develop class rapport and I found that working towards an underlying common cause would incite us towards that direction. Henceforth, I decided to help my classmates copy. Out of 34 people , at least 30 hadn’t studied , I had studied enough to fill the pages but many were planning unsafe methods to copy.

Our class 8A , we were a pack. We made teachers cry in packs , we chewed gum in packs and we decided to commit this crime as a pack. Cheating in tests is a crime which I have later come to despise but as a 13 year old class student who hated geography , I had no qualms about what I was just about to do.

So how can the entire class copy without getting caught? We can’t all whisper – 30 whispers cause a scream , we can’t all keep the notebook underneath , even if we had a plan – we can’t all ever agree in unison .

I tried dividing the class into 4 zones – the quiet zone , nerd zone and the last 2 were the mad cheater’s zone. Whatever elaborate plan I made up , it all boiled down to the problem that the teacher sat in the back bench and could see the papers we kept below in the desk. Creating bits was logistically impossible and if everyone wasn’t satisfied , somebody would rat us out.

So , I poured water on the backbench and added a dirty paper and banana peel to it.

That was the most popular thing I did as a class rep and it had to go undocumented L :P

1. 2.       Water on the paper
2. 
   

This was when I was around the same age: 12-13 . Although , I showed criminal tendencies as mentioned above , I was pretty dumb. To prove the case in point , I am going to bring back to memory this painful incident which ruined my entire exams - almost.

We have established my particular dislike for geography already , so it isn’t entirely unsurprising that I didn’t have much knowledge of it on the exam day. However , I forgot to mention this – I am a nerd. On the exam days at the least :P

I hate leaving blank spaces in my answer, probably because I know I’ll never come back to fill it , as I never have the time for it. The exact same thing happened . For the first question on the first page of the first fricking examination! Even though, I answered other answers properly , it irked me that the first page was half blank and first impression matters.

So , I poured water on my first page.

I still haven’t figured out why I DID THAT. A blonde moment , you could call it -_- My thought process was this : If I pour a small amount of water on the page , it would be a legit reason to have omitted that space.

I forgot that

• 1)      I was a MESSY KLUTZ ,
• 2)      That water has absorbing qualities
• 3)      My bottle had a very big mouth
• 4)      I used gel pen.

So the water leaked on to all the pages I wrote afterwards and my mainsheet was a wet nightmare. I had to rewrite the entire paper in 20 minutes and the invigilator wasn’t ready to give me even 2 extra minutes.

So ladies and gentlemen, please don’t pour water on your paper . Maybe it was the karma of pouring water on my desk which led me into that disaster of a decision.

And that is why I don’t carry water to an examination.

yours thirstily ,

Semi

Daddy's lil girl

It was a breezy sunny evening , one of the better days of pleasant weather in Chennai. The dad and daughter combo slowly embarked on their healthy journey  towards Elliotts beach , also popularly known as Bessie beach. 

Preethi was not pleased with her dad, pushing her successfully to walk with him. He had won another battle , like he always did with her. She had thankfully inherited her mother's petite frame - one which would make a yoga trainer proud- yet she still gave her dad company. For among other things , he was an ideal candidate for replacing yo mama as the heavy icon and had the potential to make the yoga trainers very rich. 

While she was brooding about her dad's obesity , he was wondering how to broach the subject of her marriage. He built up his courage and asked , " Can you please do me a favor , dear? " 

She had had enough , " I cannot jog for you pa , because that is impossible" 

"I know that dear. That's why I didn't ask you. But can you get married this year for me? That would cure me of all diseases!" he cheerfully proclaimed after the initial stumbling . 

The reply came back in rocket speed . With such spontaneity that, you could swear without knowing that ,she had already given the topic a lot of thought , " a) that will cure none of your diseases dad .In fact it would worsen your health. b) Me running for you is more possible than my getting married for your sake"

Daddy sighed so deeply that she thought he had an asthma attack. But then , she was not going to care anymore. This was where she drew the line . Her marriage was her choice. If not the groom , the timing atleast.. She didn't want her dad to get hurt but and so she chose to not get married. Long run always topped short run.

Somehow he never understood that. Impulses ruled and controlled him to such an extent that it could potentially destroy him. He always HAD to get what he wanted. The latest longer iPhone , another sip of his favorite drink , the next series of bmw ... the list elongated to eternity and she didn't want to be a part of his checklist. No sir. But she knew he always got what he wanted. Eventually at least. 

For he was a man of style, this Venugopal Iyengar. Only Dumbledore could beat him in a swag contest. And the knowledge of his own powers relaxed him. He didn't need to coerce preethi . Because she knew he wouldn't . And because she knew he loved her . 

Sometimes love needs to be stated over and over again. Such relationships are at best superficial. Venu never needed to tell Preethi that he loved her. Few dads ever have to . He never bought her things to satisfy her wants and buy her love. Few dads try that. He wasn't a great believer of spending 'quality time with the kids' , true . They watched cricket matches and movies every Sunday . That was about it. 

Dads have their unique ways of showing their love. The unnecessary over protectiveness while dealing with all male elements of her life , the side glances of affection when he thought she wasn't looking , the casual hand over her shoulders and  the best of it all -the feeling of his soggy hands holding her hands firmly and assuredly whilst crossing the road was when it strikes her how much he loves her or at least how much she loves him. She belonged to somebody – somebody who would put himself to danger to protect her.

Thank god she had ended up in his side after her parents divorced. 

What was happening?! She couldn't wake up from her reverie of affectionate thought. She couldn't go back to the great road leading to Elliotts beach where her dad was calling out to her.. whispering with his usually deep voice " pree...thee.." "pree...thee" . Sounded like he wanted her to pray for him. Pray thee! Why is dad using archaic English? Why is he whispering? Why is he sweating so much? This was all but a bad dream. But wait.. she could feel his soggy sweating hands hold her tightly. Grasping her with such desperation. 

Then like a thunder hitting the tree the thought struck , but she pushed it out of her mind. The usually cool venugopal kept moaning “pree..thee” She could feel a crowd forming around them. Something was very wrong. All were senses were screeching at her . But she couldn't come back to the great grand road leading to elliots beach. She could be floating with the stars.

What was the last thing which happened before she jumped into this never ending train of thought?

Oh shit.

Her dad was most probably having an asthma attack or worse -a cardiac arrest! She could feel his soggy strong grip and his face..tears were raining down his cheek. She had never seen Venu appa cry. Not even when their mom left them. There was a legend though that he had cried when she was 2 and had broken her head. Cute baby face full of blood was what it took to make the man cry. She was getting lost again.

She must face the problem. Drop back to reality. Do more than hold his hand and most importantly save him.

Forming words seemed like an alien task. Her parched dry mouth was forming the words and she was pretty sure that she was talking. But she couldn't hear a thing of it. Screw it! Her weak body and emotionally inept brain must have gone into shock. Her dad was probably dying and here she was dillydallying with shock.

Finally she could here it “ I am here daddy!! Someone save him please. Someone call for an ambulance!”

Yippy . The devoted daughter has finally spoken.

Thankfully some random aadmi must have already called for an ambulance. She could here the sirens. The cute paramedics were coming fast with their stretchers towards them. She held venu’s hands very tightly , “ Don’t worry daddy. I will take care of you. I will  marry for you . I will run for you. Heck , I will even cook for you “

He was crying alarmingly now , bringing her hands close to his chest. He must really be in pain. His face was full of sweat and tears. Like her , he couldn't form any words . only tears .

The paramedics finally came and lifted her off the ground. “Not me you idiots! My dad is in danger. I am only suffering from shock” she said with true horror and dismay. Stupid paramedics they have these days she mused -cute but stupid. Being the lawyer she was , she vowed to sue them after this mess got cleared. “Where is my dad?” she wailed. That was when the needle pricked and reality finally hit.

“……truck out of nowhere doctor. PLEASE SAVE HER…. daughter. She is the only thing I love in life doctor”  ha and you’re the only man I will ever love , dad. The drugs are reallly starting to kick in lol

“…..miracle ....... she being....... still conscious”

The siren kept shrieking . God!,Why can’t they just shut it off?

And he did shut it all off. 

The Sickbird

I found this short story in my draftboard and was appalled that a) i wrote this in 2010 b)forgot that i wrote it c) my english was so bad xP I did find it a bit intriguing and so i am posting it. Don't ask me where i got the story line from - I am as clueless. 

Everyone got sick of the sickbird after one point or the other. She always complained about some pain or the other.At first they thought they were real and sympathized with her.That was true even for our hero Hari. She was a distant aunt to him and had come to stay in his house for a week for some unknown reasons.
The event thus follows their first meet : 
Hari came home after playing bone breaking , eyeball scratching basketball and came home with legs full of bruises and tee shirt full of dirt. He headed directly to the bedroom and locked it before his mother could stop him.He started removing his tee shirt and headed to the bathroom which was attached to his room.He was about to open the door when the door opened by itself and a small lady was there in her towel. "AAAHH" he cried out. "Abishtu! Abistusheshu!" yelled the puny lady.
"WHO? who are you?..." 
"I should ask you that, young man! How dare do you come inside an occupied bathroom"
"I.......er.....didn't know. SORRY"
"what sorry? blah blah blah etc etc.....*fie minutes later* OK who are you?
"well, I live in this house........"
"Oh !! HARI!! Ayyo evalavu valandutha!(u have grown so tall!) YOU are leela's son right?!"
"no! she's my mom" he grinned.She didn't get it. Anyways that is the weird introduction


Getting to know the sick bird:
After she finally left his room , hari had a hot shower and came down to have dinner.There only the small lady's voice could be  heard. She was telling them, " Hari is soo naughty! He was waiting outside the bathroom to scare his poor aunty! He doesn't know that I have heart problem.Shiva shiva! My BP seems to be high and heart is slightly starting to ache! Do you have jfienjadj tablet? NO! Oh my god it is such a important tablet nowadays what with all these boys screaming and yelling.........can u buy it......its only rs.200....I will soon pay it back....."
and that was only the beginning of a long list of ailments Hari had never before heard in the 13 years of his life put together , let alone in one place affecting a single woman! Immediate sympathy and impulsive concern were slowly replaced by obvious disbelief and the inevitable deafness that teenagers develop after being over exposed to adults. 
He had no idea who she was and how long she was going to stay. But he was sure as hell that he didn't care about her whereabouts and her illness. He wanted that tiny bundle of sickness to leave his abode ASAP. This apparently exaggerated hatred finds more context after we learn that the sickbird has nested in hari's room and that he is forced to sleep on the hall sofa - ouch. 

Shooing the bird : 
He decided to make her life a living hell - atithi devo bhava not withstanding the test of times - . He couldn't openly ask her to get out, for he would be thrown out if his parents heard of it. So passive aggression won the day.
At first it happened by turning a deaf ear,
"dei hari kanna! I feel very weak , can you go buy me a dozen bananas from the shop?"
Christ! What do bananas even have to do with feeling weak?! He simply continued tying his shoe lace and walked out with his basketball . When he came back two hours later , sweating from head to toe after  playing two practice matches at a trot , the sickbird was still sitting on the same sofa in the exact position from 2 hours ago!
She opened her eyes and very casually asked " Where are my bananas?" .
The next step was learning to say no. So he grinded his teeth and said " No aunty , I am very tired , I am going to sleep".
"WHAT?! tired at this young age? It is no excuse! When I was your age I used to walk 6 kilometers to the railway station and another 5 before I reached my school. We never got fancy footwear and clothes like you kids and ate very spartan food . Now go buy me my bananas or else I'm complaining  you to your parents * all in chaste tamil - translated for you *
Bewildered by her sudden outburst he did end up running the errand for her .

a hopeless hypochondriac or is something graver?

Telling  mom -
6 weeks flew by and there was still  no reprieve for Hari . It took him all his 13 years to convince his parents to give him his own room and yet all it took was an annoying aunty to intrude it! Oh how he would love to play a prank on her. However , firsthand experience had taught him that he would be the one that was crying by the end of it.
Amma was busy in the kitchen cutting vegetables. He pitched in and started cutting the onions. His mom's curiosity got aroused and so she asked , " Fine . What do you want? ".
"Nothing , i just decided to help my mom"
" On a sunday , by cutting onions! Comedy pannadha hari" ( stop trying to be funny hari )
" I know right. I'll tell you a better way - stop inviting guests all the time. That too ones who never help and never leave."
She gave him a long stare - one that usually shushed him and secretly scared him out of his wits - and then after a long silence began speaking.
"Geetha aunty is not an unwanted guest. In fact , we're the ones who forced her to stay here. You do not know anything about her and I am going to tell you some things so that you will truly understand and respect her. However , this should remain a secret and never leave these 4 walls , understand"
Hari nodded his head vigorously.
"Geetha is a very distant relative of ours . I don't want to bore you with details. Two years ago , while traveling to your poonal ceremony , she lost her whole family in a car accident and is suffering from PTSD or post traumatic stress disorder. She believes that she shouldn't have lived and that is why she keeps complaining of ailments which she doesn't seem to have. I need you to be a little patient and sensitive with her hari . I know it has been rough for you , giving up your room which you love so much. Growing up is not only about having your own room but also being sensitive to ones around you"
Hari was stunned by this over load of information and needed time to process it all and hence he simply muttered , "okay".
"Also I never ever want you to judge a person by their appearances and behavior"
"I never did!" he shot back
" I am your mother darling. If someone is unpleasant to you or asks you to do something you hate , promise me that you will try to see their side of the coin also"
"i promise"

Later that evening , Hari's dad Mr.Swaminathan was pleasantly surprised by his son's extremely courteous behaviour to their overstaying house guest. Seeing his wife's mischievous smile he asked her what was happening , to which she replied , " Hari still hasn't matured enough to respect his guests - so I told him a small lie" she winked.
" By the way when is the sickbird leaving? I'm sick of her trying to make me believe that she has pulmonary edema and that her blood vessels are leaking blood or some other impossible medical condition...! "
" I never asked you before swami... but why is she like this?"
"Oh this! She has just been craving for attention since birth - a hopeless hypochondriac . Hope her husband picks her up soon enough."

Indian mothers! xD

Hari never learnt that it was a lie and went on to become a very hospitable host in life( so much so that many relatives had a 'hari day' in their calendar and visited him atleast once a year).Geetha aunty aka sickbird continued to complain of weak blood vessels and hernia and even dyslexia wherever she went. Leela died a contented mother filled with secrets that made her son into a fine young man.