Story 8

Asif was waiting for his favorite cartoon to come on television. He has been a good boy today which meant he had his lunch at the right time, took a small nap and woke up to complete his arithmetic and english  homework. So the self harbored joy of responsibly executing the given tasks made this 8 year old boy bask in self pride. He knew Abba will be very happy today. And as a reward, he will make him sit on his shoulder and will play the "Fly Plane" game, his favorite.

As he cuddled up on sofa waiting for the commercial to end he looked at his mother's photo which hung on the wall. He was 6 when his mother passed away. He was too young to understand the concept of death. He cried like any other kid would have. But deep in his heart he thought that Ammi must have been angry with him for not having the bananas in the morning, which he was suppose to have before going to school. He truly believed that Ammi would come back and scold him. She would slap him hard but after few minutes she would hug and kiss him. He could smell Ammi and believed that she would come back. "She must have gone somewhere in a taxi" was what Asif thought as he conveniently replaced 'hit by a taxi' with it. 2 years have passed since then and Ammi hasn't returned yet. On asking Abba a number of times, he once said, "Ammi stays near the stars. She has gone for a trip on a rocket and will come back soon." The game of "Fly Plane" was a way of getting near Ammi. That's what Asif thought. But he knew his mother will never come back. Death has taken her away from him and 'the bad Death guy' will never give Ammi  back.

As the Popeye tune started playing in the television Asif's thought got diverted.He smiled seeing Olive Oil and Popeye. He loved it when Popeye gulped a can of spinach and flexed his muscles. Bluto could never give the sailor man a fight. But something was wrong today. The picture was not as clear as it should be. Asif surfed a few channels to see what the problem was and finally on returning to his cartoon channel he saw Popeye trying to find a snail in his spinach. He laughed. The picture quality was much better now as Asif settled down comfortably to watch Popeye, the sailor man. What he didn't notice while surfing the channels was the breaking news which they were flashing. Taliban has captured 5 citizens and kept them at gun point. Asif's dad was one of them. 

Story 7

The house was in a real mess. There were beer bottles everywhere. Scattered newspapers here and there along with cigarette stubs added to the mess. Stench from the sink full of unwashed dishes was unbearable. Anyone with a basic sense of hygiene would have been rendered unconscious at the very site of it.

On the dining table, few packets of chips along with some half eaten cakes lay scattered.  A minute observation will lead to a half eaten, rotten pomegranate lying at the corner of the table which by now has been swarmed by an army of ants. 

The bedroom had an eerie feeling about it. There was a peculiar smell about the place. As a packet of cigarettes lay on the floor the laptop on the bed gave it's final warning of shutting down courtesy a dying battery. As the brightness of the screen gradually diminished with every minute, the writing became bleaker "Family Incest - XXX Porn". A bundle of tissue paper tossed on the floor suggested that the viewing was worth it.

A huge container of glue lay open at the dining room. A packet around the mouth of it suggested that someone loved the high which the smell of the glue provided. The television was on mute with Sunny Leone gyrating to the Baby Doll number. On the floor pillows were scattered here and there and a half lit cigarette was left on the ashtray.

Finally a huge fart broke the silence. Manish came and sat down on the floor which was followed huge burp. He opened the mosquito repellent and started applying it all over his body. These bloody mosquitoes were not letting him sit in peace. Suddenly the phone rang, " I have reached home. The traffic was terrible here. Thankfully Baba came with his car." "The traffic was never good at your place. Now you have reached home, relax and enjoy" replied Manish. "You are in office ?" asked his wife. "Yes. Listen will get back to you later. Boss is calling me now. Bye." Hanging up he increased the volume of his television. They were showing a repeat telecast of the swimsuit model hunt. Manish smiled to himself. 20 years of marriage and this was the first time he applied for a long leave. Just to be with himself. 

Story 6

"The kingdom of Laspberry was a sight to behold. Set amidst a water body, cocolaya was the only mode of transportation in this kingdom. The cocolaya, which was designed when King Hunaku was in power, was a boat made out of coir. These small boats had the capacity to ferry not more than two passengers at a time. With a population which was not more than two hundred, Laspeberry was indeed a small kingdom. The cultivation of grapes and berry was the primary source of livelihood for the people of the country.The kingdom reached it's pinnacle of success when King Hunaku was in power. An adept administrator he ensured that the kingdom earned sufficient gold to sustain itself in any economic crisis. His wife, Queen Redra, passed away while giving birth to their son, Pikachu. Queen Redra was nothing short of an angel. Everyday she used to come for dinner wearing a lovely red gown which further magnified her glamour.
Pikachu was very young when King Hunaku passed away. Many claimed that a poisonous Bloody Mary was responsible for the king's death but it could never be proved. When 12 year old Pikachu took over his father's throne, the sheer responsibility and magnanimity of the position left him flabbergasted. While he was trying to learn the ropes of the trade the people of Laspberry raised the demand of a new queen. Pikachu was not in a state of mind to do so. He was happy with his pet dog Killer and considered the proposal of marriage to be too early for him. But his people would not take no for an answer. As the demand continued to manifest Pikachu gave in and told Luskapuska, King Hunaku's secretary and his guardian, to look for a queen. Within a few days time Luskapuska informed Pikachu that Cliskapisk, the daughter of King Miserypoo, would be a perfect match for him. An able administrator and a taekwondo specialist she would be a perfect choice to take the throne of Queen Redra."

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Story 5

According to the map, only 200 meters separated me from the Rann of Kutch. The Rann Utsav was about to start in 3 days time and I wanted to reach there at least a day before. I made a mental calculation and assured myself of the feasibility of covering the remaining distance within 2 days time. As I safely tucked the route map in my pouch I felt a sense of pride in what I had achieved till now. Even a few years back, this would have been just an item in the bucket list but then one thing led to another and here I was, almost on the verge of achieving the impossible - yes, that is what they said. Impossible.

The leather jacket felt a bit heavy on my shoulders and the high leather boots made me a bit uncomfortable. But they surely grabbed eyeballs. Whenever I used to halt for a coffee in any roadside dhaba there was a bunch of inquisitive eyes who stared at me. Some smirked. Some passed comments in an effort to denigrate. Some flinched when I lit up a smoke. But all these didn't bother me. They will always look at you irrespective of what you wear and by now I was more than used to it. As Chhotey, which is a name given to each and every kid who works in a roadside dhaba, came with  the cup of coffee he looked at me in bewilderment. The innocent eyes were fixed on me as I smiled at him. He smiled back and with one final glance, left.

My hair was tied in a bunch. I didn't get the chance to shampoo my hair for almost 4 days now  and the possibility of doing so in the next few days was also bleak. Born to a middle class family in Mumbai, I was a pampered kid. Like any other girl I loved to wear shorts and dresses. Partying was a way of life then. My parents never stopped me from doing anything as my academics never gave them the opportunity to so. I had my share of flings and lost my virginity at the age of 15 with my tuition teacher who was 29 years elder to me. I had no regrets about my life till now and hopefully will never have so in future. So when I left my lucrative job at Barclays to fulfill my bucket list my parents were not shocked but like always my relatives were.  They have always been for the past 28 years.

As I paid the money and headed towards my bike I checked my pouch to see the quantity of weed I was left with. During these cold winter nights marijuana kept me high and going.And most importantly, it kept me warm. Being a woman I lived life the way I wanted to and the rebellion in me always inspired me to do so. As I started my Harley Davidson and headed on to the highway I hummed my favorite Cohen numbers. I knew, "It's not the destination, it's the journey". Yes. It always was.

Story 4

" The things that you need to do for your woman ! " maybe a hackneyed phrase used by the self proclaimed 'not so lucky' committed souls but then you usually don't get to judge them without understanding what they have gone or rather going through. Probably i made the same mistake back then when i used to laugh at all those things which my friends used to do for their girls. I have been warned by them that God will get back at me, fair and square but i never took them seriously. So here i was standing in an over crowded bus with a Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone book in one hand which my girlfriend's 13 year old sister wanted to read as my other hand desperately tried to hold on to something. As the bus screeched to a halt i almost found myself lunging on a middle aged woman. As i desperately tried to control my balance my other hand luckily caught hold of an uncle Slowly i managed to stand back and regained my composure. The aunty gave  me a look as if i was a pervert trying my ways to get into her way. As i imagined newspaper front pages with my face on it and with headlines like " Molester caught on a bus " my weak heart cried out. I looked at the aunty who again gave me that sinister look of "you pervert" made me shrink. As i decided to go a few seats back the bus conductor called out loud the name of the next stop and luckily i had to get down.

After getting down from the bus as i started walking towards her home i felt a vibration in my pocket. There were 2 whatsapp messages from my girl. First one was " Get a condom." And the second one was "Baby, parents have left. Where are you ?". And suddenly everything felt so good. There was a rhythm in my stride as i walked into a medicine shop and asked for a packet of condom. One of the guys shouted to another, "Chatri de. 1 packet." I wondered what condom had to do with umbrellas as i again emphasized that i wanted condom only. The shopkeeper paid no heed to what i said and placed one on the counter. I carefully tucked the packet in my pocket and left the shop.

As she opened the door i felt my heart literally jumping out as my hormones made the most of it. She smiled at me. I returned a sheepish smile and asked for a glass of water. After gulping it down she guided me to her sister's room as her room was in a mess. The wall beside her sister's bed had this huge poster of Chris Evert (apparently her sister played tennis) and it really felt weird as the woman in specs looked upon at us like a primary school teacher. But then who cared. As i brought out the packet of condoms from my pocket i saw the brand. Skore condoms it said. Surely there was a lot to be won.

Story 3

India ( 7:20 P.M.)

Manish was frantically searching for his cell phone. Time was not on his side. The baraat  had already arrived in it's usual style with some of the groom's family dancing to the ever popular bhangra tunes. There was a sense of festivity all over the house, which was beautifully decorated. It had to be. The only daughter of Mr Sampath Khosla was going to get married and the doting father had ensured that almost everything was in place. The grandiose of the ceremony was nothing short of a fairy tale wedding. The invitees had already started coming in, the decorators were making the final minute changes, the hosts were trying to cross check everything for the final time - amidst all this hotchpotch, Manish the brother of the bride was locked in his room. As someone knocked his door he shouted, " 10 minutes please." Damn. He needed the cell phone right now. Throwing aside his pillow, he saw his cell phone carefully tucked inside the blanket. He immediately grabbed it. The Manchester United home page had a very tired glow about it, as Manish unlocked the cell phone and immediately launched the Google Chrome. The cell phone squeaked in protest. The screen showed that only 9% of the battery life remained. Manish grabbed the adapter and plugged it in. As he sat down with his cell phone and started browsing in a frenzy, someone banged his door again. Young Manish who was still in class 12 wanted to make his didi special and this was his only chance.

Canada (10;15 A.M.)

Rajat was already waiting with his laptop open. He had come to office early today and ensured that a chunk of his work was completed before time.He needed this time for himself. Some thousand miles away his sister, 5 years younger to him, was getting married. He so wanted to be there but his office work kept him away. The rich landscapes of Canada did provide some peace and solace, but deep in his heart Rajat really missed the hustle and bustle of his hometown. The home page in his laptop was taking some time to load and Rajat got really tensed. Though the rules of the land might have changed but the conservative community to which he belonged still demanded hefty dowry. Legal actions resulted in larger embarrassments hence the daughter's family had to comply with it. Though his father had ensured Rajat  that there was nothing to worry about still he felt guilty about not being able to contribute the way he could. And hence he wanted to do something which wouldn't make his father feel bad. As the Mozzila Firefox home page opened up Rajat got busy.


The Flipkart sale has just begun. They have uploaded a crossword puzzle which consists of the names of various products. Five lucky early birds with the correct answers will get all the products for free. All that was needed for the bar code attached attached goods to arrive was just a correctly solved crossword puzzle.

Story 2

She woke up from her slumber. Her immediate reaction was to grab the cell phone and check the time. Damn. It was only 3 in the morning. Still sleep has eluded her. And this overpowering sense of excitement was primarily the reason behind this. Never before a morning has been so important to her. And she could hardly wait.

Getting up from her bed she reached out for her water bottle. Taking a gulp or so, she kept the bottle by her side. "What now ?" she thought. She had to kill time. And sitting on her bed, she was thinking of ways to do so. She took the laptop which was lying carelessly on the bean bag beside her bed. The Game of Thrones home page lightened up her room as she started browsing her movie folders. She didn't even feel like watching a single movie now. Even her favorite SRK was  not able to convince her into doing so ! After a considerable ambiguity about what to watch culminated in sheer boredom she turned off her laptop and threw it on the bean bag. The excitement was reaching a new crescendo. She checked her cell phone again. Nope. Still an hour or so to go for the dawn.

Turning on the table lamp she fished out her school diary from the bedside table. It has been almost 4 years since she has left school. Still those memories are so fresh. As she flipped through the pages she smiled thinking about all the crazy things which she and her friends had done. As memories came running back she kept the diary back, switched off the light and closed her eyes. And as her thoughts traced back to school, she fell off to sleep with a lingering smile.

As the clock struck 7, the speaker of her phone blared the latest Taylor Swift number. Still half asleep, she somehow managed to switch off the alarm and rolled back to sleep. And suddenly, she woke up. Yes. It has what she has been waiting for. The morning had finally arrived. She jumped out of her bed, not being able to control her excitement. She shoved away her curtains and smiled back at the sun. Never before has the smile been so genuine.Right now, she loved the sun. As she rushed back to her washroom to get ready for college, she simply couldn't control herself.

And how could she ? Finally the wait was over. After an hour or so, the Maggi Risotto will finally be waiting for her on the lunch table. It has been long since they have met. And she was thanking her stars. 

Story 1

He was running frantically. The scooty just zipped passed him. A little bit of deliberation from the driver, would have certainly resulted in an accident. Honestly, you couldn't blame the driver. The man, was just running through the middle of the road. The honks were more of a cadence to his ear than cacophony !

Mr. Das had just arrived in the tea shop. An Independence Day morning to an Indian is nothing more than lazing out, a bit of apprehension about how the "country" is being run,some  philosophical questions about what independence really means and what it has come to. Basically, Independence Day was all about deriding our basic existential requirement : Freedom. And Mr, Das had just started doing that. He was in a good mood today because Mondays don't usually turn out to be such a lazy one ! After a lot of pestering from his friends, he fished out  twenty rupees from his pocket and told Chote, the kid who worked in the tea stall, to bring 4 samosas and 2 cups of tea.

As he was running in a frenzy, the local people stared at him. You usually don't come across a full grown man, running like this on a broad daylight. Many deduced him to be mad. Some of the women commented that he must be a drunkard and immediately started thinking about the pain and hardships which his wife and children must go through. But he, was not even bothered. He was running as if, it was the last run of his life, the run which will promise him the dawn of freedom, the run which will obliterate all the hardships from his life, the run which will make him escape from all the frugal reasons of existence. And then there was a crash.

Mr.Das almost spilled the tea on his white, starched kurta. As the crowd gathered around, Mr. Das gathered some momentum to reach the spot. On his way, he caught hold of a guy, who said that a guy was running and he didn't see that the cycle was taking a turn. The overwhelming speed of the man, toppled down both of them. As Mr. Das walked towards the spot, he heard the mob shouting something, as he saw a guy desperately running. The blood soaked shirt was flapping in the wind. But he didn't even turn back.

He just ran. And while doing so, checked his pocket. No it was safe. The small football which he bought for his 2 year old son. He had promised him for a game of football and he must keep his words.