My love for you....

It’s almost been 12 years since I fell in love with you...

When I first met you all I could think was ‘what a cute guy’...

The second time I saw you I was head over heels for you...

Soon after you broke my heart...

But we both held on to each other by a thread called ‘friendship’...

Once strangers we became best friends...

We parted ways after three years, embarking on another journey of life...

But I could not truly move on...

I saw you in every face...

I imagined being with you wherever I went...

I always thought what would you think?

What if you don’t like the new me?

What if you thought I was not good enough anymore?

My mind would subconsciously compare others with you...

Try to find reason to not like someone... 

To push someone away...

I succeeded because you are that important to me...

I still dream of you sometimes...

I want to talk to you sometimes...

There’s so many things I want to tell you, share with you...

I pull up your number in my phone...

But my fingers turns numb...

The emotional trauma is too much to bear...

I promise myself no more pain..

But come next day and I am back to where it all began...

I wish love wasn’t this hard...

I wish you could love me the way I do...

I wish I could love someone else the way I love you...

Not because I want to move on, but because I want to end the suffering...

I hope you stay happy always...

I hope I find my happy place...

-Rashee Khemka

A True Fighter

                Different people from different walks of life in different parts of the world bound to be different meanings of term ‘fighter’. I myself had varying meanings of the word until the day I turned 14 years 1 month 18 days old i.e the 8^th day of November, 2017.

                Her snores stopped, yellowish liquid started oozing out incessantly out of her mouth. It was as if she was empting everything left off her. Her eyes were half shut in an eerie way and arms were flailing around wildly. I had my heart in my mouth. I could not bear to see her suffer like that, it was intolerable. My whole family was beside themselves looking at her pitiable state. Then ……suddenly……blank…… Her arms dropped cold, her eyes reflected the light she could no longer see…….her face etched a smile, she could no longer feel , she was breathing lightly….she still had a pulse….Feeling a little ray of hope light inside all of us, my dad ringed the family doctor to come immediately.

                Although her pulses were fainting away now, and cold death was creeping deeper inside into her, I was only praying to God not to take her apart from me so early. Not yet, I was pleading to him to perform some miracle, some trick….but to no avail. The doctor arrived, checked her pulse, breath and heart beat.  After that, he hung his head low and declared in a soft whisper that she was no more……….

I felt all empty inside, I did not know what I was doing, whether I was standing, sitting, sleeping, crying, nothing. The only thing I knew was that she left me and went forever. I was hoping that when I touch her, she will awake from her slumber, embrace me in her arms and comfort me that she will never leave my side. On the contrary, when I touched her, I felt as if I was touching marble, she was so cold and stiff and still, I could not believe that she died. She was so very lively, she, whose voice filled our entire house. She who was gone……

                I wanted to cry, to die crying. I did not want to live anymore. After all, there was nobody except her who had ever really loved me. She was my life and I was hers. I wanted to show the world how much she meant to me but no sound escaped my throat. I wept a lot inside, myself, but the only thing the world heard was some hoarse sobs, nothing else. All that I wished now was for her and only for her.

                I myself don’t know how I have scraped through thirteen long and lonely days now. I don’t even know how I will live my life without her. Her last wish was that I study hard and achieve fame in my life, and you bet I will fulfill it. I cannot even dream of letting her down.

                For me now, the term ‘fighter’ has only one meaning and that is my ‘fighter grandmother’. Losing her mother at a mere age of nine, her dearest brother the day her board results were to be announced, and her father shortly after her marriage, she suffered a lot. But she fought bravely; she never shed a single tear all her life. She had both her knees replaced when I was very young and she never let me feel that she was going through pain. After being diagnosed with 3^rd stage ovary cancer, she was broken, but as always she fought for two hard years. In the end, she was a living miracle, what with having a cancer relapse, diabetes, severe cough, ulcers, thrombosis, slip disc and many more insidious problems. She fought through it all like a lion.

She was the bravest.

She was the noblest.

She lived double the time the doctors had presumed.

She was ‘a true fighter’.

She was my grandmom.

-          Khushi

(In a tribute to my fighter grandma who fought against every disease like a pro.) 

Ginny's Rainy Evening

It was raining outside. Ginny Weasley Potter peered out of the window and saw how the clouds seemed to have bulged up. The sun had been pushed to the corner and would surely sink into the horizon in a clandestine manner, with nobody witnessing its decline today. It was nearly time, her husband should return from office any moment now.

She pictured his bedraggled form, water dripping from his hat and he shaking off the drops from his hair. Ginny blushed at the thought. It has been close to a year since she had married the Boy Who Lived, but she still felt nervous at his presence. She suddenly recalled with a chill how she'd run away at his sight in her first year at Hogwarts.

A few drops of rain flew in with the wind and she trembled at their touch. The pinkish glow on her face made a brilliant contrast with the grey background outside.

The rain gradually picked up speed and the wind started to wail. She shut the window but the rain kept knocking at the glass pane accompanied by the rattling of the wind. Ginny walked across the room and sat beside the grate. The flame shivered, as if chilled by the weather. She folded her knees and inched in closer. The warmth of the place was addictive. She noticed the black currents of ashes that ran along the sides of the walls. She had spent many an evening at this place drinking Butterbeer with Harry. Perhaps today it would be another of such evenings. She blushed again, overcome by the joy of the thought. Her checkered blue frock looked pretty on her. She tugged at it as the temperature of the air dropped further.

There was a crackle suddenly and the fire changed colour. She stepped back partially surprised but recovered soon as the revolving figure of her husband began to take shape.

A face, grinning from end to end, rotated before her in circles till it slowed down and her husband winked at her, seemingly in a joyous mood. He clambered out of the grate, brushing off the soot and let out a couple of coughs to clear his throat. Then turning around, he held his wife in a gaze and gave her that long, knowing smile.

She returned the smile but her eyes crinkled and she covered her face in shyness. Today, she was blushing unusually and Harry noticed the change at length.

"Ginny, what's the matter?" he said with a grin. "Anything the matter with you?" He surveyed her with the admiration of a man in love. She failed to suppress a giggle.

"Oh Harry, don't look at me like that." There was entreaty in her voice and seeing this Harry broke into a chuckle.

"Hey Ginny, anything the matter," he shook off more soot off his hair and said with a giggle of sorts. Taking a step towards her, he made an attempt to seize her beautiful arm but she retreated babyishly and scurried out of the room.

"Ginny, why are you behaving oddly today," he called back after her.

"Am I?" she answered back in between fits of giggles. "Okay listen to this then. You need to start taking diaper lessons, Harry. I am pregnant."

Harry swam out of the room and seized her in his arms from behind, planting a soft kiss on the back of her head. His eyes danced around and the muscles of his face worked furiously. But the words he spoke got drowned by the roar of the cloud outside. The long dark night had just begun for them.  

-Written by Ritesh Agarwal

3rd July, 2016

Honey, I am home

Honey, I am home.

So?

What so?

What should I do if you are home?

Don’t be a nag. I merely announced my arrival. You don’t really have to do anything.

Huh, what’s there to announce then? You just got home. It’s not that you won the World Cup or something.

Yes I know I merely got home. But I thought it would delight you to hear me again.

You thought wrong.

Ah, but last evening you seemed to be pretty gung ho about my return. Were you not?

Please. That was a mistake.

What mistake?

Never mind.

No tell.

Naa leave.

Don’t act like an irritating woman. Tell me what mistake.

Okay listen. It was a mistake on my part to harbor hopes of a romantic evening with you.

But I did romance with you… Umm…I mean we went to that movie, right? You should be 

happy. The movie was good. Ranbir was amazing in that movie.

Yes, only he was.

Now what is that supposed to mean?

Don’t act oversmart you man. You know very well how itchy was your face. Had I known you won’t be shaving, I wouldn’t have gone to that movie or any movie for God’s sake.

You woman, how dare you accuse me after having a fully enjoyable outing. You ate the whole cake and now you say it was disgusting. I hate you, you WOMAN.

You dare not call me WOMAN in that stinky voice of yours.

I will. Do what you want.

GO TO HELL. I don’t care for any goddamn movie anymore. Come home at midnight for all I care. And just not come anywhere near me. You are as stinky as your week-long beard.

40 minutes later:

Ahem, I have shaved.

So?

What so?

Why telling me? Why do I care?

Umm ya, I was just feeling hungry. Umm so I checked in to see if you are there.

I will get you something from the kitchen. Wait.

Ahem.

YES?

I was wondering dear wifey if that newly opened restaurant is really as good as they say.

Yeah, I was wondering the same.

Should we not go and see?

We can.

I think we should dine out tonight at that place. Will that be okay with you?

Ya

Hmmm

Mmmm

[This post is a part of #WillYouShave activity at BlogAdda in association with Gillette]

I have written this post acknowledging the tag of Surbhi Bafna's Santi Claus

Missing (episode 19)

Team: Tete a Ten

Read episode 18 here

The car was returning home carrying with itself a child who was reunited with its parents and the parents who were reunited with each other. As Shekhar smiled inwardly, half lost in his musings and half lost behind the steering wheel, Tara logged into Facebook.

Her timeline was deluged by messages from friends, from strangers, from known and from the semi-known. Though some of them were mere perfunctory formalities, she generously shared her gratitude with everybody, thanking each one for being by her side in her moment of terror.

She also ran an eye through the inbox and it was then that Jennifer's message resurfaced.

"Did you inform Jennifer," she swiveled her quizzical eye at Shekhar who was driving languidly, his face writhing in joyful relief of the kind only a father who has lost and regained his child can experience.

"Jennifer? Ah no, I think you should personally call her and let her know dear. We owe our Roohi to her-"

"Yes Shekhar, we owe our life to her," said Tara almost cutting him short. For a moment, she felt shaken but it was not the kind of quiver one associates with terror or with pain but the kind one associates with an orgy of unexpected happiness. It was a universe later that Shekhar had called her 'dear' and perhaps without even realizing so.

Partially drowned in her reveries, Tara dialed Jennifer's number. It was a peppy song intended as a ringtone that somewhat pulled her out of her reveries.

"Hello. Yes Tara, did you find her," Jennifer rushed straight to the point without wasting precious seconds over pleasantries. "I am trying to share the picture with as many people as possible. I hope to-

"You can relax Jennifer. We have found her. We have got Roohi. She is sitting by my side. Oh no, she seems to have fallen asleep. Poor child. I am so thankful to you Jennifer. Shekhar says hi too. He will call you once we are home, he says. Tell me Jennifer, what can we do for you," Tara felt a rush of kindness for this new woman in her life. She was a God-send, she kept telling herself.

Tara spoke some more during which the person on the other end of the receiver took the good news in.

"I am so glad and relieved....and happy that you found her," Jennifer finally found her voice. It was a happy shock which had kindled in her a bubble of new-found energy.

"But, is Roohi okay," Jennifer's tone suddenly turned grave. "Who was that man? A kidnapper? Did he harm," she let the sentence float in the air unfinished.

But Tara soon quelled her fears. Over the next few minutes, she recited the story. "So you see, Cyrus is not the criminal type. He just happened to be there. On hindsight, I am glad he found her instead of some mad man getting hold of our Roohi."

Some pleasantries later, they disconnected and while Tara returned to her tranquil world inside the warm car, Jennifer hung up still feeling jittery. "Is the man truly what he shows himself to be or is there more to it than what meets the eye," she soliloquized.

Roohi seemed fast asleep, back to her quiet dreams which a child of her age is entitled to. Meanwhile, Tara found herself leaning closer and closer to Shekhar till her head rested on his shoulder. Her hair bristled against his face, triggering a reaction which had erupted after several years. Two lips found each other and much like Roohi, Tara slipped back to some much-needed dreams. A kiss later, they kissed again which was followed by another long kiss.

Tara was privy to the message which beeped on her phone. But the reply she sent was quick and short as Dr. Aryan Ahuja found out leaning back into his heavy armchair in the deeper confines of his own home. The doctor was another lone figure in this obstreperous world. His admiration for Tara was silent but strong. Tara too had found solace in his warm words during her years of marital exile but their relationship had always been strictly platonic.

As Dr. Ahuja was reflecting about Tara, his pensive recollections were rudely intruded by a call from the hospital.

"Sir, some lady by the name of Jennifer is trying to contact you desperately," said the receptionist over the phone.

"Who? Jennifer? Okay, give me her number."

A few seconds later, Jennifer's phone screamed.

"Hello. I am Dr. Aryan Ahuja. Am I speaking to Miss Jennifer."

"Umm... yes. Jennifer here. Hello, Mr. Ahuja. I was trying to reach out to you-"

"Yes, tell me. How can I help you," the doctor politely enquired.

"I wanted to enquire about this man. Umm... Cyrus is his name. Do you know him?"

A pregnant pause ensued. Courtesy was gone when the doctor spoke next, "That's none of your business."

The call was disconnected. Jennifer continued to hold the phone to her ears for some time, quite dazed by her own thoughts. 

Read episode 20 here

[“Me and my team are participating in ‘GameOf Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”]

  

-Ritesh Agarwal

A very short story: Fault in the stars

And just when the stars were about to kiss each other, the lonely cloud turned off the moon.

There was a fault in their stars.

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Missing (Part 6)

This is part six of a story that I am writing in collaboration with some very talented writers on Blogadda.com. Our team name is 'Tete-a-ten'.

Read the previous part of the story here

3 am, Ballad Estate

The trees around her looked as mournful and dark as the night into which their fate had driven them. As Tara sat down gingerly behind the bushes to relieve herself, she could smell the pain of the moon. Though it had dutifully turned its face away, going behind the clouds in a rare display of gentility, Tara felt a rush of gratitude towards Shekhar who stood between her and the car, thereby according her the privacy which she needed not. Coz the darkness was terrifyingly intense and it was only the silhouette of the sky which was visible under the stars. But his gesture which, even though could have been passed off as a mundane code of propriety, didn't go unnoticed and touched her in a way she had fathomed not.

And then she heard his voice; a soft hum and though their lamentable situation didn't offer any occasion for such a cheerful burst of singing, it did forge a small smile on her face. Though no one, not even the trees which sat nearby in loneliness, neither the stars that twinkled above gently and nor Shekhar could see that smile, she felt surprised with its suddenness, and more importantly, with its exuberance. She knew, with a sudden wave of happiness, that she had smiled in so natural a fashion after a long time and even though the day was a harrowing one and the night ahead seemed long and sad, she felt that she had earned something back; something which she had been missing all these years without actually knowing what she was missing. The humming may have seemed inappropriate to some and a way to vent out tired emotions by many, but Tara knew the real reason behind it. Shekhar's few seconds of singing and whistling thoroughly coincided with her relieving herself against the dry leaves and she fell in love with him, once again after so many years, for saving her the embarrassment of the noise made by the water's rustle.

The beauty of that moment was evanescent. She was up on her feet in no time, and once again her heart relapsed into the mournful mood of before. But this time, there was a spring in her stride as she tottered back towards Shekhar, her fingers wrapping themselves around his, as they walked back to the car. Each of the two had lost a daughter and found a partner that night. Yet the night was not over yet. And with it, there was hope and with hope, there was a deep sense of sorrow for a loss which seemed more and more prominent with every passing hour.

The night had begun with Jennifer’s account and her description of the man and the place where she had seen them. She had a photogenic memory and her portrayal of the man helped the cops to create a rough sketch. Tara and Shekhar and their friends, of course, had to search every inch of the place and the surrounding areas till the night was consumed or the child was discovered.

As the two slipped back into the car, their sleepless eyes met the sleepy ones of their friends who had sacrificed their happy night in order to be with them in their desolate one, so what if the search so far had been nothing but futile. The car started from where it had stopped, gathering speed with every step it took as it entered deeper into the death of the night.

In the past few hours, they had already scanned all the hotels and inns where they thought she could be found. Of course, there was the police which must be on guard and could be expected to check all these places but the parents of a nine-year old cannot be expected to sit at home when their child may be writhing in some grave danger.

"Shekhar, where do we find our small Roohi in such a big city," the pain was inherent in Tara's voice.

Shekhar smiled dolefully and pressed her shoulders, "We will find her there. Look."

There was an old decrepit mill which stood straight ahead of them. It had a haunting look about it and looked in perfect concordance with that deserted place.

"Can Roohi really be there," Tara played along, both of them quite tired of their painful search and creating a false hope to cling for survival. 

"Yes," Shekhar said. His words, though held no conviction of truth, had never felt so warm and endearing to Tara than they felt at that moment.

The car was driven right till the point it could access. It parked itself and the search party alighted hurriedly. The mill was ransacked in minutes but no, she wasn’t there.

"We are looking at the wrong place. There would have been a vehicle of some sort if that guy had brought her here," chipped one of Shekhar's friends wisely.

"Yes, but now that we are here, we should scan the area thoroughly," said another from the hunt party.

The team spread in every direction, the couple running towards the back side of the mill into a boring-looking warehouse without actually thinking where they were going.

"Roohi Roohi," screamed Tara at the night in a desperate attempt to satisfy her soul. Little did she know and little hope had her heart cultivated of the response her voice was searching for. And when it came, it was bliss.

"Mummy, what are you doing here," came a voice followed by two pudgy steps. "Oh wow, dad is also here."

Read the next part of the story here

[Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us]

~Ritesh Agarwal

Email: ritzy182000@gmail.com

The lady who loves classics too much

This post is dedicated to Asha Roy, the woman who reads (and loves) classics too much.

Last day she shared a pic with me. The pic described a classic as something which everybody respects but nobody reads. Till a few months back, I used to feel quite devastated at the preferences of the current generation of readers. But I upset myself no more. I have come to realize (call it an epiphany if you want) that classics are too beautiful to be understood by everyone. 

A classic is that rarely beautiful thing which can be appreciated only by those rarely beautiful people. You tell me, can an internet-bred 21st century romance ever be better than Victorian romance? Can Nikita Singh or Ravinder Singh or Chetan Bhagat or Durjoy Dutta (all bestselling authors in their own right) ever be purer than a Jane Austen or a DH Lawrence or an Emily Bronte?

But here comes the chimera. A classic requires a certain level of intellect and patience which not everybody has. Some readers find these voluminous books to be having quite a toil on their grey cells. Some frankly lust after books which move at breakneck speed. For them, the task of sitting through a Tolstoy is going to  be a laborious ask too intimidating to be ever encouraged.

But those who love literature and love it truly will neither find classics daunting nor laborious. Rather they will tremble before its beauty, stunned and elated at having a piece of old treasure on their lap.

This brings to mind a quote by Alfred Gardener I remember from my class 11 days, "If diamonds were as plentiful as pebbles, no one would have stooped to pick them up."

It is the rarity of a diamond that makes it so treasurable. In the same vein, it is the rarity of a true classic lover that makes him/her so delightful a person.

I am, hence, glad to have a friend in this girl. Even though there have been cracks in the friendship and a huge question mark looms over the tenure of the relationship, I am glad that our paths crossed. Over the years, we have had some fascinating conversations which only two true classic lovers could have actually had.

I am not sure of the future of this friendship. Now, it all seems like all those talks happened in a different planet on a different time zone. But come what may, as long as my memory serves me and perhaps till my last breath, I shall cherish these conversations as the most beautiful memories of my life.

-Ritesh

In the bath tub with Maria- An erotic short story

I pulled off my T-shirt and stepped inside the bath. Maria was already sitting in the tub with her slender legs spread out luxuriously.  For a moment, I admired her grace from far. Then, as if by invitation, I lifted my sodden jeans, crossed over and got into the tub. Maria threw me a glance. It was one of those enigmatic looks for which I never seem to have an answer. I discerned a small curve in her lips, though I could not be sure if that was a smile.

The water felt warm. Or perhaps it was her skin. She inched closer. I peeled off her socks and undid her yellow top. It came off easily and she shuddered in the cold. I wanted to soap her but she wouldn't let me, at least not so early. I looked into her eyes. She looked into mine. I ran my fingers on the nape of her neck. She moaned in delicious pain. 

Sensing an opportunity, I poured warm water over her back. She quivered but relented.

My jeans felt heavy, now drenched in water. She dug her nails into my arms, responding to her natural instincts. Her skin felt soft against mine. Despite her killer charm, she was a lady of grace.

I picked the soap and gingerly rubbed it over her breast. She moaned, protested and loathed the sensation. But finally surrendered with a soft purr.

5-line love story: Rita and Rochester

When Rita came into my life, I had no inkling that she would snatch my love from me. I loved Rochester more than she could ever fathom and more than she ever would. Could she really appreciate the depth of my attachment for him, I am sure Rita would have never taken him out of my life. I remember how I underwent a strong pang of fright and jealousy when I first saw her eyeing his picture in my bedroom. And then Rita borrowed that book never to return it and my first and last love got lost and buried in the yellowed pages of Jane Eyre.

[Written for BlogAdda's WOW. The theme for WOW this time is that your post must contain the word 'love' and you have just five sentences to finish your story. Go on, this time be creative and come up with an impressive post!]

A very short story: In search of true love

By the time I reached, Babloo had already cut the cake. I had deliberately reached late, arriving at the opportune moment when dinner was being served. 

I recognised a few faces, most were Babloo's school friends.

I avoided their gaze. 

They treated me as an outcast, often hurling snide remarks and scornful looks at my fragile and unpleasant build.

I sneaked into a corner, disappointed at the menu. I do have a sweet tooth but I dislike chocolate pastries.

A shriek exploded near my ears. Namrota had spotted me. 

I panicked, frisked into a drain pipe and landed headfirst over something soft. 

My whiskers stood up in glee. 

I had found my cheese. Yay

[This post is a part of the game ‘NibblePromptly’ in the birthday party at A Rat’s Nibble.]

An unusual night

I felt a whiff of breath on my neck. There were goose bumps. They had erupted over my neck as blisters would sprout after contact with a hot iron bar. The only difference being that the breath which made contact with my skin was cold....as cold as cold could be....it was frozen air, frightful, as if someone just dipped my bare skin into a smoky lake on a frosty winter night.

As her breath caressed my nape, i felt aroused. I hadn't experienced anything like it before. My heart seemed to have found its own pace and my mind had transitorily dumped my body. I let her kiss me. She pressed her lips deep into my ears and explored my mouth. I wanted it to go on and on. But i knew i had to do something to make this stop. This was against the law of the nature. A ghost and a human aren't supposed to get physical. Yet, oblivious to this seemingly frivolous law, we clung on to each other, our body wrapped onto each other, we sucked pleasure as life embraced death, the living embraced the dead.

The night witnessed our foreplay and the cloud covered the moon's eye. After an eternity, we let go. Exhausted, we just lay over the tomb living the bygone hours again and again and savouring the moments.

It was through a chance encounter that i met her. I am conscious of the fact that I am unlikely to meet her again. She belongs to a world entirely different from mine, and no matter how much it pains me, i will have to let her go.

As she robed herself and looked set to go, i planted a goodbye peck on her forehead.

Early morning rays had begun to stream in. The moment of painful parting was upon us. I couldn't stifle a tear, but she was an embodiment of stoicism, completely impassive and restrained.

She walked over the threshold of my home and disappeared. I looked back fondly and trudged over to my coffin. This was the first time I had made love to a human.

Update: This story has been featured in the July, 2013 edition of e-magazine ‘Storizen’.

July edition- http://issuu.com/storizen/docs/july2013

My story- http://issuu.com/storizen/docs/july2013/64

True feelings have no shelf life: A short love story

It was 25^th October- their wedding anniversary. Two decades and two kids later, they were still young, with life & romance completely intact in their marriage. Gauri shoved away the bedsheet, yawned and stretched herself to the maximum limits of ecstasy. She looked sideways and smiled benignly. Her husband was still asleep. Sunlight danced inside, as she pulled off the curtains, and fell on his graying stubble. He stirred.

Gauri sat by the mirror and allowed herself the luxury of self-admiration. A pair of hands emerged from the back and clutched her around the waist.

“Happy anniversary darling,” her husband whispered into her ears. His warm morning breath tickled her earlobes and she went into a phantasmagoria of delight. The next few minutes got forlorn behind their mushy chuckles and romantic hugs.

“Let us go to a movie today! Something romantic,” Gauri suggested.

“Why not a lunch and a session of Black Dog?” her hubby protested.

“Uff, why are you so obsessed with this Black Dog! You just had your fill last evening,” she complained. “I feel so envious of it, as if it is your second wife.”

“Hey Senorita,” he took her in a warm embrace. “It may be my second wife, but you shall always remain the boss.” He cajoled and rattled off a dialogue from a Bollywood caper, “ek mard ka sir sirf teen aaurton ke saamne jhukta hai... Maa ke saamne... Durga Maa ke saamne……aur….”And he bowed his head.

Smile creased her lips and greeted her tears. “So, Mr. Mard”, she patted him on the chest, “Are we heading for the movie today?”

“And who would tend to my work, dear” he put forth the question innocently.

“Oh dear, you are a millionaire. You can surely afford one spare day for your poor wife,” she pleaded. “Or should I find another partner?”

“Another partner? Who?” he raised his brows quizzically.

“Ah, let’s see. How about Black Dog? I’m sure I would enjoy its company as much as you do,” she teased.

“Oh ho ho! It is the world’s finest and richest Scotch. You think I will let you run away with it?” he announced. 

He strode to the bar and grabbed the Scotch bottle nestling it protectively into his arms. Gauri sprinted after him and tugged. The bottle slipped and crashed to pieces. He let out a howl of grief as the contents spilled.

“O shit, m so sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she begged and clutched her ears.

He softened a bit, and relented with a smile. “No worries Senorita. Bade Bade deshon mein aisi choti choti baatein hoti rehti hain.” Saying this, Shahrukh Khan hugged his wife. 

Related Links: 

www.facebook.com/blackdogscotland

www.facebook.com/blackdogeasyevenings

www.twitter.com/bdeetweets

www.liveinstyle.com/black-dog

Harry Potter fan fiction: Romantic reminiscences

An old man of about 90 staggered towards the fireplace through the aid of a wooden cane and slumped down heavily on an armchair. Wiping a sweat off his grey brow, Harry Potter sighed, “It has been 10 years today.”

It was 10 years back on this very day that his wife Ginny had died. The two had had a lovely life together as a happy & contented couple. They loved together, fought together and saw their 3 children growing up together. Ginny’s absence had indeed created a void in his life. Harry picked up a glass of Black Dog Scotch and brought it close to his lips. His parched lips quivered, parted and dipped into the drink. Reminiscences began to flood his empty mind instantly.

It seemed only yesterday. He stood there clad in his best robes. Ginny was shimmering in her pristine white gown as she walked down the aisle with her dad and her brothers by her side. Her ginger hair lay open, with a few strands falling playfully on her beautiful face. Harry stood there frozen letting the feeling sink in. In less than 10 minutes, the most beautiful thing in the world will be his.....

Rings were exchanged. There was the usual raucous commotion of celebrations, but Harry was aloof to them. In his daze, he barely registered that Ron thumped his back and Hermione beamed from the corner. George too shook his hands though his smile no longer radiated the unbridled joy it used to exude when Fred was alive.....

Harry felt a tad shy, even though he knew that she was his, and he was hers. The velvety bed was soft, but not as soft as her skin. In the dim light, her eyes shone bulbously. Her incandescent smile could have easily put all the stars above into shame. She came closer and closer and closer, till their breaths were one. Their lips met, one bare skin touched another, and two souls merged into one.....

The midnight clock chimed. Harry stirred and pulled out from his thoughts. The Boy-who-lived rose and lurched back to his bed with his ageing limbs. As he hit the pillow one final time, his old, aged and dry eyes were no longer dry.

JK Rowling logged out of the net, shaken & stirred, having finally read a ‘perfect’ fan-fiction. She took a sip of her Black Dog Scotch and smiled. Her 90-year old eyes were no longer dry.  

[Black Dog Scotch whisky- the number one choice for both muggles and magicians.]

For more information about Black Dog, you can take a portkey to their Facebook page, or ride a Hippogriff towards their Twitter page, or travel through the Flu Powder towards Live-in-style

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Sneha

He feels the cold breeze on his face as the playful sea kisses at his feet. He stands on the shore, his feet digging into the wet sand as he softly treads on them. The sky above looks tranquil and inviting with the clouds blowing seductively alongside the wind. The evening sun spills its crimson rays all over the horizon as he sniffs at the air.

He closes his eyes and spreads out his hands into the air. He feels a touch; he opens his eyes. Sneha is holding his hand. Her hands are quite cold and there are tears floating in her eyes. She looks pale and weak. Her flowing white gown caresses the hungry tide. She whispers, ‘I will always love you’ before dissolving into the air. He looks around frantically, searching everywhere for her cold touch, for her soft body, for her watery eyes, for her fragrant breath, for her white satin gown. But she is gone….Gone as suddenly and as completely as she was gone on that fateful day…

‘You took her away from me,’ he shouts at the callous sea. ‘Bring her back…Please…Please…Please.’ Tears well up in his eyes, and a streak runs down his cheeks and falls by his feet where the sea devours it…just like it had devoured Sneha.

Memories come flooding back in their horrific vividness. The face of a smiling girl swarms before his moist eyes. She has thick, long mane of hair and bright bulb-like eyes. A dimple creases her face when she smiles. He keeps turning back to take a look at her. It’s the first day of the college and it is love at first sight.

“Err…. Hi….I am…um…Aakash,” he fumbles.

“Hi. I am Sneha,” she smiles.

“Do you mind having a cup of coffee with me?”

It is the beginning of a beautiful story…

Waves crash furiously at the rocks as he searches for his lost love amongst the swirling waters. Birds fly in the distant horizon as the sun stoops lower and lower. He gazes at them with forlorn eyes as tears continue to erupt…..

“You, naughty boy, give me my diary back, Aakash,” she runs after him.

“No. I won’t,” he teases. “Let me take a look at it. Let’s see, what secrets this diary hides.”

“No Aakash. NO! NO! Please…It’s personal,” she begs.

He opens the diary and flips through its pages. ‘I love Aakash’ is written in its page amidst the huge sign of a heart.

“I love you too, Sneha,” he breathes. She comes closer. Their lips meet……

He throws his gaze towards the sea. ‘There in your bottomless depths, my love lies buried,’ he whispers to the sea. The sea mocks at him as it lashes out furiously. The sun goes behind the clouds and the sky becomes darker…just like his life…

“Will you marry me, Sneha,” he asks. It is the final day of the college.

“Yes I will,” a shy smile splits her lips as her face gets lost behind her dimples.

The sea roars as the moon comes out. He stands by the sea feeling the breeze slap at his face. A young girl of about 5 runs up towards him.

“Papa, let us go inside. Why are you standing here for so long?”

He bends down and kisses his daughter. “Sneha, you go and play. I will come in a short while. Let me talk to your mom a bit longer.”

“Where is mummy? Even I want to talk to her,” she looks around with her innocent eyes. “I can’t see her, Papa. Where is she?”

“She is there,” he says pointing towards the sea.

“Why doesn’t she come, Papa?”

“No dear, she cannot come. They don’t let her come.”

“Who are ‘they’, Papa” she asks.

“’They’ are the stars. She is now one of them,” he smiles and kisses her again….

“Look at the news, Aakash,” Raghav screams on the phone.

“Why, what happened, Raghav? Why are you worried?”

“Sea has erupted,” Raghav barks hysterically on the phone. “A tsunami has come in Chennai. Ring up Sneha and tell her to vacate the city immediately. Take a look at the news.”

He tunes into several news channels at once. They are all blaring the news of a tsunami that has hit Chennai in the early hours of the day. ‘Oh God’- he thinks. ‘Sneha has gone to Chennai with her friends. I hope she is safe.’ He calls her up but her phone is not reachable. He is frantic, but it’s too late. The ocean has swallowed up his beloved….

“Papa, do you miss mummy?” his daughter pulls him back from his sea of thoughts. He looks down at her. Tears stream down his face.

“Tell na papa, do you miss her,” Sneha asks.

“No dear,” he says. “I don’t miss her. She is always with me.”

“Papa, was she beautiful?”

“Yes dear, but not as beautiful as you.” He kisses her again. “And do you know, what she whispers to me?”

“What, Papa?” the girl asks.

“She says that she loves you very much.” His daughter kisses his hand and runs away.

He smells the air and closes his eyes. Sneha appears before him and whispers in his ears, ‘You are not alone. I am always with you.’ She moves closer….their lips get locked in a tight embrace…….

The werewolf

Vinay dialed Anita’s number.

“Hello,” a female voice spoke.

“Hi Anita, Vinay here,” he replied.

“Oh hi Vinay. So where are we meeting tonight.”

“How about that lake by the forest where we had our first date?”

“Yes okay. But be careful. There are dangerous creatures that prowl the forest during night. I have even heard tales of a werewolf,” said Anita.

“Haha, do you believe in all these fairy tales,” laughed Vinay. “I am an engineer madam, and I am completely against these superstitious beliefs. You know that, right?”

“Yes dear, I know. But still, there are wolves to take care of. Do not come by the usual path. Take the alternative route. It’s better to avoid the forest after sunset,” persisted Anita.

“Do not worry about me, dear. I will be safe. By the way, I have something special to present to you. Don’t be late. Bye,” he hung up smiling at the thought of the ring that he was about to present her.

Vinay and Anita had been dating for 2 years and Vinay had decided that the time had come to pop the question.

‘Will you marry me, Anita’

‘Yes, I will’- he imagined her happy face beaming with joy.

Vinay pocketed the ring he had bought for her and allowed himself the luxury of a few happy thoughts as he imagined the ring slipping into Anita’s slender finger.

As the evening came to a close, Vinay set out for his date with his ladylove. Today, he would be meeting her after an entire one week. Even the thought of a stray wolf did little to suppress his unbridled enthusiasm. Vinay trotted along by the woods, heading towards the lake where he imagined himself spending some happy hours with his girlfriend.

It was getting dark. The forest was unusually quiet today. Even the usually-chirping birds appeared silent. Everything was still except the occasional rustle of dry leaves as he stepped on them. And then he heard a howl. It was definitely a wolf and seemed to be somewhere in the vicinity. Vinay quickened his pace. After all, he was seeking a date with Anita. He had no intention of saying hello to an untamed wolf at this hour of the day.

Vinay continued his brisk pace. He looked at the watch. It was ten minutes past seven. He was already late. He had promised to meet her sharp at seven. She won’t be too pleased if he turned up late again. He doubled his pace and began to jog towards the direction of the lake. There was a gush of wind and cloud drifted apart revealing the refulgent moon. Vinay looked up at the sky bathed in silver. And then it happened. There was a loud growl and something heavy and hairy pounced over him. The wolf dug its teeth into his legs and then ran away in the opposite direction. Vinay caught a fleeting glimpse of the animal. It was a grey wolf and had an ugly scar across its left eye.

Vinay pulled himself up. There were teeth marks around his ankle where the wolf had bitten him. Thankfully, he didn’t sustain heavy injuries and found, to his relief that he could walk without much difficulty. Cursing the wolf for gnawing at his flesh, he resumed his journey….

There she was, standing serenely in a pink floral dress. A smile broke across her face as she caught sight of Vinay.

“What happened? Why are you limping,” she asked.

“Nothing. I just fell down on my way,” he dismissed.

“So, what’s the special thing you wish to present to me,” said Anita with a coquettish smile.

“This,” he said as he fished out the ring from the pocket of his jeans and presented to her. And then the moon peeped out again. Its silvery ray fell on Vinay’s face and he felt a jerk in his navel. Hair grew all over his body and sharp, pointed fangs popped out of his jaws. His nails were turning into claws as he realized, to his utmost horror, that he was turning into a wolf. And then he looked up. His blood froze. A grey wolf was standing on the same spot where Anita was standing a minute before. It was smiling wickedly and had an ugly scar cut across its left eye……

I turned the final page and shut the book down. I looked out of the window. The full moon emerged out of the clouds as I transformed into a wolf…..

Love on Yahoo Messenger

Year 2052: Nine year old Cheeky shot an inquisitive question. “Granny, how did you and grandpa meet the first time. Was it a love marriage or an arrange marriage? Tell na please..”

Cheeky’s granny held his gaze and got forlorn in far-away thoughts…..

Year 2012: Two random people, complete strangers to each other bump into each other on Yahoo Messenger:

Stranger 1: Hi

Stranger 2: Hi

Stranger 1: Asl please?

Stranger 2: 26 f india

Stranger 1: Hi, I am Chiraag. 27 m India.

Stranger 2: Hi Chiraag. I am Shreya. Where you from?

Stranger 1: Delhi. You?

Stranger 2: Me too from Delhi

“Granny, what are you thinking. Tell na please how did you and grandpa meet?” Cheeky interrupted her thoughts. .

“Oh well dear…. I don’t remember too well,” the 70-year old granny smiled vaguely.  

When love happens

Shweta was walking in the rain feeling its every single drop tenderly caress her skin. Her eyes were numb and the rain mingled faithfully with her tears. She was in love with Karan, the new guy in her college. But she had had no correspondence with him. Perhaps he didn’t even know that she existed. It was love at first sight for her. And love had made her feel extremely lonely….all alone in the bustling crowd.

She cried as she walked in the rain. She was soaking. And then a guy came running towards her carrying a single umbrella. It was Karan. He never noticed her tears which swam down to meet the refulgent smile on her lips. It was a beautiful moment………..

(The above story is my birthday-gift to my adorable friend Shweta). 

100 word story: The Biology mam

Chiraag was watching her intently. Draped in a shimmering green sari, his Biology teacher looked voluptuous as the morning sunlight highlighted her curves. As she approached his desk, a whiff of perfume came through the air and enveloped his nostrils. She leaned to check his homework. His pulse rate shot up. Her face was almost touching his lips. He could hear his heart drumming fast. He shifted his eyes and caught a glimpse of her cleavage. She leaned further; her back got exposed to him. She rose. Her curly hair brushed against his cheeks. She moved towards the next student. 

The girl in the temple

It was in Varanasi that I saw her for the first time and the last time. I was standing impatiently & ruefully in the endless, serpentine queue in the famed Vishwanath Temple. The unending sea of devotees was making me feel claustrophobic and even apprehensive of a possible stampede. And then I saw her.

A girl full of youth, she was a foreign tourist who must, certainly, be feeling overawed by the suffocating crowd. But she was neither cribbing nor feeling outraged or out-of-place. Instead, a serene smile was playing on her serene face. There was just a teasing hint of nervousness as all Indian eyes were on her (that’s how Indians treat foreigners; they stare).

But I was caught off-guard by her thousand-watt smile that contrasted divinely with her shy face. It was enigmatic….it was serene…it was magic. There was so much innocence & sincerity in that smile. It worked like a flying carpet transporting me to a world never seen before. Just for those few seconds, I was in a trance. The unknown, unheard, unnamed stranger from an unknown country stirred something deep within me. She met my gaze….I smiled vaguely. Just for those few frozen seconds, I was in love with her. The queue progressed. She moved ahead. I got out of the trance.