Lost Identity

Looking out of the window observing the dense clouds from my plane I was trying to recollect all the sudden series of moments that had disturbed my solaces. Exactly three hours back I had seen the e-mail and after reading it I did two things. First I took a print-out of the mail, kept it in my pocket and deleted the mail from my mailbox. Then I called the airlines and booked my ticket on the next flight to India.

Stolen Moments

                     

Shyam, a newspaper guy checked the time, ‘oh its 8:10. I am late, I should have delivered paper to “Aalap” by now’ he engrossed in thoughts and started striding. His feet stopped as he reached commodious white bungalow. Every morning he sees it, he is implicated in peering enormity and its magnificence as well. He found it equally amazing every time.

He pulled thick thread of bell, the bell was jangling. It was real bell which is generally used in school and at temples. He still remembered how amused he was when he had heard that chime for first time. Shyam was waiting for her to open the door, meanwhile he was peering the nameplate. It was unlike others but very artistic. Name was written using musical notations… though it was tough to recognize it at glimpse, it was innovative.

A Bitter Confession!!

I loved Ritika a lot and couldn’t risk losing her; this was my only chance to get her back forever. That’s why I did not tell her or involve her in any way. Not even the smallest hint. I made my plans alone and with perfect care. An “accident” so coolly and meticulously designed. Precisely at 04:40 in the afternoon, the ghastly accident would occur. And then my phone would ring – to convey the “bad” news. And suddenly I would be a free man.

Free, Liberated from shackles. Released from bondage. Then all I had to do was to keep cool, maintain a solemn façade, and wait for Ritika to return from Germany. Then after the customary condolence period was over, Ritika would propose to marry me – an act of chivalry, of sympathy, or even “self-sacrifice”. First I would demur, then “reluctantly” succumb to the pressure from my friends and relatives, and accept - just for my children’s sake. There would be nods of approval all around. And soon I and Ritika would be Husband and Wife. 

The Mysterious Death of Riya Oberoi

Death is certain when dark secrets are revealed.

I wasn't apprehensive at all. I always make my plans with the greatest of care. Murder is a serious business after all and you cannot be imprudent about it.


For Riya I had chosen Abrin.


Yes, Abrin – the deadliest of biotoxins. It’s even deadliest as compared to Arcin which is itself Six thousand times more lethal than cyanide. No antidote, No trace and no tell-tale symptoms. It was safe for the murder and certain death for the victim, stupid, unsuspecting Riya. 

The Eleven Balloons!!

I was busy reading my novel when Ritu suddenly interrupted me.

"Again you started reading your book, cant you get some time to talk to your wife, you and your books are just too much". her stern voice commanded an explanation from me.

 Ritu and I were married just few months back and were on our way to visit her maternal relatives for some ritual where in we have to visit for lunch. In first place I was tired of attending these ritual from past couple of weeks and secondly the place we were going was some where in a remote place from Chiplun. And too worsen my woes I had to travel from the state transport bus, thanks to the breakdown of my beloved car. I was already pissed with the too comfortable ride that I was taking from last 30 minutes and hence to divert my mind preferred reading my favorite novel.

Forgive Me O Love!

23-July will always remain special for me and on this special occasion I want to convey my feelings to my love, sadly this letter is the only way I can convey it to her. Knowing that she won't talk to me now, and have blocked me from her life, for the pain I have bestowed, knowingly or unknowingly. But I hope that she reads this somewhere, someday, somehow and does forgive me, because that's all I long for.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The 09:05 CST Local

Today was a special day for me, with a promotion I was reallocated to the head office in Colaba (Mumbai). A nice place for an office and though the distance was considerable, the newness seemed worth the trouble of commute. All set for this wonderful opportunity, I planned to leave well in time so that I won't be late for work on the first day, and with the reliability factor of local trains in the monsoon at back of my mind, I preferred leaving home well in advance. I reached Bhandup station near about 08:55 am, and b'cos of new office location, even my regular schedule of boarding had to be changed . As I reached platform no.2 my eyes tried to spot the indicator to see the next expected train, and it read 09:05 CST Slow. (CST: abbreviation for Chhatrapati Shajivi Terminus.) As the train approached the station, a mental preparation for a mini battle to get in the train started. And to my amazement, I could easily get in the I class compartment without having to bruise anyone. Just as Ghatkopar station arrived, I was fortunate enough to get a seat, with a sigh of relief I sat just next to the window. Being an early monsoon, the climate was pretty comfortable today as compared to some other days. It was drizzling outside. 

The train halted at Ghatkopar station and a throng of commuters rushed in. After few moments, I noticed a couple sitting on the adjacent seat who had boarded the train few minutes back, I presume. Well, there was nothing special about them in the first glance, late 20's, married most probably, the guy was busy reading his newspaper while the lady was talking to him and simultaneously she had a knitting kit and she was busy trying to to make something from the red/maroon yarn balls. Nothing special. The journey continued as I drowned in the music on the hands-free plugged to my cell.

Are You LONELY OR ALONE??

Ever feel like you are the only person on the planet whom no one cares about? Like you are the only one who has no friends….no one to talk to?? Do you sometimes think you’re different and you don’t fit in? if you have answered yes to even one of the above questions then I have some good news for you – you are not the only one who feels that way. Believe it or not, but the truth is that everyone in this world goes through that feeling of being alone and unloved at some point or the other in their lives.