Sunday 8 December 2013

A few moments of happiness, Parceled

"Laa ye de mujhe.."
"Ranjan ye wapas tiffin mera h.."
"Abbey aae shaane..chall futt yahan se..subah subah khaali pili dimaag ki maa behen ek naa kar..bol rha hunn tujhe.."
"Ranjan ye de mujhe.."



kid bullied by others

"Bola na jaa yahan se..chal abb gayab ho yahan se warna 2 thappad aurr raseed karunga.." Roared ranjan as he threw rudra on the ground. The kids surrounding them laughed hysterically. Rudra slowly got up, brushed away the dust from his clothes and looked at his fresh bruises. He started walking feebly and turned back to 
look at the plethora of the kids mocking him. A tear came out up as he gave them a stern look 
and saw Rudra feasting on his lunch.

"Damn! He could have asked to share it." , Rudra thought. He walked back home and threw his bag on the floor as soon as he laid his first footsteps inside the house. He tossed up on the bed and wrapped a torn blanket around himself. He lay there motionless and kept staring at the void ceiling. His mind was fusilladed with all sort of thoughts. It was his thoughts only which doused up the burning sensation of his bruises.

Suddenly, Rudra heard a knock on the door. He checked the time. It was 3:30! His father wouldn't be back in a couple of hours. Who could be it then, he pondered.


came the sound again. Rudra sprinted towards the door and found a guy standing on the door. The guy was sporting a uniform. Albeit, it was new and shiny. Not unlike the faded one, rudra had to wear.

"Are you Rudra..?" the guy questioned authoritatively.
"Well yes." mumbled rudra.

"Here. This parcel is for you."

"For me?" Rudra asked astonishingly.

"Yes. Now if you could please sign up here.."

"Yay!!" Rudra clapped as he signed and ran back inside.

It was a parcel. Attached to it was a note scribbled in not so legible handwriting. Rudra opened the note. It read:

"Dear Rudra
This parcel is for you. I'm sorry for misbehaving and bullying you. I promise i won't ever hit you again or snatch away your lunch in the future. Please accept  
my apology.
Inside is your favourite chocolate cake."


Rudra couldn't believe what he had just read. He pinched himself. *OUCCHHH*

Yes. It was for real. He re read it again! Rudra was beaming with happiness. He felt as if he was on cloud nine. A wide and innocent smile lit up his face as he dashed out and ran towards the ground.

"Abbey saaley andha hogaya h? Dekh kar nahi chal sakta?" roared Ranjan as he gave a menacing look.

"Thank you!" said Rudra shouted in excitement as he panted heavily.

"Kis baat ka thank you?" replied back Rudra, caught in surprise.

"Woh chocolate cake k liye.." Rudra reverted back, still trying to catch his breath?

"Kaunsa chocolate cake? Saala maskhari kar rha h mujhse? Maarunn do tujhe?" yelled Ranjan.

"Nahi nahi. Sachhi. You only had send the parcel. Even I was surprised to see a parcel with my name on it!" Rudra protested back.

"Jamaila. Lagta h saale tu nasha karke aaya h..main kyun bhala tujhe chocolate cake parcel karunga? Agar itne hi paise hote mere paas, toh roz tera tiffin kyun cheenta tujhse?" laughed Ranjan hysterically. 

"Matlab woh parcel tune nahi bhijwaya?" It was Rudra's turn to be shocked this time.

"Aaee halkat samajh nahi aaata tujhko...maine koi parcel nahi bhijwaaya.. Chal abb apna raasta naap warna issi bat se dho daalunga..!" growled Rudra waving the bat like a machette in the air.

This was too much for Rudra. He couldn't bear it as he ran back to his home, without stopping for a single second. Without wasting any time he searched his home for the parcel. But. It was his hard luck that he didn't find anything. He throwed away the blanket and the furniture as his eyes greedily searched for the parcel! But alas! All Rudra found was sheer disappointment. This broke him down. There never came a parcel for him. It was his vivid imagination. But he was too immature, rather too young to understand the harsh reality. Rudra curled up on the floor and started sobbing, unstoppably..

NOTE:- This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

the post has been selected as blogadda wow post

Sunday 1 December 2013


The pedestrians were hurrying up as the heavy downpour continued. It was a long traffic jam. The wipers of the cars could be seen swiping away the raindrops and the drifting mist. Everyone was taking in refuge wherever they could. On the left corner of the intersection was a huge Santa Claus. A clear indication of the beginning of Christmas celebrations throughout the city. The rhythmic ringing of the bells composed some wonderful music. 

From the other side of the street, came the sounds of gunshots as a tall hooded figure, covering himself with a black scarf hurried past and quickly disappeared in the crowd. Panic had struck people. None had clue whom was fired upon and who fired the shots. A body lay there, on the bottom of a staircase with blood drooling out. The traffic saw some movements as cars with blue and red lights and sirens came in swiftly. Police and Ambulance for sure!! A few people had hurried and made a pillow for the dying man and were trying every possible method they knew of, to save him. The cold and chilly wind blew shrivelled leaves as the policemen came forward and bagged and tagged the corpse, scarf and the gun they found in his hand. At least his dead body would be preserved from the misty winds and death tearing cold! 

The woman bumped into a bystander and murmured 'idiot!' The moonlight falling on her half covered face, her black shining eyes and the flocks of hair playing with each other gave a mesmerising look. Awestruck by her appearance, the guy could only stand there and see her, of course with his jaw dropped. She hurried and took the bus. She found herself a seat and sat there. She was as calm as water and turned on her 'CD' player. Tears or even expressions of remorse or guilt were nowhere to be seen in her eyes or on her majestic face as she hummed the song. 

She knew he deserved this. Justice was denied to her from the very own peacemakers and lawmakers who knew every minute detail about the truth. Yet none had taken her side in court as the beast walked out innocent. He had killed her family, ravaged her. Tormented the people she so dearly loved. Made them suffer for things they never did. And all this happened in front of her eyes. She didn't shed a tear when he had put a bullet in his father's head. She didn't winced when he overpowered her brother and burned him alive. She didn't cry when he was inside her. She didn't cry when she survived the ordeal. She had mentally promised herself that she would only cry when this outrageous and monstrous bastard die! And finally the day had come. She could no longer feel the scent of his 'perfume' from her body. She was now relaxed and composed. A tear drop moistened her cheeks but was unable to move her. "He deserved this!" She mentally repeated a millionth time in last 20 minutes. 

Her father always used to say, "Each player must accept the card life deals him. But once he has them in hand, it's up to him how he plays them to get the maximum benefit!" A smile lighted up her face when she repeated this in her head. The memories still sounded so fresh! But No! She had come a long way now. She knew what she was about to do. The lure of power was too much she could resist. She quickly drew out her notepad and made a short list of a few names. The names that made up her hit list. At the bottom, it read:

- "No second chances, in the land of thousand crime dances,
    the valley of ten million insanities death awaits you!"

NOTE:-  This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.