All after a day's work

Just another day at the office for our heroine Aarthi-an ordinary girl who was busy checking what her friends were up to on facebook. Suddenly she sensed her boss getting agitated in his cabin.She carefully looked in his direction and noticed he was observing everybody. He was getting ready to hunt, or rather dump some of his work on them. In a flash she shut her computer, took her purse and dashed out of the office. She was clever enough not to turn when she thought she heard her name being called. She galloped away like a deer on seeing a lion.Feeling good about herself she started to walk towards the bus stand. Her phone started ringing- it was a reminder! She panicked for a moment that she had forgotten friend’s birthday, saw the screen and she panicked even more. It was about a magician who possessed a rare skill. There are many who claim to practice this witchcraft but most of them are hokum. She had discovered him in a shady galli in one of markets. For some it might have been just another occupation but she knew the magic, he could create an illusion that would make her look slim, in other words he was a great tailor.This was the day she was getting her dress back. She hurried to catch a bus to take her to other part of the town. She got a bus right away and also a seat. She thought it must be her lucky day. After half an hour and having just moved through half a kilometer she decided that she has to get a faster means of transportation. She got down and searched for the three wheeled mystical object which had become digital recently, and so had the rates now drivers only asked in terms of hundreds. She got one and he agreed to come to her destination right away. She felt as though she had drunk a bottle of liquid luck.
This was the fourth time she was going to this tailor. First time, he’d told her his sad life story and was very busy so couldn’t finish the work. The second was he got married so had to stitch blouses for his entire wedding party and fell behind. The third and most adventurous was they played a game of treasure hunt trying to find her material amongst the heaps of cloth. She had yelled at him the third time and warned him that if he hadn’t got it ready she wanted refund on the advance and she was never gonna come to him again. He saw right though her lie, but pretended like he cared.After a bumpy journey and having paid her dues to the "auto"crat ,she prayed to god that it would end today. She went to his shop and he smiled which was a good sign ,he made her sit and told her the dress was ready and was getting pressed and it would arrive soon ,with baited breath she waited as a puny human came down from a ladder kept in the corner most part of the room with her dress .She saw it and decided she would try it so she went to the trial room/cupboard and put it on. Alas he had stitched a size too big, she came out fuming and yelled at the lousy fitting he said he had stitched it according to her measurements .That’s when it struck her all this running around had made her thinner and she asked him to refit it and then came the words that she dreaded the most out of the tailor’s mouth ,”will be done in a week madam!”
--
Lakshmi

Another Poem, Another Story

Childhood Memories


Rising was the dust as the sun slowly disappeared
seeping into the breeze was the redolence of jasmine 
flying past the clouds was a flock of chirping birds
curiously looking were the squirrels on the branches
stomping away bare foot on the strewn dried leaves 
scaring the ants to scatter from their long winding line
hands on her hips and nose high up in air
nodding  fiercely she heaved a loud sigh 
suddenly a sound and she went dashing away
holding tightly , she leaped on the tall gate
 bending over,twisting and turning her head 
looking far away and hoping to catch a glimpse
of a silhouette that was fast approaching
the clearer it became more stranger it got
broken hearted she slowly started to walk away 
two big pearls of tears rolling through her cheeks
going back inside finally she decided to stop waiting
then a familiar creak,a melody she was waiting to hear
spinning on her feet roaring with joy she went running
noticing a tear he hugged her gave her a kiss
his little princess had again fought his fatigue away
--
Lakshmi




The White One With a Blue Stripe

“I told you we'd make it in time!” Gopi said, grinning cheerfully. Sourav rolled his eys.
“That's only because I poured half the Bay of Bengal on you to wake you up. Now shut up, and tell me the seat numbers.”

Gopi walloped the back of his friend's head with an empty plastic bottle. “Thirty two and thirty three.” he said. The two were sweating and panting, as they waded their way through the narrow passage of the bus to their seats.

The bus driver had told them they were a good twenty minutes early, for the bus left only at noon. The driver had looked as though he was in no hurry to leave as he calmy smoked his noisome cigarette with disadain. He sat with one leg stuck jauntily out of a window.

They stuffed their bags into the narrow space under their seats by beating them into submission. “Let's go get something to eat,” chimed Gopi, “I'm starving!”

They made their way to the crowded and filthy restaurant that had monopoly over the bus stand. They bravely battled their way to the counter and ordered for idli's and tea. Fighting off the surging mob behind them, they swam the crowd to the “self-service” counter and claimed their food. When they got out of the crowd to a seating area, Gopi had lost half his chutney and an idli, while Sourav feared he was missing an ear.

They gorged their breakfast down, threw their steel plates at the nearest waiter and made their way back to the bus.

“Umm.. dude? What colour was our bus?” Sourav asked.
“White one with a blue stripe. Only one in the bus-stand with that colour.” came Gopi's reply.

“So.. does that mean the bus leaving through the main gate right now is ours?”
They stared dumbly as the white-one-with-a-blue-stripe sped through the main gate a hundred metres away. Gopi was the first one to scream. Sourav was the first to run. By the time they had gone ten steps the bus was a speck of dust in the distance.

“Okay.. okayokay.. calm down.. deep breaths..” panted Sourav.
“I'm quite calm dude,” panted Gopi.
“I was talking to myself idiot. Why, why, WHY did I leave my watch in my bag?” he asked of the high heavens.
“Forget that now, we have to do something!”

Sourav saw sense in that. They raced to the information booth, and informed the gentleman at the window of their plight in broken words and vigorous actions. The gentleman at the window slowly stirred, got up and left the booth. The two stared as he walked to a spittoon nearby and delivered a stream of red paan to it with vigour. He strolled back into the booth, sat down and stared at them.

“Nothing you can do about it, son.”
“What?! There has to be something, this must happen often, right? Right?!” Sourav squawked.
"There's a proverb about this bus service," the gentleman wisely preached, "once the bus starts moving only the Driver, the Conductor or God can stop it. In decreasing order of authority."
"Please bhai sa'ab, don't joke..."

The gentleman's face grew dark. He beckoned them closer with a finger and spoke. His whisper had a conspiratorial tinge to it.

“There's only one man who can help you now, my son...”
“Who? Who?!”
“His services don't come cheap.”
“We'll pay, damn you, just tell us how to get our bus!”
The gentleman sighed gently and let out a violent shriek.
“OYE PANJU!”

A huge mountain of a man walked up grinning, clad in an auto driver's uniform.
“These two nice boys have missed their bus,” spoke the gentleman, “help them out.” With that, he slammed the booth's window shut.

Panju's grinned widened as he looked at the two. “Only one way sa'ab! Bus will stop at petrol pump two kilometre away! Bus reaches there in twenty minutes in traffic, but Panju will take you there in five! Shortcut!” he exclaimed.

“Let's go!” said Gopi and darted forward.

Sourav caught his collar and pulled him back. He had his bargaining face on. “How much?” he whispered leering at Panju.
“Only two hundred!” declared Panju, rubbing his hands in glee.

Sourav thought about it while Gopi acted. He pointed authoritative fingers and made authoritative statements, the essense of which was we're willing to pay, so will the kind auto-man please lead us to his auto. The three ran to the auto and dove in. Just as the engine spluttered to life, Sourav screamed.

“Stoooop!!”. He jumped out of the vehicle and ran wildly back to the bus stand.
“Dude, its just two hundred rupees-” began Gopi, and then he saw what his friend had seen. The white-one-with-a-blue-stripe was slowly making its way back into the bus stand. Panju and his auto were soon covered in the dust that Gopi's sprint made.

He screeched to a halt beside Sourav who looked confused as he looked at the scene unfolding in front of them. Their bus had halted in the middle of the road leading from the main gate.
In seconds, the passengers of their bus had thrown themselves off it pushing and shouting for mercy. The driver was already standing next to Sourav, looking at his vehicle philosophically.
“Bomb scare,” he said, “two unidentified bags were found on seats thirty-two and thirty-three. One of them was making a ticking noise.”

Sourav and Gopi looked at each other.
“Um, sir.. why don't you come with us, and have some nice idli's while we explain everything...”
They each caught one elbow of the man and pulled him along to the restaurant. The driver, for his part, put up no protest and walked along without a care in the world.

A Poem And A Story

The Old Book 

in the end of the shelf was an old book

covered all over by a thin layer of dust

the smell of leather cover had seeped in

anyone one who opened it would instantly be drawn in

funny as it was the tittle page was torn

author and name both lost in the pages as unknown

but a page or two had names of readers

jotted they had down their thoughts and feelings

appreciated and enjoyed it sure was

somewhere still it was definitely lost

each one had definitely read between the lines

perceived as they wanted those unwritten lines

if book  was a person each would have met

contradiction would be the prominent trait

transparent as it was still it had so many secrets

reading it fully was everyone's cup of tea

understanding it completely was not possible at all

--

Lakshmi

The Visitor

The small television set crackled and spit as the storm shook the frail wooden mountaintop cottage. Its owner sat huddled in a blanket on the simple wooden floor, gazing distantly at the screen, as it burst in and out of static. The little man shivered in the cold as he watched the screen twist the images into weird shapes of static. The moth eaten blanket shrouded him from to toe and covering him almost completely, except for the mournful eyes that peered out through a gap in the folds.

The T.V reception settled for a little while, as the storm seemed to pass through a more peaceful state. On it, a bald man with an angry expression was shouting something.

“... and extremely dangerous! This vicious criminal has murdered over thirty people in cold blood. Look at his twisted face, and remember it well!”, he thundered, as a grainy black and white image filled the entire screen.

It depicted a gaunt face with beady little black eyes, that peered out furiously from under thick bushy eyebrows. The thin face was topped by a mop of scraggy black hair. The face would have seemed funny, almost clownish, if it weren't for the moustache: the gigantic, black, hairy beast that crawled out from beneath the thin bony nose, and curved upwards into an ominous spiral, covering the rest of the bony face. It did something terrible to the rest of the face. Its volume seemed to make the already thin features look positively skeletal. But its worst crime was the way it brought out the true anger and hate hidden in the murderer's beady eyes. They bore straight into you from behind the great hairy barrier, drilling so deep, one felt, so as to touch one's very soul.

The spectator in the cottage winced and drew up his blanket closer. He was a mild man. This sort of think jarred his sensitive nerves. He was too cold to get up and switch of the set, so he simply closed his eyes, and started drifting into gentle sleep... or tried to. For the storm found new vigour, and a monstrous crash of thunder shook every item in the house, including its occupant.

He squealed, fell over and frantically clawed at the floor getting up but a second loud crash made him lose his balance again. He sat on the floor, the blanket now completely smothering him, panting. The crash sounded again, twice in quick succession. It was not the thunder, he realised, someone was pounding at the door!

He scrabbled to his feet, pulling his tatters around his head again, and waddled to the door. As he hesitated, three more resounding crashes shook the frail cottage. He yelped and pulled at the handle. In a flash of lightning he saw a tall thin man glaring down at him. Without waiting for an invitation the visitor strode in.

“What took you so long? I was getting drenched to bone out there!” he boomed.
“S-sorry, good sir, I-I was-”
“Asleep? Half dead is more like it! Haven't you a candle in this dump?!”

The little owner's eyes looked fearfully around the dinghy room. The man realised he was in complete darkness, for the thunder must had blown out the lights. Smoke was rising from the T.V set. He shuffled to a drawer in a corner, and lit a candle. In the yellow light, he looked upon his guest. The tall man's head brushed the ceiling of the wooden hut. His long black hair lay damp and wet on his head, dripping streams of water on to the floor. His sunken cheeks were clean shaven, but as the dim candle light fell on them, it showed a number of bruises and scratches on his cheeks and upper lip.

“Good sir, y-your face..”

The visitor uttered a curse. “I shaved badly today morning. Is this the time for such questions, peasant?” he growled.. He was not shouting any more, but even the natural tone of his voice bore the calibre of a small cannon.

“I see you have little enough to share with me little man. Come, you will share my meal.” he ordered.
He drew a small paper parcel out of his pockets and unwrapped it to reveal two loaves of white bread.
“Bring a knife to cut these with if you have one.”

The unwilling host mumbled an affirmative. He went to the little drawer in the corner, and drew out his knife. But in his haste to please his guest, he turned too quickly, and his blanket caught the edge of the stool. The sudden jerk threw the blanket off his head, making him yelp.

The visitor looked up.

“Ah so finally you pick up the courage to show me your face!” His mocking laughter bounced of the thin wooden walls. “Little though you have peasant, you have maintained a fine moustache!”

The little host chuckled through the huge black moustache that curled around his face, thrown into dark contrast by the light of the candle he held.

Chuckling timidly at the joke, he drew closer to his guest. The dim candle light threw a strange glint into his beady eyes. It even made the knife he held look larger, much larger, than it must have been. Blade in hand, he inched closer to the Visitor.

Outside the cottage, thunder rolled around the hill as the storm slowly grew in the darkness.