THE TRUTH

This is a fiction for write tribe's HEMINGWAY THIS WEDNESDAY.

The task was to pick one or all of these quotes from Hemingway and weave it/them into a story, a piece of non-fiction or a poem even.

“There’s no one thing that’s true. It’s all true.”   (For Whom the Bell Tolls)

“Never to go on trips with anyone you do not love.”   (A Moveable Feast)

“You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.” (The Sun Also Rises)

“When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.”   (A Farewell to Arms)

“When you start to live outside yourself, it’s all dangerous.”   (The Garden of Eden)

The following is my attempt: a fiction based on all the given prompts.

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http://www.peoplespharmacy.com/siteimages/terrifying_hall_photo.jpg

Srikanth was advised to go to some place far, away from where he lived now. His nerves were not in their best form. He needed to get away from memories. Dr. Naidu, his psychiatrist had recommended him Kasoli- a hill station far away from city life. Amidst the sea of green trees with various flora, Dr. Naidu thought Sri would be just alright. Dr. Naidu was wrong. You can’t get away from yourself by moving one place to another.

***

Wearing his favorite sky blue shirt and blue denim jeans, Sri was driving past the lush green orchids, drinking the serene beauty with his eyes. The giant mountains, proudly flaunting their crown of snow; the tall pine trees trying to grasp the blue sky; and the sound of the divine silence. It was like a paradise. Sri passed by a deer and a doe and saw a small wooden cottage by the side of a brook. Dr. Naidu has booked the place for his stay. It was beautiful. A short, bald man in his fifties came to Sri and greeted him.

“Namaste Saahib. My name is Krishna Nath. Tourists here call me Kris. I am your cook cum guard cum caretaker.” He said with a smile.

Sri nodded.

“Let me take your luggage.” Kris took his luggage out of the car and went in the cottage. A black raven was staring at him with its eyes blood-red. It cawed continuously.

Something is not right. Sri thought and went inside the cottage.

***

After a hot water bath at the cottage, Sri took out his car and went on to explore the surrounding scenarios. Just as his car passed a small stream of river, he heard a sound. A whisper: “Never go on trips with anyone you do not love.” With the sound of screeching tyres the car came to a stop. Sri was terrified. He looked around and saw nothing. Then his eyes met a scene which made his stomach churn inside out. It was the same doe and the deer he saw when he entered the village. But the scene he was seeing now was unbelievable. The doe was eating the deer’s flesh. Its face covered with red blood of its partner. Sri felt like puking. He wanted to go away as soon as possible. He turned on the ignition; put the 1^st gear pushed the accelerator. The car wasn’t moving. He applied full force on the accelerator pedal. NOTHING. He left the car and dashed his way out into the woods.

***

He ran and ran till he could. When he was all out of breath he found himself near the cottage he was residing in. He went in and found Kris sharpening a knife on a stone and mumbling something to himself. Sri listened carefully and was terrified.

“I will kill him. I will kill him for you. When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve. I will serve you. I will sacrifice him for you. For our love.”

Sri saw a small picture placed before Kris. It was his wife’s photograph.  Without saying a word he moved out of the cottage quickly. As he turned, blood drained down his face. He was sure he was dreaming. 

This can’t be true. He thought

 What he saw was a man in late twenties, with sky blue shirt and blue denim jeans. Sri was seeing himself. It was like the image from the mirror jumped out into the real world and is standing before him.

“Ww..who are you?” a terrified Sri asked.

“I am Srikanth.” Came a chilling whisper that made the hair on his back stand.

“It…It cccan’t be. I…I…I am Srikanth.” Sri noticed he was crying.

“I know. I am you and you are me. It’s dangerous, you know?” replied a whispering shriek.

Sri managed all his courage to ask, “What… What is dangerous?”

“When you start to live outside yourself, it’s all dangerous.”

That was the last sentence Sri heard before everything got dark and silent.

***

A week after the incident, Sri opened his eyes and stared at the white ceiling fan. He looked around and saw beds with white sheets. He knew he was in hospital. He remembered what had happened to him but shrugged it off as a dream. Whatever it was, his conscience told him, it just can’t be true. It was a mere dream.

Dr. Naidu entered the room with another doctor by his side. He looked familiar. He was bald and in his fifties. The entire incident came crashing back before his eyes. The man resembled Kris, the caretaker at the cottage. Krishna Nath. Sri was sweating, his eyes rolled up and he fainted again. Dr. Naidu showed no surprise. He knew it was normal. The report in his hand read:

Name: Srikanth Rao

Age : 29 Yrs.

Sentenced to 10 years of rigorous imprisonment for murder of his wife.

Suffering from:  Schizophrenia and Hallucination.

***

Sri was standing beside Dr. Naidu. He can see himself deep in sleep, his body lay on the bed. He saw the black raven with bloodshot eyes staring at him and cawing continuously. He heard Dr. Naidu say to the other doctor:

“He told me about some caretaker named Kris Nath. You know, when you jumble up the words it becomes Srikanth. He told me he was hearing voices and that everyone was trying to kill him. Again, a common symptom of schizophrenia. Poor Sri, he thinks it is something supernatural. He is wrong. The truth is so simple. It’s all in his mind.”

Standing beside Dr. Naidu, Sri smiled a sinister smile. He can see his unconscious body still lying on the bed. He knew Dr. Naidu couldn't see him. He can only see his limp body on the hospital bed. The raven cawed for one last time and flew off the tree. Dr. Naidu froze with fear as he heard a whisper.

“The truth is never simple doctor. You know why? Because there’s no one thing that’s true. It’s all true.”

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Points to ponder:

1. Is the whole story only from Sri's point of view and therefore is just a dream/hallucination?

2. Why did Sri turn against his own consciousness? [If you support the 'supernatural is real' theory.]

3. Was Kris Nath real or Sri just pictured him out of the other doctor and turned him into imaginary caretaker?

4. What is the TRUTH?

HAPPY DIWALI

This post may be a week old but I was busy with the Diwali After-effects.

Diwali has always been my favorite festival. Apart from crackers and sweets, flames of earthen lamps make my heart beat faster. Being in a joint family where every family member get together on this occasion, it becomes in the true sense "THE FESTIVAL".  The beautiful light, the ambiance they produce is truly indescribable. Here are some of the pictures I took from my cellphone.

FIRST STEP : LIGHTING THE  AWESOMELY BEAUTIFUL EARTHEN LAMPS

Every corner of the house immersed in LIGHT.

And then the house glows with the hues of flames.

STEP TWO : AARTI IN OLD RAJASTHANI STYLE

STEP 3: LIGHTING UP OF CHIRAAG

STEP FOUR : LIGHTING UP THE SACRED SHELF OF KULDEVI (ANCESTRAL GODDESS). 

Then its LIGHT LIGHT LIGHT everywhere.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

I seldom write personal experiences. The inspiration for this post is Parama Ghosh's blog - potpourri. A few days ago she wrote a beautiful piece titled MONOCHROME. This is just an attempt on my part to try something new on this auspicious occasion of Diwali.

DISCLAIMER: The incident took place on 31st October. That's when the birthday was. It is being posted here today because of technical problems. (You will find many such problems below. So enjoy). There is no intention or motive to defame our beloved language "ENGLISH". The instances of text messages in acronyms (eg. u [you], m [am], txt [text], cm 2 me, etc.) are purely for the sake of reality. Some might do it for "Koolness". I do it to save word limits and time. We do sometimes want words to be typed quickly on a cellphone. A wise man once said: "Feelings matter, not words." Enough of disclaimer. Let's start with an awesome quote:

"Some don't believe in God. Some are devotees. I am neither. I just like to blame Him for everything."

  -- Shreyansh Chouradia

***

It seems more than just a coincidence when you tread back the memory lane and think of how some people enter your life and become so important. Without any reason. You meet them and you have a feeling; a 'something' that tells you that he/she is special. No I am not talking about my girlfriend.  I am talking of a girl very special to both me and my girl friend. We call her Rupa di.

That 'special someone' had birthday. I set the date on my cellphone's planner and then waited for the day. 31st October. Ok. So, I had plans.

1.   To wish her Happy B'day right at 12.00.

2. To send her gift.

3. To surprise her with the above gift.

But then, that sadistic creature we so lovingly call GOD had different plans. Plans to ruin my sacred plans.

Now I shall tell you how Mr. GOD ruined my plans.

Plan no. 1 - WISH HER RIGHT AT 12.00.

Cliché as it may be, it is now a universal protocol that you must wish a person close to you at 12.00.

I looked at my watch and became ready. I took a warm bath and waited for the hands of the clock to embrace each other at 12.00

11.40 pm:  I composed a birthday message.

11.55 pm: The battery died. Shit!

I plugged in the white, short-tailed charger of my galaxy note 2 and waited.

11. 58 pm: The cellphone had 2 % battery. Enough to send a message and place a call.

11.59 pm: I touched the cellphone's screen and started searching her name in the contacts. Found it and dialed the number. A beep and nothing...

I dialed again and found out there was no network.

Damn!

The clock struck 12 and then 12.15 pm. After a good 15 minutes I called her. The number was busy. That was obvious. I sent her the message I had composed for her and then started searching on the internet for floral services for delivering gift.

That marks the end of our plan no. 1: WISH HER AT 12.00

***

Plan no.2 : TO SEND (place order) HER GIFT.

After searching long on the internet for the gifts and flora I selected a package, entered her address where it was to be delivered and proceeded to 'net banking payment' option. After a few minutes I was staring at a blue and white site. The SBI homepage. It begged me for logging in and I obliged.

*invalid username or password*

I typed again.

*invalid username and password*

Again.

*invalid username and password*

*Due to three unsuccessful attempts you have been blocked for the day*

I knew my account was hacked. So was my plan no.2 : SEND HER GIFT.

***

Plan no.3 : THE SURPRISE.

Okay. So, my account was hacked.  I wasn't concerned because it only had a sum of five thousand rupees. Now what? 

"Message your girlfriend." Said an inner voice. Though we were taking a silent break from each other because of last night argument, I thought I should message her and ask her to pay for the gift now. I shall pay her later.

I picked up the phone. The battery and network bars both were full. I typed the text in a hurry as we all do, setting fire to the pyre of grammatical rules :

*u alrdy knw its rupa di's bday. I wnt 2 gv her surprise. Plz gift her smthng frm net. My sbi bank accnt hacked.*

And I touched the send button. This marks the ruining of my last plan.

Plan 3: TO SURPRISE HER. How you ask?

When I clicked the send button, my cellphone displayed the following text:

*Sending message to Rupa di*

I have mistakenly sent the message to our very own birthday girl. I could not cancel that message. Like an arrow from a bow it was gone. 

A beep. 

Even the technology mocked me, I thought as I read the delivery report. *message delivered to Rupa di.*

Shit!

Now, she knew everything: from ->my plan to surprise her-> to my financial crisis.

Anyways, I forwarded the message to my girlfriend too so as to get some help only to get the reply : 

*k. But plz u select the package. I m busy.*

My anger rose and I replied:

*Dnt worry. U work. I shall manage.*

I was angry. I didn't manage anything. I slept off.

Then, after an hour I got up from my sleep from a ping. I read the message and came to know that my girlfriend has placed the order and paid for it. 

No, its not the end yet and so everything won't be right just yet.

***

She also told me that our beloved birthday girl (Rupa di) was leaving for home tomorrow morning and she won't be be there to receive the gift.

I was angry. Very angry. 

1. With my girlfriend, for no apparent reason. 

2. With the telecom companies, whose dogs are better at following you than their networks.

3. With the guy who hacked my account and made me stand Below the Poverty Line. 

4. With God who was enjoying the twists in the story just like you. 

I felt helpless and frustrated. I put the lights off, let the darkness engulf me. I drifted to sleep again.

The next morning I woke up by the sound of the message tone. Feeling groggy, I put on my glasses and with drowsy eyes I read the message:

*I am glad I cancelled my journey when I came to know about your gift. Thank you, thank you, thank you for the lovely gift. I m glad I received it myself.*

I sighed. A sigh of relief. My lips curled contently as I muttered in a low whisper:

*Thank God.*

A HAPPY ME

DREAM

This piece is a NONET.

Quoting writetribe:

"A nonet is a nine line poem. A nonet can be written on any subject. The poem starts with a line that has 9 syllables in it. The second line contains 8 syllables, the third line has 7 syllables and it continues to count down to one syllable in the final line (ninth line)... You can also write two stanzas by joining nonet and reverse nonet form."

A bunch of roses, stardust sprinkled

Luminous stars shining brightly

The moon peeps out through the clouds

The blue sea roars aloud

Peace dwells everywhere

Nights are silent

It's not real

I know

Sigh!

It's dream

Let me sleep

Don't wake me up

I don't want to live

In real world anymore

I bid farewell to this world

Let me sleep and dream forever

Of bunch of roses, stardust sprinkled

A DESIRE TO BURN

This is a post for write tribe 100 words on Saturday.  The following piece contains 100 words exact.


***

I knew it was my last day there but I wasn't sad. I was burning with a desire to perish. My heart was melting but deep down there, I was content that I have helped to cure the darkness. I have been able to enlighten. I was able to achieve my goal. I have helped them to see the truth. I am dying for them. They might forget my sacrifice but I won't complain. I will burn proudly with a desire to perish.

***

In a moment, the last drop of candle wax fell on the table and the flame died.

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Linking to write tribe 100 words on Saturday

First Love !

This is my first take on a Haiku. Thank you Write Tribe for introducing me to this genre of beautiful poetry.

courtesy : www.writetribe.com

red cherry peeps through

leaves blush in the falling rain;

is it the first love?

This is an entry for the "write tribe" where a Haiku has to be written based on the given picture prompt. 

http://writetribe.com/write-tribe-contest-2/

To know more about a HAIKU, click here.

BLACK

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 42; the forty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "COLOR"

*this is a 55 fiction. .. 55 words exactly*

Courtesy: http://armaanokidoli.blogspot.in/2011/05/1.html

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SHE: Where you going?
HE: Dadar
SHE: Virar. I have a date. I am so nervous. Do you like my black dress?
HE: Black is my favourite color.

The train stopped.

He got up, pulled out a white cane and stumbled his way out. His words echoed in her ears "Black is my favourite color."
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The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 02

INDEPENDENCE (AAZADI)

Image courtesy : http://325pixels.blogspot.in/2012/08/awesome-indian-flag.html

Aaj itna azaad hoon main ki raahein to bahut hai par manzil ka thikana na raha. 

Udta chala ja raha hai man apni hi dhun mein. 

Kadam tikte nahi zameen pe, na zehen mein rehta koi khyal naya.

Bus azaadi ki lat mein choor hoon, madhosh hoon. 

Na bandhan hai, na bediyaa jo roke mujhe. 

Dekho chala main kis ore khabar nahi mujhe. 

Par kya aisi azadi chahi thi maine? 

Kya aisi azaadi chahi thi ki manzilon ka thikaana na rahe? 

Kya aisa josh manga tha ki phir mujhe hosh na rahe?

Aaj phir ghulami chahta hoon pehna do bediyaan mujhe. 

Baandh do is kadar ki bhatku na in raahon mein. 

Is kadar ho bandishe ki josh mein to rahun magar hosh kam na ho. 

Itni bandishe phir rahein mujh par ki khyal rahe gairo ka bhi aur sochu na mehez zehen se; dil ka bhi istemaal karu.

Ghulami zaroori hai azaadi ke baad. 

Nahi to us udte gubbare ki tarah uche to ud jaaenge magar manzil ka thikana maalom na hoga. 

Ghulami zaroori hai insaaniyat ki, nahi to bhatka krenege galiyon mein aur sukoon na hoga kabhi. 

Ghulami zaroori hai mohabbat ki nahi to nafrat ki aag mein dil phir sulag jaega.

Dua hai, rahe azaadi hardum phir bhi aaj ek khwahish hai ki us azaadi ke saath mil jaae thodi ghulami mujhe jo in behekte kadamo ko sahi raah, sahi manzil dikha sake.

© Shreyansh Chouradia

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD ! : By Deeptha Rao

http://www.behance.net/gallery/Anantadrishti/3523835

Once upon a time, very long ago, like very very long long ago, king Daksh had a daughter called  Dakshayini, who happened to be a reincarnation of Parvati. Unsurprisingly, she fell for our favourite God (Shiva) and married him, much to the disappointment of the good king, who did not fancy him to be a suitable son-in-law. Did they live happily ever after? I fear not. 

<despite the sarcasm oozing out of the author's every word, it is to be noted that she really likes this story>

One day, the king decided to perform a homam, and when kings decide to do anything, they do it with a BANG! Ergo, he invited every living being in the world to bear witness to his awesomeness except Lord Shiva. Needless to say, his daughter was more than a bit peeved at not receiving an invite. Despite her husband's warning, she left their mountainous abode to make her presence felt at her father's grand pooja.

On arriving there, her father, in one of his many fatherly overbearing speeches, insulted her beloved before all those present. Maddened with grief at finding her own dad so beside himself with hatred, she did what Indian women always did, she jumped into the pooja's sacred fire. 

<Hence, she was called Sati and millions of Hindus for generations to come used her act of extreme devotion to conveniently dispose of their womenfolk>

Lord Shiva, as we all know, is a hard man to irk, but irked he was when he found out his wife was dead. He arrived at the scene, beside himself with rage and after pulling out his wife's half burnt body from the sacred fire, he beheaded the now not so good king, opened his third eye, in general made quite a scene and set out to destroy everything in his path starting with Manmatha, the deity of love.

Now, the Gods were not too pleased with all the devastation, so, following standard protocol, they rang for Lord Vishnu to sort things out. Vishnu followed the enraged widower and cut off bits of Sati's burning body till nothing was left for Shiva to carry. 

<There are 21 or so Shaktipeethas in this country, for each part of her body where a fire never stops burning!!!!> 

Shiva returned to his snowy household, determined to meditate for the rest of his life or forever, whichever was longer.

But whatever happened to the homam? As we all know, it is an act of the greatest degree of sin to leave a pooja unfinished and king Daksh was feeling a little light in the head. The rishis hence called an emergency meeting and, on espying a goat nearby, whistled innocuously and edged up close to it and chopped off its head. Planting the goat's head on the king, they succeeded in completing the homam.

Thus, the Chamakam was born  (the reason the shlokas end the way they do is because of the goat's head and the goat-y way of talking!! eg. Godumashcha me, grihamcha me, mitramcha me, me me me me) 

[Author's note: 'me' here's pronounced as 'may', she did not know how to get the little line above the e to make this aspect of pronunciation clear to the reader.]

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