Monday, January 26, 2015

Once upon a time, in the 21st century, there lived a Scholar. He had mastered all the Vedas and Puranas. The scholar had a magical time-table, which instructed him how, when, what, where, to lead his life. He expected his spouse to follow his path. Those who were not willing to buy his ideologies were looked down upon and were ridiculed by him.

The scholar blindly followed the theory of the positive and negative energy and its impact on human beings.

Now, if he was in a trying situation, he assured himself that the good Lord was guiding him through the trying times and thus it was positive energy working on him. But then, if somebody else was in a trying situation, he would immediately react that it’s the result of their negative energy.

(Half-baked-knowledge is always detrimental, says some fool).

As the days passed, he was married to a brilliant girl, whom he longed to get married.

Fate had written its own screenplay for the scholar.

The scholar’s wife wanted to fly high, explore and experiment. She wanted to tweet in things outside the timetable. Alas, the scholar was annoyed and disapproved of her dreams.

The scholar had become a fault finder, by now.

Then the most awaited occurred. The scholar’s wife delivered twin babies; a baby boy and a baby girl. 

It was time to rejoice. But, the scholar was upset.

When the wife enquired, he said, “It’s the result of your negative energy, you delivered through a C-section, and thus, you are not a complete woman”.

One could hear the mourning of a relationship.

PS: Image courtesy Google.                 Linking back to

A young mom delivered quadruplets. ‘She would have a tough time growing them up’, relatives sighed.

‘Mom loves me, more than you’, kids quarreled amongst themselves. Thus, they found solace in Mom’s love.  Each of them believed that he’s most favored in comparison with the other.

Kids are grown-ups now.

Bewildered mom is thrown in the old-age home. Yet she’s smiling.
On inquiry, she says “My kids, still fight over me. But, now they readily accept, that I love the other more than the one I am with. As a reason, they are reluctant to own me up”.

 Linking back to       Image Courtesy Google

Sunday, January 25, 2015

He kept the glass on the edge of the table drinking the potion in it. She had prepared it specifically for him, with all the magical ingredients added to ignite the spark of love in him.

Mesmerized by her eyes, he knelt before her, offered her a diamond ring and asked “Would you Marry Me”!

A 55-word short story.

Writing Prompt: 'kept the glass on the edge''.                                               Image courtesy Google

‘Her’ laughter broke the silence and made Tina the thirteen-year-old squirm with fear. ‘She’ held Tina’s hair dragging her through the veranda, pushing her into a stenchy bedroom, where ‘he’ lay baring his half-naked body, gazing at Tina lecherously. ‘He’ offered ‘her’ a couple of Rs.500 notes.

Tina was sold for quenching ‘his’ sexual fantasies.

A 55-word short story.

Writing Prompt: 'Her laughter broke the silence'.                                               Image courtesy Google.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

I enjoy holidays and holidaying. For me, an ideal holiday is being able to relax with my family/ extended family members.

The irony here is being a banker, I rarely get a week off. However, when one such wish is granted after continual prayers and cajoling to the Lord of Banks, The RBI (Reserve Bank of India), I rush to my native Kerala. (God's Own Country).

We are from Konkani community and I crave the typical Konkani cuisine.

When I am in Kerala, I make it a point to visit all my relatives and capture all those moments on my Smart Phone to be cherished at a later point in time.

The overwhelming love and warmth shared by all my relatives is beyond my words of description. I am not an introvert. I don’t act pricey; neither have I shied off from hogging the sweets and the yummy delicacies offered to me out of love by my relatives.

I have never felt the need to wear a mask in front of my own family members.

And then one day, I visit one of my aunt (hypothetical) at her residence and thereafter what happened is for you to comprehend.

You persuaded me
To visit your abode

The smile on your face
The love and caring expressed
I was certain of being genuine

The delicacies you cooked for me
I thought was out of affection

After all, you were a mother-like figure to me
But alas, I was devastated
With you ridiculing me

You called me names
I became a hog-pig, a guy with a big belly

The delicacy you offered
Has now turned to poison
Please know,
The poison has its effect
It’s crumbled our relation

I wonder, how can a mother (like)
ridicule her son

Oh, Aunt! Please note, I have typed these liners,
As a dedication to you, with my MIDDLE FINGER!

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

I walked down the lane. I was greeted with cheerful faces. "How am I? Why am I seen at home, during office hours? Do approach us, if need be." They inquired and consoled.

I thought they were 'concerned'. Alas, those friendly faces turned to ridicule me as I crossed the lane, which revealed their true color.

PS: Image courtesy Google.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Alarm ticks ferociously, chasing the fragile DAWN. 
'Dream Big' - they say.

Never can 'HE' attain a winning climax, as the dream has its wings chopped, with a time frame set. 

Both Dream and Reality exert to reach the orgasm.

But the alarm rings @ 5 AM shattering the union and 'HIS' aspirations to dream big.

PS : Image Courtesy Google

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

“I” am the modern day social being. I am highly educated. I speak English with an American accent.  I showcase sensitivity. I use the latest gadgets. I have an iPhone stuffed in my jeans pocket.  

I am a part of several social groups in social media. I talk of being kind to fellow beings. I condemn the terrorist attack. I talk volumes, about love and compassion towards fellow beings.  I “comment”, “like” and “share” all the posts and pictures which narrate the story of a NEEDY.

While I was busy doing all the above, a lady in her mid 70’s knocks my car window and requests for a drop to the shopping mall the next street.

She looks tired and sweaty. She looks hungry too. She was in NEED.

But I shoo her away, (as per me)she  was only portraying as if she was in NEED, and I continue to “LIKE” the post written for being sensitive towards senior citizens.

Oops! I missed mentioning - I am a HYPOCRITE too.

PS: image courtesy Google.

Here comes, another wintery morning.

I am too snoozy, to open my eyes. However, I can feel him move in my blanket. His touch on my tummy tickles me. He moves upwards, on his belly, to reach my face.

Dozily I open my eyes and I see his cute toothless-dimpled smiling face. Seeing his smile, I am energized to pamper and play with him.

I cuddle him.

We stare into each other's eyes, lying there, without even blinking as if we are awestruck. "How playful his eyes are! Did I see my glimpses in his eyes?  I can see the entire universe in them." 

His wavy hair, those little ears, the fluffy cheeks, and his dusky skin ensures that people adore him. 

I feel the impulse to embrace him and never to let him go from my arms. I am alive because of his breath.

I rejoice when he playfully bows before me to touch his forehead with mine. He is my dearest when he pokes his well-crafted nose into my cheeks.

I am Him.

His lips are the sweetest when he kisses me. I do not mind his saliva smearing on my face when he kisses.

When he lay on me, I yearn to hear his heart beat. Love is the only sound which resonates in there now. The scars he leaves on my face with his little nails doesn't pain me; rather, I can sense his love for me. His kicks, I trust, reflects his eagerness to be on his feet, to be independent, to embrace the entire universe.

He is my little angel, my Son – ‘Ishaan’.

Sunday, January 11, 2015


She conceived, after a span of 5 years. Though a joyous moment, I was jittery with the thought of a miscarriage.  

I strived to be poised, during those anxious moments.
We wished for a healthy baby.  

My eyes flooded, when I saw the baby move in the womb, through the scan, absolutely the way I wished!

PS: Image courtesy Google.

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Who has to be blamed? Is it the rape survivor? Or, should the misogynistic mentality of the society to be changed?

The heinous eyes gaze her
Stalk her every nook and corner

They stare, peep, and gape
Glare, gloat, and Ogle

The lecherous eyes
Stalk her every nook and corner

They wait for the time
Time she’d be alone

The lewdness in the eyes
Stalk her every nook and corner

They embezzle her soul
Leave her with the scars

Against all odds
She stands tall
With her head high, chin up
Says, dignity doesn’t lie in Vagina.

 © 2015 Ajay Pai (Reserved for the poem)
Image courtesy :Pixabay

She offers me tea, as I lay on the cozy bed.

Aah! The romantic aroma of masala chai. It indeed turns me on.

The aroma hasn't lost its magic as yet. The nostalgia returns, with the aroma penetrating my nostrils. I am taken to the day, I met Her.  Demure in her eyes and trembling lips, timidly she offers me Tea.

Am I in a trance?

The aroma had the magical spell of love, desire, and yearning to unite our soul. At the first sip, I knew she would be mine. 

Love was in the air as cupid smacked us.

PS : Image Courtesy Google.

A short story of 100 Words.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

baby in the park

chirpy lil birdie poops on baby

use Huggies, says Tot

PS : Image Courtesy Google

Sunday, January 4, 2015

pretty girl in shorts

men whistle,comment, ridicule throughout

not fragile, she roars 

PS : Image courtesy google.

Teeth :

papa brushing teeth
infant is startled and winks  
grins with toothless smile

Saturday, January 3, 2015

+Vernon Layne do you see any similarity in the post in comparison with your narrative on how-to-forgive-and-forget? 

advesta sarva bhutanam maitrah karuna eva ca
nirmamo nirahankarah sama dukha sukha ksami

santustah satatam yogi yatatma drdha nishchayah
mayy arpita mano buddhir yo mad bhaktah sa me priyah

The above verse is an extract from Bhagavad Gita (The holy book of Hindus).  Bhagavad Gita is considered the holy book, as it is narrated by lord Krishna himself to Arjuna during the Mahabharata war in Sanskrit (the holy language).

Here Lord Krishna narrates the qualities one should posses which would qualify him to be dear and near to the Almighty.

So who are those lucky ones who are dear & near to God :

He says :

1. The one who is non envious 
2. The one who possess kindness, compassion, generosity, magnanimity, charity,kindheartedness, sympathy
3. The one with no dominion (in its negative sense)
4. The one who is free from false ego
5. The one who is poised in distress and happiness
6. The one who is tolerant
7. The one who is content, yet constantly improvising
8. The one who is self controlled
9. The one with unwavering determination
10.The one who is dedicated 

What my point here is +Vernon Layne , the emotions which are conveyed in both the religions are surprisingly similar.

However, the humankind picks an argument on these very thoughts & emotions.

Tukaram Gopal Omble - The Hero.

As  reached home from the office, I switch on the TV, to see a flash news, which reads as

"In Remembrance of 26/11 Martyrs".

In the rat race of life and work, I had forgotten the relevance of this date. I had to stress my brain out, to remember that the dates symbolized MUMBAI BLASTS.

With curiosity, my eyes googled for the photo images of the Martyrs of 26/11 in the net. The eye candy image, which caught the  attention, was of Tukaram Gopal OMBLE (Rank Havaldar).

Omble was an ASI (Assistant Sub Inspector) with the Mumbai Police. His squad was under-equipped for fencing any terror attack. However, he managed to kill one of the terrorists and arrest the other one who was taken alive -Ajmal Kasab.

Unarmed, Omble held onto the rifle of the injured Ajmal Kasab, enabling other officers to arrest him. In the process, Ajmal fired several shots, killing Omble.

I gazed at the picture of Mr.Omble, he looked a typical middle-class Indian citizen (not a superhero, like most of us). I could see his eyes twinkling. Were they trying to tell me something in a subtle manner? Maybe yes. I could get a glimpse of what his eyes spoke.

His eyes spoke volumes. Volumes about his dreams for his family, his children, their studies, marriage etc.

All of this was shattered at the gunpoint of Ajmal Kasab. I further resolved to dwell more in the OMBLE family.

They were a family of six, comprising his wife and four daughters, two of whom were married.

This means back in 2008, when the attack took place the other two daughters would have been too young.

Now, this gave me goosebumps.

I thought to myself - When Omble held onto the rifle of Ajmal Kasab, did he not think of his daughters and his wife? Their fate, if he was killed by the terrorists? Did he not think, who would take care of his family?

He must have had this thought, at least for a fraction of a second. But he dared, which we might not have, given his circumstances. May be Omble could foresee a larger picture - The Nation and its security.

It's a well-known fact that, Omble was under armed to fight the terrorists. He could have easily saved himself by not crossing the way of the terrorists, (may be).

However, he was determined and held onto the rifle of Ajmal Kasab, only to rescue his fellow social beings. (The so-called civilians of the civilized society.)

This act of his makes, Tukaram Omble a selfless citizen in a selfish world.

He was bestowed with Ashok Chakra - The highest Peacetime Gallantry award by the Govt.

Finally, a gallantry award. Great. But I still had questions to myself.

The vacuum which was created in a snap second, by the abrupt death of a bread earner of a family, can that loss be equaled?

What could be the emotions and thoughts that would have gushed into the minds of his family members hearing the news of his demise?

I did read somewhere that Tukaram was a Havaldar. Am sure that he would not have been able to amass wealth to secure the future of his family members as he would not have anticipated any such mishap.

The head of the family is no more and none to hand hold the family.

As a ritual, the family of Omble, would be remembered year on year on this date 26/11.

Do these sacrifices have no value and outcome?

Mrs.Omble,has lit a lamp in front of his framed photograph, wherein she replenishes oil each time the flames starts dropping.

Let me hope, that the light from the lamp which is lit in front of Omble's photograph be the ray of hope for the rest of us.

Let the ray be so powerful that it awakens the consciousness of the authorities who rule our nation and may they take such necessary steps to build a:

Strong Unified India.

The Undying Spirit of Mumbaikars - After each attack, I hear this statement. I wonder, what would a normal layman do? He has to run, to earn his piece of bread.

Does he have a choice?

In such circumstances, he has no option but to wear this Mask of 'undying spirit', which is a double-edged sword.

On one side, the statement showcases the True Spirit of Mumbaikars to rise from the ashes. On the flip side, the statement induces and silently inculcates into the psyche of Mumbaikars, that they should be used to such atrocities which would continue happening in Mumbai and to move on with life without registering their protest.

Hey Mumbaikar!! Do you feel safe in Mumbai?

PS: Image courtesy Google.
!! The Reason Why Alekh hated his Barber!!

Let me take you to Kerala! God's own country- the land famous for coconut trees and coconut oil.

Coconut is so much a part of life here, that it’s also used as hair oil. The healthier hair growth in the State is attributed to the use of coconut hair oil. (Winks, Winks!!)

It is in this tranquil land of Kerala, garlanded with greenery, with his parents, lives our protagonist, 5-year-old Lil boy "Aalekh". 

Aalekh is very charming, with boyish looks and his trademark cuteness. His dimpled smile made him the favorite of all the grown-up he met.

His Mom's friends nicknamed him little Krishna! He is charismatic and irresistible with wheatish skin, jet black eyes, with  soft curled dark black hair.

His hair was the talk of the town. Everyone complimented for his looks. His grandma, prepared hair oil, especially for Alekh, with household ayurvedic herbs.

With so much of adulation, Lil Aalekh felt that he was somebody superior.

Years passed by. Aalekh, is in his troublesome teens now.

Aalekh's father used to stitch the most stylish clothes for the teenager. With all this adulation coming his way, Alekh, had slowly become self-obsessed.

He used to stare at his own mirror image, commenting and praising on his looks. 

Oh, he considered himself a Greek God.

Each day he donned the hair style of different actors. The entire neighborhood was amused to see this kid with varied fashion statements.

However, bimonthly Sundays were traumatic for little Alekh; as it was time for the haircut.

He hated Sundays.

Post the haircut, he hated his mirror image. He would  be very low in confidence. He would get irritated with his parents, for, they force him to the barber for a haircut. These tantrums continued till the hair re-grows to normalcy.

Alekh, would playfully make fun of his dad, by patting his dad's silky smooth head.

He couldn't take criticism about the way he looked and his appearance, from any.

And then one fine day @ the salon, the barber commented "Alekh, by the time you are 26, you are going to be like your father."

The Barber could read that Alekh couldn't solve the puzzle.

He continued, Yea Sonny!! You heard it right: You are going to be BALD!!

PS: Aalekh was oblivious of the fact that baldness is hereditary in his family.

Image courtesy Google.