The Inner Storm.........

Mr. Rama Reddy is a man of habits and punctuality. He is the village head or commonly referred as the Sarpanch of his village named Pulluru. His village is one of the hundred villages surrounding the town, YS Gate, which is again 15 KM away from Chittoor. Mr. Rama Reddy is about 6 feet in height, stout, and no extra flab.  Years of working in field helps later in the age. His sun brunt dark skin is the testimony for that. He has very prominent wrinkles on his forehead. May be, he thinks too much. Like all mornings, Mr. Reddy again woke up today at sharp 6 AM. With his years of discipline and will power, he no longer needs an alarm to wake him up. His eyes would open exactly at 6 AM. This morning was no different. He unlocked his gate first, took a round of his small garden in the courtyard. Filled the water buckets and kept them in front of cattle. This took exactly 15 minutes. At 6.15 AM sharp, he was in his bathroom. Singing religious hymns, he poured two...

1. Nothing can be more frightful than a demonic scorn of a pissed off girlfriend. In olden days, it could have burnt you to the ground. 2. Colleagues, who side stepped you to promotion. You are no longer a big hug bunny to them. 3. Profs, whose courses you flunked. You may be a big shot manager by now, but you will always try not bump into him/her, during the alum meets. 4. Neighborhood Uncle and Aunt, who know your academic record like the Sachin’s centuries. 5. Relatives and family friends whose wards have foreign degrees and their parents can’t shut up about that; nor can yours. 6. That one cousin in your family, who shared the same crush as you. 7. Few school and college friends, you no longer feel connected to. Just share few old jokes and pass on mate. 8. Your weed dealer, if he is under arrest. 9. Landlord, when you bring a girl over for a ‘Night Cap’. 10. Former classmate, whose ‘Diaper-Delivering’ start-up just got a funding of 1 millio...

“Misterr Ishaaaan  fucking Kauuuuuul” Ankita screamed. ” Another mention of that bitch Nikita and I am going to kill you, she dumped you for some hot shot banker six years ago, you know what dumped means, I guess two years of teaching first standard  kids must have taught you the meaning of dump, she must be having a great family now, couple of kids and here you are half bottle down, pissing on our vacation.” His Girlfriend of six months was half drunk but that didn’t stop her from giving him an earful. “Yaaa… but …that night was magical …..” Ishaan didn't finish. Ishaan Kaul is actually a software engineer who quit his high paying job to teach primary kids English at a convent  school. “Welcome back Mr. Kaul, while you were away on vacation, we have inducted a new boy in your class, he is an absolute delight” Miss Mendoza the head mistress said. “Where is he?” Ishaan replied, still in vacation hangover. “Oh, here he comes.” A thin boy of five wa...

I have to write ...yes, I have to. Everyone tells me,it's an addiction. It will never pay you, but consume you. It will engulf and make a fool of you. How can I explain, I am bound by my nature.  I did a small experiment with myself. I wanted to see how long can I keep myself away from penning down my thoughts or reading something. Well, on the reading front,apart from the usual dose of 2 national newspapers,magazines and Quora feed.I have managed to keep myself away from the the "heavy readings". I could have stayed away from writing also. It is no big thing. Writing seems like work to me.  Today the image that is dancing at the back of my mind is that of an small office in Paris. This office was unlike the normal ones. Here the people didn't just run through the motion. They were creators. Creative people are not bound by spaces, it's all in the brain. It's just that their antennas are still functioning compared to the other people, who bury ...

It's chilling tonight in Hyderabad, the traffic outside my room is thinning slowly. An Ernest Hemingway book is staring at me. It is my salary day gift to myself. Every end of the month, my company dutifully deposits my salary in my numbered account in Geneva. On that day, after finishing from office or some workshop,depending upon the orders of the day,I go to the Crossword.  I like to be surrounded by books. I still remember the first time I had visited a library. It was my school library. My favorite book back then was a giant Picture book about the various planets and heavenly bodies. But, what I loved in those books was the pictures of Greek gods and godessess and  a small background  story on how these bodies came to be named as they are today. I hardly recall any word from that book, except that its smell still lingers somewhere; I used to run as soon as the bell rang, leaving my lunch untouched. I wanted to be the first kid to get that book issue...

A fter few requests from  very close friends ( current and a pissed off ex). I will at least try finish the thought.  Most of you are probably not aware about the pain of the half finished story. I guess, in order to explain it, I may have to use some similes.  Imagine, you are alone in a cottage in Goa,  which you have booked months in advance just to get away from everything. You just have a 7 inch spring mattress in the room. It is close to  the beach, the waves are making a nice hum noise. It's  all very pleasant. You are sipping pulpy orange and reading Sidney Sheldon. Suddenly(I am just kidding) you get a hard on (yes this is sexist). Now why would anyone get a hard on reading Sidney Sheldon? Well, before I move on let me clarify that, though the name Sidney sounds like a well endowed, hot, blonde chick in a tank top and shorts with sexy,shining, and  waxed  legs, bending down to adjust her slippers(OK,I need to stop). He was a "tha...

I am a Facebook addict. Let’s face it. Whenever, I get time in between the barrage of the phone calls and outlook. I log onto Facebook and check out what others have posted. What new jokes and memes are trending. All my acquaintances have green light in front of their names along with their mugshots. If Facebook was invented for connecting humans, then I am wondering why I am not connecting with them.  As I am inching towards the wrong side of 20s, the list of people who have known me is just expanding, but the list of people I like to be with, is shrinking fast. There is a procession of people outside. A huge caravan of vehicles carrying  men with green flags marked with half moon and the customary star, has spilled on the street. Today apart from being Sabbath is the birthday of Prophet Muhammed (PBuH). FYI, this PBuH means Peace be upon him. I first read it in a history book of NCERT.  It took me a long time to figure out what this Pbuh means. I was afraid th...