Maliny Mohan's Blog, page 7
December 4, 2015
Saturday Specifics #2: Book Review
Title: Dual Lives
Author: Gourab Mitra
Pages: 302
Price: Varies between online stores.
Publisher: Patridge India
The Story In Short:
The story opens with one of the protagonists, an aspiring RJ preparing herself for the interview that she is about to attend later in the day. The story then reels towards the past, where the two protagonists meet- Kiran and Ajinkya. Their relation is better left unexplained here for the twist in the tale, which forms the crux of the story lies in the past. The blurb would provide hints towards the story line, although it comes off as haphazard. The story doesn’t deal with romance basically, but it speaks about the importance of compassion and love among fellow human beings . A few other characters- Omkar, Javed, Rahul, Krishna and Pooja flit past in and out of the lives of the protagonists, of which Pooja goes to play a very important role in their lives as the story progresses. The story ends on a happy note in more ways than one and to know how, you would want to read the book.
The Blurb: We are a part of a male dominating society where some people still keep women below their shoes and nose. Kiran, a young woman has overcome these hurdles and has fulfilled her dream as a Radio Jockey. Today it’s her first day to work at Radio Rocks, a leading radio channel in Pune. She is exhilarated about it! Last night her boy friend proposed her for marriage, and her true love for Omkar overwhelmed her decision. She didn’t reply to him! In early 2004, her brother worked at a tea stall at the age of 10. Ajinkya, a BPO employee and a biggest loser in life, gets inspired by the kid. Ajinkya plans to adopt him, unaware of his past. Will the kid’s past bother Ajinkya’s personal and love life? Omkar is Kiran’s first crush. But for past few years they haven’t heard about each other! Will she compromise her first love & marry Ashish? Or will she wait for Omkar?
My Take:
The cover page: I found the front cover really impressive. The illustration of the protagonists exudes loads of surrealism. The choice of colours adds an element of vibrancy to the book, which is sure to tempt many a reader to give it a look. The blurb though could have been better. I would have liked a more precise few lines on the back cover which would highlight the essence of the story instead of over complicating it.
The Content:
Likes: When the author requested for a review from me, I was slightly apprehensive at first. I feared it might be yet another of those books that emphasise the theme of adolescent love and nothing more or for that matter nothing relevant. The book, after reading, I realised, has many layers, although the premise belongs partly to the tried and tested realms of fiction. It deals with the charms of blooming love, the agonies of a broken family and the fortitude that the protagonist upholds when struck by an adversity, rising well above the maturity of a delicate age. The plot was uncomplicated and the lexicon simple. There lacked major hiccups and I could finish the book in a matter of a couple of hours. I would consider it a good debut work by an author.
Dislikes:
Rampant use of exclamation marks, which turn irksome along the way.
I found a few lines which unnecessarily highlight even the minute, irrelevant acts the characters perform, which even though was conjured intending to insinuate thoughtful showers of subtlety, ironically, make the flow turbulent at places. The reader needn’t know every little gesture and chore that the protagonist undertakes. If it propels the story forward significantly, yes, but if it slows down the pace, no.
That said, I would recommend this book to young readers who love a breezy read, that keeps you relaxed throughout the hours you spend relishing it.
Rating: 3/5
P.S: I received the pdf format of the book from the author. The opinions stated in this review are unbiased and are entirely mine.
Buy the book from the following links:
Amazon: here
Flipkart: here
~~
This post is tagged with‘Saturday Specifics’, a sub section of this blog where I put up something creative- a story, poem, haiku, Flash Fiction or a Book Review.
December 1, 2015
Mid Week Quests #1: Yes. I have Changed.
So I was drudging monotonously through the dreary task of brushing my teeth today morning, when the thought struck me deep; thought that I have changed a lot over the past few years. The realisation, when put to words might sound quite normal, vapid even. Some people pride in the fact that they have been able to maintain the essence of the elements that form part of their innateness unscathed from birth to dust. Some others admit that they have indeed changed, but for the good. I, interestingly, find that I have undergone metamorphosis to become a slightly different version of me, for good, bad and everything in between. I have grown better in ways, my interests have changed and I find happiness in a whole sort of things that are impressively unrelated to the world that the ten year old or even the twenty year old I harboured. We accept certain things into our lives without bothering to stand back and give it a graver thought. We all change, but we are so busy going with the flow of our lives that we rarely take time to sit and mull over the changes that have been happening in our lives, unassumingly.
The ten year old I used to love gardening. Watering the plants was more of a habit than a hobby. The habit wore out somewhere down the lane while I was busy growing up. Similarly, I used to spend time sketching cartoon characters as a kid. I used to consider my products good, if not perfect. Still, the interest withered before it blossomed to spread fragrance. To add to the list, I used to like teen movies and young adult fiction ten years back. I remember changing my password to the title of a teen movie that I loved watching, back in my college days. I used to discuss for long hours with my friends, the characters in the books we read taking turn, dissecting the plots and dialogues, simply because we found the idea of a blooming romance heavenly. I remember a conversation that I had when I was thirteen, with my best friend regarding the ubiquitous presence of boyfriends in novels and movies. In the end, we both took a firm decision that we would, undoubtedly, earn a boyfriend for ourselves when we turned 18. How sweet! By saying this, I am not bracketing YA Fiction or teen movies as a genre to be liked by immature people. In fact, I watch movies with saccharine story line even now, but the difference is that I watch them mostly for fun and to while away time. Presently, they neither affect my thoughts nor do they navigate my decisions in any which way, as they did before.
Continuing the anecdotes, I used to be slightly selfish and moderately arrogant too back then, as I hark back now. Once, being the monitor, I asked a girl in my class to lower her voice, saying, “X, would you speak softly? There are also girls here in this class who wish to study, unlike you”. She stopped talking suddenly and her friends stared at me long and hard. I realised then and there that to take back my words was meaningless as the effect had already been made. What was left to do was to apologise for my blatant outburst, which I did later during the day. Honestly speaking, I have changed a lot from that inconsiderate brat to a better, kinder human being.
The opinions and the things that I believed in also changed over the time. I don’t think at this stage of time, the way I did five years back. Silly incidents or statements don’t excite me now, nor do pardonable mistakes provoke me. I have learnt to think matters over before letting it overpower my vision. I have learnt never to look down on others simply because they think differently. Along with the good changes, certain pitfalls too found their way towards me, unfortunately. I am irked faster nowadays. I have turned competitive and I yearn to put my best foot forward in my ventures, which makes me frustrated and impatient during the well mattered days. I should rectify that rotten part of me step by step, I know. And that is one arena where I feel growing up helps us the most. You realise your downsides and work upon them, before they act to push your over the abyss. You learn to grow over the years. You turn mature and reasonable. You learn from your mistakes to become a better version of you, ultimately, if you kept your heart, soul and mind awake. Although the process doesn’t end there. There might still be events that break us apart, leaving us torn and helpless, to tackle which we might have to devise a perfectly new set of fights. In life, no victory is absolute, if one fails to maintain the valor.
‘These teenage boys and girls! Why don’t they realise that they are so silly!’ Does this opinion sound familiar to you? There wouldn’t be a single family where this sentence wasn’t uttered at least once. This isn’t merely opined about adolescent boys and girls. A woman of twenty years might find the deeds of a ten year old silly and vice versa, which holds true for any two people belonging to age groups which are a decade apart. However, if they judged matters transferring their bodies for once, to the other one’s shoes, they would understand the importance those matters have in the other person’s life and gradually learn to respect those. I know that I loved everything that I spent my time on when I was in my teens. Because I find a few of them silly now, does it mean that I regret having engaged in those back then? Absolutely not. It made me what I am today. Let the other people in your lives, be it your friend, parents, cousins, colleagues, whoever it be, believe in whatever suits his/her astute judgement and desires, appropriate for their age; as long as it is not harmful, hideous, utterly foolish, illogical or incendiary. Let them be what they are.
Image courtesy- here
But does all this talk on maturity assert that being adult takes the fun out of your lives? Each stage of life comes tagged with appropriate forms of pleasure. I treasure the memories of my childhood dearly. I wish at times that I could fly back to those innocent days and forbid myself from growing up. At the same time, if asked whether I would like to spend my present days immersed in the deeds I found enticing back then, would I reply in affirmative? I wouldn’t. I have my own set of hobbies and habits that keep me happy now. I wouldn’t trade them permanently for anything else. Perhaps occasionally I might indulge in an act of childishness(which I love to while at my reminiscent best), but not otherwise and definitely not always. I realise that I have changed. But those changes are inevitable and I don’t regret them. Nor have the changes taken the spirit away from my soul. To be happy and content in whatever you believe in and to stand by it, at each stage of life, matters the most- be it ten years, twenty years, thirty years or sixty years. Life is indeed a delicacy, waiting welcomingly, to be relished. Each stage of life is unique in its own ways. If childhood was an exciting, soft, creamy mousse, adolescence is a crunchy sweet, enticing wafer. If middle age is a taut, tender, perfectly set pudding, senility is a firm, smooth, moulded, éclairs. That said, can you guess what remains to be told here in this post? Ah, yes. Run. Take your pick, suck it up to the last atom sans regret and don’t forget to savor it wholeheartedly as long as it lasts.
So, tell me, do you enjoy being your age? Have you too, like me, changed over the years?
~~
P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Mid Week Quests’, a sub section of this blog where I write on a Wednesday, about random nuggets from my life .
Oh, Yes. I have Changed!
So I was drudging monotonously through the dreary task of brushing my teeth today morning, when the thought struck me deep; thought that I have changed a lot over the past few years. The realisation, when put to words might sound quite normal, vapid even. Some people pride in the fact that they have been able to maintain the essence of the elements that form part of their innateness unscathed from birth to dust. Some others admit that they have indeed changed, but for the good. I, interestingly, find that I have undergone metamorphosis to become a slightly different version of me, for good, bad and everything in between. I have grown better in ways, my interests have changed and I find happiness in a whole sort of things that are impressively unrelated to the world that the ten year old or even the twenty year old I harboured. We accept certain things into our lives without bothering to stand back and give it a graver thought. We all change, but we are so busy going with the flow of our lives that we rarely take time to sit and mull over the changes that have been happening in our lives, unassumingly.
The ten year old I used to love gardening. Watering the plants was more of a habit than a hobby. The habit wore out somewhere down the lane while I was busy growing up. Similarly, I used to spend time sketching cartoon characters as a kid. I used to consider my products good, if not perfect. Still, the interest withered before it blossomed to spread fragrance. To add to the list, I used to like teen movies and young adult fiction ten years back. I remember changing my password to the title of a teen movie that I loved watching, back in my college days. I used to discuss for long hours with my friends, the characters in the books we read taking turn, dissecting the plots and dialogues, simply because we found the idea of a blooming romance heavenly. I remember a conversation that I had when I was thirteen, with my best friend regarding the ubiquitous presence of boyfriends in novels and movies. In the end, we both took a firm decision that we would, undoubtedly, earn a boyfriend for ourselves when we turned 18. How sweet!
Continuing the anecdotes, I used to be slightly selfish and moderately arrogant too back then, as I hark back now. Once, being the monitor, I asked a girl in my class to lower her voice, saying, “X, would you speak softly? There are also girls here in this class who wish to study, unlike you”. She stopped talking suddenly and her friends stared at me long and hard. I realised then and there that to take back my words was meaningless as the effect had already been made. What was left to do was to apologise for my blatant outburst, which I did later during the day. Honestly speaking, I have changed a lot from that inconsiderate brat to a better, kinder human being.
The opinions and the things that I believed in also changed over the time. I don’t think at this stage of time, the way I did five years back. Silly incidents or statements don’t excite me now, nor do pardonable mistakes provoke me. I have learnt to think matters over before letting it overpower my vision. I have learnt never to look down on others simply because they think differently. Along with the good changes, certain pitfalls too found their way towards me, unfortunately. I am irked faster nowadays. I have turned competitive and I yearn to put my best foot forward in my ventures, which makes me frustrated and impatient during the well mattered days. I should rectify that rotten part of me step by step, I know. And that is one arena where I feel growing up helps us the most. You realise your downsides and work upon them, before they act to push your over the abyss. You learn to grow over the years. You turn mature and reasonable. You learn from your mistakes to become a better version of you, ultimately, if you kept your heart, soul and mind awake. Although the process doesn’t end there. There might still be events that break us apart, leaving us torn and helpless, to tackle which we might have to devise a perfectly new set of fights. In life, no victory is absolute, if one fails to maintain the valor.
‘These teenage boys and girls! Why don’t they realise that they are so silly!’ Does this opinion sound familiar to you? There wouldn’t be a single family where this sentence wasn’t uttered at least once. This isn’t merely opined about adolescent boys and girls. A woman of twenty years might find the deeds of a ten year old silly and vice versa, which holds true for any two people belonging to age groups which are a decade apart. However, if they judged matters transferring their bodies for once, to the other one’s shoes, they would understand the importance those matters have in the other person’s life and gradually learn to respect those. I know that I loved everything that I spent my time on when I was in my teens. Because I find a few of them silly now, does it mean that I regret having engaged in those back then? Absolutely not. It made me what I am today. Let the other people in your lives, be it your friend, parents, cousins, colleagues, whoever it be, believe in whatever suits his/her astute judgement and desires, appropriate for their age; as long as it is not harmful, hideous, utterly foolish, illogical or incendiary. Let them be what they are.
Image courtesy- here
But does all this talk on maturity assert that being adult takes the fun out of your lives? Each stage of life comes tagged with appropriate forms of pleasure. I treasure the memories of my childhood dearly. I wish at times that I could fly back to those innocent days and forbid myself from growing up. At the same time, if asked whether I would like to spend my present days immersed in the deeds I found enticing back then, would I reply in affirmative? I wouldn’t. I have my own set of hobbies and habits that keep me happy now. I wouldn’t trade them permanently for anything else. Perhaps occasionally I might indulge in an act of childishness(which I love to while at my reminiscent best), but not otherwise and definitely not always. I realise that I have changed. But those changes are inevitable and I don’t regret them. Nor have the changes taken the spirit away from my soul. To be happy and content in whatever you believe in and to stand by it, at each stage of life, matters the most- be it ten years, twenty years, thirty years or sixty years. Life is indeed a delicacy, waiting welcomingly, to be relished. Each stage of life is unique in its own ways. If childhood was an exciting, soft, creamy mousse, adolescence is a crunchy sweet, enticing wafer. If middle age is a taut, tender, perfectly set pudding, senility is a firm, smooth, moulded, éclairs. That said, can you guess what remains to be told here in this post? Ah, yes. Run. Take your pick, suck it up to the last atom sans regret and don’t forget to savor it wholeheartedly as long as it lasts.
So, tell me, do you enjoy being your age? Have you too, like me, changed over the years?
~~
P.S: This post is tagged with ‘Reflective Wednesdays’, a sub section of this blog where I write about random nuggets from my life.
November 28, 2015
Saturday Specifics #1: First Post On A Fresh Spot
Hello all. This is my first ever blog post here in this new WordPress domain where I have transferred my blogspot blog to. And frankly speaking, I feel lost. I feel that I am now swimming in the core of a potpourri of emotions. One, of glum for bidding farewell to my writing accomplice of 7 years -Blogger and second, for the excitement that comes with the start of a new journey. Well, truly, the journey is almost the same- writing,reading blogs and replying to comments. But then, it seems refreshing to strike acquaintance with a fresh, more subtle platform like WordPress. I still have a lot to do to bring back the nuances of my previous blog, but I think I should deal with one step at a time.
Introspecting, I arrived at a conclusion that I write more when I am overpowered by the swell of my mind- be it a misery, or when I am at crossroads or when I am unusually jubilant for a reason. Blogging regularly, like churning out a blog a week or even at an interval of two weeks, even after all these years, has not become a goal that could be easily conquered. I dedicate a major part of the many reasons for that downside to my hectic course and duties that followed the same and the other part to my laziness. I don’t usually blog to ‘blog’, rather I blog because it is a convenient source to vent my angst. You might ask, why I would want to do that on a public platform when I can easily do that on a diary, letting out raw emotions unfiltered. Whether it be scribbling discreetly in a diary or it be typing explicitly on to the blank screen, both amount basically to writing, one may wonder. Well, the truth is that I, like any other writer, want to be read. Now that brings the discussion to a complete circle, isn’t it? I want to write, but at the same time, I want to be read as well. This post, to be frank, has transformed itself to a confession of sorts; a confession which should consolidate my decision to blog regularly, as I see that it is an inevitable deed if I want to call myself a blogger. I can always write outside of this space, but if I intend to let this space flourish, I need to come out her often and mark my presence. I know that the process is a satiating experience and I have had my own share of liebster awards, contest wins, posts with endless comments and a stats exceeding one lakh hits on blogger. Fortunate enough, right now, I am at a place in my personal life where I am sailing at a steady pace, for the time being, maybe for a few months even. That gives me less excuse to be a redundant blogger, and at the same time, more reasons to be a vivacious and a really creative one at that forte. And I sincerely hope for that to happen.
As this is almost sort of my first leap in to the realm of WordPress and supposedly into the arena of regular blogging, I would like to flag the journey off with a story. Now, who wouldn’t like to read a story? Hopefully, not you my reader(smiles).
MONOCHROME – (Fiction)
Little Ananya sat huddled in a dark corner of her room, well away from the door. Her palms were pressed tightly against her ears; her face flushed to a bright red shade; her cheeks smeared with wetness; her charcoal black eyes cringed tight, only to open to a narrow slit for tears to extrude whenever the cacophony erupting outside pierced her to leave behind an excruciating pain.
Looking around, she wimpered as her room silently started drowning in a sea of darkness. The sun had sunk beyond the horizon, nevetheless with a display of thoughtfulness to leave behind smatterings of saffron paint amidst the lakes of silent clouds. The night was slowly creeping in, with shadows of fear retreating to their favourite haven -the mind in tumult of a desperate soul.
The raised voice of her parents in the living room sent shivers through her shrivelled self. She couldn’t understand why she felt like she was on her first day at school yet again, as she tried hard to decipher the words her parents were hurling fiercely at each other. They were fighting, that much she could make out, for the tone of their voice was revolting.
Ananya reached for her teddy bear and drew it close to her, as she sat mulling over why her parents were angry. Haven’t they been so for the past one month, with no sign of reconciliation? she wondered. Her mommy had started the fight, Ananya recalled and it had something to do with the fact that her daddy was returning home late those days. She had watched them, everyday without fail, till the last week, keeping the door slightly ajar so that they would have no inkling as to her prying on them. The habit had come to a halt one day last week when her mother, having noticed her peeping on them barged into her room shouting harsh words at her, words she barely recognised as something similar to those used by Tara’s mommy.
“Tara is my best friend, Pinku. And her mommy takes bitter candies whenever she feels sad. You know, Tara has got another mommy too. Her daddy lives with her other mommy”
Ananya kept whispering in her teddy bear’s ear, taking care not to let her voice waver louder.
“They used to take me for picnic to all those beautiful places near the lake, Pinku. We used to sleep hugging each other in those small tents my daddy put up and my mommy used to cook delicious food for us, especially my favourite salad. . .” Her words broke in between, as she reminisced the pleasant times when they used to sit relaxed on the lush greenery lining the lake and savour food, only to be interrupted by frequent outburst of giggles and guffaws.
*******
Ananya listened hard. Her daddy’s voice could be heard outside. Was he crying?! She felt her heart flutter as the vision of her daddy in pain flashed across her mind. Fresh streams of tear rolled down her cheeks. She pressed the back of her hand against her lips so as to muffle her wails.
She sharpened her ears to hear what her father was explaining to her mother. Apprehensive as she was, Ananya couldn’t wait any longer. She slowly stood up and started walking towards the door, tip toed, her teddy bear still clutched strongly in her arms.
The house suddenly fell silent and quite eeringly so. Ananya waited with bated breath behind the door, lacking the courage to peek outside. She might have waited for a few minutes like that when her mother called out to her from the living room.
“Anu!”
Ananya gasped at her mother’s call. She scampered back to her bed, before her mother caught her lending ear to their conversation.
“Anu, bring your homework here!”
********
Ananya walked up to her mother who sat, fiddling with her finger nails, chewing them in between. She was annoyed beyond limits, Ananya could see.
Ananya stood near her mother, her head hung low, her lips pursed, her heart pounding loud as her mother quickly ran her eyes through her mathematics home work.
She stole a glance at her mother to guage her reaction. As Ananya watched, streaks of anger began to shadow on her mother’s otherwise angelic face, at the zenith of which she blurted out.
“Do you ever listen to your teacher in class, Ananya? What have you done here?! Twelve by twelve and what do you get? 164? Come on tell me now, what is the answer? Is it 164? Tell me!”
Ananya stared at her mother wide eyed, waves of fear rippling violently through her.
“What were you doing in there? Don’t you have every thing you need right inside your room? Why don’t you sit and learn what is being taught in your class, Ananya?!”
Ananya took a few steps back as her mother, irked to the core, sprang up from her seat. She watched, unblinking, as her mother threw her notebook aside on the floor and walked, huffing, to her bedroom, shutting the door behind with a loud thud.
Ananya stood shattered. She felt guilty for having let her mother down – She, of all people! Suddenly, a weird sense of desperation overtook her and she felt all alone standing there in her own home, which had been, till few days back, a treasure trove of happiness. Her eyes roved in search of her daddy. He was nowhere to be seen.
“Where did he go?” A melange of emotions overpowered her as she found no sign of her father anywhere in the house.
She picked up her notebook from the floor and retraced her steps. Climbing on her bed, she wiped away the damp stains of sorrow from her face and mumbled, “Pinku, mommy is really angry tonight. She just had a fight with daddy. I can’t find him anywhere inside. Maybe he went outside to buy chocolates for mommy. Mommy likes chocolates. She is going to be happy after that. You don’t be sad ok, Pinku. Were you scared when mommy shouted at me? I was, Pinku. A little bit. But that is ok. Mommy is going to be happy as soon as daddy brings her chocolates. You sleep now. She will wake us both up soon to share the chocolate with us, I am sure”
Wistfully, she kissed her teddy bear goodnight and shut her tired eyes. The moon lent her a milky white blanket as she lay on her bed, cocooned by a halo of hope that would guard her wounded soul from dreams echoing wretchedness.
***
The End
P.S: Thank you for stopping by on this good day. I would love to hear from you. And do keep coming back.
P.P.S : This post has been selected by Blogadda as a Tangy Tuesday Post! This post is also tagged with ‘Saturdays Specifics’, a sub section of this blog where I put up something creative- a story, poem, haiku, Flash Fiction or a Book Review.
~Maliny
First Post On A Fresh Spot
Hello all. This is my first ever blog post here in this new WordPress domain where I have transferred my blogspot blog to. And frankly speaking, I feel lost. I feel that I am now swimming in the core of a potpurri of emotions. One of glum for bidding farewell to my writing accomplice of 7 years -B logger and second for the excitement that comes with the start of a new journey. Well, truly, the journey is almost the same- writing,reading blogs and replying to comments. But then, it seems refreshing to strike acquaintance with a fresh, more subtle platform like WordPress. I still have a lot to do to bring back the nuances of my previous blog, but I think I should deal with one step at a time.
Introspecting, I arrived at a conclusion that I write more when I am overpowered by the swell of my mind- be it a misery, or when I am at crossroads or when I am unusually jubilant for a reason. Blogging regularly, like churning out a blog a week or even at an interval of two weeks, even after all these years, has not become a goal that could be easily conquered. I dedicate a major part of the many reasons for that downside to my hectic course and duties that followed the same and the other part to my laziness. I don’t usually blog to ‘blog’, rather I blog because it is a convenient source to vent my angst. You might ask why I would want to do that in a public platform when I can easily do that in a diary. Good question. Well, the truth is that I, like any other writer, want to be read too. Now that brings the discussion to a complete circle, isn’t it? I want to write, but at the same time, I want to be read as well. This is sort of a confession. A confession which would consolidate my decision to blog regularly, as I see that it is an inevitable deed if I want to call myself a blogger. I can always write outside of this space, but if I intend to let this space flourish, I need to come out her often and mark my presence. I know that it is a satiating experience and I have had my share of liebster awards, posts with endless comments and a stats exceeding one lakh hits on blogger. Fortunate enough, right now, I am at a place in my personal life where I am sailing at a steady pace, for the time being, maybe for a few months even. That gives me less excuse to not be a redundant blogger, but be a vivacious and a creative one at that forte. And I sincerely hope for that to happen.
As this is almost sort of my first leap in to the realm of WordPress and supposedly into the arena of regular blogging, I would like to flag the journey off with a story. Now, who wouldn’t like to read a story? Hopefully, not you my reader(smiles).
MONOCHROME – (Fiction)
Little Ananya sat huddled in a dark corner of her room, well away from the door. Her palms were pressed tightly against her ears; her face flushed to a bright red shade; her cheeks smeared with wetness; her charcoal black eyes cringed tight, only to open to a narrow slit for tears to extrude whenever the cacophony erupting outside pierced her to leave behind an excruciating pain.
Looking around, she wimpered as her room silently started drowning in a sea of darkness. The sun had sunk beyond the horizon, nevetheless with a display of thoughtfulness to leave behind smatterings of saffron paint amidst the lakes of silent clouds. The night was slowly creeping in, with shadows of fear retreating to their favourite haven -the mind in tumult of a desperate soul.
The raised voice of her parents in the living room sent shivers through her shrivelled self. She couldn’t understand why she felt like she was on her first day at school yet again, as she tried hard to decipher the words her parents were hurling fiercely at each other. They were fighting, that much she could make out, for the tone of their voice was revolting.
Ananya reached for her teddy bear and drew it close to her, as she sat mulling over why her parents were angry. Haven’t they been so for the past one month, with no sign of reconciliation? she wondered. Her mommy had started the fight, Ananya recalled and it had something to do with the fact that her daddy was returning home late those days. She had watched them, everyday without fail, till the last week, keeping the door slightly ajar so that they would have no inkling as to her prying on them. The habit had come to a halt one day last week when her mother, having noticed her peeping on them barged into her room shouting harsh words at her, words she barely recognised as something similar to those used by Tara’s mommy.
“Tara is my best friend, Pinku. And her mommy takes bitter candies whenever she feels sad. You know, Tara has got another mommy too. Her daddy lives with her other mommy”
Ananya kept whispering in her teddy bear’s ear, taking care not to let her voice waver louder.
“They used to take me for picnic to all those beautiful places near the lake, Pinku. We used to sleep hugging each other in those small tents my daddy put up and my mommy used to cook delicious food for us, especially my favourite salad. . .” Her words broke in between, as she reminisced the pleasant times when they used to sit relaxed on the lush greenery lining the lake and savour food, only to be interrupted by frequent outburst of giggles and guffaws.
*******
Ananya listened hard. Her daddy’s voice could be heard outside. Was he crying?! She felt her heart flutter as the vision of her daddy in pain flashed across her mind. Fresh streams of tear rolled down her cheeks. She pressed the back of her hand against her lips so as to muffle her wails.
She sharpened her ears to hear what her father was explaining to her mother. Apprehensive as she was, Ananya couldn’t wait any longer. She slowly stood up and started walking towards the door, tip toed, her teddy bear still clutched strongly in her arms.
The house suddenly fell silent and quite eeringly so. Ananya waited with bated breath behind the door, lacking the courage to peek outside. She might have waited for a few minutes like that when her mother called out to her from the living room.
“Anu!”
Ananya gasped at her mother’s call. She scampered back to her bed, before her mother caught her lending ear to their conversation.
“Anu, bring your homework here!”
********
Ananya walked up to her mother who sat, fiddling with her finger nails, chewing them in between. She was annoyed beyond limits, Ananya could see.
Ananya stood near her mother, her head hung low, her lips pursed, her heart pounding loud as her mother quickly ran her eyes through her mathematics home work.
She stole a glance at her mother to guage her reaction. As Ananya watched, streaks of anger began to shadow on her mother’s otherwise angelic face, at the zenith of which she blurted out.
“Do you ever listen to your teacher in class, Ananya? What have you done here?! Twelve by twelve and what do you get? 164? Come on tell me now, what is the answer? Is it 164? Tell me!”
Ananya stared at her mother wide eyed, waves of fear rippling violently through her.
“What were you doing in there? Don’t you have every thing you need right inside your room? Why don’t you sit and learn what is being taught in your class, Ananya?!”
Ananya took a few steps back as her mother, irked to the core, sprang up from her seat. She watched, unblinking, as her mother threw her notebook aside on the floor and walked, huffing, to her bedroom, shutting the door behind with a loud thud.
Ananya stood shattered. She felt guilty for having let her mother down – She, of all people! Suddenly, a weird sense of desperation overtook her and she felt all alone standing there in her own home, which had been, till few days back, a treasure trove of happiness. Her eyes roved in search of her daddy. He was nowhere to be seen.
“Where did he go?” A melange of emotions overpowered her as she found no sign of her father anywhere in the house.
She picked up her notebook from the floor and retraced her steps. Climbing on her bed, she wiped away the damp stains of sorrow from her face and mumbled, “Pinku, mommy is really angry tonight. She just had a fight with daddy. I can’t find him anywhere inside. Maybe he went outside to buy chocolates for mommy. Mommy likes chocolates. She is going to be happy after that. You don’t be sad ok, Pinku. Were you scared when mommy shouted at me? I was, Pinku. A little bit. But that is ok. Mommy is going to be happy as soon as daddy brings her chocolates. You sleep now. She will wake us both up soon to share the chocolate with us, I am sure”
Wistfully, she kissed her teddy bear goodnight and shut her tired eyes. The moon lent her a milky white blanket as she lay on her bed, cocooned by a halo of hope that would guard her wounded soul from dreams echoing wretchedness.
***
The End
P.S: Thank you for stopping by on this good day. I would love to hear from you. And do keep coming back.
~Maliny
November 25, 2015
An Excerpt And A List
Am I stuck with writer’s block? One may wonder, considering the dwindling number of blog posts I have been churning up during the past couple of months. But the truth is that, my mind has been shuttling between matters concerning something very important in my life- A milestone in itself. In fact, it has been over stuffed with words, themes, fitting conclusions, gripping plots and eye grabbing titles; or at least, with the undeterred thoughts to conjure the same. Briefly speaking, I have been working on a manuscript for the past one month.
On times like these, one might find it difficult to divert one’s focus from the undercurrents of the writing process at hand, to indulge in even the daily chores, let alone penning down a few lines, unrelated to the theme of the manuscript. As much as the process of working on a solo book is tiring, I cannot ignore the fact that it is exceptionally gratifying. You discover parts of you that you haven’t realised existed in you all these years. You turn diligent, working on the subtleties of a story, sharpening the innateness of the characters, dissecting each shred of the plot to refine it to the desired form that has been playing around in your head all the time. Editing the work, quite interestingly has been taking almost double the time that had taken for the actual process of writing. I am not complaining, for polishing a story to heighten the flavours, such that it would transform into a better delicacy, is something that I enjoy a lot.
Keeping aside all the prominent factors that pop up in one’s head at this juncture, I would like to add something which has been tugging at the introspective thread of mine, over the past few weeks- The nugget that one definitely learns from his or her experience, be it a mistake or a victory. If I go on to explain it linking it to the aforesaid, I believe I will be able to make my point clearer. Let me put it as a small list, as it would help to make myself clearer.
1. Sometimes you need to strike through heaps of words that you painstakingly wrote down, to make your story better. Hesitating to do so might cost you a lot; that might even make your story hollow. Read through your work, again and again and rewrite it hundred times before you come up with something you are satisfied with.
2. The word count should not limit your writing. Take as many words as you want to make your point vivid and flawless. Unless you are writing for a contest, there is no hard and fast rule that your story should contain only a limited amount of words. Do not start writing with a pre determined words count in your mind. Write as much as you want. You can always edit it to a particular length later if you are that adamant (do make sure that it is not exceptionally long, for it might cost you in the selection process). This is my opinion, for I happened to come up with short, incomplete stories in the beginning, which lacked a soulful essence. I now feel that if I intend to write a short story, I should keep it in the 4000- 6000 word count range. You may differ in your experience or line of thought. I would love to hear it from you, if so.
3. Make a second person read your story. It can help you pick out those tiny thorns on your bed of roses, that a reader alone might notice, which in turn can prompt you to remove those seemingly unobtrusive loop holes and loose ends in your story, before you send it out to the publishers.
4. If uninspired along the way, reading good books can lead you back to your track. I have heard people being inspired to create fresh changes in their story that way, but for me, reading is a process that simply inspires me to just write. It is alluring enough for me to sit down once more and let my mind be blown over by the sublime beauty and intensity of catharsis.
5. You learn to look around more while in the process; you learn to observe people and mind you, there is no dearth of inspiration in this multi hued, multi cultured society that we are living in. I feel that, moreover, you learn to sympathise with people, with their agonies, joys and turmoil. You learn to empathise with them. You learn to decipher the raw emotions that have been a part of your soul forever, unknowingly, implicitly. You are made a better person, in more ways than one. Again, my opinion. One may find it unlikely.
So, that is all for the time being. I realise that the learning curve has just commenced. There is a long way to go before I judge me not being a novice anymore. And I hope dearly that I continue to pen down my thoughts here regularly from this day onwards. Keep visiting this space to know more about my journey and my new books.
I am including here, a small excerpt from my new story, that forms part of a short story anthology, my first sole project.
‘…..Life continued in misery, until that bright sunny morning when the weather was at its allure best and the shimmering clouds seemed to float fast as if in a hurry to cross timezones. Tired of my hibernation and inspired by the swell of energy around me, I decided to break down the huge repulsive grey wall forever that particular day – All by myself. Blowing away the powdery past that settled on my skin, and along with it my worries and woes, I set out on a journey, a long pending trip to a far destination, alone……’
P.S: You can find my recently released anthology that includes three of my short stories, ‘Love and Other Enchantments’ in the following links –
Ebay– http://www.ebay.in/itm/Love-and-Other-Enchantments-/111829788678?
ShopClues – http://www.shopclues.com/love-and-other-enchantments.html
Goodreads Page – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27255337-love-and-other-enchantmentsReview : http://thepageturners.in/book-reviews/indian/the-various-shades-of-love-by-the-fictitious-five/
An Excerpt And A List
block? One may wonder, considering the dwindling number of blog posts I have
been churning up during the past couple of months. But the truth is that, my
mind has been shuttling between matters concerning something very important in my life- A milestone in itself. In fact, it has been over stuffed with words, themes,
fitting conclusions,
October 23, 2015
Book Release! – Love and Other Enchantments
I am excited beyond words as I write this post today. In my recent post I had mentioned about my dream ship – The short story anthology by five writers – Along with me, Tanima Kedar, Ishan Dafaria, Anuj Kumar and Akash Deep. The book was released online on the auspicious day of Vijayadasami.
Here are the ebay and ShopClues link :-
Ebay :- Click here and show some love :)
ShopClues :- Here
I am including here the blurb of the book along with an excerpt of one of my stories – He loves me not. Just to remind, this anthology has three of my stories published.
The blurb of the book :-
Drag, it can, from the splendours of dawn to the gloomy even-fall; sooner or later, but, it touches us all – LOVE.. indeed. “Love and Other Enchantments” is a collection of fifteen heart-rending love stories where in each will reveal a new facet of love and will arouse a new set of emotions and even newer perceptions of relationship, sacrifice, devotion, depression, hurt, lust and madness.
Loose yourself in a whirlwind of emotions, only to be rescued by that thing called love. The Fictitious Five is a group of five writers.
Maliny MohanIshan Dafaria Tanima KedarAnuj Kumar Akash Deep Gupta
all united by their unabating passion for writing.
They believe in the power of words and aspire to keep weaving them to create delightful stories that touch the hearts of the readers.
Excerpt from my story ‘He Loves Me Not’ :-
‘………The moon was shining the brightest, showering powdery white rays over the surroundings. A light refreshing breeze slid past her, on the cue to which she wrapped her coat tightly around her, consoled by nature’s gesture.
An eerie silence reverberated in the deserted parking lot which made her quiver a bit.
All at once, as if to prove her worst fears right, a sense of vertigo blinded her which seemed to over haul her more and more with each passing second. Whether it was due to the overpowering drink or due to the hot rush of hormones seeping into the kinky recesses of her cacophonous brain, she couldn’t conjure a reason at that harrowing moment.
The very next second, she slumped to the floor as if in a bolt, a groan escaping her throat…………’
*************
I would like to thank the readers of my blog, who have always encouraged me with their resounding presence and through the indelible imprints they left behind as comments.
Do take a took at the links and buy the book if you find it interesting enough :)
Book Release! - Love and Other Enchantments
Here are the ebay and ShopClues link :-
Ebay :- Click here and show some love :)
ShopClues :-
October 17, 2015
Enid Blyton,Pets And A Clowder Of Cats
My association with animals started a long time back; when I was 10 to be exact. The acquaintance took its inception in the delicate, dust scented pages of Enid Blyton’s ‘Secret Seven’. While the exhilarating adventures of the kid gang insinuated deeper into the avid reader in me, the loyal dog Scamper never failed to amuse me with his charm. The chord that connected me to dogs strengthened a year later or so when a friend introduced Timothy to me, the adorable dog who stole the limelight in the Famous Five series. Harking back, I remember nurturing a heartfelt desire to own a pet as enticing as Timothy, someone to play with, someone to be my partner in crime, someone to keep me company in the dark hours of solitude.
Maybe God answered a child’s prayer faster than an adult’s, for before I could present the matter to my parents, and before they could reject it hands down, I was presented with a cute little puppy, lost, hungry and panting at my door steps. Being scared to touch it, lest it bit me, I remember putting on my brother’s cricket gloves to scoop the beautiful bundle in my arms to carry it inside to replenish him with food, milk and a cozy abode. I named him Timmy as any dog who could conquer the heart of the little me could be nothing else but Timmy to me.
However the inevitable descended on me before long, as he started throwing up tantrums not befitting a 10 year old child’s friend and my parents ,who were already not quite happy with the idea of sheltering a stray dog were left with no choice but to discard him somehow or the other. And that forgettable day, when the sky was inky and crowded with clouds, as if they offered a hand in the crime by shrouding the earth in darkness, my dearest Timmy was packed in a box( with air holes) to be discarded somewhere distant.
Gloomy days were to follow. Reading a novel turned out to be hardest thing I could conjure myself to do as the shy face of my dog seemed to sprout in each and every page.
But before long, I forgot all about Timmy. Time heals, truly said.
Coming back to the present, I can’t help but shout out that I am cuddling a creamy white bundle of treasure while I am writing this account. Confused? Let us turn the reel back a few months to make matters clearer.
A stray cat stated frequenting my house around six months back. Being drowning deep neck in studies as my exams were nearing she could instill little interest in me then. Nonetheless, to my awe, the house started witnessing an unprecedented event those days. Yes, my parents were her biggest admirers!
They fed her. They talked to her. They patted her. They made it a point to never forget to buy fish for her while they shopped for kitchen supplies. They called her sweet names. Need I say more, she was the darling of the family!
She is all grown up now!
Having performed my exams, with loads of time to spare, I started noticing the guest who would wander around in my house, sleep on the ice cold floor as if she owned it and pay me little heed, let alone acknowledge me. The emotions that were once locked away in the dusty crevices of my past resurface a second time, much to my surprise.
She conquered me in the blip of a second and in no time she was my soft, fluffy, lazy friend. She responds to my voice, sighs when I pat her and rubs her neck against my legs when she misses me. Moreover, she is my pacifier who consoles me in times of worry, to cloak me in a warm blanket of comfort, placing a smile on my lips, however disturbed I am. One look at her and the world seems a better place to harbour.
Pets would, perhaps, be the most wonderful companion anyone could get!
~~
P.S : I wrote this post two months back. It had been lingering on the draft section. But now I have a reason to put the post across. My cat gave birth to four kittens! Let me tell you, they are a treat to watch!Check out the photos :)
My pirate- My Jack Sparrow
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
