story – Penfluky

Loosen up a bit in the ocean’s breeze

How is your day?” That simple question made her speechless. She wasn’t prepared for it. It’s silly how she can do everything for others and can read people’s needs before they even say it out loud yet she is clueless when it comes to her. She thought for a bit and said “it’s good. Thank you.” Rajan smiled and asked “Good to hear. How did you spend your day?” “Oh it’s actually very productive. I made my kids their favourite milkshakes, got books for my friend, helped the neighbour with his boxes and stuff, got new glasses for my mom….” . “No Bhavana” Rajan cut her off and continued “I meant what did you do for yourself. You know ‘me time’, it’s your birthday after all, loosen up, hello?.”

Bhavana looked at him with puzzled expression and started laughing as he said something hilarious. “Haha you know I am a 45 years old woman with two kids right? Why would I celebrate my birthday like a kid?” Rajan studied her face, he saw a bit of pain in her smile. It stung him. “You are as clueless as when we were in school. Who told you to celebrate like a kid? Celebrate like an adult, silly!” He said it as he poked her head gently. “Ouch! Don’t be silly. You know I never celebrated anything in my life. It’s just how it is. It’s my kids turn now. I would rather be happy seeing them enjoy their lives than wasting things up on me.”

Rajan took a deep breath and asked “cigarette?” Bhavana looked at it with a spark in her eyes for a second then hesitated “No thankyou. As I said I am not a kid anymore. These aren’t for me.” Rajan took a puff “it’s never bad to loosen up a bit. Cheat day is for everyone in everything.”

Bhavana is staring at the beach. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here with her long lost best friend on her birthday instead of doing chores and fulfilling her roles at home but she does know she is feeling a bit uncomfortable and guilty because of it and she doesn’t know why.

Rajan tapped on her shoulder and said “earth to Bhavana! You zone out when you hate listening to something. I am sorry for making you uncomfortable but you don’t have to do things just because I told you to. Chill.”

Bhavana took the cigar from him and took a puff. She smiled genuinely and realised why she is feeling guilty and uncomfortable because she isn’t used to feeling happy for herself. After a long time she did a thing for herself without any reason.

“Loosen up a bit huh?” She looked at him and continued “I should do this more often. How about an adult party?” Rajan grinned and said “more cigarettes then.” Bhavana said “nope.” Rajan pouted “alright what about 4 cigars? “Absolutely not. I will cook and you clean that’s the party.” She said with a straight face. “Do I have to sign for your package of cleaning and hanging out with your kids just to party with you? He pouted.”Do you have any problem with that?” Bhavan said while getting up. “Nope, but about that cigarette-” a smile curled up on her mouth she cut him off and said “shut up and walk me home.”

Emotions of the baboon and its pat on the back

She left. I am standing there at the railway station. I feel like running behind the train like in the films, but that would be dumb, I guess. Ah! I should just shut the fuck up and move already but I’m just looking at the moving train. What am I expecting? Are these my emotions speaking? I don’t know. Do I want her to cinematically bend form the door and wave her hand? How foolish of me. But I don’t know, it would have felt good.

I started walking out but everything felt new. I don’t even know what’s missing. But again, I guess I want to be sad because she went away. Or am I really sad? Am I sad because I know that I should be, or am I naturally sad? It’s too hard to distinguish what comes naturally and what you bring on to yourself through observations. But can one manipulate emotions easily? Why am I even thinking this nonsense!

I held to this bus and hopped on it as I am going home. And everything is peaceful and calm because the bus is not crowded. And I began diverting myself as I seemed to be drifting along the lines of overthinking. I’m a human; a body. A mere body. I shouldn’t be giving myself up to the emotions. Because I should be reasonable. What good gives emotions? Can emotions exist without reason? Look at how dumb I was at the station, I almost cried. Emotions are dumb.

Something is distracting me and bringing me back to this world, from the world of my thoughts. Because of the whistle of the bus conductor. He somehow feels like a circus master, the passengers should dance along with his whistle. Isn’t it odd to have a conductor who checks the conduct of passengers in a bus? Can’t people behave themselves? Does he have to whistle and tell people to not stand at doors and behave in a civic manner? What are we, apes?

As I thought about apes, the ape arrives bold and most beautiful. It jumped onboard from the road. The bus is so fast and it is humanly impossible to do such a stunt. He does look like an ape too. Like a baboon that finds a banana, he looks proud for pulling such a brainless stunt. “Are you mad?” shouts the conductor and I see the baboon smiling. “Kickk” he replied and it blew my mind. He did that just to feel the kick of it!

How brainless! How uncivilised! Is this how people who just blindly follow their emotions appear? Like apes? I’m an ape too, we all are apes, but we moved away from being ape. You can not be looking like a human and behave like a monkey at the same time. As I was thinking about how dumb this ape is, it was wiping its nose using its shirt. I am disgusted at the very sight of this unhygienic stunt-freak baboon.

He smiles and looks at the girl sitting opposite to him. The seats are empty, but he won’t sit. He stands at the door, and smiles at the girl straight. Because of course, he does whatever he feels like doing. And he doesn’t give a thought about it. What if I was the girl’s family? What if I kicked him in the nuts as a result of his behavior? He doesn’t think about that probability. Because again, he just does what he wishes; a slave to his emotions. And he doesn’t control them.

Why should we control them, as a matter of fact? I’m lost. Is he happier than me because I don’t see him being guilty for drooling over a girl publicly. He isn’t bothered about how the girl feels about him. This two minute creeping gives him pleasure. He is obviously a creep, but a creep is happier than me. Does that mean I’m sad? Am I sad? I’m not, I have everything with me. I control myself!

I decide how my mind emotes. And I don’t let my emotions ride me and that makes me superior to this sweating baboon drooling over random girls. He doesn’t even care if he finds her pretty or not. I guess by his looks and behavior that he looks at every girl in the same way. He just drools over the entire gender regardless of their age or preference or looks. The extremely cis-baboon that wants what it wants and takes what it takes.

How do people express their emotions openly like that? I would never be the baboon. Because I have good control on myself. And I have been there; I once was a person who just did what my heart advised. No fucks given to the consequences, a slave to my emotions. I wouldn’t lie, it was exciting to live that way. But that’s not civic! If my actions destroy or harm someone else’s harmony even involuntarily, that’s something I can’t accept.

I have to worry about the consequences. I just have to because we should be self-aware, or what’s the purpose of living together as a society? The vibrating phone distracts me again. It’s her! I’m excited once again, I picked the call up. I killed my excitement. “Everything’s fine?” I asked. I’m waiting for her reply, she is silent. “Are you ok?” she asks. I don’t know why she asked that. Those words started doing something in my mind.

Am I okay? Weird! “What do you mean?” I asked. “Are you crying?” she asked. My throat suddenly feels heavy, I am unable to speak because of what I heard. There is a tremble in my voice, I’m unable to find words to speak. I don’t know what’s happening to me! “I’ll call you when I get home” I said forcefully and cut the call. The block in my throat started growing intensely. Something is happening right in the middle of my chest. It feels sharp and uncontrollable. My vision is growing blurry; my eyes watery. Fuck!

Am I crying? The water kept growing and the excess drop started coming out of the eye as there was no place left in my eye to hold them. Yeah, I’m crying. I’m trying to close my lids. I closed them hard, shut them! I put my both hands over my eyes, pushed my eyes so hard trying to stop crying. Don’t cry! Please! Are you crying for the sake of it? Do you really miss her? Or are you crying because you have to? You fucking idiot! You complicated piece of junk!

Suddenly a hand fell on my head and I looked at the man with my semi-teary eyes. It was the baboon. He is patting my head and moves to sit beside me. I closed my eyes again with my arms. The baboon didn’t ask me anything. Maybe it’s just because I’m a girl, but either way his touch didn’t feel bad. He kept patting and he never spoke a word. And as a result of it I felt good and I cried!

Worthless words and unheard chirps

“Say something chirpie, pleaseeee anything!” Anirudh said hopefully. He is a 6 year old little boy who is enthusiastic all the time for no reason. Once I was like that too but look what it has done to me. But that “something” hits me so hard. It’s been a while since someone asked me to say something I wish. I am silent as usual, after a while he is gone with a long face. I don’t know why he tries to make me talk this much. It’s so annoying. I drifted into sleep so I feel less horrible.

*Six months ago*

“Hey what are you doing red? I am waiting for you at home so we can go together to get some guavas, I can’t wait to taste the sweetness again,” said Pat drooling over his imagination. “I am bored of just eating. Why don’t we learn new words so we can express ourselves better?” I asked curiously.

‌”Why can’t you behave like a normal bird? I don’t know what you wanna express anything with new words. What we know is enough to express. Besides you have me. I will listen to whatever you say and I will understand and I know you will do the same for me. Isn’t it enough for you?” said Pat cheerfully.

“Ugh I know you would never understand. You say you understand me but all I see is you refusing to learn things. You are lazy and unenthusiastic. I wish I had friends who are like me and I will find them.” I flew away frustrated.

I could hear Pat trying to stop me. But I was too fast. I love my friend but he is just a normal bird who only talks about eating fruits and spending a jolly good time. I don’t like it. And I don’t agree with him about whatever words we know are enough. Words are very important to express and I will find someone like me. I got tired after reaching the city so I found a small empty spot for me to rest. After some time I felt a pat, I opened my eyes and saw a man. He offered me water and I said, “thank you.”

The man’s eyes became wide after I spoke. Guess it isn’t everyday they see a civilized and intelligent bird like me who knows a lot of words. “Wow you are talking, you will be very useful for me. As I gave you water, you owe me one lil birdy.” He then took me into his hands and put me in a cage. I was too shocked to fly away. It was too late but I thought that maybe it’s for my own good. I was tired of flying anyway. Humans know a lot of words they can teach me and I will find people who are intelligent and express things unlike my friend.

It had been a week since the man sold me to what they call a zoo. There were so many wild animals around me. It felt somewhat like home. People came to see me while I talked. They all were loving me for my intelligence. I picked on so many words and was able to say them too. It was time to go back to my stupid best friend Pat and prove him why I was right. It had been 4 months. I missed that idiot and his senseless blabbering.

It was evening when the owner came to give me snacks. I asked him to let me go as I was done with the work I came for. He chuckled and said, “you are one funny bird. Eat your snack and be a good boy.” Then he was gone. I felt the panic and uneasiness. They are going to keep me here against my will. I thought when I expressed myself with better words they would let me go but this guy wasn’t taking me seriously at all. I didn’t want to be in this cage. It was not at all delightful. I stayed just to learn, now I am bored.

I kept asking everyone to let me go in the hope that someone will understand me. But no one did. Some people got tired of me. And Some people got angry because I wasn’t saying what they wanted me to say. Some people got bored and even grew impatient. Even the people who said I am their favorite bird stopped coming because I only talked about what I want or how I felt and it was not entertaining. All I felt was regret. If no one cares or likes what I feel then there is no point in talking. So I stopped completely.

Another month passed and a little boy with his dad came to buy me. The owner said that I was useless because I didn’t talk anymore. They can buy some other bird which says a few words. But the little boy insisted on buying me. So then I got caged in a new cage. Nothing different. The boy asked me to say something daily but I didn’t. It became a boring routine now.

*Present day*

words of white bird perched on cage — Photo by Oli Sumit on Pexels.com

I wake up from my nap. There is a guava placed in front of me. Damn I miss Pat. I don’t remember since when his blabbering started to make sense to me. He said, “whatever you say with your words I will understand.” If only I wasn’t too arrogant. If only I appreciated his friendship. If only I knew you don’t need better words to express to someone who cares enough to listen. And if only I can see him again…..

“Did you eat your guava chirpie? I got for you specially from that scary uncle’s garden. I ran so fast he couldn’t catch me.” Anirudh laughs and says proudly. “How is it?” He asks me with his curious eyes. I replied, “sweet.” He grinned at me and said, “thought so! I will get you another one tomorrow,” and with that he leaves. For some reason, I feel like talking again. Maybe I will if he wants to listen to whatever I say.

My Home Sweet Home, this is where I belong

Walk to my home

We travel a lot of places, we do a lot of things, but at the end of the day, our body demands to go back home. Now what home is may vary with people. A home is not literally a shelter, but a place or a person you feel that you belong to; that is your home sweet home!

Reading those lines, I kept walking forward. “How can I belong to something? Isn’t it Psychological?” I laughed and threw the piece of paper away. It came to me in a cookie. “Humans are sentimental fools” I laughed. It occurred to me that I always assume that I’m not human.

I don’t know how it happens, but most of the time I feel like an observer of this world and not really one of them. And I think everyone feels that way, but I don’t know. I get too carried away sometimes, and I just feel like I’m observing, writing notes and learning what a human is.

When it comes to me; when I suddenly look into the reflections of mine, I remember that I’m one of those idiots I laugh at. There might be some idiot who is laughing at me right now. And for that dimwit, I’m an idiot. Are humans innately narcissistic? Or is it just me reflecting myself upon the world?

My home sweet home?

I reached my building and I opened the gate. I could see the baker’s family packing their bags, all tired and fed-up. “Need help?” I yelled. I don’t know why I did, it was spontaneous but I did however. “Nah, it is almost done” Premji answered. He is a funny little guy. I have different names for people in my mind, and I name them with a physical attribute they got.

I can never say that out loud, because it might appear to be an insult. Maybe I will be looked upon as an objectifying shit. But, physical attributes, as it is, without any adjectives are not insults according to me. “A fat man” is not an insult for me. “An ugly fat man” is definitely an insult. I’m a logical person.

“Don’t you feel sad?” A voice called me from the lost world of thoughts. I realised that I have been staring into Premji’s wife’s face all the time while thinking about names and fat men. “Because you are leaving?” I asked. That was dumb, but that was I thought, so it’s ok.

“No, because you are selling your house” she said in a painful tone. “I haven’t quite thought of it. I guess I am not sad. I’m neutral” I said. But I didn’t mean what I said. In fact, I have never really thought about it that way. My house? Does it belong to me? I am its owner. It’s my home sweet home!

I continued to walk smiling and while climbing the stairs there was a scent that felt new. Well, I understood that I have been sniffing this scent all the time but it was this time that I realised that it was different from the outside. I walked to my room upstairs, on the first floor. I unlocked and got in. The smell grew dense and it filled my nostrils.

The smell of my home

This is the smell of my house! This is its scent. Maybe it’s the naphthalene balls, I thought and went back to bed. I just bumped on the bed, like gravity pulled me down. Back to names, I went. I would recognize Mr. Premji as Mr. Five By Five. He is five feet tall and seemingly wide. He reminds me of the song, Mr. Five by Five.

And this urge came to me to listen to that song. But I was too lazy to reach my phone that I left on the table in the living room. My drive to listen to the song wasn’t strong enough to motivate me from getting up. I kept lying there, looking at the edge of the pillow.

An Ecosystem?

I noticed a small spider walking around the edge of the pillow. It is inches away from the tip of my nose and I guess it noticed this giant creature and is trying to run away. I blew air, like a sadist and saw the spider fall far away on the floor. And it struck me that my home is actually an ecosystem.

The baker, me, five other humans who live above, not only them, there are lizards, rats, roaches and spiders that live with me. I have inherited not just a building but an entire ecosystem, I thought. And I couldn’t shake this thought away. I don’t know why, but there was an urge to shout “ecosystem”. And like every other human, I am in control of my emotions too.

I shouted “ecosystem”, and I laughed. Then I took a deep breath. I noticed the scent again. This is my ecosystem too. This smell, the old radio, loose-hinged bed, half-rusty windows, paint flaky ceiling, and every corner about this house, they belong to me. NO, I belong to them.

My belonging is to every corner of this house, and couldn’t shake this feeling and to away with it I got up. I should have a coffee, I thought and rushed to the kitchen; my senses are all awake now. I saw myself and my memories everywhere around this place. It is indeed my home sweet home.

Memories in my home

I heated and poured some coffee and instinctively sat on the kitchen counter. I imagined my mother preparing food while I chatted to her while drinking coffee. And I imagine my sister yelling my name in an annoyed tone from the living room and my father entering the house after his work.

My senses. Smell, touch, objects that I see, sounds, and the taste of this coffee, they took me back in time. And after almost two decades, I realised this was my home; my ecosystem. That I belong here and it owns me. I understood why I never thought I belonged in the city. Because my ass always belongs here.

Now it might be dumb, it might just be a psychological construct, but I realised like any other human, even I was a mere human and I am already trapped in the sentiment of belonging. I don’t know how it happened, but there was an urge. And I realised that they are going to demolish the house in a week. Practically, I wouldn’t be able to capture the entire house in my memories.

Memories aren’t reliable and I want to capture every corner and every inch of this house. The drive was strong. So strong that I couldn’t resist. I rushed outside with my phone, I began clicking pictures. But it was not enough. Photos were not reliable too. I began recording the video of my entire house like an idiot.

I didn’t want to leave any corner un-recorded. The edge where I hit my head as a kid, the corner where I hid while playing hide and seek, I was not leaving anything go un-captured. I don’t know how it happened, but in the process of recording this ecosystem of mine, tears rolled down my eyes.

Reliving, capturing the last moments

I rushed downstairs, I wanted to capture the garden and the backyard. And I kept on recording and the tears rolled down, I kept wiping them. I’m selling the house, with it, I can’t survive, I can’t maintain it. Without it, I guess I’m homeless. Maybe I will be somewhere, plant my ass on a bed in some corner. But I won’t belong there.

Not as much as I belong here. This is my home sweet home, this is where I belong. I couldn’t control my tears anymore, I burst out falling on my knees in the garden. I don’t know what stuck me. But this smell, this sight, this touch of the mud, the taste of the coffee at the end of my tongue, I can not have these at one time again.

My home, sweet home

There would be a new smell, a new sight and a new ecosystem which won’t be mine till I finally delude myself and divert in the uncontrolled chaos of my life. But as a matter of fact; as a logical and quite evident observation, I can say with authority that this is my home!

A person’s sound of walking made me come back to this world again and I turned towards it. It was Mrs.Premji looking at me with sympathy in her eyes. “I understand, Krishna. It’s your home after all” she spoke softly. I nodded at her while I now finally understand what I’m doing, that I’m selling the place where I always belonged to. And I’m indeed sad or not happy at least.

favourite (n.) and their favours (v.)

What is in debt may never die

Sitting in the old wooden cafe, Sir Donald McDouchey sips his chai tea and puts the teacup back on the table. He looks around and notices the waiter looking at him eagerly with a half-baked smile. “Touche, you said right. The chai touched my ganglia and gave my mind the best orgasm it had in years” he spoke out moving his lips forward and wiping the traces of tea drops off his whiskers for the royal douche he is.

The waiter bent a bow and went back to the kitchen that looks like an uncleaned coal factory. He picked a notepad from his desk and wrote ‘+1’ beside the name “McDouchey”. The list read ‘Compliments and favours’. The waiter noticed that it was the first compliment he had received in 6 months and dropped his jaw in disapproval. “De Spice” someone calls the waiter that brought him back to the world. “There is a gentleman waiting at table 6” the coarse voice, guided De Spice to the sitting area.

“Ego De Spice is free sir. You are not my favourite anymore” waiter turned towards the coarse voice with pride on his face. “What do you mean?” the rude man asked. “Sir McDouchey complimented me!” De Spice jumped and threw the pad at the rough man, and he caught it. The rude man looks at the pad with wide-open eyes “But.. but” he uttered. “I have returned your favour by gaining three compliments, sir. It took me one year to get three, but yes, I have done it” De Spice pulls his waiter suit tearing the buttons. He threw the uniform and went out of the cafe dancing on his toes.

When he made a move on the street, closing his eyes, he heard the sound of a wooden wheel on the rocky road. He opens his eyes to the sound of two horses. He is astonished to see a cart that is about to hit him, but he was immovable. Right when the carriage almost dashed into De Spice, a hand grabs his arm and pulls him over the pavement. De Spice trembles with this near-death experience. He turns slowly towards the hand that held him. To his surprise, it was the rude man, the owner of the cafe. The rude man had a grin on his face. De Spice wished he was dead instead of being saved by this grinning cunt. “No, No, No!” De Spice cried. “I saved your life, Monsieur Ego De Spice” the owner grinned again.

The rude owner threw the uniform on the face of De Spice as he falls to the ground on his knees cries a big “Nooooooooo.”

The Favourite

It was early spring, and Micheal sits on the cliff looking at the newborn leaves of the plants around the hilltop. Something distracts him, and it is none other than his friend, Carmen Isabich. “Heyyo, Michael Angello” shouts Isabich in a relatively low voice making an O of his mouth. “Not again” Michael sighed, looking at Isabich’s annoying face. “You don’t need to make a face, Is-A-Bitch, your presence is enough to annoy me” Michael shouts. “It’s Isabich!” Isabich yells and hits on Michael’s back.

Isabich sits beside Michael and rests his head over Michael’s shoulder. “Is letting you rest your head on my shoulder a favour?” Michael asks curiously. “No!” Isabich takes his head back. “You are getting too commercial” Isabich frowns. “That’s how the world is, Carmen. You need to be cautious. You are 16, and you already took more than a hundred favours!” Michael complains. “Well, I repaid 87 of them” Isabich justifies. “Who are your favourites?” Michael asks curiously.

“Well, the baker guy is the most favourite one. He had lent me croissants and occasionally baguettes. I owed him 21 croissants and seven baguettes. I am coming from the shop finishing the last batch of croissants for him. That leaves seven baguettes. Wait.. err.. 21 minus 7 minus 5” Isabich keeps on counting using his fingers and subtracting digits in the air. Michael stops paying attention. He looks at the newborn leaves again, and he observes a caterpillar munching these tender leaves.

“Don’t you think it is annoying?” Michael asks Isabich. “Everything annoys you, Michael. I annoy you, the caterpillar annoys you, and even your father annoys you. Name something that doesn’t annoy you!” Isabich moans. “Shut up, Is-A-Bitch! It isn’t fair; this favour business. It should be a choice to return the favour. It is unfair to force people to return the favours” Michael explains. “My father says only anarchists and heathens who are lazy to live make such statements” Isabich frowns looking away from Michael. “I don’t think being either of them is a bad thing” Michael continues justifying his thoughts.

“It is terrible to think like that. If you take a favour, you should return it!” Isabich yells and pushes Michael a bit. “Oh yeah, please remind me of the number of favours I took, please Monsieur Karma Is-A-Bitch, why don’t you enlighten me!” Michael shouts sarcastically. “Just because you never took favours doesn’t mean you are a Buddhist monk. Should I remind you about your old man? About how he ran away leaving you all behind? I’m sorry but if he didn’t take too many favours and returned most of them at least, you would have been like me too, normal and not-weird!” Isabich slipped his mouth, but he regretted it instantly.

“I should never have said that, Michael. I’m sorry” Isabich tries to apologise. Michael couldn’t take the insult and gets up, but the mushy mud makes his foot slip. Michael slipped from the cliff but he hanged on to a rock. His upper body was still on edge, and he was losing his grip by each second. Isabich jumped to his feet and held Michael’s hands, applying pressure and making it easy for Michael to jump up. “Move!” Michael yells. “What the hell Michael!” Isabich yells. “I don’t want your favour!” Michael cries. “Michael! Fuck it! Let me help you. What if I become your favourite? It is no big deal!” Isabich tries to make sense out of Michale’s mind.

Michaels pushes away Isabich’s hand and tries to climb up using his tummy and chest. He moved his chest and abdomen like a caterpillar, distributing his body weight from his hands to his torso. Isabich stood there helpless because Michael is pushing him away. “I will help myself! If I die, I die. I don’t want any favours, and I will have no favourites that suck the life out of me. I won’t spend my life returning the favours” Michael shouts. “But Michael, it is not a big deal” Isabich cries with teary eyes.

“Don’t you know that the favour for saving life burdens me with being indebted to you till you die? You become my forever favourite! I hate to return your favour by doing everything I can to you. I don’t want to lose my naturality by making you my forever favourite, Isabich!” Michael begins to lose grip. “Fuck you!” Isabich holds Michael’s hands. In the act of pushing the hands away, Michael loses his grip. He starts falling. “Live free, Mr. Karma Is-A-biiiiiiiiiitchh.”

*Thud*

Isabich never looked back. He never climbed that mountain; returned his favours, and never retook one. He also made sure that there were no favourites. For the favours, he accidentally did to other people he never reminded them, because he didn’t want to be their favourite either. Isabich became the very lazy anarchist and the heathen that his father warned him. Sometimes he thought “Is Michael my favourite because he favoured me by passing this knowledge?”

YOU: The Symbolic Life.

On a Thursday morning, I woke up to the sound of my alarm. Then I picked up the most loyal partner I ever had for two years, my phone and checked for notifications. I made my bed and went to the hall. I saw my mother doing her chores. As soon as she saw me, she raised eyes as she saw one of the most disgusting guys on the planet. I don’t think they have any exceptions on me.

It is the normal thing to me, as I told I’m getting too tired of the job I had and want to follow my passion. We had fought for almost every day for the past six months. Even my dad is on mom’s side, they always cuss me and force me to find another and higher corporate life. I get ready for my work and leave for the office.

Ahh, office, the birthplace of my slavery and fake respect. I go in, and all of my colleagues greet me, throw a fake smile at me and show some phony respect and I reflect the same and go to my cabin. I open my laptop and start working. Few hours pass by, and I take a break thinking about aspects of my life. One of my colleague and friend Teja walks in.

Teja: What’s up, man! Why so gloomy? What’s wrong?

Me: Nothing man, just thinking about life; it is becoming tough and challenging every day. I don’t think I will be able to take this anymore.

Teja: Chill, bro! You got 52 clients in the past three months that is like a world record! You are the best performer consistently. I sometimes feel jealous and want to live your life.

Me: Life is not about only professional life, my man! It is just a part of it. I hate this life. I want to perceive my passion. But I cannot, and it hurts a lot. You know how my parents treat me; it is not good. Sometimes I feel I should be the “man”. You know the macho types, the “alpha male.” Like fuck everything who cares and don’t feel anything.

But I’m not that either I’m the opposite of alpha, what is the last letter in Greek letters? Ah, fuck I don’t even know that. Sometimes I feel I should believe in a supernatural deity. So that I can find someone to blame all this shit and ask for answers. Fuck it! I don’t even believe in spirituality to find so-called “peace.” I’m concerned my man. I don’t know even know what the fuck is going on.

Teja: Calm down, bro! Do you trust and respect me?

Me: Of course I do! Why do you even ask that?

Teja: Nothing I know this person who claims to cure life problems, I will make an appointment this Saturday. Meet him, and he will surely help you.

Me: Those are conmen you stupid bitch! They just take the money and do nothing. You moppet headed fuck! Please don’t believe them and I hate them.

Teja: Calm down! He claims to use Science, you said you respect me, you should go there. Now shut the fuck up! It is getting late, let’s go to lunch.

Teja and I leave for lunch, and I keep thinking about this conment Teja told me. I went to many doctors; there is nothing wrong with me. They said not to take everything upon me, give things time and everything will be fine. But what will this guy tell me? Will he just loot me? The only way to find that is wait till Saturday and meet him directly.

Finally, the day had arrived to see what the guy tells me. And I wake up and get ready to meet him. Teja texts me the appointment details and his location. I take my car and drove toward him; the site is 12 kilometres away. I reach there, and the name of the place intrigued me. It said “Science Helping Center.” I thought this conman is using Science in the wrong name.

I went in and showed my message of appointment. They have asked me to wait in the waiting area till my name comes up. I went into a room that said “waiting room” and was awestruck! It had the best books and science journals possible. I was, is, and will always be a science nerd and I started reading a few and travelled through the cosmos. I felt so relieved after many days.

Few hours pass by, and I’m having the best time ever! My name comes up and its time to meet him. I go in, and I see a man wearing torn jeans and has a dark style look sitting on a chair with a huge table. He sees me, smiles and sighs me to sit. I sat there in silence, waiting for the conman to arrive. The man in front of me is reading something, and his eyes are rolling very seriously.

After a few minutes, he put the thing he is reading down, looks at me and starts speaking.

Him: Hey! My name is Munna, and I’m the one who cures people here, this is your file I have been reading. So you got house issues and issues with people and stuff. I get that, no problem, I will help you.

I was in shock, how can a conman dress like this and speak like this? After a few seconds, I gathered myself and started talking.

Me: Never thought a conman would dress like this to get more people in. You are using science name to lure people in and gain money. Now, what are you going to do? Indulge me into spirituality and say giggle? I know you all, you are the biggest liars on this planet.

Munna smiled and continued.

Munna: I don’t give a shit on your spirituality, neither I won’t give a rats ass on your beliefs. I’m doing the thing I know to help you. If you want to get help, do as I say, or else you can fuck off. It is as simple as that.

I startled for a moment and agreed to do whatever he is giving me.

Munna: Okay, here is a drink. Once you drink it, you will be knocked out for ten days. You won’t even know what is happening around you. You will wake up after ten days and then follow what I ask you to do.

I thought for a while and decided to drink it. It tasted peculiar; the worst thing I have ever tasted in my entire life. I drank it all in and within a few seconds, it felt drowsy, and I dozed off. Days passed by and finally I woke up and was feeling very hungry and weak. I searched for my phone and couldn’t find it around my bed. After a few minutes, a lady came to me and asked to freshen up and meet Munna.

I freshened up and went to meet Munna. He signalled me to sit and was a reading a paper again. After a few minutes, he looked at me and said.

Munna: So, you are done with stage one of the procedure. Now I want you to go back to your everyday life and observe how people are with you. Don’t call people till you meet them. I want you to note these things you find in them and meet me after two days. Don’t forget to collect your stuff while leaving.

It felt strange, but I accepted, I took my things and headed home. After precisely two days, I came back with my observations. This time I can directly meet Munna without any waiting because he wanted to see me as I came in. I walked straight to him. He signalled me to sit and talked to me.

Munna: So, what are your observations? How did people behave with you? What did you observe? Tell me everything you did and make sure not to miss minute essential details.

Me: Okay, as soon as I left this place, I reached home. My family was like we thought you ran away for your passion and tried to search you, later we thought you would be back eventually as you feel will hungry. Next day I went to the office, but the faces that usually greet me were laughing at me. They didn’t have a greeting or a fake smile.

After some time, my boss walked into my cabin and asked what do I think of this company? He doesn’t give a fuck if I’m a top performer or anything. I should answer the phone at least. He asked me to quit and gave a termination notice. My friends were like, where were you, man? We missed you a bit and asked not to live without saying. You made my life messier now you dick face!

Munna had a chuckle, and he noted down everything I said. After writing, he saw me in the eye and started speaking.

Munna: “Now, rewind your life a bit. The past ten days, even you didn’t live your life. They went into the oblivion, and you cannot get them back. Your parents thought you just ran away and didn’t even bother to inquire. They thought you would just feel hungry and come back. Your office where you were working for four years, who hails you as the best guy, hard worker etc., removed you like you were nothing.

All the emotions you felt came from other people reactions to you. The most important thing here is “expectation.” You expect your parents to be understanding, your boss to give you less work, people to stop hating you and be a friend so and so forth there are many.

I’m not saying don’t expect or expect, and I’m not the one to say it. You expected and that is fine. But when the people didn’t reflect your expectation, why are you feeling sad? Why don’t you respect your expectation on yourself? Why don’t you like yourself?

It is effortless to kick a person when he is low, and this so-called “society” tend to do it. In your case, your parents tend to do it because they know you cannot say anything back or stand up for yourself. And in the case of your office the same people who greeted you smiled at you didn’t give a rats ass when the boss is yelling at you.

If we go back a bit, before that ten days you missed. You never liked yourself. You always blamed yourself for all the abuses and cusses you got. Slowly that self-blame turned into self-hate. Now you think everyone around you hates you. Let me tell you a small thing, people are very busy in their life and can feel the emotions.

You might have small fights, misunderstandings, ignorance, etc., but eventually, they will realise the good you did to them and will be with you and stand for you. Unless and until you murdered their family or did some hideous crime, no one will really hate you. It is you who hates you and think that everyone does too.

If you start standing up for yourself and start liking yourself for the way you are, these things don’t bother you much. If you are depressed, wants to be alone and not share anything with anyone, how will anyone know you are suffering from issues. Remember, there will be rough days and sadness, but when you are having a good day, you need to smile and share the happiness the same way you are sharing sorrow.

If you stand up for yourself and be expressive with the people whom you like and share things, you will have much better days coming forward.”

After listening to this, tears just came rolling out of my eyes. This time these were happy tears. I hugged Munna and headed back home for a better version of myself.

Elements For Writing A Fiction Using Real Incidents.

Fiction is one of the most prominent forms of story writings. It is also one of the predominant and one of the oldest forms of writing. In general, most of the movies and series are based on fiction. Fictional writing can be described as a story meant to entertain or carry an author’s point. In this article, let us try to understand the things which are very crucial to write a fiction using real incidents.

Before we proceed if you want to know on how to write an effective article? or want to know more on content writing, click on the highlighted words.

The following are the crucial ingredients to write good fiction using real incidents.

1. Character: The character is one of the essential parts of fiction. As the story is fiction, you can have full freedom of the character. It is like holding one of the most powerful guns and shooting anyway you want. You can take a character, add your elements and escalate the hell out of it.

Many of the experts suggest not to include yourself in the story. But if you can separate the experience as it is and imagine that you are sharing your experience with your rational part of the brain and stay truthful to it, you can write the best fiction. Remember, no one can narrate your story or intention better than you.

2. Theme: As the character has a free flow in fiction, the authors tend to break the theme and go beyond it. The most important is that your character has freeflow in the story, but the theme of the story should be the same. You cannot break the walls of the theme and deviate the story from it. Stick to a theme and let the story flow.

3. Narration: This is my favourite part of fiction; you can use any narration to write fiction. You can write a poem, sonnet, first-party narration, third party narration so and so forth. Any narration can blend very well with fiction. You need to pick the one which you are good at and go with it.

4. Relate The Story To The Reader: It is good if we can relate the story of the character to the reader. By this, the reader gets curiosity to keep on reading and feels involved. You can relate by adding common elements in our day to day lives. Like you can create a situation when your character is driving, cooking etc., By doing this, the story feels natural and will have a good flow.

5. Editing: This is one of the crucial parts of fiction writing. After you have finished writing and before you publish your story, take a small break. Move out of the room, relax for some time, come back and read it from a readers point of view. By doing this, you can remove or add elements to your story. This improves the quality of the story in all the ways possible. It also acts as a proof reading for yourself so that can make necessary changes for the story.

If you follow the above described elements correctly, you can write one of the best fictions possible.

The Thread shop

The muddy smell, Rushy road, and stinky drains, it is the rainy season already! Dad and I opened the shutter of our thread shop. Nagaraj uncle didn’t come yet to open his butcher shop. Seems like it will take time for him. As soon as we open the shutter, the smell of thread touches our nose and we love it. Dad put all his bags of threads in place, some outside and some in. We have a tiny area to sit, but we still love it.

Dad takes his towel and waving it, shouts in the market, “Daaralandi, Daaralu, Anni rangula daaralu!” Whenever he sings that loudly, I giggle a lot. I put my tiny hands around his neck from behind and swing on his back. My dad gets his first customer, and I got to say he is an excellent salesman. The customer was pretty happy with my dad’s sensibility and humbleness while speaking. He gave us an order of 500 rupees which is big for us for one day. From the money he earned, he gave me some money to go and buy flowers. My dad loves it when I put flowers in my braid. He says the smell of jasmine makes him happy when I am playing around him.

“Arey Lalitha, where are you running to?” said a voice from behind. I turned to see Nagaraj uncle. “Uncle, you came! I want to eat mutton today. Can you make small pieces for me?” “Ofcourse, my darling! Go and get what you were going for and I will make you the mutton when you return,” Nagaraj uncle said.

I always love running into the flower market. The smell of different flowers in the wind and freshness of flowers reminds me of my mom. My mom was a flower seller too before she died in the floods a few years back. Wow, the view! The beautiful orange Chrysanthemum flowers with the touch of yellow in them mesmerize me. The pink and red roses, just like my mom’s charming smile. There, they are, my lilies and jasmines! Wonderfully weaved with thread. I think thread and flowers have an intense connection, they hold each other to make a pretty ornament to wear in our hair, just like my mom and dad.

“Rangamma aunty, give me flowers please!” I asked, and Rangamma aunty put some jasmine flowers into my hair. I ran back to my dad. “Na bangaru thalli! My dad kissed me on my cheek.” “Ok, bye, nanna! I am going to school,” I said. “Ok, bye!” My dad said. I started walking towards the school. My friend Sundar joined me on the way. He and I are best friends. Suddenly, it started raining. The smell of mud hits us. I love it. We both love rain a lot and started playing in the rain. Rainwater drenched our bags and dresses.

“Let’s run, we are late to school already,” Sundar said. We reached school and see that all children were sitting and we joined them. It’s been 2 hours since we came but it still raining outside. The water has already reached our rooms. Teachers were discussing among each other on if they should send us home. The rain is just increasing minute by minute. We see all school filled with water. The teachers have asked us all to fold our legs onto our benches as they see no way to go out for now. Rain won’t stop. We have no classes today, and we are happily playing on our benches. We wish it rains every day so that we don’t have any classes daily.

After massive rain for an hour, we are hungry, and the rainwater is all over the place. We wanted to go home now. We waited for another hour for the rain to stop. Thankfully, it is decreasing now. But we can’t go out that easily. We will have to wait until something can be done to let the water go out. The school is in up-town so the water was sent to downtowns so that the area can be cleared. After two more hours, the water was almost removed, and we were asked to go back home.

Sundar and I started running back home. The water level started increasing as we moved to downtown. We didn’t know what to do. We were already half-drowned in water. Then some people were going on the boat, and they took us into their boat. When we asked to take us to the Market yard where his father Nagaraj and my father had their shops, they told us that the area is completely drowned. It is highly risky in this rain to go out there. We started panicking and crying. One woman in the boat tried to console us and asked if she can take us with her. We couldn’t help but to go with her. The boat fled to somewhere safe away from my village.

For three days, the rain kept toggling and now finally ended. We stayed in a small hut where the water reach was less. The people with whom we fled took care of us. Now, Sundar and I are missing our families hugely and want to meet them. We asked others to help us reach home, and they asked us to stay calm until the water flow decreases. After two days yet again, the water flow reduced to half. So, we were taken in the boat to the village.

We see nothing but destroyed homes, fallen vehicles, dead bodies, fallen trees right from entering the village. Slowly, we moved towards the market yard. My heart is pounding fast, and I am very terrified. Reaching the market yard, the whole area was stinking, and all I could see was mayhem. Everything was utterly drowned, and water was stuck with nowhere to go. People around were saying that no one actually who worked there is alive anymore. Tears started rolling out my eyes.

I see a board hanging at the top of a wall, “Lalitha Thread Shop” it read. I couldn’t stop myself from crying. Our shop was unidentifiable. The complete market yard was gone. Sundar and I didn’t see this coming. Soon then, another boat came flowing. A woman shouted from that boat, “Lalitha, Sundar, you guys are safe? Thank god!” It was Rangamma aunty. She said that our fathers and others of the market yard in trail to save their shops, lost their lives and she got lucky, someone saved her.

After 50 years today, it is raining again, and my thread shop is at threat of drowning. My child is at school. Sundar went to pick him up from school. But this rain won’t stop at all. I will try to live and save our shop from drowning for my child. “Yes, we all shall try to save our shops,” a neighbour shop owner said.