The solution is here - UV SHOE RACK

 After a particularly tiring day at work I sat in the bus taking me home. Thankfully I was lucky to get a seat. My feet were feeling claustrophobic since the afternoon and were itching to get out of their leathery confines. As soon as I had them out, the most foul smell enveloped the interiors of the bus. Most of the bus denizens were giving my accusing stares, as if I was responsible for their deaths due to poisonous gas leak. In my case it so happens that whether I splash aftershave or wear the best perfume, usually I am immune to any olfactory sensations. So here I was, oblivious to the stares or the smelly reason behind them. Finally my neighbour on the bus nudged me to wear my shoes again and spare everyone of them from the nasal torture.

Reaching home, my cat ran to welcome me. It started rubbing against my legs and as I sat to remove my shoes, it smelled my socks bound feet and immediately regretted, making the most vile faces, as if puking without expelling any bile from its mouth.

I know this scenario plays across the world with minor deviations, so wasn’t I delighted to know that finally humans have found a solution to defeat this common olfactory enemy. I was doubly delighted to know that some highly intelligent IITians are behind this solution with their revolutionary design of a UV SHOE RACK, killing those smelly bacteria which make themselves comfortable inside your shoes and succeed in turning you into a smelly anti-social.

My name is Diya- a story shared in ArtoonsInn

https://prowritersroom.com/my-name-is-diya/

One day, my father came back from his shop alongwith another person. His ruddy cheeks pink with excitement, he exclaimed, “Diya…I am so happy for you. Meet Aahilbhai. He brings the happiest news. But wait…please get us water…pronto.”

Hearing the commotion outside, my mother looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. While I filled the glasses, my mother went out, taking care to well cover her face with her pallu in front of the stranger. That’s my father’s conditioning I thought, disgusted. I was proud to have mastered physiotherapy and had scant respect for these practices. But what to do?

When I entered the living room, my father declared boisterously, “Ahilbhai says that a boy saw our Diya, near the clinic. And since his family knew Ahilbhai, they asked him to approach me. It seems the boy liked you enough to make enquiries around. The boy’s name is Sameer…he wants to marry you. They have invited us to their home for further discussions day after tomorrow. Isn’t that fantabulous?”. My father was bursting with enthusiasm. “But father, I have just started my career. I have dreams to fulfil…”. But father interrupted me, “Bah…what career? Aahilbhai tells me, the family is into import-export and worth crores! And dreams can be taken care by them. Don’t worry. Do as I say, marry this Sameer and forget your career.” That day I hated my father the most, but I am an obedient daughter…just like his obedient wife.

The marriage was a fantastic affair. Sameer…well, he was no Adonis, but he looked quite presentable in the resplendent Sherwani. His family made sure to make me feel at home in their well-kept bungalow. It was a joint family consisting of Amerbhai, the head of the family, his wife, Johra, his elder son and his wife and Sameer, my husband. The brother of my MIL, also lived with them alongwith his own two wives and their children.

Though the house was quite crowded in the late evening and morning hours, once they left for work or school, I had the house to myself. A tinge guilty for judging my father’s choice negatively, I was beginning to enjoy the laid-back atmosphere of my new home.

One evening, Sameer was massaging his leg vigorously, when we were in our bedroom. As I sat near him, I noticed depression marks on his thigh. I started rubbing his leg tenderly and asked, “What happened to your thigh, haan ji? Had you kept some heavy stick on it for a long time? See how…”. Getting totally flustered, Sameer almost kicked me and got up. “Keep the dinner ready in few minutes, okay? I want to sleep early today.”

That night everyone had dinner quietly and retired to their respective bedrooms.

“I need to leave early tomorrow Diya. Wake me up at 5.30 am. okay?” and so saying Sameer went off to sleep.

The next day, I woke him up early. Wasn’t I surprised to see the entire household awake at that early hour! And just like that, everyone was ready at the breakfast table including the children. And no one was telling me anything. Again, I was left alone at home. An empty mind is the devil’s advocate. Why is everyone leaving together? Why are they being so secretive? Even Sameer? Why is he so dependent on the family? And… why am I being kept away?

I had to plan a taxi most surreptitiously to avoid any suspicion. The morning breakfast went smoothly. The demure DIL, that is me, attended to everyone. As everyone rushed towards the big family SUV's to go on their way, I waved at them. As soon as the SUV’s were out of sight, a signal was given and a taxi screeched to a halt. In jumped the DIL, shouting “peecha karo”. The taxi zoomed in and out of traffic, keeping at the SUV’s heels, while keeping a safe distance so as not to trigger suspicion.

I was surprised to see the SUV’s rushing behind a warehouse near the mall. From a safe distance I saw the entire family get down and rush into the first open door and disappear. With bated breath I waited for some time and then rushed through the same door.

It was dark inside. As I felt my way along the wall inside, another door creaked open. There I saw them in various stages of undress. As my eyes widened in shock, I saw them all occupy the chairs kept inside.

Soon a team of men approached them. Flabbergasted, I saw this team opening their tool kits and…start applying makeup to the family’s faces. My FIL was the first to finish, but… a very old, bent man emerged from the cocoon of men surrounding him. As he grabbed a stick to barely stand, my MIL was nowhere to be seen. In her place stood a gaunt, crooked woman, her cheekbones protruding grotesquely. While the other family members appeared leprosy stricken, I almost puked when I saw Sameer disappear and a cripple occupying a push board. Overcome by dizziness, I almost fell but willed myself to see this through. I hoped against hope, that my family was a family of film stars. That would explain the riches, so I followed them further, always taking care, to stay in the shadows. What followed was startling to say the least.

As I followed Sameer, I saw him put on a most pitiful face and ask for alms from the people frequenting the mall! Beggar!! The family I had married into, was nothing but a family of beggars. Over the next few days, I came to realize many things to explain their riches.

I am back home now, yes…my father’s house. I have restarted my physiotherapy practice again. And no…my father no longer behaves as if he owns us. My old man learned it the hard way, a parent may always have the good of his progeny at heart…. but he may not always be right.

Book review - Wind Chimes by the sea

 Book Title – Wind Chimes by the sea

Author – Beetashok Chatterjee

Publisher - Readomania

Beetashok Chatterjee gets it right with the title itself, which says, “Stories blown ashore”. For the stories have truly been blown ashore by the master story teller, whose vast experience of travelling the seas in all corners of the world comes handy, and combined with his tremendous story telling skills, he conjures up tales of every hue, weaving them into a web of words, in which the reader loses herself only to emerge at the end, with a smile on her face.

The stories show the entire range of human emotions and characteristics. 11 tales, and no story is similar though all connected to life at sea. When a seaman is on a ship, his mates are his family but he is still, all alone on a watery prison which can test anyone’s mental toughness.

While ‘Service to the nation’ explores a patriotic theme, ‘In the heat of the night’ makes the reader pray for the protagonist’s life.

‘Island in the sun’ takes you back to the middle ages, the 16th century, where the protagonist is a pirate living precariously on the edge, and whose love is doomed. Does he survive the battle with the authorities? Does he find love at the end?

A seaman always dreads the fury of nature, which quickly turns the peaceful waters into monster waves, helped along by fiery gales and everything comes alive in ‘The wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald’.

A seaman, after a lonely long trip always looks forward to a shore leave, wherever he may be, but if this shore leave is forced by a medical emergency in an unknown country, then what happens. Please read ‘Shore leave’ to know more.

What happens when a ship’s captain is irresponsible and doesn’t follow basic SOP of navigation? Read ‘Okinotori Shima’ to know more.

Anyone would love to have his family on board, especially a young seaman. But how does the wife, accompanied by her newborn child, cope with the challenges thrown at her by the lonely life at sea? Read ‘There and back’ to know more.

If sea life is challenging, a Captain can add humour to it, with some eccentric schemes, however positive the intention may be. Have a good laugh with ‘The GM Diet’.

 The Covid pandemic affected the entire humanity but hardly anyone gave a thought to the challenges faced by those involved in “essential services”. Do read ‘The forgotten’ to understand what the seamen went through.

If the weather can challenge a ship with violent storms, it can also confront with extreme cold. Read ‘Frozen’ to discover artic winter at its worst.

“All’s well that ends well” lives up to the title to wind up this great anthology of sea faring stories.

Pick up “Wind Chimes by the sea” to lose yourself in a topsy turvy sea and enrich yourself with the effortless language of a gifted author.

Book review - Hawk's Return

 Book Title - Hawk's Return

Author - various

Publisher - Room9 Publications

One thing is assured, when Room9 Publishers from ArtoonsInn come out with their offering, readers are assured of some tremendous stories. It is the same case with Hawk's Return, the 3rd book from Room9 Publications. So, without wasting any words further, let's have a look at the stories here.

Darussalam by Dr. Supriya Bansal - Dr. Supriya Bansal is a storyteller par excellence, and she doesn't disappoint at all, and the anthology starts with a bang. She peels off the story, one layer at a time, to finally reach a climax that surprises the readers to the core.

Rotten wood by Nigel Yu - I read his story for the first time and loved the languid pace. The story proceeds like a lazy stream, and by the time it ends, you are overcome by emotions.

Home by Kruti Bharadva - the background of World War 2 is perfect for a story about painful loss and final redemption, ending positively.

O Captain!My Captain! By Sheerin Shahab - a story that unfolds through diary entries of an innocent little girl, whose hunky dory life is not so rosy as it seems. Beautiful narration.

The village that could not sleep by Dr. Pallavi Sawant-Uttekar - one of my favourite writers at ArtoonsInn, and she comes up with a story that has a life lesson in it.

Return to her mother by Charulata Panigrahi - a story from The Ramayana cannot go wrong when it is narrated by Charulata Ma'am

Strange are the ways of Providence by Sudha Vishwanath - when the story starts, you feel sorry for the protagonist but by the time it ends, you will be as happy as her, that's the strength of Sudha Ma'am's narration.

The Ascension by Lalitha Ramanathan - a beautiful tale that teaches you that it is never too late to pursue your forgotten dreams.

The Ghosts of Lidice by Narayani Manapadam - another story with a war background by another favourite author of mine. This time, the ghosts are looking for deliverance from their sorrows.

The Longest Return Journey by Srivalli Rekha - a story from another Indian epic, this time The Mahabharata by the veteran writer, Srivalli, about one of the biggest heroes from the epic.

The Lost Memory by Venkat Raman V – one more story with a war background where the protagonist discovers a ghastly truth at the end, when he finally remembers everything from the war.

Ruth’s Patties and Pies by Shankar Hosagoudar – the anthology ends with a bang with this excellent story about a protagonist who finds his true calling in life while helping his aged grandmother. P.s. – this story has a pleasant surprise for some wannabe bakers.

 Give some love for my story...

https://prowritersroom.com/salon-de-la-reine/

“Such a beauty! Is she a movie star?”, the girl, doing the facial of a masked lady on the back of the Salon, asked the girl who was straightening my hair. Though I couldn’t see her, I could feel her admiring side glances. I felt like a queen, regally sitting in her throne, as I sat there, having my beauty regime done at ‘SALON DE LA REINE’. It was my favourite place, a cozy corner in an usually crowded Salon.

I was used to such adoring behavior from total strangers, especially boys and many middle-aged, portly men. While some were direct, anonymously wolf whistling in the streets, the others ogled at me from safe distances. Men walking with their wives, kept their gaze straight if I appeared in their sight of vision, but as soon as they had crossed, I had noticed some of them turning back on some pretext or the other, leering at me with their half admiring half lascivious looks.

Soon, I was going to leave this middle-class neighborhood to establish a kingdom of my own at the matinees.

16 years later

I am back. It's all so changed. Being back to my roots, my town of birth and my family, feels so nostalgic. A feeling of peace transcends my whole being though numbed by pain. The cancer has spread and I no longer wish to live. But nothing in my life has gone as per my wishes, except for the first 5 years after I left this town. Then, it all started falling apart. So here I am, back to my town, to spend the last few days in peace before I get bedridden. I might as well visit 'Salon De La Reine' for old times' sake, in my favourite Cosy corner. 

As I glance at myself with trepidation in the mirror, a precocious girl, as beautiful as a rose bud, long tresses cascading from her petite shoulders, stares back at me. The vision is momentary, but it is enough to break my resolve, I am hit by violent convulsions of pent-up despair, the tears just flow undammed. 

I feel two hands holding my shoulders, then embracing me from behind, trying to comfort me. As I wipe away my tears with shaking hands, I realize it's the same girl who had straightened my hair, all those years back, albeit with extra kilos on her frame. I try to force a smile but break down again. Then, before I can react, she reaches for the electric hair trimmer, puts it to her thick, afrotextured hair and just like that, she is standing there, all bald and beautiful. Overcome by her empathy, I stand and envelop her in a tight hug while she caresses my bald, chemo-affected head, as incessant tears flow in that Salon.

My story in ArtoonsInn Writers Room - The Last Year

 Read and enjoy

https://prowritersroom.com/the-last-year/

Radhika and her husband, Neelkanth landed in Mumbai early morning, on a Sunday. Radhika cosied up to Neelkanth, her hands clasping his right arm, eyes tearing up, their taxi speeding towards their destination, Wada.

“Neel, I hope we did the right thing, coming back to India permanently. But we have to be with Aai at this challenging time”, said Radhika as she wiped her swollen eyes and glanced out of the window.

Neelkanth caressed back her hair and held her face, to comfort her.

“Yes Radhi we did take the right decision. We were in USA to build a future for us. But…but…”, he paused, lost in his thoughts. “Nothing to look forward to, so far away from our country…our family…friends. Let’s spend these last days with Aai.”

Various national governments had not disclosed anything fearing widespread chaos. Then, a buzz started spreading on social media about an extraordinary natural calamity, which was estimated to hit earth within an unknown timespan. People indulged in all kinds of speculations, finally seeking clarity from their governments. The US government was the first to finally disclose that an asteroid, 25 km. across, was expected to hit the Earth within 16 to 18 months. And it was expected to wipe out almost all life on earth. Initially no one took the warning very seriously. However, hardly 3 months had passed after the warning, when a new, bright star appeared in the night sky. And within the next 2 months, it had become the brightest in the sky. That’s when panic set in. The share markets started crashing everywhere. Looting and mugging became common.

It was in this scenario that Radhika and Neelkanth had that phone conversation with her Aai, which convinced them to make their permanent move back to her Aai’s village, Wada.

In the beginning, everything went on normally in Wada, a typical small town. However, as time went by, changes started to be felt. Once Radhika had accompanied Aai to the market. The vegetable shopping done; Radhika took out her phone. Finding no code to scan she asked, “Bhaiya, where is the QR code?”.

“Arre madam, I have discontinued code. No one knows what will happen in future. So, I will deal only in cash henceforth. I need cash to run my household. It’s better to carry cash, no use keeping in banks. Here, take these vegetables and pay Rs. 550/-.”

“550…but this is plain thievery. This is worth only Rs. 200. Why 550?”, a furious Radhika asked.

“What can I do madam? Prices have increased in the entire pipeline. Take if you want, if not, move ahead, but don’t eat my head”

When they reached back home, Radhika was taken aback to see the biggest TV in the living room and Neelkanth in front of it, his twinkling eyes watching the moving pictures on the screen. Eyes wide with surprise, Radhika asked, “Why have you splurged on this?”

“Radhika, have you not heard of something called a bucket list. Well, this was on my bucket list. If not now, then when?”, replied Neelkanth. Even though surprised, Radhika was happy to see the child-like excitement on Neelkanth’s face.

Next day dawned as usual. A red hue enveloped the skies while the winds dropped. Neelkanth went to withdraw money from the bank, but he was informed that he can withdraw only 50% cash. And since 50% was substantial enough he withdrew. As he exited the bank, two masked persons elbowed him in the chest, and sent him sprawling to the ground. One of them snatched the money bag and both escaped on a waiting bike. They disappeared in a jiffy. A few passers-by helped Neelkanth to his feet.

“Sir, this has become a common occurrence nowadays. These predators wait for vulnerable prey and pounce on them to make off with whatever they can get. Everything is so expensive now, not everyone has money for even the basic things”, said one of the passers-by who had moved forward to help him on his feet.

Without wasting any time, Neelkanth reached the nearest police station. When he asked for filing the FIR, he was surprisingly told that it was a futile exercise. The muggings were too many and the police, too few. To his utter shock and dismay, he was sent back from the police station without filing FIR. A dejected Neelkanth returned home, feeling resigned to his wretched fate. A fate he shared with everyone on this planet.

However, not everyone was resigned to their fate. The Government was making efforts. To counter the general anarchy in the country, martial law was declared to support the citizens and maintain a semblance of social Order.

Scientists all over the world coordinated with each other to find solutions. Though they had given up on their dream of deflecting an asteroid with the help of a nuclear explosion near the approaching asteroid, due to the sheer humongous size of it, they dreamt of escaping from the planet’s surface with the help of the super-secret SpaceXtreme program…at least by saving some of the brilliant human minds.

The Sun had been blocked out for the past few days by the huge asteroid, now occupying a major portion of the sky. Earthlings came to terms with the approaching end. While some like Aai, Radhika and Neelkanth became subdued and stuck indoors, others challenged the martial law, and indulged in mass looting and killings, just to satisfy their animal instincts. While some did their respective religious rituals to satisfy invisible Gods, others went berserk in a frenzy.

 And in those last few weeks, while most of the humanity counted their remaining hours, a few rockets left for the new home, Mars, never to return. Whether they reached their destination or whether the huge asteroid’s own gravitational pull had any impact on the trajectory, will never be known.

Tooth f-hairies

 I reached the dental clinic with a spring in my step and an extra bounce in my fast depleting hair, such was my enthusiasm. My wife had insisted on accompanying me for this visit to the dentist, being concerned about my mental balance. After all, this was the first time that she was seeing her husband in high spirits before a visit to that most dreaded of all medical practitioners. When I was called in, I almost had a boisterous song on my lips and my wife's concerns grew exponentially. Inside, we were asked to sit in front of the dentist's table instead of that petrifying chair. My wife threw anxious side glances at my glowing, smiling face. And when the dentist stretched to reach over and give a sharp pull on my receding hair, she almost fell off the chair. 

"The roots have strength but Keratin levels have depleted. Your hair loss is permanent. We will have to your hair from the roots and do a hair transplant. Have this antibiotic and come after 5 days", pronounced the dentist. 

My wife was zapped. Was this a dental clinic or mental? I won't be surprised if that thought crossed her mind. She kept looking at me quizically on the way home.

"First I was worried about your mental balance but now I am perturbed about mine. Did we visit the dentist or a dermatologist? A dentist advising hair transplant instead of a tooth...eh?", she seemed totally confused. 

Laughing at her discomfort, I said "Don't you know that dentist are also authorized to do hair treatments? Your GK is truly VK...er...weak. Isn't it exciting? I can take leave from office for dentist appointment but have a totally different treatment on the sly. And when I go to office next, they won't recognize the hirsute stranger."

Yes, friends. I was enlightened about the hidden talent of dentists while reading a small news article which said that a Public Interest Litigation (PIL) has been filed in the Bombay High Court challenging the guidelines issued by the Dental Council of India, which permit Oral and Maxillofacial Surgeons, who are generally dental practitioners, to perform aesthetic and hair transplant surgery across the country. The PIL has been filed by some business challenged Dermatologist and Hair Transplant Association since it was affecting their daily bread, if I stretch it far. So my bald pated friends, rush to your neighbourhood dentist before their share of the hairy pie is snatched from their fingers and you are advised unnecessary dental implants and make leaks in your pockets. 

Yatindra Tawde

From Africa they came

 Whatever their fate in their new land, the 8 cheetahs from Africa have already made history, being the first Cheetahs to fly. Well, they have been recorded to run at an amazing speed of 98 km/hr but they had to fly from Namibia to India for their Indian sojourn. A special jet was hired to bring these special guests to India followed by a helicopter ride to Kuno National Park, where they were released in a specially designed enclosure. Now they will begin a life of being acclimatized to Indian prey and forest conditions.

It's their good fortune that hunting has been banned in India since 1972. Otherwise the ex-Royalty of India or the neo-royals would have made their life a formidable struggle.

Settling in new lands is a challenge in itself, hopefully they would find sufficient prey in the National Park. And poachers would be on the prowl too. I am not aware whether any highways pass through the national park otherwise there would have been an added hazard. Not to mention, they would also have to compete with their cousins, the leopards for their prey and their habitat.

And when they start sprinting, I hope the area of the national park doesn’t fall short to break them into a trot.

People line up in Mumbai to gawk at the penguins. A similar line would have been seen at Kuno to ogle at the new arrivals but for the cool off time given to them to first settle down.

Yatindra Tawde

Thanks to @pumplekin for making this photo available freely on @unsplash 🎁

Driving in England

 The country is known for its Exports; the export of its talented human resources. Most of the Top 50 Organizations are headed by Indians. That certainly makes you feel proud.

Then there are some other exports who make a name for themselves by some other means, not always on the better side of law.

Riding a car on the wrong side of the road! Isn’t this an euphemism for breaking laws? Well an Indian lady did just that on the distant roads of England.

England.

A country, which over the years, has seen unprecedented influx of immigrants from its ex-colonies, especially from the Indian subcontinent. They move to a western country in the hope of making a better future for themselves.

While a few take the route of higher education followed by a good job to settle in a new country, a big number are from the labour class.

While most from the Indian subcontinent are comfortable with the English language due to a more than 150 year legacy, there are quite a few who struggle with the A, B, C’s of it.

But they don’t let this small inconvenience be a setback to their dreams. They work hard towards making a better life for themselves and one of the signs of progress is buying a car to move around the new country.

This is when their struggles start.

To begin with, their authorities are stricter during the actual test. But the theory test is no walkover either. Those English examiners can be quite intimidating while asking questions, and especially the accent can be confusing if your language skills are so-so.

Here’s where the lady saw an opportunity for herself.

She happened to be a good driver and possessed good language skills, backed by confidence. She made her move.

By the time she had been caught red-handed, she had more than a century of driving tests, both theoretical and practical, to her discredit. While it is alleged that impersonation is a common offense at quite a few Indian RTO’s, it was a new experience for the English. Hence she made the front page in their newspapers.

While she was driving away to glory, she managed to make a cool crore for herself. But now she will cool her hard working heels inside an English lockup.

Yatindra Tawde

The craze

 

His face contorted into a grimace and he went still suddenly. One shoulder drooped while the other touched his ear. One leg stretched sideways and then he pulled his other leg towards the first without bending it. And just like a child rubs his chocked-up nose with the back his palm, he gestured similarly near his throat.

His bedridden grandmother watched all this from her cot, horror writ large on her crinkled face.

“Ohh...my poor Bunnu. Paralysis...he...he is paralysed. Help! Bunnu Ki maa...please, oh please come here fast. Bunnu is getting paralysis attack. Come fast”, she screamed at the top of her voice.

Supriya, Bunnu’s mother, who was cutting Bhindi, cut her own finger in her hurry to get up and rush into the bedroom. She put her finger into her mouth to stop the blood flow, thinking that her mother-in-law is getting a paralysis attack. But no, it cannot be, nobody would announce their own paralysis to the world at the top of their voice. It’s not biologically possible. But nothing is beyond the old witch, she thought to herself. Then she remembered mother-in-law mentioning Bunnu and she froze. What has he got into, this time. She remembered the last time he had come home howling in pain, his hand bent in the opposite direction. It had cost time and lots of money to set it right.

When she barged into the bedroom she saw her MIL sitting upright in the cot. The witch lives, she thought to herself regretfully. Then she saw her Bunnu rolling on the floor with laughter. She had one mind to throw whatever was in her hand at Bunnu, but then she remembered that she was carrying her Bhindi cutting knife and controlled herself.

“What has come over you, Maa? Why did you shout so? Do you know how petrified I was? And you Bunnu? Why are you laughing like a madman?”, Supriya rattled off her questions like a machine-gun.

“Oh Maa. It was hilarious. I was dancing the Pushpa step and Badi Maa had the look of pure horror on her face and then she shouted. Oh Badi Maa, you are so cute. I love you.” And he embraced his grandmother warmly.

The grandmother just shrugged in mock anger and turning her face away from him said, “Is this how a grandchild treats his grandmother? You act paralysed and ask me to remain calm? How can I remain calm if I think that you are having some serious medical problem?”

Then turning to him and scrunching up her nose she said, “And you call this a dance. You should have seen Bhagwan dance. So graceful, so cute...what are you looking at me like that. Bhagwan was the greatest Matinee hero. You know...”

And so Supriya left the two blessed souls exchanging their generational anecdotes to attend to her cut finger and to be cut Bhindi.

Folks, this might be the scenario in more than one household in India which is currently in the throes of a Telugu language movie and more specifically, a song in that movie.

Yatindra Tawde

 

 

The Simian revenge

 

I live in a city on the outskirts of Mumbai which is near to the National Park. So nocturnal visits by the big cats are common in our area. Proliferation of street dogs is an added attraction to lure the big cats. The street dogs have proliferated so much that they are trespassing into the housing complexes.

The newest addition to this trespassing problem are the simians residing in neighboring woods. The street dogs consider the boundary walls of the housing complexes as their territories and don’t take kindly to these new intruders. Thus ensue barking and hissing encounters between the two trespassing species which are watched by ‘wfh’ species from the safe environs of their closed windows.

However this uneasy but non-violent environment has been breached in some other city in Maharashtra.

A pack of street dogs happened to kill a kid from the simian species. That too, in front of a pack of simians. And all hell broke lose.

I think the simians had binged on the 80’s revenge dramas of Bollywood. At last count, the simians have put more than 200 pups to death by kidnapping them and then flinging them to the ground from the heights, of trees nearby. The dogs don’t know what has hit them and are losing this grisly gang war with the simians. The forest department run by the human species is in a quandary and struggling to bring about a truce.

Yatindra Tawde

The snake bite

 

A snake committed sacrilege by biting the Demi-God of millions of Bollywood fans and it became trending news for days together. But the Demi-God overcame this setback, very much like the innumerable larger than life characters he plays with aplomb,  on the silver screen.

It so happened that the Demi-God was visiting his farmhouse, which happens to be his second home, and stumbled upon the snake enjoying the cozy abode in the Hero's absence. Being the hero that he is, he decided to take matters into his own, capable hands instead of calling ‘Friends of reptiles’ who specialize in catching such vagabond reptiles and releasing them into fast depleting jungles. The Hero, being inexperienced in such matters, fumbled with the slithering snake, which bit him not once but thrice. And hopefully it managed to survive this love bite. There is a huge debate going on, whether it was poisonous or not. As per the Hero himself, it was of poisonous orientation.

Meanwhile, some four-legged creatures were found celebrating this unfortunate incident in their parched jungle but the celebrations were short-lived as the jungle authorities cracked down on them by releasing the video of the Hero’s triumphant release from the hospital, waving and throwing air kisses to his umpteen fans.

Last heard, the four-legged creatures have gone into hiding, staying far away from the windshield vision of the Hero.

Yatindra Tawde

 

A robber

 

When you see pigeons near your balcony or window, indulging in indecent behaviour or generally being noisy, your first reaction is to shoo them away. They are also known for creating abstract designs on the ledges and windows and you don’t want to waste your work-from-home valuable time in erasing their deeds. In addition to being gross, in these times of reduced immunity, you don’t want another reason for the spread of diseases.

In the good old days the pigeons were not seen as pests. They were said to be messengers of love. Why, Bhagyashree from ‘Maine Pyar kiya’, sent her first love note to her Saajan, Salman, using this very kabootar (vernacular for pigeon). In it, the pigeon hogged the camera in an entire song. Coming to think of it, Bhagyashree didn’t want it to stay with herself much longer,  but entreated it to ‘Ja, ja, ja...’ .

Pigeons were also used as spies or undercover agents in the wars of olden times and some of them enjoyed Knighthood too.

Recently I came to know that in the former city of lakes (I say former because nowadays the lakes froth with pollutants which don’t look pretty), the pigeon indulged in crime. Or were made to indulge in crimes perpetrated by one extra-imaginative criminal.

He bought some innocent looking pigeons to his targeted neighborhood. During day time, he released them. As is their second nature, they flew and settled on the balconies in the neighborhood. Our extra-imaginative friend would then pay a visit to such flats and ask for his escaped pet. The flat owners would let him in to collect his pet and this was their undoing. While being in the house he would scan for expensive appliances and soon the flat owners were poorer by a few lacs.

Last heard, the said criminal is behind bars and the pigeons (but nobody’s pets) have been added to a burgeoning population of their own species in the former city of lakes.

Yatindra Tawde

Blood Runs Cold - An Introduction to a Ebook

The Hive is live with its second offering "Blood Runs Cold"

It contains seventeen edge-of-the-seat thriller stories written by seventeen authors. -Ratnakar Baggi Varadharajan Ramesh Tina Sequeira Sarves Rashmi Agrawal Srivalli Rekha Mantrala Anshu Bhojnagarwala Priya Bajpai Sreeparna Sen Christopher Dsouza Aradhna Shukla Ell P Kanika G Sheerin Shahab Pranav Kodial Pavan Kumar and Yours truly.💛💛

The efforts are being noticed and appreciated by well-established and well-respected writers like Neil D'Silva and Damyanti Biswas who have written the forewords for ‘Route 13: Highway to Hell’ and ‘Blood Runs Cold’ respectively.

With diverse voices on board each story has something for the readers.

 Grab your copy of 'BLOOD RUNS COLD' from here:

 http://mybook.to/BloodRunsCold

#bookrelease #BookReleaseDay #thriller #writingcommunity #TheHive #anthology

Wine flowed like water

The denizens of a certain Indian state enjoy their daily tipple. In fact it has the highest per capita alcohol consumption in India. Perhaps it has something to do with the tourists, both Indian as well as international, making a beeline for its back waters.

It is a fact that anything related to alcohol makes news here. 

When any region in the world is faced with unprecedented rains and flooding, the social media is flooded with stories of survival, stories of rescue and the like. But in this state, in addition to people related survival and rescue stories, alcohol too made its presence felt on social media.

Yes, you read that right. Once on a rainy Saturday morning, when I myself was recovering from a hangover from Friday excesses, my mobile pinged a notification. When I opened it, a video unfolded before my eyes. It was a video from this very state trying to recover itself from flooding. 

I saw a person bent over a flyover, trying to rescue someone or something from the flooded street below. A lot of bystanders nearby were making a big hullabaloo and running around the rescuer in circles. Many instructions were barked out, everyone advising the rescuer on the best way of rescue. My admiration went up a notch. Not only were they rescuing someone, they were determined that the rescuee shouldn't get injured in the process; no, not even a scratch.

It seems, the rescuer wasn't able to reach all the way down but was he discouraged? No. He removed his garment covering his legs and tied it to something. I think there was another good Samaritan below too. Finally their partnership succeeded and everyone on the flyover got involved in pulling up the parcel. As soon as they could catch hold of the basket carrying whatever was being rescued, a huge cry of triumph went across the flyover. The basket was lowered with the greatest care, the covers were opened…and many hands plunged inside. When they emerged from the basket, the mystery was resolved. Each hand was now the proud owner of an alcohol bottle! Whether it was beer, whiskey or rum, that's not important. What's important is the brotherhood shown; there was no pushing or shoving, everyone was happy with one. Such is the unifying power of alcohol.

That was then.

Today was another day when it made news here. I woke up and fetched the daily newspaper. And my groggy eyes widened on reading a story on the front page. It went like this -

Anitha woke up as she always did, at the stroke of 6.00 am. Afterall she had to prepare the breakfast and food for her office going husband, Anil and their two school going daughters. When she turned on the tap and blindly splashed water on her eyes, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. Anil and both daughters woke up with a start. Anil bolted from the bed and rushed to the bathroom. Relieved to see his wife standing but holding her palms to her eyes, he asked, "What happened?"

"The water...the water", she screamed. "It's burning my eyes".

Anil opened the tap and was shocked to find brown water flowing. "The water seems to be brown. Let me check the other taps."

He checked and saw brown water flowing everywhere. He let it flow for some time, thinking that some rust must have been dislodged. But no, the brown water continued to flow. 

"I think, let's check with our neighbours, the Nairs", said Anitha, whose eyes had stopped burning now.

The same phenomenon was repeated at the Nairs. In fact, the same phenomenon repeated throughout their housing society. 

Everyone collected in the building lobby below. A few men went towards the common tap. Mr. Nair, who was the adventurous type, tasted the water. Taking one sip, his eyes lit up. He asked Anil to taste, who did likewise. But unable to bear, Anil threw up.

With a poker face, Mr. Nair said, "I think it's whiskey. Anil is a teetotaller, that's why he couldn't stand it."

Just then, few others tasted too. Someone said, "It's not whiskey, it's rum." While a few others claimed it tasted like beer. However everyone reached to the conclusion that it's alcohol which was flowing through the taps. Though most were happy with these state of affairs, their suppressed fantasy coming true, they realised that for day to day living, water is better, especially when one is living with the family.

So they decided to complain to the authorities. Finally the authorities were able to pinpoint the exact cause, and the culprit was... the authorities themselves. The Excise officials to be precise. 

They were in possession of an old stock of various types of liquor, recovered almost 6 years back, from a raid on a bar, which happened to be in the neighborhood of the affected apartment building. The Excise officials had tried to destroy the stock by digging a pit on the bar premises and pouring the liquor into it. Unfortunately, the delinquent liquid found a way into the neighbouring well, which was being used as a water supply source for the occupants of the building. 

Thus arose, the happy state of affairs. 

It is whispered that whenever some grief falls on the denizens of the state, alcohol rises to subdue all darkness and restore happy hours.

Yatindra Tawde

The Wasp - The Protector

Somewhere in India.

A farm of cabbage, vied with other farms nearby, to grow fleshy leaved cabbages to be sold in the Indian cities. The small farm was owned by Raghu, a non-descript farmer who toiled hard in his field. The neighbouring farms were owned by his friends, Madhukar, Sudhakar, Raibha and Mahipat. 

For a few years now, the five friends had grown cabbages and sold them personally in the nearby city which allowed them to make ends meet; put food in the kitchen and give decent education to their respective children.

However, this year they were worried. Their cabbage crop had been attacked. No, not by any jealous villagers but by large number of stink bugs which had congregated on their crops in a feasting frenzy and threatened to make their lives miserable by eating away their very livelihood.

Time - early morning.

Place - near the fields.

The early morning conference between 5 friends was in full swing. This was before the Swachhata abhiyan had gathered steam, before the toilets were built in their village. Mahipat was made to sit at a bearable distance as he had had chole (chickpeas) the previous night.

Raibha threw the conference open, "How are we going to find a solution to this stink bugs problem?"

"Yes Mahipat, you have to give up on eating the chole. You raise too much stink early morning", so saying, Raghu had a good laugh. Everyone laughed at Mahipat's expense. Poor Mahipat could only fart in reply.

"But seriously, these stink bugs are consuming our cabbages and before long we will be left with nothing to sell", Madhukar was now serious.

"Sudhakar, you are a bit knowledgeable, you have lived in the city. Please give us some solution", Raibha implored.

Sudhakar, who had been concentrating on his own thing till now joined the conference. 

"Well, we must call for Idris Elba", Sudhakar contributed with a serious demeanor.

Everyone stared at him, too shocked to respond. 

"Are you feeling constipated?", asked a concerned Madhukar. "Who the hell is this Idris Elba"?

"Oh, he is a British actor and musician".

"An actor! A musician! How the hell will he be of any help?", asked a flabbergasted Raghu.

"No, he will not be of any help", replied Sudhakar with a straight face. 

"Then, why the hell have you mentioned Idris whatever", shouted Madhukar.

Sudhakar answered calmly, "You asked a wrong question. You should have asked, What is Idris Elba?"

"Ok, what is Idris Elba?", asked Mahipat from his vantage position as he was now done with his deed.

Scrunching his nose at his friend, Sudhakar said, "Now you have asked the correct question. This Idris Elba is a parasitic wasp species which infests the eggs of the stinky bug, using the eggs for the propagation of their own species. Thus, indirectly it controls the population of the stinky bugs and protects the crops which are threatened by the bugs."

A silence descended on the conference, which was now almost over.

Finally Raghu said, "So is that the solution we are looking at? Is Idris Elba wasp, the solution?"

"Yes, my dear friend, Idris Elba is the solution as it is a Heimdall-like protector for many crops", concluded Sudhakar.

And so the conference ended that morning, with a solution to their common problem. They decided to have many such early morning conferences, with a strict menu for previous night, where having chole was banned.

Yatindra Tawde

Farts are us

In your childhood you indulged in them shamelessly and obnoxiously, without a care in the world. Some naughty friends held competitions; who managed it the loudest. 

As you grew older you learnt to hold them in, as society pressure overwhelmed all other pressures of the internal kind. However you weren't always successful, as they found escape velocity. If they didn't make a noise, they announced themselves with a degree of pungency, leaving you with no place to hide. 

If there were more than two people in the room, at least you could put it on the next person. But all suffered equally though the originator suffered the least. Because he knew where it came from.

The generator was always ridiculed and the habitual one was derided and scorned at. The only safe place was his home, and the better half complained futilely. She had to bear the brunt of a few smelly, loud ones.

But guys, you no longer need to hide. Because research has proven that farts are good for your health. Now you can proudly do the needful as they help avoid cell inflammation making them live longer.

Hydrogen sulphide, that foul smelling fart gas, is naturally produced in the body, which could be a healthcare hero having significant implications in future therapies for a variety of diseases; or so says the research.

Of course, farts don't cure cancer but are certainly good for your overall health.

So the next time, the wife complains, let her know this secret of your long, smelly life. 

Which proves that, not all research is useless. Sometimes it does throw up some funny, loud and smelly surprises. (But who thought of doing this study in the first place…)

Yatindra Tawde

Divorced!

They were proud citizens of a city in Madhya Bharat. At quite a young age they were married off with a chanting of mantras in a huge ceremony, and with a prayer on the lips.

The next two months passed in bliss... for them. Their honeymoon period was hardly over, when those who had married them off, were back to interfere in their lives, this time to divorce them. 

They were never asked when they were married off and now they were being divorced without their consent. 

After marriage they lived quite peacefully in their own little pond which they shared with the others, going about their croaking and breeding duties with a gutso. 

The other denizens were envious of the star couple in their midst and kept a few feet away. Maybe they feared them, as the couple had friends in those sky touching dwellings...or so they thought. Afterall, the match was brought about by these very friends in a huge ceremony accompanied by a lot of cacophony. Cymbals, dhols and assorted musical instruments played their parts well.

Two months back…

Half of June was over and the clouds had not yet made an deappearance. The hot and humid April and May had completely depleted the water stocks and the people were worried. 

While there are a lot of global factors which affect the arrival of the life giving rains, the people feel or hope that they can somehow persuade them to shower their manna.

So they went to the town Swamiji who suggested to marry off frogs to please the rain God. And so our couple was married off with much gaity. 

And was he pleased!

Two months later the same people were more worried, this time due to incessant rains and unforgiving, unprecedented floods. In two months they were brought to their knees. So off they scurried, back to the Swamiji. 

It seems Swamiji was waiting for this very opportunity. The two frogs, whom he had married off two months back, had made his life difficult, what with their synchronised croaking followed by a chorus of their ilk.

He issued his orders; for the rains to stop there was no other option but to divorce the frogs who had been married off just two months back.

So another elaborate ceremony was conducted, mantras chanted and the frogs were mercilessly separated.

My learning from this episode - there are mantras for conducting divorces too!

Yatindra Tawde

The Innerwear Index

A noble soul made me aware about this index denoting an economic slowdown and and I am thankful for this addition to my knowledge.

Like all things men, this is simply called as the 'Men's underwear Index', an index with no gaudy frills. It is theorised that tracking this index is a good indicator of the state of economy of a country. 

Every problem related to below the belt matters of the Indian male is simply known as 'Gupt Rog'. They will try to find solutions to their Rog in all secrecy so that nobody else, especially the fellow males, get any inkling of it. 

Similarly, the Index is not much talked about except in the inner recesses of economic circles. For eg. I had never known about this index, as IIP Index was more commonly used. So this was the Gupt Gyan of the economic circles.

To think that a man called Alan Greenspan thought about it, way back in the 70's. He theorised that a slowdown in the sales of men's briefs can be very revealing. I had always thought that not wearing any briefs is revealing but how wrong was I. 

To  enhance the knowledge of the commoners, the innerwear sales growth fell sharply in the first quarter of this year and this proportionately reflects on the state of the economy. The buying of briefs comes under the discretionary spend head, and this has fallen. 

The sale of the bottom covering briefs has touched the rock bottom and no one is happy. 

All the main brief manufacturers are going through hard times with their sales falling, the weakest performance in a decade. Perhaps they need performance enhancing drugs, a power booster, an aphrodisiac, to bring them back on track. 

All this is an indication of poor state of economy. The primary reason is that the disposable income of Indian consumers is shrinking.

The knowledgeable people dealing in economics say, "The primary reason for the drop is rural distress, and the ailing health of financial institutions. The unemployment rate is also very high. All these factors have led to a decrease in expenditure at the consumer level. Availability of funds also slowed down at the MSME (micro, small and medium enterprises) level as well."

But I have a simple reason. The economic downturn has resulted in more Indian males being forced to stay at home. And when at home the Indian male doesn't like being unencumbered by the tight elastic, thus increasing the life cycle of his briefs resulting in delayed buying. 

This is his brief contribution to bringing the economy back on track.

Yatindra Tawde

Courtesy : Alan Greenspan, Google, Wikipedia and the noble soul

Rooster... Rowdy?

The was nothing rowdy about it. Maurice had malice towards none. It was in his nature. To crow early morning; his daily salute the morning Sun. And the French countryside loved him for that, their morning alarm which never failed to rouse them from deep slumber. In fact, few people in the village did not get their morning pressure till they heard him. Maurice had a booming crow and the online friendly young folk of the town had made him into a celebrity in France. But no one in the village were to know that their way of life was soon going to be challenged.

We in the Indian metros are very familiar with the concept of a holiday home where the nuclear families yearn for a break from their stressed lives and builders take advantage of this craving by offering homes in idyllic surroundings of the countryside.

It seems this is a common phenomenon in other countries as well. Certainly France, where our hero, Maurice comes from. 

His neighborhood changed fast and soon his owner's small dwelling was boxed between big bungalows in which the city folk moved into, especially during the weekends. They came, looking for some peace and quiet, which they got in plenty but putting up with the loud crowing of Maurice in the early morning was a challenge. His owner was faced with complaints and being a simple woman, she tried various tricks to quieten him.

Suddenly he found himself locked away for the night. Extra care was taken to ensure that the morning rays did not reach him. 

Poor Maurice!

What was he to do? He started crowing louder to plead with his owner to let him out. 

Finally, a city couple from the neighbourhood had had enough. They were retirees who had moved to the village to imbibe the village life but forgot to put their city egos in the city. They slapped a case against the owner and accused Maurice of making a great cacophony every morning and disturbing their beauty sleep.

Soon the case grabbed headlines across France and the Maurice Fan club gathered supporters. 

"The complainants are fools who have suddenly discovered that eggs don't grow on trees!", thundered the Mayor of the town.

The other animals of the countryside came out in support, the donkeys braying and the cows mooing.

The lawyer defended Maurice's right to make himself heard. He himself was not in court otherwise he would have crowed in his own defence.

Last heard, the city folks are getting used to Maurice as they are finding his crowing an early morning stress buster compared to the sounds of the city.

Yatindra Tawde