Avik's Story

“Hey madam Inspector. Let me buy you that decorative light.” “No. Please.” “It was a joke. I was never gonna buy you a one.” “Ohho. If I had told you yes, then would you have bought for me?” “Ofcourse not. You’re earning enough. Why should I buy you something expensive?” “Please buy something expensive for me.” “Hell no. And moreover I don’t have any cash to spare.” “You have credit card.” “And I’m not gonna swipe that for you. I like girls who buy for themselves.” “Is that applicable for Taniya too?” “Yes. That’s the first thing I liked about her. Mmm…can you ask them the price of that lantern?” “Okay. Excuse me. What’s the price of this? Twenty-two thousands? My god. TWENTY-TWO THOUSANDS!!” “Okay. Let’s get out from this cheap Turkey Street Bazar.” “Good idea. Where do you want to go? We have duty, remember?” “Do you want to go back for duty?” “Hmmm..no.” “Hehe. How many halls are there in Trade Fair?” “I gues...

The first fiercest pain generally one has to bear is the failure of love. It shows the real pain-in-the-ass world in its ugliest form and then drags one to its darkest pit, where the memories wreak havoc to the body and soul, and when one crawls up to the light, one never is the same. It is that lesson of our life, which belittles us, shames us, hates us and then transforms us like nothing before, and perhaps nothing after. The process is gruesome. No gory violence can match with what is done by the blood-thirsting creepy brain cells during the process. They can tell one to seek revenge or do something disturbing, they can take one to the edge and push one to do something un-thinkable or they can smother one with depression. I remember me. And my friends. And what we did after rejection. I had this roomie – a happy go guy who turned into a woman-hater after what he termed as the worst break-up of history. I had this friend, who wanted to strangle his ex-girlfriend with lap...

In this hue and cry of de-monetization if you feel patriotic, that means you belong to that neo-elitist groups, who believe India belongs to them. Only to them. Let me explain. I was eclectic when heard PM’s announcement, felt charged and positive. I called few friends, discussed it and then opened my purse, found only a hundred rupee note (rest was of five hundreds). I ran to ATMs and after forty minutes of struggling, I got eighteen hundred rupee notes, and found around thirty people behind me. Nobody complained. Nobody yelled at each-other. As if it was a magic. Next day when I was in metro, and then in bus, and then in office, every-freaking-where discussions were going on regarding Modi’s decision, near universal praise for him and his masterstroke. It felt good indeed. It felt that something concrete had been done. No small talk. No non-sense. The whole day I spent as a new-bhakt of Modi, read social media inputs, and discussed them. And then as the night approached and...