Avik's Story

A 60 years old gets slapped by slippers a whopping twenty-five times. His glass was broken, his shirt was torn, his psyche was traumatized forever and he was threatened to be thrown away from flight. But why? Because he was doing what he was supposed to do. He was a station manager and was pacifying a passenger. It was part of his job. Then? Well, he didn’t pay heed to the fact that the passenger was an M.P. People of India elected him so that he be pampered, worshipped and be considered as a demi-god. Sometimes, more than a god. Really? Of course. See what happened after the slipper-slap. The MP boasted about his hit before media, his beard shone like a winning gladiator from arena, and prospective politicians like him planned to do something similar next time. He’s now a god-damn role model. Did he apologize? Well, he tried. But, he’s from a party, which never apologizes. They force others to apologize. It’s just their party policy. And people

A study says that it takes only a moment to transform the gloomy and sad faces of ours into gleaming and beaming ones, that can keep us up for the rest of the day. That’s the power of a moment. I was beyond grief. I was leaving my daughter, who became my partner-in-crime and playmate for the last one month; and my wife, whose claim to be immaculate and matured was repeatedly rubbished by me and proved to be true. She actually was no better than her two & half years old daughter. At airport, I paid 250 Mauritian bucks just for a glass of beer and a tiny bottle of water and sat across a trendy counter. I opened a Sashi Tharoor book and started browsing its pages, until the time came to proceed towards boarding gate. A long queue already formed. I could see people everywhere - happy from wonderful vacations in a wonderful land – chatting, laughing and holding hands. I was the single most down face in an ocean of cheering crowd. And then it started. My economy se

The moment I noticed Taniya at airport, I smiled. A medium stretch of lips with a twitch of cheek muscles. It was my favourite smile. Neither artificial, nor core to heart. It was a perfectly articulated smile with varied interpretations, and at that point of time, when Taniya came over and hold my hands like old days with glittering eyes and one hand in mouth, it surely meant, ‘Look at me. I finally manage to surprise you’. She noticed my black new suits, black shoe, purple tie, new spec and gelled hair. I knew I looked different. Polished. And she looked a diva. Women look better when they’re surprised. The sky was blue and the ocean like a blue topaz. The island was known to me. The roads, little trees and faraway mountains and the white house at the corner. Familiar shops and faces. And then a little girl in blue frock ran towards me. I dived my nose into her neck and closed my eyes and smelled her. She smelled rose and strawberry and some unknown flowers. She held me tight and

This was very first time, I was blacked out. Next day, when I woke up I was having throbbing headache, sore throat, aching stomach and a clinching urge for water. I was lied upside down on my bed, over my laptop and books, my phone was constantly ringing somewhere and I felt nauseated. I ran to bathroom and leaned onto the toilet. I knew, it was beginning of a rough day. And it was the first day of a year. Brand new year. I had plans. A good start and good moments with friends. I hated myself for ruining that. I remembered last night - the trance lights, the crazy dance moves, the vodka and a live stage. People were euphoric. They were celebrating. A year was on edge, and another year was on verge. I remembered four of us were having good time. We were chatting, eating and drinking. Pretty girls were everywhere. Their smiles and skins glowed in neon lights, even in dark. Smart bearded guys proudly held them, as if they were their prized possessions. It was a packed room, th

Winter is my favourite, though I don’t want it.  And finally, it’s here. All the girls are covered in colourful sweaters, jackets and dresses; guys are in full sleeve leatherette brown or black jackets; whitish fogs are smothering the sleepy walkers, who’re still walking dead from forced wake-up; shopkeepers sip hot fuming tea while gazing lazily from their empty counters. But most of all, the air.  Chilled, piercing and fresh from last night’s mist. My face tissues gradually adopt with cold. I rub my palms and then press against cheeks, like my mother used to do when I shivered after having a cold bath in morning in school days. Again I’ve been transferred. Now far from my place. Again I’m standing in corner of a metro coach for hours with a book in my hand and music on ears. My foamed jacket brushes with others. My eyes meet with others for a second. They greet in silence.  Sometime a twitching smile on lips, sometime nothing. Total blankness. Someone’s smartphone plays a

“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