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I write Articles- Stories- Digital Content. I actively participate in discussions and debates. That brings comes out to me, a new thought which gives rise to a new idea or an article. I update my website with stories or article published in Print Media like The Huffington Post, Times of India and The Good Men Project. Check out our other Handles.
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The Unheard Voices | Short story 6
The Unheard Voices | Short story 6
Somewhere in the midst of the chaos what is missed, are the voices which smoothly flow down through our way without disturbing us or making their presence felt. The beauty of life is to live these unheard voices and feel that living. In this generation of ours, the feeling is what we crave for as that is the thing being missed from our lives. We are able to see, observe and understand what is shown to us and we conclude. We miss understanding the feeling of the unseen part, the unknown truth, and the unheard voices.
…
The walk in the metro is clustered by the fights and laughter but what is seen yet ignored are the eyes of the guy sobbing for his lost job, the girl crying on the last seat for the fight she had with her boyfriend. The bargaining with the roadside vendors is something we notice but fail to observe the happiness in their eyes when they earn.
The glare of our parents is taken as a sign of their anger but what is missed are the tears in those eyes when we achieve something in life. The father who gifted his son a new bike on his birthday got his sons’ happiness but what the son failed to see was the money that he had to borrow from his neighbour for the bike. The schoolboy rejected the geometry box which his mother brought for his studies and asked her to replace it with the one his friend was carrying. What he failed to understand was the mother was suffering from asthma walked 2 km to get a new geometry box for her son and saved 5 Rupees of the rickshaw.
These voices are loud and more painful than laughter and fights. But they affect adversely. They impact deeply. They make us realize that apart from the thoughtless discussions, meaningless laughter and the aimless vision which we are chasing and going out for are not the only ones that define the living, the actual one lies in the unheard voices which we should look for but eventually fail to appreciate.
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The Old School Love| Short Story 5
The Old School Love | Short Story 5
Adil: “Maybe you are the reality to my illusion. You define my existence by confessing those words which I can only express on paper.
Aashna: Really!! Is it maybe or for sure?
Adil: For sure. “Maybe” was just a hesitation, sort of doubting my own truth.
Aashna: You need to do that.
Adil: I know. I also hope that you know, my emotions for you are not temporary.
Aashna: I know. And that is what scares me the most.
Adil: Scares? It should be something for you to be proud of. You are the one who is being treated with this pious emotion.
Aashna: Exactly!! I am the one you bestowed with this love and that’s what the reason of my fear. Emotions change, feelings vanish, grown-ups move on, time heals a man who loves.
Adil: If you are so sure that time heals everything, then why it still scares you?
….
Aashna: As I said, it heals a man who is in love, not a child. You are a lover of soul. You don’t act in love Adil, you react as your heart feels. Your love for me is no different than the laugh of a small child when you caress him taking in your arms. It is not necessary for the child to know you, but once he is comfortable in your arms, he trusts you as his own. He doesn’t doubt your intentions. That is your love. It is innocent, pious, true, pure and happy. It is unaffected of the worldly thoughts and explanations. And no one can even think of making that child cry. Neither can I.
Aashna: You define the old school of love, which has already been changed and adulterated by people.
Adil: So which love you believe in?
Aashna: I live in society, where the schools have changed their syllabus. I belong to the new school of love. Here I wish to be loved by an old school romantic but altogether we fear of not hurting. him, if in case things don’t work out. And so we practically end up with the one whose emotions are not eternal and the one who accepts the thought that things change and we should move on with them …
Adil: Maybe then I am left with two options. Either not having you or be ready to get hurt if things spoil in a longer run.
…
I think, let me be happy by being with you, loving you and trying for you every day without any expectation of a response. And you feel happy thinking that a guy loves you the old school way. Let the water of river flow the way it is going on and let its direction be decided once it meets the ocean.
That night, 8000 miles apart, both faces smiled seeing their phone screen.
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The spoiler|Short Story 4
The spoiler| Short Story 4
The random visits of Ayda to Adil’s place were a regular thing now. That day he had resigned from his job and was supposed to leave the city in a couple of days. So it was “for the last time to have chocolate together” reason for her to meet him. It had been just a couple of months that he shifted to this new city and new office and in a short span of time, he decided to move out of it for a reason even unknown to him. Adil and Ayda became good friends in this short span of office time. She was not in love with Adil but somehow she got attached to him for his words. Adil too never had any such feeling but he didn’t mind being a comfort cushion to her as long as she was comfortable with it.
That day, as she entered his home she knew that it might be their last meeting. The building compound was rumbling with the festival choirs. Avoiding that sound, she started discussing her crush, ex-boyfriend and life in general again with him. Emotions reached its peak. The eyes spoke more than the lips. Adil saw it. A comforting hug happened became intimate in no time. That evening, what the background choirs also did was setting the solitude for the kiss that happened minutes later and continued.
What was it?
Why did that kiss happened and why the intimacy was there?
No one had an answer to it. It was the moment that lived its life fully. Neither anyone wanted to tag that emotion with any name and nor was it a time to stop and think where it was going. Nothing happened that night but still, she left his place only the next morning. Both agreed to keep this night only in their memories and agreed not to discuss it with anyone.
As Ayda made her exit, Adil realized how the friendship that entered his house to offer him a bar of chocolate, was leaving his place by spoiling itself with the kiss and the night that passed by.
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The Divorce|Short Story 3
The Divorce | Short Story 3
“I have never seen a more weird couple ever in my life…” thought Jacob Stoker. “And here they come again and now for the final time.”
Jacob, a judge preceding over divorces, never felt more useless when dealing with this particular couple. His task was very simple. This was a no-fault divorce. The grounds were lack of affection and distance. He was confounded because the couple never showed that there was no affection. Jacob had given judgement to several divorce cases but this was one he will always remember. The couple did not get any lawyer because there was no splitting of assets. There was no custody battle because they were not going to live separately. They will stay together till Samantha (14) and Jaden (17) leave for college and they get on their own.
James Laurent and Sophia Marsden have been married for 5 years. They had been dating since the last 20. According to the couple they had reached a precipice in their marriage. The biggest problem was that they had become such good friends that the romance had fizzled out. Jacob couldn’t believe it at first. He tried to probe and question and acted counsellor to the couple and found that James held Sophia in high regard. He was very respectful of her. It was as if she was some benevolent queen of someplace. Jacob noticed that James’ respect was not completely out of place. She was a highly learned woman with a very calm yet authoritative demeanour.
…..
Sophia, in turn, reciprocated the same. This was not a couple entering a divorce agreement; it was one that had come to start a new journey in their life. This divorce felt more like a marriage to Jacob. The couple’s explanation for such an event was this that it was not due to differences but acceptance of those differences that lead to their “holy separation.” They did start having arguments and quarrels but over time they came to a conscious realization that this was counter-productive. It was obvious that due to the distance that had built up later there was bound to be some resentment. They both were expecting things from each other that neither was able to provide and agreed that this was the classic example of how people change. They loved each other throughout their metamorphosis into what they are today. But this has stopped now.
The argument was that if they fight and end on a bad note now, it would be an insult to the memory of those twenty years. They had differences, “but who doesn’t?” said James. “I have accepted these changes in James but now I no longer want that in my life and he’s made me realized that I have changed too. Gosh, we are completely someone else now.”
“And then there are the kids. We also agree that they should never have to suffer for this.”
Jacob, as astonished as he was, quickly approved what was to be approved. “So what now?” he asked.
“Nothing, it is my turn to cook today,” said Sophia.
by Anant Pillai
The Divorce | Short Story 3
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The Deal | Short Story 2
The Deal | Short Story 2
It was a cold day on the 23rd of December 2015. The atmosphere and the song coupled with the view outside his room filled a sense of euphoria and languish in him. Karthik feigned playing the guitar for the entire length of the song. He looked at the mountains visible from his windows and pretended they were his audience and that whatever he played would echo back to him like how sometimes people at concerts do.
When Coldplay’s “fix you” was over, the next song that started playing was Carlos Santana’s “Europa”. Halfway through this song whatever euphoria was left had vanished. Karthik almost fell out of his window as he saw a cloaked figure in the reflection of the mirror of his cupboard. The figure was standing right near where his back was resting. “What the hell? How did you get in here?
Mom!”
“Relax child. You forgot that you are alone right now. I am not here to hurt you boy. I am merely going to grant you your wish. Do you not wish to be a virtuoso?” said the cloaked figure. Karthik remained silent looking at the darkness where the face is supposed to be. “Lets us not waste any more time and I will tell you things as they are. I am the messenger of death here to offer you a deal. I shall give you what you want. You will be able to play the instrument of your choice like a master.
I shall give you that knowledge and the hands of a maestro. In return, I want ten years from your life. You will die ten years early than you are destined to. I will not tell you how long you will live even though I know it exactly”. The figure took out its arm as if to shake hands. They were eerily human-like even though it wasn’t human. “What do you say, boy? It’s now or never. I am just here to respond to your lament. Don’t you want to play music in these mountains?”
“I do”
and he put out his hands to shake. The deal was made. Karthik ran out immediately to the instruments store and purchased the best guitar his pocket money could buy. He took a rickshaw to the nearest sunset point and hiked towards a secret cliff that only he knew the way to. Post that he tuned his guitar and stood there playing songs from afternoon to the evening and right towards the night. He played with all the passion and teary-eyed. He played till his fingers bled. At 12:30 AM, the mountains echoed no more.
— By Anant Pillai
The Deal | Short Story 2
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