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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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Ram Baba | Short story 1
Ram Baba | Short story 1
A boy, a mother, a stranger and the simplest way of learning.
The sun was setting down to give way to the wintry nights. Like every other evening, Mrs Bhatia took Aarav to the garden to play and for her, it was the evening walk with her friends, she had made there. Aarav got too engrossed in taking the first turn in every ride and started running to next ride completing the previous one.
A half-hour passed and Mrs Bhatia, who had not missed a single opportunity to talk to every other woman whom she knew there, finally moved her eyes to look for Aarav. Quenching her thirst with water she looked but was not able to find him. The search lead to curiosity, which in turn lead to anxiety. She started looking for him here and there; questioning his friends. Furiously looking, before her anxiety would turn into tension she found him. Deep west in the garden, adjusting his hair, again and again, Aarav was sitting with a group of many young ten-year-olds’.
…..
As she walked towards him, she saw an old man wearing a kurta and pyjama sitting in the corner and addressing those young kids. He looked old enough to be seventy-five. Moving closer she noticed each of those kids had a pen and paper in their hands and they were jotting something down. As she reached, she exchanged a smile with the old man and asked Aarav to stand up. As he turned up, Mrs Bhatia looked into his paper and found the word “Ram, Ram” being repeatedly written on the whole paper. She asked Aarav to continue and took a side seat. As the session got over, the old man took all the paper slips and left.
On her way back, she asked the security guard about the old man. He said the old man was known as “Ram Baba” who stayed nearby and had retired from his work. He lived on his pension with no family and so spent his evening with kids to make them understand and realize the importance of the almighty God in life. Mrs Bhatia was deeply impressed. From the next day, Aarav went there again. She was happy to see that without any force from her end, Aarav started going to ram baba himself.
Sometimes what the parents, priest, or temples fail to teach, is taught by a random stranger on a random walk i.e. to believe in lord from the heart.
@ramta jogi
Ram Baba | Short story 1
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Take Care! |Life Blog
Take Care | Life Blog
The free flow, the collision and the flowing back; the water created all the chaos but still at that moment it was silent. The night was endearing. The sparkling brightness of the stars was at its peak. The moon blossomed adding to the beauty of the night. In the white mud with tiny pebbles scattered all around, they breathed a pleasant air which the water brought with its flow. The beach was creating magic. Everything around them was perfect.
In the white gown wrapped around her body, with a golden bracelet on her one wrist and a beautifully designed watch on the other, mascara decorating her eyes, she was sitting there and breathing the air of happiness and freedom. Her face was glowing seeing the rush of water touching her feet. Each time the drops caressed her feet, chirpy laughter with an everlasting smile came to her face. She seemed like a small girl clapping and laughing in her own joy irrespective of what was going around.
And there he was, sitting in the white shirt perfectly ironed and tucked in the elegant black pants. Both hands in the mud to lay support, he was continuously looking at her and living the moment. Her laughter kept a continuous smile on his face. He too was living the moment in her. They knew what was to follow and but they did not want to think about it. It was their day and at that time it was their moment which they were living.
….
Soon she turned her face and saw him watching her. She stared for a while and laughed. Seeing her laughter he smiled again. Their faces found it difficult to turn around and look towards the sea. As long as they looked towards each other, even the time found it hard and difficult to move on. A sudden wave of cold breeze finally made her turn around; he still held his face the same.
The silence was not killing the moment, instead, it was making the moment and was taking it to the new highs. Her hand waved to let the particles of mud move out from them and her eyes started gazing on her fingers. She smiled seeing her engagement ring and started playing with him. Even in that dark hour, her face was glowing. In the same moment was heard a deep sound of a train horn followed by a movement of the train. The rails were expected to be nearby.
Finally, after taking it out and wearing again, she fixed it in her finger and gave a sudden look towards him. He was still in the same posture smiling on her very actions. He was very much aware of her playing with the ring.
“I think it’s time to go”
she said in the most innocent voice. And without any reply, he stood up and gave his hand to her to do the same. They started walking. Finally getting their legs wet on the seashores, they made their way towards their car.
The car stopped outside her place. He sat there without moving out. She silently went to her gate and turned back, asking
“Will you be there for?”
“No. Leaving tomorrow. Don’t know when I will return” he replied even before letting her complete the question.
With a goodbye smile, his car left. She stood there with a smile on her face and tears in his eyes. Somewhere down in herself, she knew this answer.
Years later, the same old city of their welcomed them. In sophisticated dresses, poised etiquette, and formal smiles they met again. In a function filled with many of their known, they met each other. She was joined by her husband and he was their still alone. They faced each other and were not able to talk. Both had stories to tell, memories to share, emotions to show and words to flow. But nothing happened. The eyes were beginning to turn wet and lips went numb. The relation between them was yet not defined but now it didn’t matter even. Before the eyes start to flow its emotions out, they both decide to bid again a goodbye with no hopes and expectation to meet again.
“Take care” both uttered the words together
Somewhere between the deep chaos of the waves and the deep silence of the continuously murmuring people at the function, they knew that their love has survived the test of time.
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Childhood | English Poetry
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An Open Letter | “Why Don’t You Call Nowadays?” | Life Blog
An Open Letter | “Why Don’t You Call Nowadays?” | Life Blog
Backdrop..
There is a nameplate hanging outside my home which has my parents’ name on it. This place is safe, surrounded by love and trust and there is a feeling of contentment. It has an aura that drives away fear, divine power in it. It entrusts me with the confidence that if everything in this world were to go wrong, this place would never let anything happen to me. My family, these are the people who knowingly or unknowingly have shaped who I am. They have totally dedicated their lives to my upbringing and betterment. We might call it ‘responsibility’ that every parent carries but that too comes out of concern, and such concern comes out of love.
As I grew up, I began to connect with others. I moved out, met new people, understood new things and experienced a different world. Once we start thinking for ourselves, things can’t remain the same; they have to change. I too started realizing what is right and useful for me. My family also supported my views and helped me make decisions that would boost my future. With a practical approach in mind, I moved out to climb the ladders of success in life.
I left this safe and secure dream world, my world, and entered into a world which I never imagined would be so big and so different from mine. From the safe confines of my private walls, I moved to this labyrinth where it’s easy to get lost. I moved to a different state and a brand new educational experience. This world was filled with new experiences, and I faced new circumstances every day; some even challenging. I made many new connections; a plethora of information blew in my face like a strong wind.
New Beginnings
The beginnings are always difficult as I missed everyone back home. It took some getting used to, for me to moved ahead. My best friends called me every day, and I called them back too. My parents called me every evening and would emotional. They’d ask even the minute details of how I spent the day and I obliged them with it. I’d asked them about life at their end, and they talked about things familiar to me, making me feel at home even in this strange new place. I took to the social media more than before to keep in touch with my kin and friends.
Alas! The constant nature of change is what tends to work against these connections. Change tends to break them, but this is involuntary. When one has taken the effort of coming out of the comfort zone, one tends to focus more on this effort, and this may us lead to a disconnect. We get lost in understanding and deciphering this novelty of a world that we’ve entered. The phone calls we made every day are now less in frequency. And this happens from both ends; mine and theirs.
We expect that they will contact us while people back home expect me to make the effort, but we both lose it. My father calls and asks “why don’t you call nowadays?” And I don’t have an answer to it. Even my friends and loved one’s message saying “Dude! You have changed a lot. You don’t even text or reply on time”, and again I don’t have an answer to it. When this happens, one tends to become an outsider.
But the truth is “I am not an outsider”.
It is not that I want to behave the way I behave, it is the environment and the thoughts that separate me from what I was and what I am about to become. It is not always the work or hectic schedule of mine that keeps me away from talking to my family and old friends. In a way, this is newfound freedom and I am busy utilizing it. I prioritize indulging into this freedom more than the constant need to keep in touch. The occasional drink, the rare indulgence in smoke, and of course there is the workload. Why shouldn’t I explore this freedom? I do remember them, but by the time I want to call them, it’s too late in the night and then it’s not an appropriate time, and people think I have changed.
But I have not. I have only taken charge of my life. After living in security for so long, I have come out and taken the charge of securing myself. I am dependent on “ME”. My mother’s not here to ask me what to have for dinner, nor is my father here to ask me what to bring while returning home and nor do I have any siblings here who will help me with my work. I am an individual who has come to create his own identity. I have an agenda here; this keeps me occupied. I may forget about them now and then, but do miss them.
I am still the same insider.
At times, I do miss them and get frustrated being alone but these feelings rise and die within the confines of my new, temporary accommodation. Nostalgia keeps me from even listening to their voices sometimes. This dependency on my parents who raised me, the friends who were always there, that girl who always spoke to me for hours but it seemed like minutes; this dependency is what I’m trying to end. Of course, I am desperate to see them again, be home for the festivals and during the holidays.
Who doesn’t?
But you change. You get used to living alone to the point that you actually prefer it. I prefer the solitude the crown has to offer. No one comes to talk to you if you’re not “alone”. I have tried to purge emotions so that it gets easier for me. And then I asked myself a question. Who am I without my parents, friends and that one girl? I got busier trying to find my identity, and it all soon became easy and found myself. I had to dissociate first to find myself and in this process, I became an outsider. Well, better the real me outside than this shadow of a person I was inside.
The truth is that in this self-discovery. I have realized that I just have different sides to the same person who lived in that place with his parents’ name plates on it.
@ramta jogi
Published in Youth ki awaaz
An Open Letter | “Why Don’t You Call Nowadays?” | Life Blog
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The Conclusion | Short story
The Conclusion | Short story
The short story “The Conclusion” presents an interpretation of ending with a short story
The half-smoked roll of joint was lying burning in the ashtray. The room was filled with smoke. Scattered on the computer table were all those things which he needed to survive for that night. Quite carefully he picked up his headphones from that mess and plugged them into his computer. It was time he drowned himself in the music of Pink Floyd. A few novels occupied some space on the other side, some read and some scheduled to be read as per convenience. An empty wafer packet flew from one corner of the room to the other. A pack of cards found itself in the same place where his neighbour had put in a couple of days back. He connected his phone to the charger and plugged it into the furthest charging slot, not because it required charging, but because he wanted some peace.
The clock struck 11 pm. He restarted his computer which got hang due to multiple opened windows. Its speed, or rather the lack of it, sucked. All his pleas to his dad for a new laptop went in vain but his father kept on shooing him away saying it was a useless expense.
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The last episode of his story series was due to be released tonight. This story series was something he was obsessed for, since months. He wrote 5 episodes of the series and released one every week. He was able to garner rave reviews for the same. The number of followers on social networking sites rose many folds. It was time for the last episode of it. This series which was his only interest for the past 3 months, his biggest dream and his shot to fame had reached a conclusive stage. The penultimate episode had set the benchmark to a new level altogether; hence, an unforgettable ending was expected from him. He had received many emails from his followers praising his work and telling him how eagerly they were waiting for the last episode. Tonight was the decisive night.
He sat there, staring at the blank Word sheet on the screen. The entire week he had been trying really hard to put words to his thoughts, but the harsh truth was that he didn’t have any thought in his mind. He couldn’t think of a suitable end! This wasn’t a very comfortable situation for him. He loved writing. In fact, a pen and an empty notebook were his best friends. They stayed with him even during the worst of times. He wasn’t accustomed to this blankness; thought hard and suddenly realized that it had nothing to do with his writing skills or abilities, it was the problem he had with endings!
…..
He had some serious issues with endings. Be it his stories or his personal life, it was always the end that bothered him the most. Good or bad wasn’t the concern, the concern was the end. He loved his girlfriend Sameera and she loved him as well. But she boarded a flight to a different city, which distanced him with her lately ended his relationship abruptly. The day his parents split ended the image of a happy family, which every person has in mind. Nothing in his life ended the way he wanted, so he began to fear the end! It was an irony that he was doing the thing which he was most passionate for, but he had to face his most dreaded situation at the same time!
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He wasn’t simply writing a random story, instead, he was living it! The story was a depiction of the life he never had! How could someone end the life he always dreams of living? He was enjoying every bit of it. Every character in the story had the nature of the people he always wanted to be with. The circumstances, the peaks, the troughs and the emotions in it were all things he wanted to experience. This story was a complete contrast to his real life. Ending this story would mean that he will have to search for a new life, a new identity for himself from the next moment itself!
He wasn’t a very social kind of a person and found it difficult to interact with people. The characters were all he had and every character was what he wanted to be. He was in the world of his own and that world was supposed to end that night with that conclusive chapter. He knew that he couldn’t continue the story forever. It had lived its life, and it was time to end it.
But the characters were the ones he was concerned for. He wanted those characters to be etched in the minds of the readers and wanted the characters to live their life. He wanted the audience to miss them for long. A conclusion would fade the memories of the character in some time. He never wanted that.
….
Time moved at its full pace. 15 minutes remained to 12 ‘o’clock. His readers awaited what they were expecting to be a really memorable last episode. People wanted to know what happened to the characters in the end. He knew it was time to conclude what he had begun. Fear shouldn’t stop him from giving the readers what they want. He had lived the story happily.
Finally, he concluded and published the last episode with no characters, no dialogue and no story. He ensured that the conclusion wasn’t the end. He simply disguised the last episode under two simple words:
“THE END!”
It did not make him feel good, but definitely made him feel less bad!
@ramta jogi
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Childhood | English Poetry
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The Walk | Short story
The Walk | Short story
The beginning
The lane was devoid of any noise. Sheer silence prevailed as if the beautiful words of a poetess had mesmerized the people, leaving them numb with awe. The darkness of the night began to spread its arms, engulfing the light of the sun. Braving the night stood a street lamp at a distance whose light beautified the night with its glow. With their hearts throbbing, they walked together. Each step drawing them closer to the lamp. Each step asking them questions, and urging them to open up. The fortuitous silence paved the way for things unspoken. It wanted them to look into each other’s eyes. It wanted those eyes to flow, to tell each other about their dreams, their desires.
Perhaps it wasn’t the day for talking. The chilly, wintry night was paying homage to their love. The gentle refraction of the light revealed their faces. In a traditional yellow dress, she looked like a princess. Her eyes glittering; of course, she was emotional. Those eyes could have been stars in the sky, but tonight they were here, right in front of him. Her curly hair looked like a deep dark forest. And there he was; with his off white shirt, half tucked in his faded jeans.
The flow..
As the light of the lamp brightened her face, he looked at her through his frameless glasses. As a momentary smile came to their faces, dark clouds mounted in the night sky, adding more chill to the already cold atmosphere. The stars disappeared behind the clouds, and so did the moon, desperately trying to lighten the sky. Her fair face jewelled in the light of the lamp, and clouds did nothing to the glitter in her eyes. Her smile made a beautiful dimple in her cheek, adding immense charm to her personality. As they stared each other, their eyes began to talk. Their hands drew closer to each other, and then she immersed her hands into his. The scene was picture perfect. It seemed as if a lovely story was about to unfold, with the night, the lamp and the sky being a silent audience.
They came closer, so close that they could feel the warmth of each other’s breath. Their lips caressed each other as they exchanged a soft kiss. Enclosing each other with their arms, they hugged. They stood there that way for minutes. She gripped him tightly, resting her head against his chest. He held her tighter, she belonged to him. They loosened their holds and spoke softly near each other’s ear.
“It’s over…”
The words that were supposed to distance them instead brought their hearts closer. They stood there in the same position, both knew that it was supposedly the end. It was the end of their togetherness, the end of the emotions they shared, end of the countless memories they were a part of. He was about to get married in the coming months, while she will have to search for a life which would define her, and give her an existence of her own without his support.
Conclusion..
What went wrong? Who was to be blamed? These were questions that mattered no more. Probably it was destined to end. They wanted to end it with a smile. But smiles weren’t ready to grace their faces at that moment. Holding back tears was the priority. With every passing minute, dark became darker. It was time they should leave. With heavy hearts, they moved apart in opposite directions. They tried to force a smile on their faces which became wet with tears. No more words could be spoken. The hands left each other slowly, well aware of the fact that they can’t be held together ever again. With a lot of courage, they turned their backs towards each other and left. Their story of a beautiful journey together ended. They were able to hold their tears back, but the sky couldn’t. It rained that night.
@ramta jogi
Edited by: Akshay Toplay
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Childhood | English Poetry
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