This document contains the table of contents for an online magazine called Pothiz published by Pothi.com. It lists 14 short stories, poems and articles. The document also includes an introductory note from the publisher welcoming readers to the inaugural issue and highlighting some of the featured entries.

2. Contents
Inaugural Issue ............................................................................ 3
The Soul is a Battery ................................................................... 5
Elegy .......................................................................................... 11
The Matrimonial Clock .............................................................. 12
Goodbye Mrs. Boa .................................................................... 20
Barberic Times .......................................................................... 21
Oops! I made you a Daddy........................................................ 27
Thirteen Hours of Fame ............................................................ 29
Inverting the Pyramid (Jonathan Wilson) ................................. 33
Practical Lessons ....................................................................... 36
God Promise ............................................................................. 41
The Idiot .................................................................................... 44
सना फचऩन ............................................................................... 50
ू
City's Seasons ............................................................................ 51
फेटी होने का ददद ........................................................................ 53
Divine Sisterhood ...................................................................... 54

3. From the Publisher’s We received close to a
Desk hundred entries and selecting
a few for your reading
Inaugural Issue
pleasure was not an easy
by Pothi.com Team
task. At Pothi.com, we
Dear Readers, particularly respect the fact
the each individual has his or
It goes without saying that we her own taste in reading and
take immense pleasure in writing. So, apart from the
presenting to you the entries that made it to the
inaugural issue of Pothiz – main issue, we are also going
Pothi.com’s online magazine. to put up some of the other
We see Pothiz as a natural entries we have received on
extension to our efforts of the website. Do read them
providing the young and and give your praises or
unheard voices a platform constructive feedback to the
where they could engage, be authors through comments.
heard, get valuable feedback
directly from their readers
and flourish into wonderful
wordsmiths. While Pothi.com
remains an open platform for
a variety of publishing
endeavors, Pothiz is going to
be a more curated collection
of creative writings. Our hope
Coming to the entries
is that this collection will
included in the issue, the
encourage readers to delve
Featured entry ‘The Soul is a
into and discover the hidden
Battery’ delighted us with its
gems in the proverbial “long
interesting and novel take on
tail” of writing.
ghost stories. It entertains, it
frightens and it leaves you
nodding in agreement with

4. the feelings of the characters. 'सना
ू फचऩन' (Empty
We hope you enjoy it as
Childhood, Hindi) touch on
much as we did.
the various stories, pleasures
Amongst other stories, ‘The and pains of our human
Matrimonial Clock’ will existence. ‘Oops! I made you
resonate particularly well a Daddy’ is a cute, little
with the urban career autobiography by a day old
oriented professionals. It is a baby (ghost written by his
story of how they have to father).
cope with the conflicting
Finally, as you all battle with
needs of matrimony and
the fever of Football, do not
career. ‘Thirteen Hours of
forget to read the review for
Fame’, ‘Practical Lessons’ and
‘Inverting the Pyramid’ by
‘The idiot’ are the stories
Jonathan Wilson. The book
about the opportunism, the
provides an interesting
hypocrisy, the good and the
insight into how the
bad in common people – just
gameplay has evolved over
like you and me.
time and how the game is not
While ‘Barberic Times’ and just about the magical
‘God Promise’ are there to players!
tickle you, ‘Goodbye Mrs.
We hope you enjoy the
Boa’ is a sweet, but profound
collection. Do send your
tribute to Boa Sr., the last
feedback on the magazine
speaker of Bo Language in
and also on the individual
Andaman islands. She died
entries. Entries are also
earlier this year. Other poems
invited for the next issue of
‘City’s seasons’, ‘Elegy’,
the magazine. The deadline is
‘Divine Sisterhood’, ‘फेटी होने July 16, 2010.
का ददद’ (The Pain of being a
Pothi.com Team
Daughter/Girl, Hindi) and

5. Featured Entry elope. They planned to meet
The Soul is a Battery one night at the very spot
by Vivek Ramakrishnan where today’s campfire was
arranged.
‘Do you believe in evil Sheila arrived first. She
spirits?’ waited for hours. There was
no sign of Arjun. His parents
It was Neha. Always the first had apparently discovered
one to get scared. It must their plan, and had convinced
have been the story, thought him not to go. At around
Arjun. three o’clock that night,
Sheila realized that Arjun
They were sitting around a
would not come. She calmly
campfire on the banks of the
walked into the raging
Ganges near Rishikesh. Their
Ganges. Her body was never
bodies were aching after a
found. Arjun was found dead
day of rafting and kayaking. It
two days later – his body was
was one at night. They were
floating on the Ganges.
all stone drunk. Ramesh,
assistant to their rafting Ramesh had noted Neha’s
instructor, had concluded his discomfort at this point, but
story just ten minutes back. had carried on. He appeared
to be enjoying himself. ‘To
It was Sheila’s story. Sheila
this day, people say Sheila’s
had loved a guy, Arjun. Arjun
restless spirit roams the area,
smiled as he thought of the
and looks around for Arjun’,
bout of leg-pulling that he
he had said. Ramesh had
had been subjected to just
looked directly into Arjun’s
because of the common
eyes as he said this, and Arjun
name. Sheila and Arjun were
felt a chill run down his spine.
madly in love, but their
parents were opposed to the ‘Arjun! I’m talking to you!’
match. They finally decided to

6. ‘Well, let me think! Don’t you He saw a few drunken heads
want a proper answer to nodding. He went on.
this?’
‘Well, if I put a dry cell into a
He was lying. He had thought flashlight, and then remove it
about this earlier. He had a and insert it in a clock, does
very good idea of what he the clock start behaving like
was about to say. But he the flashlight? NO! The dry
wanted everyone to believe cell can only give life, you see.
that he had concocted his It cannot retain or transfer
beautiful theory in a matter any properties of its host. A
of minutes, i.e. after he was soul too, merely gives life. It
asked the question. He may give life to a dog’s body,
wanted to impress everyone and then the same soul may
with his brilliance. later give life to a human
body, but the human will not
He put on a very sombre show any characteristics of a
expression. dog, just because he has a
‘The soul is like a battery’, he soul that was once in a dog’s
declared. body.’
‘A what?!’He heard many Again, a few nods.
voices exclaim. Encouraged, he went on.
‘A battery. Think of a dry cell. ‘That is why I can say that the
What does it do? It gives life. only evil spirits that exist are
You see, if I put a dry cell in a the ones that we have
flashlight, it gives life to the currently consumed! And I’m
flashlight, so to speak. If I put not too sure that those are so
it in a clock, it gives life to the evil, now that I think about it.’
clock. Now compare this to He winked. ‘You see, for an
the soul. What does the soul evil spirit to exist, it would
do? It gives life!’ become necessary that the
soul retain some knowledge

7. about its prior host, which, as If you remember, Ramesh
I have demonstrated, is not also mentioned that hardly
possible!’ any instructors were willing
to work for the camp’. This
A voice shot up. ‘Dude! You was Neha again.
have not demonstrated
anything! All you have done is ‘Ramesh has had one drink
present an idea, which has too many. I really think we
never been tested.’ ought to sleep now. It’s 2AM
and we are set to go rafting
Arjun defended, ‘Well, it fits, over the real rapids early
doesn’t it? It explains morning at 7AM – ‘The Wall’
everything so well. The and ‘Return to sender’. We
analogy is so perfect, it need the sleep. And Neha,
surprises me. And of all the please don’t start believing
possible explanations, I such nonsense. I don’t want
believe mine is the one that you tossing and turning the
makes the most sense.’ whole night, and ending up
‘Besides, the story our dear with no rest tomorrow
Ramesh narrated must be morning. We’re going to need
some stupid legend that all the energy we can get!’
these ignorant villagers
‘Arjun, don’t mock these
blindly believe. Tell me, why legends. Many of them are
would these guys even set up true. Besides, it’s you who
a camp at the very spot should be worried – it’s Arjun
where Sheila is supposed to she’s looking for after all! And
have drowned?’ I’ll bet that you are scared
‘Ramesh told us that the too, underneath that façade
owner of the camp did not of yours’.
really believe in the story. He She looked really annoyed.
loved this spot, and insisted Arjun let it go at that. He got
on setting up his camp here.

8. up and went back to his tent. noticed that his hands were
The others followed suit. trembling. Why should they?
‘The soul is a battery’, he told
**** himself. He had to get up.
‘Arjun! Arjun!’. It was a Neha had put on a good fake
whisper at first. He ignored it. accent, he thought.
‘Arjun!’ The voice grew more
forceful. Arjun glanced at his
watch. It was 3AM. He
covered his head with his
blanket and tried to sleep.
‘Arjun!’ There was no
mistaking it. Someone was
definitely calling him. It was a
female voice. Something
inside him warned him not to
get up. But then, he had to
find out. ‘It’s Neha’, he
thought. It had to be. Though
how she managed to chalk up
the courage to venture alone
‘Arjun!’ This time it was
outside her tent in the pitch
followed by the sound of
dark was something he could
anklets. Just like in the horror
not imagine. Neha was trying
movies. Neha was really
to scare him. He would scare
leaving no expense spared.
her instead, he thought.
Arjun had always wondered
‘Arjun!’ The voice was not at why the characters in horror
all like Neha’s. It sounded too movies would invariably
confident. It was pleading, follow the sound of anklets,
and yet very cold. For some ultimately resulting in their
strange reason, it did not untimely death. But he found
even seem human. Arjun that he too felt an insatiable

9. curiosity to explore the She was very annoyed today
source of the sound. – and she looked like she
would go to any extent to
His knees were knocking. ‘The teach him a lesson. At any
soul is a battery’, he rate, he was too drunk to
reminded himself again. He
think straight.
peered out of his tent.
‘Arjun!’ There she was. A ‘The soul is a battery’, he kept
veiled woman. She seemed to chanting as his foot touched
be looking directly at him. the cold water. He realized
She beckoned, and Arjun felt that the current was
compelled to walk towards powerful. She stopped. She
her. She laughed a cruel was only slightly ahead of him
laugh, and then turned and now. He put his second foot
started walking towards the in. Even so close to the bank,
river. Those anklets! He had he could feel the force of the
to follow her. Neha was going water. She moved slowly
too far. He could not let her ahead now, looking back
have the satisfaction of often to see that he was
spooking him. And yet, a following.
voice in his heart warned him
that it was not Neha. He touched the water. He
scooped up some water and
The woman seemed to float. splashed it on his face. The
He could not tell for sure of cool water seemed to clear
course - her saree was his head. He realized that his
sweeping the ground, so that firm conviction in his theory
her feet and slippers were had started crumbling. His
not exposed. He knew that beautiful theory meant
something was just not right, nothing now. How could he
but he could not help throw away all that he
following. She now waded believed in? Is it just enough
into the river. Neha would to preach, to believe, and not
never do that! Or would she? to follow? He had always

10. thought of himself as one had managed to reach Neha’s
who followed what he tent.
preached. But now, he only
knew one thing – he had to ‘Neha!’ But the bed was
run! The woman seemed to empty. His mouth went dry.
He needed to find someone!
sense his discomfort, or, as
he knew deep in his heart, his Someone human!
fear. She looked back to see ‘Arjun!’ He did not dare look
that he was indeed following up. A hand was on his
her. shoulder. He finally looked up
NOW! She had turned ahead. and saw Neha smiling.
This was his chance. He ‘What are you doing here so
turned around silently. late?’
Making as little noise as ‘I….I just came to check that
possible, he started making you were okay. You know,
his way back to the bank. He you were so scared…’
was almost at the bank now.
She turned. ‘Actually Arjun, you’re the
‘Arjun!’ A savage cry! It was one that looks like he’s just
definitely not human. He felt seen a ghost. What’s wrong?’
his blood freeze. She was
‘Nothing yaar. I try to show a
rushing towards him. The fury
little concern, sensitive being
of the river seemed to
that I am, and these smart
multiply. He ran with all his
retorts are what I get in
might. He was at the bank
return!’ He hoped that it was
now. She was making a mad
convincing.
rush, he was sure, but he
dared not look back. She laughed. Why was there
a twinkle in her eye? Was it
His brain had stopped
her, then? Had he really
functioning. It had frozen in
annoyed Neha so much that
fear. His legs somehow
she had performed this
carried him on. Safety! He

11. elaborate ritual just to get Poetry
even? He knew that Neha Elegy
could go to great lengths if by Ananya S Guha
she was determined to do
something… and yet... a poem
symmetry
But he would never ask. How line, curve
could he? If only he had had dash, comma
the courage to stick to his ambience
beliefs. If only he had trusted
his own theory that he had so a poem
zealously defended. If only he cemetry
had followed the mysterious the moment
woman, caught up with her, it is born,
and exposed her for the fraud dies...
she was. ‘After all, the soul is
About the Author
a battery’, he smiled bitterly.
Ananya S Guha lives in
About the Author
Shillong and works in the
The author believes that he is Indira Gandhi National Open
a classic case of the 3 idiots University. His poems in
syndrome - Engineer from English have been published
Pune University + MBA from in numerous journals,
IIML, and now blundering magazines, ezines, websites
along in life, Vivek writes for in India and abroad. He can
release. He also plays the be contacted at
guitar for release, but his nnyguha48@gmail.com
neighbours seem to prefer
the writing!
Image Attribution:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
File:Oyuki.jpg

12. Story And ready to do more, than
The Matrimonial mingle. She had broken up
with her long time boyfriend
Clock
more than eight years ago.
by Shweta Ganesh Kumar
He had wanted to settle
Tara took off her jacket and down and she had not. She
hung it on the peg behind the had just started making her
main door of the apartment. mark as an assistant producer
It was slightly cold this time in a children’s network. Tara
of the year in Bangalore. She had barely any time for
rubbed her hands together meeting him at dinner those
for warmth and took out her days. Edits, props, production
wallet. This went into the first schedules, and auditions with
drawer of the wooden chest precocious kids - these were
of drawers she had in the the only things on her mind
sitting room. To the right of back then. She could not
that, went the keys to her think of taking time out for a
beloved three year old car. wedding. The idea of
Next on her agenda was a shopping for a trousseau or
shower, dinner and the getting through the very
midnight re-run of FRIENDS many ceremonies involved
and then she would settle with a wedding filled her with
down with her laptop. This dread. She was in love, but
last, was the most important she had no time or the
activity of the day. It was all inclination to get into
about her search for a soul something that would mean
mate. making changes in her work
life. She had ended up having
Tara Narayan, thirty-six, lived a long talk with her boyfriend.
in Bangalore and was a He had understood. They had
successful TV producer who parted amicably and
owned her own apartment remained friends. Over the
and a car. And she was single. years, he had gotten married

13. and was now settled in and a hurried shuffling away,
Sydney with his family. when they ran into each
other at work. After that,
Tara had moved on too. She Tara had made a mental note
had grown from an assistant to never get involved with her
producer to a producer to a
colleagues.
senior producer and now an She had been happy enough
executive producer of two as long as her friends had
shows for the Kids Only been around flaunting their
Network. She had bought a
single status with her. But the
mid-sized apartment in sub- number of their tribe had
urban Bangalore and fallen dwindled by the time Tara
into a comfortable routine of
had hit thirty-four. Now all
work, life and mostly laid- she got when she called them
back weekends. She was for an impromptu dinner or a
successful and happy. But drinking session at her house
these days she felt lonely. was excuses. ‘Sorry Tara!
It wasn’t as if Tara had Rajat is out on a business trip
renounced her love life and his mum’s over for a
completely after her break- visit’, ‘Oh I wish I could make
up. She had gone on the it, but Pinku is teething’. It
occasional date, some set up was weird how the years had
by friends, one set up by her transformed her friends into
brother-in-law egged on by the very people they had
her sister and a few with the once vowed they would
people she had met at never be. And just like that,
industry parties. But she had Tara’s social life had changed
always felt the stark lack of from hip and happening to
connection. There had even staid and stagnant. Saturday
been a fling with an office nights had once been
colleague. However, that had synonymous with a night
ended in a couple of months round town at Purple Haze or
resulting in awkward silences Pecos. Now Saturday nights

14. had become the nights Tara she needed to decide on
curled up on her couch, though, was a method.
watching a DVD, as she
munched on Chinese The traditional methods had
takeaway and gulped down a failed her. And she had to
admit that she was tired of
drink or two. In her words,
‘Pathetic!’ And adding to her asking for a table for one or
misery, were her relatives having to order two meals to
who seemed worried about hit the minimum home
delivery limit. She was also
her situation, as if, the future
of the world depended on her certainly done with the
marital status. They had sent meaningless, random dates
that meant she would be
across photographs of eligible
bachelors, proposals from making fake excuses half way
suitable families and even through to escape from
arranged the odd, innocuous turning into the sleeping
meeting in a coffee shop. beauty at the restaurant. It
‘Just go see him Tara, you will was time to get a digital fairy
godmother in her quest for
see why he is the one,’ they
had said. The meetings, prince charming. That meant
though, had been invariably only one thing in India, online
stilted and strained. Tara had matrimonial sites.
returned home, annoyed at One click and Tara found
having been bullied into herself in a parallel universe
meeting strangers. ‘That’s it; filled with people like her;
we’re doing this my way people who were waiting to
now!’ She declared. If she meet their perfect other half.
was the one who was putting There were sites for singles,
herself out there, then it was divorced men and women,
only fair that she would widows and widowers and so
screen and select the people on and so forth. The profiles
she was going to meet. What on the sites were organized
according to caste, age,

15. height, personal preferences ‘Age? Thirty-six. Should I add
and so on. There was no and four months? Maybe I’ll
dearth of choice. There was just leave it at that. Onto the
an ocean of information out next, complexion… what sort
there. Reviews, testimonials of a racist question is that? I
from happy couple and blogs am not answering that one.
from disgruntled users. Next… She went on and on,
filling up the blanks in her
Tara was hooked. Before she profile. ‘Tall, age above thirty-
knew it, she was signing on
six, employed in Bangalore
www.madeinheaven.com. and…’
Though the title was a tad too
cheesy for her, it claimed to
be the best site for men and
women in her age group. But
even as Tara uploaded her
profile, the site’s logo worried
her. It was a clock titled ‘The
Matrimonial clock’. As the
page loaded, the clock would
start ticking from the first
point that was a stick figure
The registration process
of an unhappy single to the
completed, Tara had received
last point which had two stick
her new identity. F1734. She
figures holding hands. And it
could now browse through
was called a match made in
other profiles and send them
heaven.
enquiries or even chat with
Though the corniness made them online. She did not
her cringe, she ignored it and want to seem like a desperate
continued to key in her vital woman though. She was far
statistics. ‘Height? Hmmm, from that, anyway.
that ones simple,’ she
thought, “5’6” she typed in.

16. Today, it had been three Bangalore. His name was
months and few days to her Vikram Balakrishnan. He had
first step in the online liked her profile and wished
matchmaking world. Tara to meet her in person. Tara
settled down for her nightly took a closer look at his
search. ‘So, let’s see what’s profile photograph. He
been happening in the looked nice, young looking,
heavenly inbox,’ she tall and casually dressed. She
muttered to herself as she could see the Eiffel Tower in
waited for the mails to load. the background.
She had received a number of
‘Expressed interest’ mails so Tara replied to him, fixing an
early dinner date at Karavalli,
far. This meant that these
members had wanted to one of her favourite seafood
access her personal restaurants. She switched off
information and photographs the computer and went to
and possibly even meet her in bed with a faint smile on her
person. However, she hadn’t face. Maybe her matrimonial
clock had started ticking after
yet found anyone interesting
enough to take the discussion all.
out of the web realm. She Vikram was waiting at the
had chatted for a couple of table, when Tara walked in a
weeks with one guy, but had couple of minutes after 7 pm.
stopped after she figured the She patted her hair down, a
guy just seemed to be looking tad self-consciously. She had
for an online buddy. picked up a new red kurta for
Today, there were three the occasion. Teamed with
‘Expressed interest’ mails. her jeans, she thought she
There was also a direct mail. looked pretty good, even if
It was from M5892 who was she said so herself. Vikram
thirty-eight and was a smiled at her, as she took her
software engineer based in seat. ‘Hi, sorry I’m a bit late.
Just got stuck in traffic’, Tara

17. smiled, as she started the the middle of his head. She
conversation off. preferred a head full of hair,
no matter what the texture
‘That’s fine. Bloody Bangalore was. She was fine with
infrastructure! I had to leave shaven heads and even
from home, some two hours
baldheads. The patch
in advance to make it on however caught her
time. This city really sucks unawares. She was not sure
sometimes!’ how she felt about it. For
Tara nodded as she listened now, she clamped down on
to him. She was also busy the ambivalent feelings and
processing the two bits of concentrated on the menu in
information that she had not front of her. ‘I’ll have a Vodka
gotten from Vikram’s profile. with Coke and lots of ice
One, that he had a slightly please. And for starters the
high-pitched voice with a prawns salad.’
whiny tone to it. And two, he Vikram gave her a strange
didn’t seem to like Bangalore look and ordered a beer with
a lot. To Tara, the city was French fries. He asked the
home, her security blanket waiter to come back for the
and on some days, her only main course order later.
companion. She could not
think of living elsewhere, ‘So tell me a little about you.’
even for a second. Tara asked pleasantly,
mentally hoping she hadn’t
Vikram broke into her sounded like a prospective
analysis. ‘So what will you employer at the start of an
have? Let me call the waiter.’
interview.
He half- turned to gesture to
the waiter, only to proffer yet ‘You drink?’ Vikram
another bit of information to responded.
Tara. He had a bald patch the
size of a one-rupee coin in

18. ‘Yup. Doesn’t everyone these Tara got angry, as she replied,
days?’ Tara replied, “Vikram, it’s right there under
wondering what he was habits. Secondly, you are
getting at. drinking yourself.’
Vikram had a disapproving He shrugged and said, ‘Ya,
look on his face. ‘Hmmm, I but its different for me. I
don’t think I read that on mean, you are someone I was
your profile’, he said in a tone considering getting married
matching his expression. to. This is not something, one
expects in a wife, na. It’s bad
Tara gave him a disbelieving enough that you’re over
look. She shook her head. ‘No thirty-six and that you work in
Vikram. It’s right there under the TV industry. I mean that’s
habits.’ ok, you can leave your job.
He raised his eyebrows and But I guess, the drinking is
opened his mouth to say what will have to stop first.’
something but stopped What shocked Tara the most
himself, as the waiter was his matter of fact
approached the table with delivery. He had spoken as if
their drinks. He took a swig of he was talking about the
his beer, without waiting for
weather. Vikram’s
Tara to finish mixing her monologue had left no space
drink. for any discussion.
As soon as the waiter left, he Tara opened her wallet and
picked up from where he had took out a five hundred-
stopped, ‘I have gone through rupee note. She laid it on the
your profile Tara. I don’t think table and stood up. Vikram
I would have set this up, if I
looked at her questioningly.
knew you drink alcohol. I Tara made a wry face, smiled
don’t think its right.’ and said, ‘Sorry Vikram. This
is not working. I just realized I

19. like the M5892 better than matrimonial clock started
the Vikram Balakrishnan. ticking again.
Goodnight and best of luck.
This should cover my part of About the Author
the bill.’ Vikram nodded and Shweta Ganesh Kumar is a
nonchalantly pocketed the writer and a freelance travel
money. Tara turned, rolled journalist. She has
her eyes upwards in a quick contributed articles for
gesture and walked back to ‘Chicken Soup for the Indian
her car. Spiritual Soul’ and ‘CBW’s
A long relaxing shower later, India’s Top 42 Weekend
Tara was back in front of her Getaways’. Her short fiction
computer. She had time to has been published in
kill before the Chinese food Australian Women online,
got delivered. ‘What a Single Solitary Thought, and
complete waste of time! the Asia Writes project. She
That’s it! I’m going to delete writes a column for The NRI
my stupid profile. I cannot magazine. She can be
believe I met up with an contacted at
imbecile chauvinist pig like shwetaganeshkumar@gmail.c
this.’ She logged on and om
waited for her profile to load. Image Attribution:
As she searched for the http://www.flickr.com/photo
delete button, a text box s/aldaron/536362686/
popped up. She had a direct
mail from M3321. She read
the short message and leaned
back. ‘Wouldn’t hurt to check
out the guy and then delete
my profile, na’, Tara thought.
As she leaned forward and
clicked on M3321, the

20. Poetry for the last 65,000 years.
Goodbye Mrs. Boa Alone.
by Nazrul Haque Aren’t you happy, Mrs. Boa?
Boa, an eighty-five-year-old In death you are reborn.
woman was the last member Just after crossing the bridge,
of the Bo tribe and the last You shall meet them all.
speaker of the Bo language. Won’t you laugh again?
She lived in the Andaman Will you joke about us-
Islands. Boa died on January In ‘Bo’?
26, 2010 and in her death she
took her tribe and language
with her. The old woman was
very lonely in the last few
years of her life as she was
the only surviving member of
one of the oldest human
cultures on earth which lived
in the Andaman Islands for as Goodbye, Mrs. Boa!
long as sixty-five thousand Soon
years. She had no one to We shall depart too,
converse with as she was the Just like you,
lone speaker of Bo. Her death Lost and lonely.
may go unnoticed but it is a Civilization is a great burden.
bleak reminder to all of us. So is being human!
Goodbye, Mrs. Boa! About the Author
We shall miss you. Nazrul Haque is a Guwahati
The last of a tribe, based author.
a lost language,
Image Attribution:
and those memories
http://www.flickr.com/photo
You carried,
s/dsumin/4261244100/

21. Humour see modelling clay in their
Barberic Times customers, which is the bad
by Abhijeet Deogirikar part.
The dentist’s chair has been The first time I faced this
famed to be the scariest of all predicament was in the good
chairs. Ogden Nash has even city of New York, my first visit
written an eloquent poem abroad.
about its horrors. Part I: Case of the Spanish
I’m pretty sure Ogden Nash barber(ess), New York
never went for a haircut. For
me, the barber’s chair is right
up there with the worst of A haircut is something I must
them. If you want a haircut in get every month. Call it good
a foreign land, that is. or bad, it has become my
habit. To me, a haircut is like
Barbers in my hometown are mowing the lawn so short
pretty good at their trade. that you don’t have to do it
You tell them how you want for another month.
your hair cut, and they do the
needful. They generally do Not so with the Yankee
not try to be consultants (one barbers. They probably view
did venture to ask me if I it as a hibiscus hedge that
wanted to do away with my needs to be trimmed and
moustache. But he quickly shaped, so that people can
realized his mistake). All in all, applaud when you win the
they generally do not step ‘best kept garden’ trophy.
out of line.
I had seen the general
In contrast, the barbers I representation of punk-
came across abroad were a haired individuals in
different species altogether. Hollywood movies. And I
They see art in their work, knew about the zeal of the
which is a good thing. They hair-stylists of New York. As

22. such, I had reasons to be I gambled. And I lost. Just my
concerned. I might walk in as usual run of luck.
myself, and walk out as
somebody who I wouldn’t I told the Spanish lady:
care to meet in the street. ‘Please make it short.’
The other thing that bothered This galvanized the good lady
me was the concept of into zealous animation. What
‘unisex’ parlors. I won’t mince followed were the words that
words. I am NOT comfortable I still have nightmares about:
with a lady cutting my hair. ‘You want SPIKES, right?’
Don’t get me wrong; it’s just I was told that in the US, if
that women have far too you wanted vegetarian food,
much on their minds already. don’t ask for just ‘veg’. Ask
Due to which the results for for ‘Asian veg’. Nobody told
my hair could be potentially me what to say if you wanted
unspeakable, albeit a short haircut. The words
spectacular. The visionaries ‘short haircut’, apparently,
who came up with the idea of were insufficient. This was
unisex salons must have been the U.S. of A.
true die-hard adventurers. Or
bald. Both kinds would fail to In adversity, they say, a man
see my point of view. rises to his true potential. I
dutifully rose to my true
To return to my tale, I diplomatic potential. Slowly
entered the only salon which but surely, I explained to the
seemed to employ a lady what I wanted. She
gentleman. It also employed seemed to understand (I
two ladies. It was a gamble, doubted that she fully
positioning yourself to be the understood English. And I
nth customer, so that the guy knew more about the tribes
could attend to your haircut. of the Kalahari than I knew

23. about Spanish. So it was no pointed to the legendary
mean feat). chair.
I got the haircut I wanted, In a fight, it’s best to land the
and she got a big tip. Big by first punch. But hindsight is a
my standards, anyway. wonderful thing - it never
fails to tell you what you did
I was in New York for several wrong. The attack came
months. By and by, I learnt without any warning: ‘I’m
the trick of getting what I going to give you a new hair-
wanted, while still respecting style. Your’s is totally
the craftsman’s art. I found a
outdated.’
desi barber.
In the brief span of a few
Part II: Case of the Portugese seconds, three important
barber, Vancouver facts were thrown my way:
Lightening never strikes the a. This grand-fatherly
same place twice; it’s an age-
character didn’t like my
old adage. I have stopped ‘hairstyle’. Now, as far as I
believing age-old adages. was concerned, ‘hairstyle’
The second time lightening is a word reserved for the
struck me in Vancouver, in a fairer gender. Gentlemen
small salon. The fact that it always had a ‘haircut’.
was small was why I had Simple. But this guy
decided to walk in. Small, thought differently. Or I
hence utilitarian, my was way behind the times.
intelligence told me. I should b. He intended to do
have left my intelligence at something about my
home. haircut.
The elderly owner (he was c. He wasn’t asking my
evidently an immigrant) permission to do it. He
hadn’t articulated a

24. question. Or even a In the midst of this hair-
suggestion. It was a splitting, I cast one vile glance
statement of fact. ‘I’m at the older man’s crown, in
going to give you a new hopes of extracting a
hair-style’. Just like that. modicum of revenge. Eye-for-
an-eye stuff. A bald pate
At times like these, one glimmered back at me. Not
wonders if Monalisa really
my lucky day, this one.
wanted to be painted that
way. If Michelangelo’s David At last he paused, expecting
was happy to be sculpted in to find total agreement with
that form. Or was it just the his expert opinion.
‘I’m going to, and there is
damn all you can do about it’
attitude of their creators
(God rest their souls)?
Admittedly, both turned out
to be amongst the greatest
masterpieces in the history.
But then, some people are
luckier than the others.
For the next hundred and
eighty seconds, I patiently
listened to the salon owner’s
flattering monologue about ‘I’m not really looking for a
how my haircut was grossly change of style. Just make it
outdated by at least ten short’.
years. How no one parted
‘You sure? I am thinking of
their hair on the left side any
giving you a cool style. Like
more. Or any side, for that
George Clooney’s.’
matter. How he could make it
better.

25. He was persistent, I grant him away at the back of your neck
that. I was terrified. He might in utter silence. Unsettling,
not achieve his lofty goal, but isn’t it? So they keep up a
he would die trying, leaving steady ramble about one
me halfway there! I tried to thing or another.
put the disturbing thought
out of my mind. It was ‘Where are you from, my
impossible, even with the friend ?’
large mirror in front mocking ‘India. A place called Pune.’
me with the nasty
possibilities that lay ahead. I ‘Have you been to other
was ready to bolt out of places, apart from
there, and the hell with the Vancouver?’
eighteen dollars.
I could honestly muster the
Then the truth sunk in: names of a few places around
eighteen dollars! No way! the world that I had been to.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe he And a few that I hadn’t been
could make me look a bit like to.
Clooney. But then again,
I got in a quick question of my
maybe Santa did exist, after
own: ‘Where do you come
all. Anyway, it was my hair we
from?’
were talking about, and the
question wasn’t up for a vote. ‘From the land of Vasco da
It would be cut just the way I Gama’, he answered. So he
wanted it. was from Portugal. ‘Da Gama
discovered India’, came next.
‘Thanks. But I just want it cut
short’, I asserted. Grudgingly, The first bristles of hair rose
he gave in. on my wrists. I’m particularly
sensitive to any affront, real
Hair stylists chat a lot while
or imagined, to my country’s
plying their trade. They have
glory, and would have liked to
to. Imagine someone snipping

26. point out to him in great some praise for Portugal. (I
detail how, unlike Greenland, didn’t recall if my recently
India didn’t have to be published list of ‘places
‘discovered’ by anybody. And visited’ included any in that
that great civilizations had country).
thrived in my land when the
early Europeans were just ‘My hometown, Pune, is the
graduating past cave best of all.’ Take that, Vasco !
paintings. I had got my pound of flesh.
The score was even again. (I
But it seemed a rather harsh would have loved to say
reaction to a relatively ‘bestest’, but he still had the
harmless, though erroneous, scissors).
line picked up from history
books. Besides, he was the ‘Yeah, home is where the
one with the scissors. I’m heart is’, he conceded. And
tactful around people with where stylists do what they
snipping blades in the vicinity are asked, I could have
of my ears. I have rather large added.
ears, and would like to keep Not much banter ensued
them that way. I decided on after this. Once he felt he had
strategic retreat. done his best, he stood back
He went on for a while about to review - nay, admire - his
the beauty of Vancouver. It’s handiwork. I let him. He put
neatness. Serenity. Stuff like away the towel from my
that. Then onto Portugal, and shoulders, and put down his
its countless virtues. assortment of artists’ tools. I
let him.
‘So which city did you like the
‘Howz that, huh?’ You could
best, huh ?’ I knew the
question was coming. He have heard ‘Voila’ in his
expected me to declare, ‘ voice. It was time to deliver
Vancouver !’, or maybe even the blow.

27. ‘Make it shorter’, I said curtly. Experimental
It was heartless, I know. Even Oops! I made you a
Wicked. I enjoyed it Daddy.
immensely! I was going to by Techknowbaby
make him earn every one of
*Blink Blink*
those eighteen damned
dollars. Hmmm, this uterus is starting
to push into me now... I'm
He was finished. For another
getting cramped.
ten minutes, he snipped away
Wonder what the date is?
dutifully. I got my hair cut
Hey Mom! Moooooommm!!!
exactly as I wanted it. He got
mommyyyyyyy!!! What date
his lesson. Fair deal.
is today?
‘Thanks, Mister Bruno.’ I said
on my way out. I had read the
name off the license hanging
over the mirror, but he didn’t
know that. The old man was
somewhat impressed. He
wished me a happy new year.
I wished him the same. 1st June! Isn't this a little
early for you to be imposing
Perfect gentlemen.
your uterus onto me!!
About the Author I'm still enjoying the tasty
treats your friends made you
Author can be contacted at eat at your baby shower two
abhijeetdeogirikar@gmail.co days ago! Stop trying to push
m me out will you.
Image Attribution: *Soothes the uterus down*
http://www.flickr.com/photo There there, I'm not leaving
s/invisiblehour/3095269052/ you and going just yet. We'll

28. be friends for some more That's dad! You have got to
time, me, my umbilical cord, be kidding me. How could
and you! someone looking like that
produce something as cute as
2nd June me!
Ouch! Mom stop pushing me. Okay, smile for the camera!
*Gags* I'm not getting
enough air! Help, Help... Gosh, I'm tired now! Enough
*Kicks frantically with each for the first day of my life.
contraction* I can't take this
anymore... I'm too lazy to About the Author
fight this *Heart Rate Falls* Techknowbaby is the author's
Ohhh everything's going dark. newly born son, who wants
to express his feelings to the
I'm feeling numb. Hey, wait a
minute! Come back here! world (something like Look
You, yes you anterior wall of who's talking but better!). His
dad writes too but like all the
the uterus... What's the big
idea letting so much light in! fathers he wants his son to be
Arrrrgghh, there's a knife in recognized first.
your belly!!! Address:
*Bright Lights* *Blink... The Crib
Blink... Blink* c/o Dr. Mulchandani
40, Strand House,
Oh Crap! I'm out!!! Better Opp. Strand Cinema,
start crying before that scary Colaba, Mumbai
looking paediatrician whacks
my bottoms! *Waaaah Image Attribution:
Waaaahh* http://www.flickr.com/photo
s/jon_ovington/4281583092/
Ohhh Mommy you're pretty!
Who is that monstrosity of a
man with a cap and mask!

29. Story someone would take him
Thirteen Hours of away. She summoned the
family priest next morning.
Fame
by Jatin Pathak ‘Long, very long’, said Panditji
and started calculating
Sitting on a chair, spinal cord
something on the finger tips.
straight as a cricket pitch, the
‘At least seventy-two’, he
eyes of Panditji were scrolling
added ‘the boy will live at
fast on the kundli of nine-year
least till seventy-two years.
old Manav Sharma. With the
You should not worry at all
right hand he adjusted his
Mrs. Sharma.’
spectacles, giving the
impression that he has found This changed the expression
something of great on Mrs. Sharma’s face. She
importance. Manav’s mother felt relaxed and leaned
pulled her chair closer to backward on the chair like
Panditji. she had just finished a horror
movie with a happy ending.
Her face was dull and her
eyes were full of worry. And ‘Shanta, bring some milk and
why not, she had a genuine biscuits for Panditji’, She
reason to worry. Her son had screamed at the maid.
fallen from the second floor
of the building last night. But ‘One more thing’, said
miraculously he did not get Panditji, holding the kundli in
even a scratch. The whole his left hand with straight
family had spent the night in arm and giving it an eagle eye
the civil hospital. Doctors did view. This created suspense
a complete check up and again. ‘The boy will do great
found no injury. Everyone things, he is born to change
was amazed. She kept the the fortune of this family. He
boy close to her the entire is the Kuber of your dynasty.’
night, holding him tightly as if

30. He said as Shanta-bai served ‘Mrs. Sharma, Where is
milk and biscuits. SharmaJi?’
‘PanditJi, then what is the “He is sleeping” She replied.
reason for yesterday’s
accident? ’ ‘Sleeping? Haven’t you read
the newspaper this morning?’
‘Unfavorable planetary He said waving the local
conditions. You should offer newspaper Kapurthala Times.
red cloth with cow’s milk to a
temple today. Also the vastu ‘No, we do not subscribe to it’
of your kitchen is not good. ’Manav’s photo is on the
You have to change it to front page’, neighbor said and
make sure the food remains started reading the story.
pure and safe from evil
spirits.’ ‘Miraculous escape for a
nine-year old boy. Doctors
have said that the boy
possesses a lot of mental
strength and is genetically
capable of enduring more
pain than normal human
being. They have requested
the district deputy collector
Suddenly a voice from to provide funds to the
neighborhood intercepted hospital so that they can buy
them. apparatus to study boy’s
gene-structure. They have
‘Sharmaji, Sharmaji, Sharmaji’ also suggested that the boy
And a tall lean man, their should choose sports as a
neighbor, entered the house career and bring fame and
in a white kurta-pajama. glory to the town and the
nation. They have called our
Manav the Gem of

31. Kapurthala.’ The neighbour TV channel that they wanted
finished with a big smile and to interview the boy for an
handed over the newspaper episode of “My town, My
to Mrs. Sharma. She was Pride”. They would send a
proud of her son. reporter in the evening for
the recording. This electrified
‘I have already said the boy is the atmosphere. The proud
special. He will bring change mother told everyone about
to the nation’, Panditji it. Mr. Sharma, the father of
jumped into the
the boy, was giving tips to
conversation, taking away all Manav for the interview. He
the credit. coached him to tell the
‘His kundli is similar to Lal reporter that he wanted to
Bahadur Shastri’s’, Panditji choose cricket as his career
said while picking up his bag and win the world cup for the
and turning towards the door country.
to leave. He was certainly not At around 5 P.M the reporter
aware that the former Prime came with the cameraman.
Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri They started setting up their
died in his sixties, fifteen apparatus. Tarikha Singh, a
years short of his calculation. former wrestler from the
Friends and relatives kept town, also came at the same
coming, asking for Manav. time and started talking to
Shanta-bai got busy serving the reporter. He said that he
the guests. Manav received came to convince Manav’s
lots of toys as gifts from the parents to let the boy to
guests. He became famous in choose wresting as a career.
his school and talk of the He believed that one day
town. His arch rival in school, Manav can bring the Olympic
Diksha also came. In the glory to the town. Tarikha
afternoon Mrs. Sharma Singh was happy to come in
received a call from the local the news after a long long

32. time. The mother asked The whole town talked
Manav to go and take a bath philosophically about the
before facing the camera. power of destiny. The doctor
While Manav was going to and Punditji did not attend
take the bath, his old the cremation ceremony.
grandmother came to put a
dot of kajal on his face. ‘Kisi ki Next day, Kapurthala Times
nazar na lag Jaye’, she said. carried a small column on this
But the little boy was in a incident quoting Tarikha
Singh that the boy’s death
hurry and was very excited
about facing the camera. So was a big blow to the
he avoided her and went wrestling’s future. The local
channel telecasted the story
straight to the bathroom.
of how the child lived his
When Manav did not come thirteen hours of fame before
out of the bath for a while, dying. Perhaps he survived
his father went to fetch him. earlier only to live these
He banged on the door, thirteen hours.
‘Manav, come out soon beta.
TV Channel people are About the Author
waiting. Manav!’ There was Author can be contacted at
no response. Getting a little pathak.jatin@gmail.com
annoyed, he forced open the
door only to find Manav Image Attribution:
sprawled on the bathroom http://www.flickr.com/photo
floor. The boy had slipped in s/clexow/3254678299/
the bathroom and had died a
quick death. In an instant, the
atmosphere changed
completely. The mother was
inconsolable. She was cursing
herself for not offering the
milk and cloth in the temple.

33. Book Review Jonathan Wilson tries in this
Inverting the Pyramid book to trace the tactical
evolution of football from the
(Jonathan Wilson)
early days to the modern
by Sriyansa Das
form.
Football, Jonathan Wilson
writes in the prologue of
‘Inverting the Pyramid’,
… is not about players, or
at least not just about
players; it is about shape
and about space, about
the intelligent deployment
of players, and their
movement within that
The first basic question is that
deployment...
in a ‘simple’ game like
Yet, no one remembers football, do tactics and
football this way; it is always organization matter at all?
about the Peles, the Arrigo Sacchi, the former Italy
Maradonas, the Rooneys and and A.C. Milan coach, to
the Messis and never about a prove the efficacy of
team or how eleven players organization,
played. The beauty and
took 5 players [playing per
appeal of the football lies in
his rules]…. they [the non
the fact that it is both
agreeing players] had 10
exceedingly simple in the
players … they had fifteen
conception, and yet allows
minutes to score against
for enormous complexity in
my five players, the only
the game-play. There is thus a
rule was that if we won
history to be told of this
possession or they lost the
complex game-play, and
ball, they had to start over

34. 10 meters inside their own … one of the founding
half … they never scored. fathers of the game felt it
Not once. necessary to explain to
others that if one of their
Organizing a team allows a team-mates were charging
team to effectively utilise the head-down at goal, it
space on the pitch. Or to get might be a good idea to go
one or more of the
and help him – although
opposition players out of the expecting to receive the
game by denying them the ball volitionally seems to
time or the space to operate.
have been a step too far.
As formations evolved,
players with time and space Passing the ball to a team-
started getting less of it mate sounds very basic and
leading to some innovative intuitive part of the game
coaches searching for space today. But it has not always
in some other part of the been considered so. Even this
pitch. The entire tactical concept has evolved as a
evolution of football, Wilson technique at some point of
demonstrates, can thus be time in the footballing
seen as a story of spaces history. So are concepts like
found and shut out over the switching positions, pressing
pitch. opponents and retaining
possession no matter what.
However, it isn’t just the
Each of these techniques
formation that is important. It
came up in response to some
is also how players play
earlier development. In
within it. On how the early
recent memory, when Inter
players operated, Wilson
Milan won the semi finals of
writes,
Champions League against
Barcelona, Jose Mourinho
talked about how he taught
Inter to play without the ball

35. because Barcelona would The single greatest reason to
almost never give up read the book is that it allows
possession. fans to see the game in a new
way. After reading this book,
The story of football is as it will be hard to ignore the
much of people and places as
player who runs across, as
it is of how the game is Messi stands over the ball
played or the formations facing two defenders; he
used. Jimmy Hogan, Herb provides an outlet for a pass
Chapman, Bela Guttman,
or even better draws away
Helenio Herrara, Alf Ramsey, one defender, allowing Messi
Rinus Michels, Valery to nutmeg the one remaining
Lobanovskyi and many others
and score a brilliant goal. It
find mention because of their will a little hard to claim that
ideas on football. In a rather it was only Messi’s genius at
dry book, the author is at his
play.
dramatic best when he
describes these men who Image Attribution:
have changed the game. http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp
Football, the author /product/1409102041/ref=pd
demonstrates, has also got a _lpo_k2_dp_sr_1?pf_rd_p=10
cultural angle. Often a culture 3612307&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-
chooses football as its stripe&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=
spokesperson; whether it be 0752889958&pf_rd_m=A3P5
the influence of the ROKL5A1OLE&pf_rd_r=0ZMR
intellectual cafe culture of DZ3S9WR9TJ17MDPE
Vienna on the Austrian
Wunderteam in 1930s or the
concept of La Nuestra that
defines Argentinian football
to this day, football and the
way it is played has never
been just a game.

36. Story wearing his school uniform.
Practical Lessons On seeing a scooter stop, he
by Sree had approached the rider
eagerly. However once the
‘Want a condom?’ he asked. helmet came off, the rider
had turned out to be a
‘Excuse me?’
beautiful, short-haired girl in
‘I mean to say do you need her late twenties. Her male
condoms?’ rock-star costume, complete
with the heavy metallic
‘No thanks! And why are you chains and steel bracelets had
asking me?’ she became fooled him and now he was
irritated. caught in an embarrassing
situation.
‘Because ... errr ... we are
running an AIDS awareness
campaign as part of our CAS
activity and so we are
distributing condoms to
spread awareness about the
importance of practicing ...
‘CAS is Creativity, Action and
err ... safe sex’, He blurted
Service and it is a part of our
out his practiced answer,
curriculum in New Era
barely looking up to meet her
International School. We
eyes.
undertake a social service
‘Where do you study and project each month and this
what exactly is this CAS?’ She month happened to be the
asked twisting the scooter AIDS awareness month’, He
key around her manicured explained awkwardly.
fingers.
‘So you are advocating safe
He was distributing condoms sex, eh? Do you even know
at the gates of a discotheque

37. what sex is like in the first can’t let such an opportunity
place?’ She asked. pass. Have you ever been to a
happening place like this
He dug his shoe-tips into the before? You are not even
ground and tried to think of eighteen, I guess. So I'll
an appropriate response. sponsor all the booze and
Suddenly she grabbed his arm smoke for you. You just hang
and started dragging him on to my arms and see the
towards the discotheque magic unfold. I am bored of
gate. my regular escorts anyway.
Let us dance away this night
‘Come; first enjoy the life together’, she smiled
young fella! Then you can go suggestively, playfully lisping
wage a war against AIDS! her words while running her
What do you say?’ she said sharp nails against his
playfully. forearm.
Come, be my escort for the He tried to hide his flustered
night and I will help you pass look behind an idiotic smile.
through those bloody This was a golden chance and
guarded gates. Are you he couldn't let it pass. He
game?’ She queried. loosened up his tie, gave a
nervous smile and nodded his
‘I am sorry but I am not
head.
dressed for the occasion’, he
offered a lame excuse. They proceeded towards the
gates. As they were about to
‘Oh, don't ya worry about
step in, two strong arms
your damn prep school
stopped them and they faced
uniform. I'll cook up some
the raised eyebrows of one of
story about a fancy dress
the hulks at the gate.
theme we are having
amongst us friends for the ‘Okay, okay, take it easy,’ She
night. Awww... come on, you backed off. Then she turned

38. to him and smiled a was standing against the wall.
wonderfully smug smile like a On the opposite side was a
school-girl caught in her act. single comfortable sofa in
‘We'll find something else to blazing red colour with a few
do. I tell ya, let's go to my virgin white cushions. The
small hide-out. We’ll watch a walls of the room were
movie on the DVD and we can painted in a pleasant lemon
dance a little too. I've a good yellow. A single large painting
music system. You wanna adorned its wall, overhanging
come?’ She asked. the sofa; a painting of red
roses in a black vase against a
He looked at her disarming window sill. She closed the
smile and said yes. door behind them and locked
As he rode pillion on the it.
scooter, her fragrance tickled As he settled down on the
his senses and sent a tingling sofa, she fetched a bottle of
sensation down his spine. He wine and two glasses from
had never been this close to a the kitchen and began to
female body. Myriad pour the red bubbly liquid.
thoughts raced across his She offered one glass to him
virile mind. He wondered which he took with shaking
what story he will have by the and sweaty hands. She went
end of the evening to tell his
back to the showcase and
friends the next day. His heart selected a DVD to play on the
thumped with excitement. music system. As the soft
The evening was pregnant
song started playing, she gave
with alluring possibilities. him an inviting look and
They reached her small flat in gestured him to come and
the suburbs of the city. As he dance with her. He rose to
entered he noticed the well- her command and joined her,
kept room. A show-case filled swaying slowly to the rhythm
with books, DVDs and CDs of the music while his pulse

39. raced and his heart thumped now echoed in his ears as he
with excitement. Being close felt the warmth of her skin
to her he realized that through the thick clothes. She
underneath those loose took his hand and started
fitting hip hop clothes she stroking her cheeks with it.
had a petite and thin body Then she spoke in a quiet
that he could easily cocoon in tone.
his athletic arms.
‘Can I share a secret with ya?’
They danced for a while,
taking breaks in between to ‘Sure!’
sip the wine. No words were ‘I am suffering from AIDS?’
exchanged. The silence
stoked the fire of excitement He froze as if bitten by a
in his mind with each passing snake. His hand twitched as
minute. Then she abruptly his mind tried to assimilate
stopped the music, inserted a the significance of the
disc into the video system information she had shared
and sank down on the sofa with him. The warm romantic
gesturing him to join her at feelings gave way to cold
her side. He settled down fear. His body withdrew from
beside her, their bodies any contact with hers. He
almost touching each other. wanted to get up and bolt
through the door but he was
As the movie played, the stuck to his chair.
wine, the romantic dance and
the physical closeness began ‘Are you serious?’ He said half
to make him restless. expecting this to be a bad
Gathering his courage, he joke.
slowly placed his trembling
‘Yes, I am an HIV positive
hand on her thigh. She turned
person’ she said in a sad tone.
to him and smiled sweetly. He
‘You probably want to leave
felt encouraged by her
right away, eh? I know you
response. His heart-beats

40. are already running away attitude people have towards
from me in your mind.’ She HIV positive people? Maybe
stood up and started pacing you can start with yourself!
the room. ‘Look, I had no You did not even thank me
intentions of tempting you for the evening or mention a
into some foolhardy act sweet goodbye. Anyway,
tonight. I just wanted to show Good night and sweet
you the real danger of AIDS dreams!’
that exists in our society, the
careless attitude that people About the Author
in general have about its The author is a general
dangers. I am sorry for giving practitioner of medicine by
you such a rude shock but I profession and a writer by
hope this is a practical lesson compulsion of the muse that
for you and you will use all invades her being on and off.
the precautions for your own She is married with two kids
self when the need arises. and has an easy, comfortable
Whatever you learn in life. She dreams of chaos,
classrooms is all very good though.
but becoming sensitive
towards these issues in real Image Attribution:
life is what matters. I hope http://www.flickr.com/photo
you understand that it is not s/foundphotoslj/466713478/
about distributing free
condoms, but about being
responsible and being aware.
Take care!’ She held the door
open for him to leave.
And as he hurriedly left the
house, she called out from
behind, ‘Hey, can you also do
something about the rotten

41. Humour God: Let’s do it, Yammy.
God Promise Narad?
by Vibha Batra Narad muni: I’m on sick leave
God: Earthlings lie way too starting tomorrow.
much, tch tch! I want to make Yamaraj: Looks like it’s just
an example of a liar so that the two of us.
people are scared to lie.
God: One minute, what do
Yamaraj: Why don’t we kill
we go as?
them all?
Yamaraj: Let’s see, we are
Chitragupta: Then there will used to luxury. So it makes
be no one left on earth. sense to go as film stars or
Narad muni: Yeah, it’s that bureaucrats or industrialists
bad! or…
Yamaraj: Why don’t we take God: Or politicians?
human form and try drilling Chitragupta: They lie for a
sense into their heads? living, sir.
Chitragupta: What an idea, God: Won’t that be
sirji! interesting? We will test
Yamaraj: So you are coming ourselves. We will stay on as
along? long as we speak the truth.
The moment we lie, we will
Chitragupta (shifts be transported back to
uncomfortably on his throne): heaven.
Umm, err, I have some
important business to attend Yamaraj: Where do they have
here. Why don’t you guys go? the worst politicians on
I will hold fort. earth?

42. Chitragupta (scratching his He speaks into the mike:
head): They are the same Main, Y.A.M., shapath leta
everywhere. In some hoon ki main…
countries though, if they
make money, they do some His speech is rudely
interrupted by a mike that
work too.
comes flying on his face.
Narad muni: Lord, go to India. Close on its heels are some
Their politicians take the murderous looking manoos.
cake. They pounce on him, rough
him up and send him
Yamaraj: Deal!
sprawling to God.
God: Tathastu! God: Kai zhala? Kai zhala?
Whirlpool engulfs them. Yamaraj: (groaning) You knew
we were supposed to speak
only in Marathi?
God shuffles uncomfortably.
Suddenly, there’s an
announcement in Marathi:
Now, Shri G.O. Darshan will
read the party manifesto.
Next second, God and Yama
God puts on His glasses,
are standing inside Mumbai’s
walks to the podium and
Legislative Assembly.
speaks in Marathi.
Swearing in ceremony is in
progress. God: Mahan Neta Sena will
make Mumbai look like
Yama is in disguise. His
Shanghai, MNS will provide
assumed name Y.A.M. is
power, roads, infrastructure
called out.
to every village…
The words have barely been

43. uttered by God when the magazines (Dignity Dialogue,
whirlpool engulfs Him and He Muse India, Clockwise Cat,
is transported back to the Long Story Short, Kritya, Asia
heaven. Writes, Jaalmag) and
anthologies (Vanilla Desires
Yamaraj: (left alone and
by Unisun and Just Plain Bad
scared in the Assembly) Luck by Prakash Books India).
Devaa… She is an avid blogger on
About the Author Sulekha and is currently
working on her next book, a
Chennai based Vibha Batra novel.
has a Masters in
Communication from the Image Attribution:
University of Madras. A http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
copywriter by profession, she File:Yama%27s_Court_and_H
has worked in some of the ell.jpg
leading advertising agencies
in the country. Her first book
Ishaavaasya Upanishad, a
translation of her
grandfather’s, (the late
scholar Vishnu Kant Shastri)
book, was published by Rupa
and Co in 2007. Her poetry
collection titled Tongue-in-
cheek was published by
Writers Workshop in 2008.
Her collection of short stories
'A Twist of Lime' was
published last year by Think
Big Publishers. Her short
stories and poems have
appeared on various literary

44. Story number was issued by the
The Idiot R&D team. It was a MINOR
by Abhishek Sahaya change according to their
project lead — a change that
‘What the hell! Why do they would call for further MINOR
always do this?’ It would be changes in the holding
an understatement if I say fixture, making its cost go up
Mr. OLD BALLS was furious. by not less than three lakhs.
Yes, Mr. OLD BALLS is the Mr. OLD BALLS immediately
name I have given to my asked me to check on the
HOD. He is not aware ordering status. Another bad
obviously for otherwise it news — the PO was released
wouldn’t have taken him long three weeks back and we
to chop my head off. I don’t were half way through the
really blame him for his state DAP. This is why I always try
of mind. Handling new not to meet any deadline.
manufacturing projects is a Had we delayed on the
tough job and it can easily ordering, we could have
bring out the evil inside you. saved at least one lakh
He has been working in this rupees. But a MISTAKE once
department for more than done is done — there is little
twenty-five years — that’s my point regretting later.
age. I joined this hell three
years back, something I was Anyway, this is everyday
dying to do during my college business for our team and it
final year. So what they said hardly affects me now. What
in the college is true — does affect me, however, is
mechanical engineering my cell phone ringing on my
students reach hell after desk while I am standing in
dying. Mr. OLD BALLS’ cabin. I
The news for the day was literally ran out to take the
that another design change call. It was HER.

45. ‘Where are you?’ A normal Italy had defeated France in
employed person like me will FIFA World Cup Final two
be working in office on a days back.
working day at 12:42 in the
afternoon, but girls just can’t ‘Not that stupid. Sanket isn’t
picking up his phone.’
see the obvious.
‘Office!!’ I replied, trying not Now this was something that
to sound irritated. didn’t do any good to my
‘I am in the bus’, she said. She mood. She met Sanket at the
weekend MBA classes some
was on her way to office. She
would take a bus to Dadar 4-5 months back. They have
and then a local to Andheri been ‘just friends’ since then.
That’s what she always told
every day. One more thing
she would do every day is to me. My friends used to tell
call me when getting bored me that I felt insecure
waiting for the bus or train. because of that guy. I would
My friends often told me that go mad at them for even
I am nothing more than a thinking like this. There was
no way I could be jealous of
time pass for her. But there
was one small problem – I an IDIOT. Yes this is what I
used to call him – Her IDIOT.
loved being her time pass!!
She didn’t know about this of
‘I am in a very bad mood course. I never felt that this
today’ she said. For a IDIOT had any credentials to
moment, I got a weird be my competitor.
thought — am I talking to Mr.
There was nothing special
OLD BALLS? I immediately
checked my cell phone. It about him. He didn’t have
flashed her name on display. parents – lost them when he
God! Everyone is in a bad was in 11th standard. He had
mood today. ‘What been staying with his
happened? I thought you maternal uncle since then.
were supporting Italy!’ She once told me while
having dinner at a restaurant,

46. ‘You know, his uncle charges she found a cameraman’s job
him for staying with them. more exciting than a project
Such a Bastard!!’ She engineer’s.
wouldn’t use foul language
normally.
‘How did he pay during his
school days?’ I asked.
‘Used to work for the local
cable guy. Part time. He was
always good at videography.
He would shoot at various Anyways, this was how things
birthdays and marriages to fill had been going for last few
up his uncle’s pocket. Rascal!’ months. She would spend all
She was getting better with her time talking about that
swearing. IDIOT of hers. And did I feel
‘Oh!! That’s why he is jealous of him — of course
working as a cameraman for not, what rubbish!
that News channel. Must be
finding it very easy at work ‘I don’t know where he is.’ I
with all his experience.’ I came back from my
thought I wasn’t being flashback-cum-IDIOT
sarcastic. introduction dream.
‘But it’s really exciting, isn’t ‘Actually I forgot to wish him
it? Covering all the news. He last night.’ It was his birthday
even gets to meet some —11 July. ‘He must be going
celebrities. You know, when mad at me!!’
he went to cover the I wished he actually got mad
premiere of Fanaa he met and went away from her.
Aamir Khan there.’ ‘I think I should buy him some
I can never forget how she special gift. That would
bunked school thrice to see probably fix it up. But what
MELA — such a diehard shall I buy him? He likes
Aamir Khan fan!! No wonder sunglasses a lot. He is also

47. very fond of wrist watches. Mr. OLD BALLS was shouting
But I guess he bought a Fast at everyone for the late
Track last week. What about design changes. He was
a Tie? It would look very nice worried about was the
on him.’ increase in the fixture cost. I
Whenever she started would have bought that
reciting her IDIOT-Chalisa I fixture with my own money
always turned myself into a and spent the rest of my life
mute listener. paying EMIs, if he could make
‘Rahul, will you please help her forget that IDIOT and
me buy a gift for him?’ If direct those feelings to me!
there was one thing next to
In another half an hour the
impossible, it was me saying
NO to her. So it was decided. meeting got over and I
We were to meet after my started towards the canteen.
office at a mall near her office I got another SMS — ‘Its
to buy something for that confirmed, dinner at 8:30.
Venue we’ll decide together.
IDIOT of hers.
Are you out of your meeting?
It was 15 minutes to six. At What time you coming?’ I
my office, we had spent last didn’t feel like replying. My
three hours shouting at each mind was completely
other in a CFT CONCERNS screwed up. I reached the
RESOLUTION meeting. In that canteen. Everything felt
period I kept getting an SMS gloomy. Empty places all
from her every ten minutes. ‘I around.
think a photo-frame will be a But wait! That was strange. I
good option!’ ‘How about a looked around in the
wallet?’ ‘I already bought a canteen. There was an
greeting card, will show you unusual silence in the hall. No
when you are here!’ ‘How one in the queue, no one
about a surprise dinner having snacks. Then I realized
party? Just the three of us!’ that people were all gathered

48. around the TV set kept in the that IDIOT, his birthday gift,
corner. No one was saying surprise dinner party. Just
anything beyond a hush. I then I got another SMS – ‘Hey
spotted Sujit standing there. I booked a table at The
‘What’s happening?’ I asked, Appetizers. Couldn’t resist.
keeping my voice as low as Dying to meet you both.
possible. Come soon.’
‘Where were you?? There
have been several bomb I knew she wasn’t dying to
meet me. My eyes went back
blasts in Mumbai.’
It took me some time to to the TV screen. Perhaps I
digest that. My eyes froze on was imagining, but I saw
Harshita looking at me. She
the TV set. They were flashing
Breaking News – 3 Blasts in had a strange smile on her
Mumbai Local Trains. Within face as if she was mocking
next 5-6 minutes the count me. Perhaps everyone except
went up to 6. Everyone in the me had realized that I was
hall was shocked. Were we nothing but a time-pass for
HER. She only cared about
under an attack or
something? I noticed the her IDIOT. All her feelings
reporter on the TV screen. I were for him. And that IDIOT
had seen her somewhere was right in front of me,
before. I had actually met carrying his idiotic camera,
her. She was Harshita Seth – focusing on a local reaching
Borivali. Suddenly I felt a
IDIOT’s colleague. We were
watching the News channel surge of mixed emotions – of
that IDIOT worked for. That anger, of grim, of betrayal, of
meant the cameraman who rejection, of REVENGE. I
was taking the shots being prayed that the IDIOT should
shown was none other than die in those blasts.
Mr. IDIOT. For a moment I BOOM!!!!!
forgot about the bomb blasts.
I was again thinking of her,

49. There was an earthquake dissolute. People who wished
kind of scene on the screen as to kill those who had done
the camera moved them no harm, who hardly
haphazardly. For a moment knew them, who were busy
we couldn’t see anything. fighting their own lives for
Everything was covered in survival! Both represented
dust and smoke. Then slowly the most inhuman aspect of
everything went quiet and the human nature.
still. We could see the dead
The IDIOT was gone forever. I
bodies lying around. There
had been a blast in the train – always wished for this day
the 7th blast of the day for but when it finally came, I
didn’t have courage to face
the records. It took a while
for the situation to sink in, to the reality. My mobile rang
accept what we had just and I picked it up, my eyes
witnessed. still stuck on the TV screen.
And then I found my entire ‘Where are you? I sent you so
body shaking and an entirely many messages. I am with
new feeling overwhelming Sanket right now and we are
me – feeling of GUILT. waiting for you near my
I was not responsible for office. He took a day off from
what had happened. My not work today. Make it fast and
praying for his death would (in hushed voice) do bring a
not have prevented the blast cake; I forgot.’ She giggled.
from happening. But I did
pray – out of anger, out of There was nothing I could
jealousy, out of rage. I had say. I felt tears rolling down
degraded myself. I could see my cheeks. I was smiling at
no difference in people who the same time. It was the
planted the bombs and best feeling I have had in my
people like me. Both were entire life. I would go and
self-centred, malevolent, celebrate tonight. The blasts
greedy, covetous and

50. had killed the IDIOT within ऩारता,
me!!! क्मा होता है दे खने िे
लरए.....ऩौधों भे शैंऩू िा ऩानी
About the Author
डारता।
Author is a mechanical २ औय २ िो जोड ना ऩता,
engineer, currently working नई कपल्भो ि ग़रत गाने गाता।
े
for Mahindra & Mahindra.
ऩय उसने ऐसा िछ नही किमा,
़ु
Image Attribution:
....शामद दसये अनाथो िी तयह वो
ू
http://www.flickr.com/photo
s/uggboy/4719633193/ बी फचऩन भे फडा हो गमा।
Poetry (Hindi) About the Author
सना फचऩन
ू The author is pursuing Post
by Mohit Sharma Graduation from Lucknow
University. Published articles,
वो किसी िी गोद भे चढ़ता, poems and stories in regional
अऩनों ि िऩडे गंदे ियता,
े magazines and newspapers.
ऩहरे सहाये से.... औय किय एि ददन Published ideas and scripts in
ख़ुद चरता। Raj Comics.
रडखडाती चार से चीज़ें
बफगाडता,
किय ततराती जफां से भदद िो
़ु ़ु
ऩ़ुिायता,
फडे बाई - फदहन ऩय गस्सा
़ु
उतायता।
स्िर ना जाने िी जजद ियता,
ू
िार्ून्स दे खने ि लरए रड
े
भयता।
छऩिय डब्फे भे िीडे - भिोडे
़ु

51. Poetry ground,
City's Seasons portholes of windows let in
by Babitha Marina Justin the chill
of an unfamiliar blizzard that
marriages are like migrations grew
to colder as the day progressed
cities, the unfamiliarity and
the task of getting used to city crept on me by inches,
them; wrapped the chill, the
my weathered feathers in discourse of familiarity was
new city, not
combating heat and cold hateful but comforting, it's
when the first summer roads
climbed intersecting at cross-roads,
the greens stems to dry its circles and traffic, grew on
succulence to twigs, a snap in degrees till I learned its
of the finger,the tension maps clumsily like my veins,
of the thumb and index its
finger, arterial alleys waited to be
it cracks no matter who wins. venipunctured,
winter, with its creeping tread on,
chill, froze every frill explored,
at home, hardened knuckles trundled by
refused to move, seasoning feet and dust,
life's their whispers
spices well, warm inside abrasions,
covers, cold when the day when heels click
broke, and kiss
room heaters sustained the the ground
dull I learned how to love hate
gray city clouds that let not a the lost cities of the self,
speckle of sun ray filter to the nostrils echoed my

52. breath like tunnels, language in various parts of
my tongue tasted the India, like the Northeastern
forbidden Hill University, Meghalaya
in the visceral depths of and Indian Institute
floating of Space Science and
hunger that worsened day by Technology, Trivandrum.
day,
my eyes were the alert Her poems have appeared in
sensors an anthology of travel poems
called “Journeys” edited by
to my mind's needs, the red
lights Graham Vivian Lancaster
flashed to say I have to stop FPMI and Dr. Shaleen Kumar
Singh published by Trayberry
and proceed at green,
Press / Alexander House,
I touched the muck of the city Johannesburg, South Africa,
and loved it too, there I saw a Taj Mahal Review: An
piece of my sky mirrored International Journal Devoted
in its murky brown... To Arts, Literature, Poetry
And Culture, Kritya, Creative
About the Author Sapilins, Journal of Post
Born in Kerala, South India, Colonial Literature,
Babitha Marina Justin had her www.postcolonial.org and
PhD in travel writing and also in various literary
gender studies from the journals across the India. Her
University of Hyderabad and short stories are also being
an M. Phil in anthologized. Her research
Art History and Aesthetics papers on travel writing,
from the School of identity studies and fine arts
Languages, Jawaharlal Nehru and cultural studies are
University, New Delhi. periodically published in
journals and as book
Since then she has been chapters.
teaching literature and