Saturday, 20 December 2014

Santa of the Evening

It was 24th December and Santa Clause had been her all time favorite character. But now she was a grown up and she believed that Santa is for kids, so this time she decided to become one. She was a reader, a novel nerd. Someone who had nobody except the books. Each book was an individual friend of her. She believed that books can make good human beings. 
She stood in front of the mirror which reflected the bookshelf behind her back and murmured "people can become humans by reading books. Nobody will break anybody's heart, nobody would lie, love will be in the air" She giggled. It was her perception of books and life mixed together. According to her, reading was magical. She thought that books can change people or maybe improve people. She chuckled while she stood and stared deep into the mirror.
"It is Santa's time. But how will I look with a white fake beard? Neaahh!! Not good. Ugly. Too ugly. I will... No ! Let me change first" she said it all to herself.
Few minutes later she again stood in front of the same mirror with her long and straight hair lying open in a red colored dress.
"Mirror mirror on the wall! Who's the Santa of us all?" She laughed and said "Me."
She got ready. She looked simple but beautiful. Simple as she just left her hair open and beautiful because she had only kohl in her eyes and Santa's dress on her elegant body.
In the evening she walked till the church with a red colored bag filled with little gifts. So SHE WAS GOING TO BE THE SANTA OF THE EVENING.
She reached the church and stood outside the gate. She went and gave gifts to children who exited the church gates. She was happy and made everybody happy too.
Few hours later she started noticing something. A little boy, whom she had given a present, came to her and gave her a present. He smiled "A return gift." She saw him in wonder and said "Santa gives gift. They don't take gifts." The little boy pointed towards his red santa cap and repeated her words. He handed her the gift forcibly and walked away waving his hand.
The girl still in shock looked at the gift, it seemed to be a book, she was able to feel it. But before that she noticed something written on the cover which read as "This is", she looked around in amusement in order to complete the sentence. She got nothing. She decided to open the gift with her thin fingers and then she discovered a book by Rhonda Byrne "The Secret." The sentence was completed; "this is The Secret."
She thought that how the boy knew that she is a reader. She missed a lot of her little santas. She kept the book inside murmuring "obviously ! I know that this is the secret. How foolish label."
She again started giving presents and then she was full off amusement when she again saw a little boy coming towards her. He gave her another book and ran. He didn't give her even a second to say anything. The wrapper had "of" written on it. She thought deeply "Of? another sentence or continuation. Ermm..! This is The Secret of?"
She unwrapped the book and discovered that it was a book by Sidney Sheldon "The Best Laid Plans".
She again framed a sentence "This is The Secret of The Best Laid Plans...?" 
She was furiously charmed when she saw three more little kids coming towards her and offering her different books with wrappers of different colors. They all started shouting "Take mine", "Take this one." But her eyes spotted a book held by a boy who was six or seven years old, he was extremely quite. She took the book from his hand which had "Pick" written over it.
She uncovered the book and discovered "The Colour Purple" by Alice Walker.
So this was a mystery that was going on. It went like "This is The Secret of The Best Laid Plans. Pick The Colour Purple"
She looked for a book covered with purple color wrapper. It had "And you will be" written over it. 
She became curious. Her excitement about completing a hunt touched the sky.
She again unwrapped the book and discovered "Beloved" by Toni Morrison.
She repeatedly spoke the sentence "This is The Secret of The Best Laid Plans. Pick The Colour Purple. And you will be Beloved...?"
It was 11:55 PM and she was thinking about who it can be when she glanced at a book in the hands of a little girl. It was strange that till now only little boys came up, she thought that strange things lead to strange endings. She gave a gift to the girl and took the book from her. The little girl went after giving a flying kiss,
The girl saw "To me" written on the wrapper, she uncovered the book and found Durjoy Dutta's "Till the Last Breath".
She smiled and read out loud "This is The Secret of The Best Laid Plans. Pick The Colour Purple and you will be Beloved to me Till the Last Breath."
The girl turned around, delighted, and there he stood behind her, tall, fit and bold dressed in red. A Santa Clause.
"The only clause I never studied in grammar." She murmured and ran towards him. She knew who he was.
And the church bell rang:
We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas
And a Happy New Year...  
Kenneth ©

Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Dooms Day

Her eyes were bright when she saw her son off to school. A smile of satisfaction guarded her lips. Satisfaction that her son will become a man, not a beast. Her son will watch over his family and his old mother. His father tucked his hands behind his back with his shoulders in form, stretched. He was proud of his son who reluctantly went to school daily and came back with good grades making his father feel that he will be a leader one day. 
But who knew that those inhuman humans will crush their bones? Who knew that their haunted soul will escape and make its way towards the deity in whose name they killed those angelic souls? 
The mother kept on waiting for his son, who won't come now and complain about his friend who stole his eraser. He won't tell his mother what he want for his birthday. Her ears will crave for his son's voice shouting "Ammi". She will wish for her death in order to re-unite with her lost son.
But the father's eyes won't cry because his bleeding heart will cry for his son's bleeding body. It will be like the dooms day for both of them, since their son was the world to them. 
Rest In Peace to the innocent children. "The smallest coffins are the heaviest." 
Kenneth ©

Friday, 5 December 2014


Her mind was a dew on a dusky soul. She was an eloquent girl with a diary tucked between her folded hands and a blue ink pen slipped between the spirals of her diary. Daily she would travel to the highest mountain from her small house which was situated on a sloppy land. Her lips curved with a peaceful smile and eyes shining bright in the dim light of the evening sun that was about to set.
She looked like a loner but the question was, is she really a one? 
She daily climbed up the pinnacle in order to pen down something. That something was known only to her. She would then sit on a green bench under a tree which was dry-rotted, where Romello climbed up and sat beside her. Romello would lick her arm whenever she came and then sighed for a small gesture of hers. She forcefully pampered Romello by moving her palm with constraint over Romello's head. The dog always calmed himself after her response towards him. The girl then started penning down something that was known only to her. While she wrote, the dog laid beside her. And as she stood up, he would jump off the bench and run behind her. It seemed as if he didn't want her to go or maybe, he wanted her.
But that day was a different day. 
After the girl stood, Romello jumped off the bench and sat, watching her go. After a moment he ran behind her, clutching her thing leg with his claws. It looked as if this time he was pleading her not to go. The girl, irritated with Romello kicked her and started walking. He ran behind her again, but not much. Romello tilted his head on the right side and frowned as if something wrong would happen. 
She went a little forward and there she saw her lover. She grasped his hand and they started walking. Down the lane, a mile ahead, the guy shook his hand in anger and the girl's hand dropped while her innocent face was bottled up with questions. There was an argument that took place. Argument that was known only to them. They shouted and distanced themselves from each other. It looked as if this is the end of their relation. The girl started crying and went walking with a fast pace as if she was trying to escape everything that existed around her. The guy stood there watching her go, exactly like Romello, who was watching them fight. 
The next day the girl didn't turn up.
The second day was again the same. The dog was restless. He wanted her, the girl, the "forced gesture" from her. 
On the third day when he saw the girl coming, he ran to her, hopping and barking. He ran ahead of her and stopped. He turned around and wagged his tail. When the girl came near him, he again repeated the former steps of running ahead... 
The girl that day cried, her lips were dry and had lost there smile and her eyes had lost there shine which were now surrounded by the dark circles, even the evening sun was unable to add shine to her dusky soul. She sat on the bench and Romello hopped in merry on the same bench and sat beside her facing towards the left profile of the girl. 
The girl this time gestured Romello which was not a forced one. She turned and looked into his eyes while his eyes appeared to be watery. Romello laid beside her indicating her that she can write now. She smiled and that day she wrote about something which was known to everything present there; her pen, her diary and Romello. She wrote about Romello that day instead of writing about that murky relationship. She realized something and the REALization was REAL. A dog waited for her. After bearing all her rudeness, he waited for her gesture. Her lover went, who stayed with her for something days or years that only she knew. That day tear fell from Romello's eye and he slept. 
Kenneth ©

Friday, 21 November 2014

The Story

She was a story who wished to write a story, searching for a beat which would excite her tender words. She appeared to be an extrovert because of her outgoing personality who would start talking with anyone randomly. But inside she was just a closed new book, waiting for someone to open it.
On one cold winter evening, while sitting alone in a café near her college, she gazed deep into her hot coffee mug. She was lost in the reflection of her own blur face. Unknown to what was happening around her, she departed mentally from the world.
A guy in a hurry entered the café as if he had missed something there during his last visit. He went to her table and sat in the chair facing towards the left side of the girl, while her head was bent. The girl remained unnoticed while he fiddled with her diary, pen, plate and handkerchief lying on the table. Shocked, the girl looked towards him as if someone had woken her up from a sound sleep. She kept on looking at him while he juggled with her things lying on the table, flipping the pages of her diary. In a bombshell, she just stared at him while he soothed himself down and started reading the last page where she had stopped writing. She snatched the diary from him, spilling the coffee on the handkerchief and plate.
She shouted "What are you trying to do?"
He repelled "What is making you write my story in your diary? You don't know me!!"
"Oh hello. Mr. Your story? What are you talking about?" She answered back with the same force as his'.
"Chuck. Where is the paper which I Ieft here? It had a paragraph written on it. I am sure you would have taken it. You write, and you definitely won't mind stealing somebody's work." He yelled.
She replied in sudden disappointment because she was accused "Neither I know you nor I took any paper of your's that you would have left here. By the way! Do you also write?" She questionned meekly.
He still searching for the paper he forgot on the table. "Got it. Yeah! I do" he replied from under the table.
"Good. And thanks for accusing me." She smiled leaving him there with his newly found old paper.
He ran behind her to apologize and shouted "sorry! But my story in your diary made me wonder about your existence!".
She turned back and laughed "My existence? Can it be only your story?"
"Lets talk while walking if you don't mind." He smiled.
They walked till the end but the walk won't end. Two people with the same story.
She was in search of a beat and she got that. Now it will be easier for her to complete "The Story".

Kenneth ©

Monday, 10 November 2014

10 days of a horror movie: EXAMS

I daily elevate my brain and boast myself saying "Koi ni! College life hai. We will study. Kal se pakka." I open the syllabus, I learn the syllabus and close the register as if it will be the syllabus (not from the syllabus) that the examiner will ask. And when my friend asks "yr! Exam mai kya aa raha hai." I proudly blabber out the whole syllabus.
Exams always look like a horror movie to me. I shift in my bed, reminding myself of how the "register of the page looked". OOOPPPSSSss!! I mean page of the register. I think of it as a love letter, trying to read it with glittering eyes, but always end up reading it as a suicide note with tears in my eyes.
I enter into an imaginary world where there are all fairy tales and all I want is to live like "Gulliver", travelling the "Passage to India" and learning the "Way of the World" and realizing how true "Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy" are. But I feel like "The Rover" living in "The House of the Seven gables". I want a "Duchess of Malfi" with whom I can have few words of love, but "The Purloined Letter" (with its unknown content) stole my "Beloved" from me. It was then I realised how my "Locks" are "Raped" and the "Paradise" is "Lost". I "Crack- Up" and stare at the gables, wanting them to fall over my head. And now all I wait is for a "Dry September" where, again I will bunk my classes and wish to travel like "The Gulliver".
I won't shout in this horror movie, but I will surely want it to end AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
Kenneth ©

Saturday, 1 November 2014


Tomorrow will be a cold day marking the coming of winters. Shivering in cold, I still won't stop wearing half-sleeves clothes. Everything will fade away with the foggy nights. Things will become unclear like the mist on the rear glass of a car. I will blink my eyes for a better view, but all I will see is the smoke like haze. The trees will look tedious and they will miss the sunlight. Flowers will fall and they will miss the branches. Moon too will hide himself behind the clouds, covering him from the frosty sky. The sun too will shiver with his bright rays getting low. There will be a craving for everything.
But all I wish, is to have a lucid view because then only I will be able to reject the wrong things and appreciate the just one.
Kenneth ©

Saturday, 18 October 2014

A Thin Biased Thread

There was a thin biased thread that lay between her and her other half. She felt inferior at every minutest second of a minute. It was ripping her off, taking away her soul and making her weak. She didn't shed a salty drop of water visible to the world but shed, the painful blood, invisible to everyone.
She wanted somebody to become her threshold, somebody to control her. But "WHO CARES?". She wished and that was all she ever did. A wish that god will never fulfil. She wanted to part away from the upcoming bruises and the marks of past but they will stay forever, even if they disappear.
She was goaded to smile and dared to die, while nobody knew that she will live the death, smiling her soul out. The reason was strong for the thread so thin, it broke her like anything. She was a daughter considered as sin.
Kenneth © 

Friday, 10 October 2014

Dear Diary,

Dear Diary,

Don't let his cheeks bear the pain of tears but let his lips bear the divided weight of happiness. 
Oh! My Dear Diary, give him all what he want but take whatever he is willing to lose and give it to me.
Oh! My Diary, listen, keep him safe in a safe. 

If ever I meet him and ask , what was he doing for so long, make him answer about how happy he was but also let him sing of his pains, so that I can memorize them and never let them occur again. 

When I ask him his wish I want him to take your name My Dear Diary. I want him to say "Your Dear Diary" because it will be you who fulfilled my wishes and gave him the happiness. And when he reads you, make him realize that someone missed him all her life. Someone was writing, keeping him in her memories, someone had let her tear drops fall on your page. 

Tell him how wet you got when those drops collected and you were ready to tear yourself in my pain.
Make him embrace you with his soft fingers. 

My Dear Diary, please don't let his cheeks bear the pain of tears. 
Kenneth ©

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

A Wish To Never See Him Again

Life is like a crazy ball. The harder you throw the higher you bounce back.
He was like a spring season. Daily I woke up while rubbing my eyes I received a sweet Good Morning text. I smiled. My day started with a smile and ended with it. But it was like a child smiling while sleeping. He doesn't know why he is smiling, lost in his dreams he just smiles. I realize that I was the same child back then.


I smile at the empty coffee mug which he gave me. It now has the coffee coloured dust over it. 

I wink at the hat he once gave me. He said "It looks good when you have your hair open with this hat on!!". 

I run on the road where he once held my hand, so tight that it ached. But I kept quiet because he would have left it then. 

I re-read the book he gave me thinking which line he had dedicated to me. 

I don't open the message icon in my phone because it has no message from him.

I love to cry the tears he once held because now they miss those hands. 

All I wish is to never see him again.  I bade him a goodbye years ago. And I now have a long way to go.


Sunday, 5 October 2014

Another Day

Today was just another day when I inhaled the same air, in the same room, on the same bed. I was confused about my plans but that is how it was suppose to be. A book and a phone was all I had when I needed a friend and a bottle of beer. Sunday is a funday as people claim it to be. But the fun lacked today like the stinky smell clinging to the cover of a perfume bottle, a cover which can never have a smell. I walked with a fractured leg to the balcony. Where my eyes spotted a couple of friends sitting on vehicles and gossiping. I too wished to be a part of such a group of friends but, I guess it is my mistake for, I am too scared of getting betrayed by a friend I would make.
Dull and sad, covered with smile exactly like the dust and cobwebs cover a rotten place, I came back to the same room and inhaled the same air on the same bed.
Kenneth ©

Saturday, 4 October 2014

I Failed Today

While scrolling down my phone's screen I was tensed. No!! No!! Noo... I was relaxed. I guess I was tensed. Hold on! I was confused as I saw a notification.
"We broke."
"We broke up. He doesn't have time for me. He is too busy for me."
It took me to my past. How it was. When he had no time for me just because he got someone else. Isn't it amazing? How time belongs to everyone and yes! It belonged to someone else's of his as well.
I am sleepy. I can't write. I am full of guilt for I failed today.
"You were in trouble. You were sick. I didn't wish to give you more troubles. You are delicate. I love you. I said i missed you. You came. I am glad." She then said.
All I got to know was as a friend I failed. 
Kenneth ©