The book is available in United States of America

Those were the Days & Other Short Stories

The Book is Launched : Those Were The Days & Other Short Stories

Hello my Dear Reader Friends from across the globe! With the help of your tremendous Love and Support of my Short stories, I have been able to launch the Paperback version of my collection.

I am really grateful to the reader Friends especially from India, United States of America, United Kingdom, Latvia, Australia,Russia,Germany,United Arab Emirates and Brazil. You people read, loved and supported my stories, providing your valuable suggestions and feedback's at important times. It is your unconditional support and love which inspires me to write again and again.

Please support me in my writing by supporting my first Book, which is available at the below link;

Those Were The Days & Other Short Stories

Thank you All once again!

Hope you enjoy this journey of feelings and emotions!

Vicky

LOVE and Dreams

LOVE  And Dreams

Preface 

Hi All! Thanks for your tremendous Love and Support for “Azoriya”, especially my Reader friends from India and United States, who are loving and supporting my stories.

I would like to Wish you All a Very Happy Valentines Day! It is a day of Love, a day of Trust, a day of Relationships, a day of Giving, a day of Sharing Joy and Happiness!  But is it just for one Day?

I dedicate “LOVE and Dreams” to my love. Unlike my previous stories, “LOVE and Dreams” is purely a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to anyone living or dead.

She gave me a sly smile. I was thinking whether she loves me or not.

It had been a year, since I joined an Indian MNC as an Analyst. There was no analysis done actually. The word was added, just to add a little weight age to the tag. And we all took great pride in telling our designation to our friends, family members and especially, to our enemies.

In reality, the life had become monotonous and boring. Going to office, making the reports and again coming back home. Five days the same schedule. Weekends were also not very interesting. Partying with some great Alcoholic friends of mine. You give them anything to drink and I can bet they will not let you down. Saturdays and Sundays used to pass like anything, eating, sleeping and the obvious, drinking.

****                                                                   ****                                                         ****

But then some new members joined our team. The veterans were very much interested in the people going to join our team. And I can guarantee that the interest was not in the kind of experience or knowledge the new joiners would bring, but in the people. I was little bothered.

One of my colleagues had resigned. He was serving his notice period. He used to sit beside me.

It was Monday that day. Our manager called all of us for a team meeting. The team meetings were never interesting, so I hated attending it. Mr.Manohar, our manager used to give great lectures on how to improve things, how to excel in career and work, how to get more work from clients and on many other topics, which I believe nobody in the team liked.

I thought, “He should have surely opted for being a lecturer in his life but couldn’t make it. Now he fulfills his dream here.”

The meeting started. I saw few new people sitting in the meeting room. Mr. Manohar began.

“Guys today we are here to welcome the new members of our team. Meet Niti, Rahul, Sweta and Vinita.”

We all said "hi" to the new members. Mr.Manohar continued his welcome speech. On the very first day, he wanted to pour down all his great knowledge to the new joiners. When he was done, team members were asked to introduce themselves to the new folks. Everyone was done. Only one was left. Mr.Manohar asked her to introduce herself to the team.

She raised her hands. She was a bit different, I thought. With movement of nearly all her body organs she started, “Hi, I am Vinita. I am a fresher. I have done my MBA from Bangalore. My hometown is Lucknow but my parents are settled in New Delhi. I like dancing, watching movies and visiting different places.”

Her introduction was accompanied by thousand facial expressions. She was a bit healthy but looked cute. She was fair with long hair tied on her head, which resembled some birds nest to me. I was attracted towards her child like charm.

Later I came know that she was going to replace Aakash Rao, who used to sit beside me. The information made me very happy. I felt bad that Aakash was leaving but good that his replacement was Vinita. After a month of transition, Vinita was all set to work for the clients.

*****                                                    *****                                                       *****

Within two months, we had become very close friends. I liked her company a lot. We used to go for tea breaks together, along with other members of our so called “Tea Gang.” The gang included my best friend Anil D, Niti, Sarah Contractor, I and Vinita. 

We used to sit in office cafeteria for hours chatting and cracking jokes. I used to crack some joke and she used to give her funny smile. I loved that smile of hers, with her mouth wide open and all disproportionate teethes out. She also used to tell some stupid tales which didn’t make people laugh but her funny expressions. 

Anil D was a Casanova. He was very well built and his features were similar to a Kannada superstar Puneeth Rajkumar. He was very famous, not only in our team but in the whole process. His handsome looks with great smile, accompanied by a good package, made him one of the most eligible Bachelors of our process.

Sarah Contractor, was very beautiful. It seemed God had taken some extra time to design her features. She had a size zero figure, like our Indian Diva, Kareena Kapoor. I doubt, if anyone in the company did not know her, and ours was a very large organization. Even managers of the HR department used to salute her.

The other member of the gang was Niti. She was a sweet potato. She was very healthy, but had a very sweet and bubbly face. Being the youngest member of the Gang, she was treated like a kid.

We used to have good time even in our bay where we used to sit for work, doing some great analysis.

*****                                                               *****                                                                        *****

Six months were over. I and Vinita had even started talking on phone in late nights. I couldn’t help myself but call her and we used to talk for hours. The topic could be any, we just had started liking the talks of the other. She used to say something about her life, her family members, her college days and I used to listen for hours with little interest in what she said but the way she said. Even I used to talk foolish things but she also liked my style of talking. We never slept, without wishing Good night to the other.

Going to office was no more a boring job. Now I waited for the office hours, where I used to get time, to spend with her. The most beautiful moments were the late night coffee breaks. It was an open-air cafeteria and the cool breeze used to blow slowly. I, Anil and Vinita were the regular ones, who took that late night coffee break. We used to stand near the iron railing and sip hot coffee, talking, discussing, laughing and sometimes even sad. It gave me a feeling of the great movie Titanic. I, being the Leonardo De Caprio and she being my Kate Winslet.

Seeing our closeness and bond, even some team members had started spreading rumors that something was going on between both of us. My team leader also used to tease me a little but in a friendly way. We didn’t mind all these as both of us had a don’t care attitude.

Time was passing very swiftly. I wished to tell her my feelings but couldn’t do so. Some of her text messages made me feel that she had also started liking me. I was in complete dilemma, to tell her or not.

*****                                                             *****                                                                *****

“Will you come along with us Vinita?” Anil asked her.

“But where?”

“We have planned for a trip to Pondicherry. We all are going. If you wish, you can come, it would be great fun there.”

“Oh Sure. I would love coming there with you guys.”

“We will be leaving on Friday night and return back on Monday evening,” I peeped in. “We have a holiday on Monday.”

As planned, we left for Pondicherry on Friday night, in Anil’s car. It is six hours drive from Bangalore. We stopped at tea stalls, having tea, coffee and snacks. I was busy with my Photography. I love doing it. My friends love the snaps taken by me and that motivates me to do it more. Almost all the members in the group were self obsessed, and wanted their pictures to be taken, especially Anil. Singing, dancing, shouting and enjoying the ride, we reached our destination, early morning on Saturday.

We had booked two rooms in a resort located near the Beach. It was all fun from morning till evening. We went to places and took pictures. We visited the famous churches built by the Portuguese and the structures and the buildings. In every church we visited, my prayer was the same, “God please get me married with Vinita.”

It was close to seven in the evening. We decided to have drinks now. I, Sarah and Niti were very much excited about drinking. Anil didn’t used to drink but was excited, as always. Only Vinita was not happy with the plan of drinking. The party started in a beach hut. Sarah and I were very regular ones so there was no problem for a company. Even our kid, Niti was giving us good company. We even forced Anil and Vinita to have two pegs each.

After the party, we all wanted to go for a stroll on the beach. Everyone, except Sarah agreed. She wished to stay in the room and we listened to her demand.

We reached near the sea waves. Anil and Niti had gone a little ahead of us.

“You know one thing, Vicky,” Vinita asked me stammering a bit.

“No,” I replied.

“This is only the second time, I have drunk.”

“Oh! Vinita, it’s ok. We should drink sometimes. It removes tension from our minds.”

She came a little closer to me and said, “You are a very good person, you know. I like your company very much.”

“Thanks!”

She held my hands and came a bit closer.

“Vinita, you are also a very good and sweet person, and I like you very much,” I told her, still holding her hands. She looked at me. Both of our faces shining in the moonlight. She bent her head and kissed me on my cheeks, saying, “You are so sweet.” I thought to kiss her back but stopped myself. I thought, “My love is pure and I should not reveal it to her in a drunken state.”

What a foolish thought that was!

After that nothing special happened that night. We kept on walking and discussing about our future. Then went to our respective rooms and slept. I was very happy that night. It was clear now, that she loved me.

*****                                                         *****                                                                     *****

Two days before going for my brother’s wedding we met in a Café coffee Day in Jayanagar.

“I Love You,” I paused a little and continued, “I love you a lot, more than my life, more than anything. I love your sweet and loving nature, your smile, your way of talking, your way of laughing, your silence, your words, your countless expressions, everything you do, you know. Please accept my love.”

Her face grew red, either with anger, surprise or shock, which I had given her.

“What are you telling Vicky?”

“Yes,” I replied with confirmation.

“It’s stupid. You know,” she paused and continued, “We are just good friends.”

“Then what was all that happened during the trip. What were all those messages about? What were all those talks about? It can’t be just friendship.”

“There is no such feeling in me for you, Vikas.” This time she addressed me as Vikas and not Vicky. 

“The thing which happened during the trip was just a mistake. And those talks and messages were just friendship.”

“You tell just.. And just... but those things were not just for me. I have started liking you and am deeply in love with you.”

“Your feelings are not right then,” she replied. “I don’t love you. I consider you a good friend.”

There was silence for a moment. She broke the silence and said, “I am no different from other girls. I also have certain dreams about my future, my would be husband and my life.”

“What dreams?” I asked.

“Dreams of having a luxurious home, a nice car, few servants, a safe and secure future. You know.”

“We can have all that Vinita,” I said with a great stress on the word Vinita and continued, “within three to four years, or may be even less.”

“Who knows? And who is going to wait for that long?”


"A girl would be really lucky, to have you as her husband but I......"


That was enough for me. I had got my answer. With broken heart and tears in my eyes, I left the place. My dreams shattered.

Standing by the road side I could see vehicles moving fast, people rushing from here and there, and crowd waiting at the bus stop.


I thought, “Is there any place for love in this world? Is there any value for true and pure love?

Should we possess a car and a bungalow to love a person? Do people, who do not have these things, have no rights to love?The world has become so materialistic. Even my Vinita.” My heart was beating fast.

I kept on thinking, “Where are we heading towards in our life. People only thinking of their profits and gains, running behind money, like wild animals. No place for values, emotions, trust and Love.”

I drank a little and wept a lot that night.

****                                                            ****                                             ****

Went to New Delhi to attend my brother’s wedding. Returned back from there. Submitted my resignation. Mr.Manohar, persuaded me a lot to take back my resignation, but my decision was a final one.

Joined another organization as a Senior Analyst. Just a year after the incident, I own a car and most of the times play a favorite song of mine, “Nitte khair maanga Soniyo main teri, Dua na koi aur mang Di” which means, “I prayed daily for your well-being, Didn’t ask anything else from God.”

*****                                                           *****                                                              *****

Azoriya

AZORIYA

                                                                      Preface

                        

We celebrated our 66th Republic Day, on January 26th 2015, still I do not find the condition of people living in Indian villages very good.             

“Azoriya” is one such tale, inspired from a real life incident from my village.        

Some of my friends have been asking, why am I writing only tragic stories?

The answer is that, I want to bring forth you people the reality behind the concept “India Shining!”

I know that, no state, no country, no human being, nothing can be perfect but something needs to change in our country!

I would also like to give special thanks to my Senior Colleague and friend, Mr.Sudeep Singh, who provided me valuable guidance in completing the story.

It was the month of August. The monsoon season was at its peak. It was raining heavily outside.

In one corner of his hut, Gulaab was sitting on the floor and thinking something. The roof of the hut had several leakages and water was falling from there in the hut. The drops fell, touched the floor and scattered into several pieces. In other corner of the hut, Azoriya, his daughter was sleeping.

There was some rice in the bowl which was lying in front of him.

Gulaab was a very poor man, who used to work as a daily laborer, in the fields of rich farmers. He used to get work some days and when the luck didn’t favor him, he had no work.

As it was raining heavily since morning, he could not get any work to do. Nobody called him. Now it was night. Azoriya had prepared some rice and potato curry. She was not feeling well, so had slept without eating.

But instead of having food, Gulaab was thinking something, “How good was the time when, 17 years before, he was married to Gulabo. They both used to work in the fields and get money. Gulabo was very fair and beautiful as compared to him. People in the village used to tease him. Then after one year of their marriage, Azoriya was born. Gulabo was not happy as she wanted a baby boy. God listened to her prayers, and she delivered a baby boy, next year. He was named, ‘Raamdhani.’ Now they were very happy.

They both used to work, the whole day in fields and the money was sufficient to provide them two square meals a day. Sometimes they also got food grains and clothes from some generous farmers.

****                                                               ****                                                                   ****

But the happiness did not last for long. Four years after their marriage, Gulabo’s body was found in a field on the outskirts of the village. She was murdered. She had been raped and then murdered.

It was a shocking incidence for the whole village. There were rumors that, it was the deed of one of the rich farmer’s spoilt son. Many people in the village knew it. But there was nobody who could open his mouth in front of the police, there was nobody who could get justice to the poor man, and there was nobody who could take any action against the culprits. The case became a topic of discussion and gossips, among village folks near tea stalls and chaupals, as it usually happens in Indian villages. On the other hand Gulaab was left poor and helpless in this world, with 3 year old Azoriya and 2 year old Raamdhani.

His struggle for survival had started. Going on fields with two small children and then sweating there in the scorching sun, with little care of the children. The three also faced the wrath of the chilling cold and heavy monsoon together. Some days due to one or the other reasons he could not go for work, and they had to sleep without food.”

***                                               ***                                          ***

The rice bowl still lay in front of him. The rain was not going to stop. The frogs in the nearby pond had started croaking. They were happy with the Rain God.

Gulaab was lost in his thoughts again, “How over a petty issue, Raamdhani got angry with him and left his home a year before and built his own hut. He did not even think a little of the hardships, which his father had taken to bring them up. Now he was working and earning and had no contacts with Gulaab.”

But the tension in his mind was, How to get his daughter, Azoriya, married. She was sixteen years old now. In Indian villages 16 years is too much for a girl to stay unmarried.

He ate the rice kept in the bowl and the potato curry and washed his hands with the water kept in a pot in one corner of the hut. After that he went and unfolded his bed. (It was not a bed but two or three pieces of sack and some old clothes)

He was trying to sleep but couldn’t. He thought, “I will sell the small piece of land which I have but then how would I live? At least I grow some vegetables on that land and by selling it, earn some money. If that will not be there, then it would become very difficult for me to survive. Shall I borrow some money from some moneylender? But then my life would be screwed in paying the heavy interest he would charge.”

Another thought struck his mind, “I shall ask Raamdhani to help me. He is her brother. He might understand my situation and could help me. But the chance is less. He has never spoken to me since a year. Never asked about the well being of his sister. Why will he help?
”

He was not able to decide what to do. Lost in his thoughts, he fell asleep.

He woke up very early the next morning. The rain had stopped.  After coming from the fields, he went near the place where his daughter was sleeping. He called her by her name. She did not respond. He went closer by and called again. Still no response. He shook her feet and shouted, “Azoriya, wake up.”

Seeing no movement and no response, he bent a little to see what the matter was. Froth was coming out from the mouth of Azoriya. Her body had turned blue and she was dead.

THE WITCH

                                                       

The Witch

The bajra trees were swaying in the wind, a cool breeze was blowing and the full moon was sometimes coming out of the clouds and sometimes hiding behind them. Jackals were also making their usual haunting sound, and it started drizzling as well.

I was eight years old then, and my grandmother had asked me to get some vegetables from a local baniya shop, which was in the market, about one and a half kilometers from our home and the path which led to the market passed in between the fields which were full of the bajra crops; and you know these plants really give an eerie feeling when there is a wind and full moon. It seems as though thousands of skinny men and women are standing and swaying.

I was praying to Lord Hanuman (a Hindu deity who is known to protect one against devils and spirits), and cursing my grandma.

“Is there nobody else she can send to the market? She has found only me,” I was murmuring to myself.

Suddenly there was a hush sound in the field, as though a snake passed by my legs.
“Oh my God!” I screamed. “Please save me Bajrangbali (another name of Lord Hanuman)”
“I will offer you sweets if nothing happens to me.”

Chanting his name, I continued my dreadful journey. I tried a lot restricting myself from looking into the fields, but couldn’t because the path was exactly in the middle of it.

To add to my misery, I also remembered the story of the witch which lived in the fields. My grandmother had told that there lived an old witch in the bajra fields, who always wore white clothes, spoke from her nose, and had sharp pointed teeth and above all her legs faced her back.

I thought what would happen to me if she came out running from the field and caught me and bite me from her teeth. Then again the moonlight falling on some of the trees, the shadows of which seemed like black human ghosts. I was not even looking at my back, because I felt that somebody was following me.

After fighting with my fear for about twenty minutes, I reached near the baniya shop. The shop was located a bit away from the main market, and with no electricity in those days, was dark from inside. A very small oil lamp was burning, which hardly had any effects on the darkness inside the shop.

“Kailaash, Kailaash, please give me one kilogram potatoes and onion and brinjal,” I said in one stretch.

There was some movement from inside the shop and a lady came out from one of the back rooms. I could not make out clearly who she was but thought that it was Kailaash’s wife. Her face was covered from her saree (a dress worn by women in India), and there was hardly any light to recognize anyone.

“What do you want?” she asked, looking at me carefully, in the dim light.

“I told you to give me one kilogram potatoes and onion and brinjal,” I repeated.

“Okay. Stand here properly. I will get the vegetables from inside,” saying this; she swiftly went inside the back room.

I found her behavior very strange, because I had been to Kailaash’s shop many number of times, and had seen and talked with his wife as well, and found her nature very friendly.

I started thinking, “Isn’t she behaving in a very different and absurd way? And and …Isn’t she speaking from her nose?” “Oh my God! Is she the witch?”

I was lost in my thoughts, when she returned and started putting the vegetables on a weighing scale.

In the dim light of the oil lamp, I put my whole efforts to get a look at her face covered with the saree, and could figure out her white pointed teeth. Then with an intense feeling of fear, I looked at her feet.

“They are turned towards her back...”

I did not think for a second and ran from the shop, as though a mad dog was chasing me.

Breathing fast and loud; thinking of the witch, the moon, the bajra crops, the shadows of the trees and again the witch running behind me …Lord Hanuman was the one who saved me from the clutches of that witch, that night!

Even to this day, I feel a bit scared when I remember my encounter, with the so “thought witch,” and a smile automatically comes on my face. Thanks to my grandmother for all her stories!

The ghost of the mango Orchard

Ramesh was a well built man in his thirties, wheatish complexioned and tall. He would boast of his strength and courage to all the other men, while sitting in village tea stalls, and chewing the betel leaf.

“I am not afraid of any ghosts or betaals. It is all foolish, you know. And if ever I had a chance to meet one of them, they would have no place to hide,” he said and started laughing. He was sitting with three other friends of his, at a paan stall in the evening, and boasting of his dare-devilries.

It was December, and soon the dusk grew into a dark night. The mild cold wind blew, adding to the chill. The small vendors in the bazaar started closing down there shops, as it usually happens in Indian village bazaars during winters. Few opened, had dim lit bulbs hung in front of their shops, waiting for their last customers to arrive.

The owner of the Paan shop, Buddhu, too started winding up his business and asked the customers seated there to leave, since it was already dark.

“I think we should leave now and go back to our homes,” said one of the friends of Ramesh.

“Why are you getting so desperate Rajesh? Is bhabhi jee waiting for you?” said Ramesh, mockingly.

“No, Ramesh. It is not like that. You know that these days it is really dangerous to travel in the night, especially, after the sad incidence that occurred with Ashok bhai.”

“These are all rumors, Rajesh. He had some other problems and died because of that,” replied Ramesh in return.

“You will never understand Ramesh,” said Rajesh, tying his muffler around his head and getting on his bicycle. He murmured something to himself and rode swiftly on his bicycle.

The two other friends present also left, one walking and the other on his bicycle.
Ramesh went near his bicycle and blew the dust off, which had gathered on its seat. He then rode his bicycle and came out of the bazaar.

He could have taken the other way also, but with a curiosity he took the way which crossed through the haunted mango orchard.

The cool wind blew and pierced his ears, the mango trees standing erect and strong like well built ghosts with their branches spread like huge arms. Far somewhere in the distance the jackals also howled. A normal human being would have been terrified but not Ramesh. He rode on his bicycle unmoved by the sights and sounds.

....................

You can read my full collection of Short Stories on:

The ghost of the Mango orchard & Other Short Stories

My E-Book; THOSE WERE THE DAYS & Other Short Stories

Hello my Dear Reader Friends from across the globe! With the help of your tremendous Love and Support of my Short stories, I have been able to launch the E-Book version of my collection.

I am really grateful to the reader Friends especially from India, United States of America, United Kingdom, Latvia, Australia,Russia,Germany,United Arab Emirates and Brazil. You people read, loved and supported my stories, providing your valuable suggestions and feedback's at important times. It is your unconditional support and love which inspires me to write again and again.

Please support me in my writing by supporting my first E-book, which is available at the below link;

THOSE WERE THE DAYS & Other Short Stories

Thank you All once again!

Hope you enjoy this journey of feelings and emotions!

Vicky