Review PK: High voltage entertainment value

Review: PK

Producer: Vidhu Vinod Chopra/Raj Kumar Hirani/Siddharth Roy Kapur

Director: Raju Hirani

Cast: Amir Khan, Anuska Sharma and Sunjay Dutt

Rating: Three and a half star

A Raju Hirani film is waited with bated breath at the box after delivering master pieces like Munna Bhai MBBS, Lage Raho Munna Bhai and Three Idiots. A tale of Mr Perfectionist, Amir Khan teaming with the ace director is synonym of magic on screen, fireworks on display that guarantees not only stupendous box office collection but also high voltage entertainment value. A director of the likes of Hirani who has the Hrishikesh Mukherjee meeting Manmohan Desai touch, brings a certain sensitive edge to the stories told and underlying, a strong message. It has always been Hirani’s trademark that touches a sensitive chord with the audience.

PK holds you in split by taking a not-so-run-out-of-the-mill story premise about God, religion, alien and human identity. It’s a theme cine-goers were attuned to, in the realistic comedy Oh! My God. For sure, PK is not OMG though some will find an uncanny resemblance to the plot. Raju Hirani gently touches the essence of human identity and how the wrongs are perpetuated by self-acclaimed men of God. It’s very topical when scandals of the likes of Asaram Bapu rocked the nation and credit goes to the director when his alien, PK seeks his identity on an earth afflicted by religious bigotry.

At one glance: PK is a feel-good movie that hold the audience in splits, sending a social message in a light manner and its undertone forces the commoners to think about the wrongs. But, PK doesn’t reach the mastery level of Raju Hirani’s former outings. In short, the movie lacks the Hirani’s magical touch at times in the film.

Clean cut editing that makes the whole cinematic experience of watching PK magical, intelligent wit enshrined in the dialogues and brilliantly executed scenes, crisp screenplay and flawless cinematography cum photography makes this Raju Hirani’s flick a top notch offering. It’s entertainment in full zest, boosted by the performances, right from Amir Khan to Anuska Sharma and Sanjay Dutt. The screenplay and narrative brings to the fore a unique quality in film-making that engrosses the viewers.

It’s no secret that Amir Khan lives his on-screen characters off screen and it shows from A to Z in PK where you feel that you are interacting with the real alien. His body language, eye expression and the ‘creaturish’ look will hook you to the actor’s performance who carry the movie entirely on his shoulders.

The icing on the cake is his Bhojpuri accent and pan-chewing habit that makes it a hilarious affair, though it couldn’t stop me from comparing his act with Amitabh Bachchan in Don. An award-winning performance.


Anushka Sharma as TV reporter, Jaggu, brings life in her spontaneous act which she takes from her character in Jab Tak Hai, showcasing her joie-de-vivre. She held her forte against Amir Khan with dexterity. She is a stayer who never stops to surprise you with her natural performances. Another award in the making for her. She looks super cute in her brand new short cut hair style, that sits on her perfectly.


It’s endearing to see Sanjay Dutt (Bhairav Singh) in a cameo where he performs in an effortless manner. The guy doesn’t need long screen presence to showcase his mettle as an actor and shines in the few scenes. Of course, the song picturized on him is sheer delight. Saurabh Shukla as the God man performs competently. Sushant Singh Rajput (Sarfaraz) as the Pakistani lover in a miss-and-blink appearance manages to leave a mark. Sadly so, an actor of the caliber of Boman Irani seems wasted.

PK has several memorable scenes to its credit that makes the perfect cut, one would want to watch all over again.

1. The grand entry of PK in the desert, donning his own trade mark and gushing at the world filled with clothes and moving cars.

2. PK and Jaggu doing a jig to removed the sadness from the latter’s life. A priceless moment in the film.

3. The scenes leading to the climax are powerfully executed, the Face off on religion between PK and Saurabh Shukla on TV, emotional moments between the former and Jaggu as he bids a tearing adieu. A heart-wrenching moment that touches hearts. Another poignant scene is where PK’s emotional act where he looks for God but can’t find it where men and women dividing them like apples in form of various religious beliefs. Certainly, one of the best scene in the movie.

4. The bomb blast had a lasting impact and came as least expected to express the follies of some crazy beings. A poignant scene where PK picks the shoes of his first friend, Bhairav Singh, that touches his soul. What a performance by Amir Khan and execution by Raju Hirani.

As I said, PK is not a master-piece that Hirani’s earlier works boasted of. During the first half, the film lacks the spark of Hirani, at times and some scenes tend to drag unnecessarily. The monotone sets in the narrative where PK constantly looks for God in church, mosque and temple. The music should have been the forte of the movie and, unlike, Hirani’s earlier ventures, the compositions lack the soul-tapping moments that would be remembered for long, except for one or two numbers.

Raju Hirani is a master story-teller and weaves a beautiful story about our equation and identity with religion-cum-God. He keeps us engrossed throughout the film that the masses would lap, raising interesting questions in the cackle of laughter that follows. PK must do stupendous business at the box office for its sheer quality at a time when all kind of nonsense are churned out in the name of entertainment. Wait!!!! Make sure, you let the end credit roll coz there is a delightful surprise for you. Also, the kissing scene between Sushant and Anushka has been deftly picturized, a first in a Hirani film. Speak about changing times. It’s cutely done.

In short: Make sure you don’t miss this brilliantly executed movie that will leave an imprint in your mind and you would want to watch a second time, despite the minor glitches.

Cinematically Yours



Part 2: The rebel and his muse, they met and fell in love

Hey folks,

Sometimes back, I came with an imaginative fiction for  #WillYouShave activity at BlogAdda. I didn’t know it would be so well-received and this sequel to the fiction was unplanned. When I thought I was done, Shalzz urged me to continue the story. Hats off to Shalzz for giving me inputs to continue this story. So, on popular demand, ‘A rebel stomped’ (check the link for earlier post) part two find its way below as a sequel. Many thanks to Shalzz and everyone asking for part 2:


The song kept playing repeatedly at the back of my mind throughout the day. I was sitting at Barista, smoking like a chimney and gulping mugs of Latte, for no reason finding myself humming the same lines all over again, , ‘Jise Tu Na Mila Usse Kuch Na Mila.’ I am feeling restless for some unknown reasons, bunking lectures and loitering on the streets of Mumbai, traveling in the local from one end of the city to another. I feel like a nomad in a city that doesn’t bat an eyelid to move at crazy speed.

Things are not really working between me and Radhika. The fights take ugly turn, breaking up, coming together and resuming into accusations mode. Finally, we decided to give each other space and call it quit for some time. Deep within, I knew the reason for my restlessness was not Radhika. I reached home late after hopping on at Gokul in Colaba for some cheap booze and the spirited me lay on the bedroom, mulling on my ever-changing mood swing.

It’s past midnight. I am turning around and tossing on the bed, kicking my legs in frustration for staying awake. After fighting sleep, I concede defeat and got up to light a cigarette. I switch on the lap top and saw a friend request from Nikita. Now, this name tells me something and wondering where I’ve seen her. I glean through her profile picture and stumbled upon her old pictures. Oh! Lord!!! It’s Pujari Sir’s daughter who left her boy friend’s razor as a parting gift before leaving for United States. I almost fell down off the chair, laughing my lungs out. I just can’t believe that I forgot my passing crush on her and she adding me on Facebook after three years is crazy stuff. I added her back but didn’t pinge her.

Two Days Later:

I sit at Barista, reading some notes, in between, putting status update on Facebook, the laptop by my side. The chat icon flashes red and bang, Nikita’s sends a Hi with a smiley icon. “So tell me, what you’ve been up to? So mean!!! You didn’t even drop a Hi. Didn’t miss me, kya?”

I am at a loss of words, not knowing what to reply and send, “By the way, I am clean shaven nowadays. You stomped the rebel.” We got talking to each other, our lives, and finally she reveals that she has just shifted to Mumbai. Do I have reason to be happy? After all, I am experiencing mixed feeling, stoic about our respective lives and quite objective. I am happy in my own life, no jubilant feeling about Nikita being in the same city as me.

We got the chat going on before she asks, “So, seeing someone?” I reply in affirmative, venting out everything about my relationship with Radhika and how unhappy I am in the relationship. She shoots back, “Still, you carry on with the relationship. May be, you are insecure and the feeling of being rejected. Speak about male ego, I know a thing or two about it.”

What a second blow after her priceless gift, the Gillette razor! The rebel is stomped for the second time in less than three years. May be, behind the sweet face lies a Nikita who keep ‘chilli’ in her mouth that she spills at me. I didn’t reply to her message. The next day, I messaged her: “Are you dating someone?” She replies within second I typed, “Haha! What a nice way to check me out to ensure that I am not taken. Wah! I just broke up.” Deep within, I am celebrating a victory.

In no time, we became so close to each other, constantly chatting till the wee hours, past midnight, sending silly and naughty forwards. I feel of being caught between two woman, dating Radhika and flirting with Nikita on sms, whatsapp and Facebook. Nikita calls one night and asks that it’s time to meet and sort out stuffs. “See! I will not hide my feeling. I am attracted to you and need to know about your equation with Radhika.”

I stammer before saying, “Nikita! Babe! You know about things brewing between us. At the other end, there is Radhika with whom I am unhappy. I long for your chat and voice. But, then, I don’t know how to break up with her since I don’t want to hurt her feeling.”

She breathes with ‘hmm’. “See, you will hurt her more when she comes to realize about things between us. It’s cowardice to leave someone in the lurch. I suggest, you tell her the truth, no matter how it feels. I believe there is no more point staying in a relationship if both of you are unhappy. Come on, own it up.”

I listen attentively to her. “Ok! I am hanging up. Tomorrow evening, Bandra Bandstand.”

I decided that I will tell the truth to Radhika. I dialled her number when I receive a call from an unknown number. “Hi,” a tensed female voice almost shouted. “Radhika here! We need to speak urgent, tomorrow at 10 p.m.” I said, ok and hanged. O! Fuck! I wonder, “How am I going to do that. Tomorrow, evening on a date with two woman. Certainly, I am not two-timing.

The Barista shop at Bandra, Bandstand was teeming with activity. Nikita, wearing Blue demins and a white blouse was waiting, caressing her jet black hair and smiled when she saw me walking to her. I kissed her on her cheek and tendered the red rose in her hand. “So sweet,” she said with composure. We spoke as if we were long-lost lovers in the paradise of love. We took a walk, our fingers tweaked into each other, past Mannat and sat on the rocks by the sea.

She smiled, “I always wanted to sit with someone here. Didn’t know it would be with you.” I sheepishly smiled when she bends to kiss me on the lips. We held each other close in a tight embrace, running down my fingers on her curly hair and she moves an inch closer to me. I kissed her on the neck and our body were held tight to each other. We engulfed in passionate intimacy, oblivious of the preening eyes on us. It was the best day of our lives.

After dropping her to the station, I run to catch the train and met Radhika at Infinity Mall. She was waiting and we settled at Subway after saying hi, exchanging cold vibes. “See! Karan! I won’t be long. I mean, I don’t know how to say it but it’s not working between us. I feel it’s better that we say quits in a friendly manner since I don’t want any hard feeling between us. To be bluntly honest, I found someone else. I am sorry…..”

I cut her off and jumped with excitement which made confused her. “…wow!! you breaking up with me. I was going to call you since I am going steady with Nikita.” I couldn’t stop laughing.

She looked straight into my eyes with irritation and smiled after recovering. “I guess, it settle things. Chalo! All the best.” We hugged before walking into different directions.

Two weeks later, Nikita shifted in my apartment at Andheri. The same evening, we were cuddling, playing footsie when she gave me a gentle slap. “You such a rogue bastard. How happy you were when Radhika did all the hard work of breaking up, saving you the tension and heart beat of taking the rough terrain.”

We cuddled and kissed passionately that night. Faraway from our intimacy, the bottle of wine waited for us. The world is celebrating Christmas and we made love, forgetting the expensive Wine bottle. Santa Claus came earlier in our lives.

With Love




Finishing line…It’s December

It’s the time of the year where one pulls off the sock and hark back to the many moods, moments, victory and upsets that manifested itself to take center stage and dominate every aspect of life. The upswing, read challenges and little upsets marking the times and life of the self. Guess! I gotta pen an auto-biography of my life: Times and moments of Life. But, then, who would be the least interested reading the juicy tit-bits of my life which verges on the boring and mechanical aspects of my existence in 2014!

As we reach the finishing line of 2014 and we have still days to go till December doffs its hat, guess I haven’t said the last words like the dark horse that eventually wins the race. Pardon my indulgence. This is the time of the year that I normally look up to give you a peak of the few days characterizing my life.

First things first, I am work-in-progress and to be bluntly honest, I am struggling at work to prove myself. It always happens with me that I need to prove myself at every nanosecond of life and I feel like lying on the hospital bed, struggling between life-and-death. A fresh challenge in the same and ole’ industry. Hell! It’s a magazine, something new for me and rocket science would not be an exaggeration. For someone who is at ease with newspaper kinda writing, weaving words for a magazine is like playing a new tune and different ball game. So, in-between keeping calm and reasoning with the self that it shall be done, I feel like a student, praying to clear his exams. I so wanna sing, ‘Hum Honge Kamyaab, Hum Honge Kamyaab, Mann Mein Hai Vishwas Poora Hai Vishwas Hum Honge Kamyab.

It’s the time to buy stuffs for the self. Nah! Nothing beyond the ordinary a la Krish or wishing for Jadoo, still better Harry of the Quiditch School of Magic and pining hope for a secret broom to turn dust into gold. How I wish I’d win the jackpot to afford the holiday, right now put into the back-burner. Holiday! O! Holiday! Next year, this time, I shall fly my way to heaven, sitting in the sky and holding the migrating birds in the palm of my hand. Itchy! Hand palm.



I am just figuring what are the stuffs to buy and what not to! I am resisting the temptation to splurge and avoid going dutch in January. It doesn’t make sense to go on a shopping spree. I need some books, though, the diary to set a date for January, special issues of magazines and what’s not! yeah! I need a new lap-top bag, something more spacious to put the machine and other stuffs, read lunch box, book and the diary. It’s a pain carrying two bags on the way to office, the shoulder cannot afford so much burden, you see. Oh! Santa! Be gentle to me, see I’ve been a good boy, at least, tried too, not wriggling my way too much to be over-ambitious with freebies.

Image credit: Google




Ah! The usual self, some friends been getting hitched this December and like always, giving it a miss owing to the oceans and see Saat Samundar Par, I am not doing. I feel my bachelorhood is being constantly challenges by the pals storming on my turf. Chillax! I am not falling sway to the world of Grihasthi and honeymoon so soon. See! I am standing my ground.

It was the rarest year where I missed so many good flicks in theatres and visited my favorite past time hardly thrice a year. I missed movies like Haider, Happy Ending, Finding Fanny and so many, munching the pop corn in a laid back fashion. PK is coming and no power on earth shall prevent me from hopping my way to the theater to watch the trio of awesomeness, Raju Hirani-Amir Khan-Sanju Baba weaving magic on screen.

You must have heard the whole thingy doing crazy rounds on FB and social media about reading more than 30 books in a new year. Yeah! I can safely vouch for that, print and e-book but the only thing I didn’t earmarked the names of the books like the virtual world been telling us to do. I finished the absolutely fantastic And The Mountains Echoed By Khaled Hosseini and started a rom-com going by the name ’20 And Still a Virgin by Ankur Dahiya. Give me a rom-com,, any day. Who can beat the fun! And, to tell, Paulo Coelho’s Adultery is waiting for me. Few more books to buy to kick star the new year and here I am. Speaking of books, I was able to beat the fear of reading e-books, starting with the 100 pages wala and achieved the rare feat of finishing another 350 pages novel. Baby steps of beating the blues to reach an elixir, not yet there but shall arrive.

Watch out for few more book reviews before we say good bye to December. It is being a totally mad, crazy and freaking end of year that started at a snail pace at an age where the post office is almost dead. Looking forward to bury the hatchet, oops the past. So you see, nothing really exciting in my life, though, I am longing to be by the beach, breeze and sea waves to sip beer.





Black Day for humanity and innocence

Hatred has no face or religion.

When will the world of hatred ever understand?

There is no place for terrorism, bloodshed and massacre of innocent children.

Small children in the flower of age taken as shield by vile terrorists,

lives drenched in blood and splattered on the ground.

Black December!

No world can condone the ruthless murder of children, the gift of humanity and God.

Who has the heart to mercilessly kill small and innocent souls?

Has your blood stained hand not trembled once?

Heartless and vile humans touching small and innocent children must be wiped off from earth.

Are you made of stone?

In the name of religion!

Nobody teaches hate in this world,

only spineless bastards do that.

How can you even think of hurting innocent lives like that?

Humanity is dead.

The heart is crying out at the sight of such dastard and cowardice act.

The cries of tender lives, drenched in blood and fighting between life-and-death.

Light coffins are carried in a temple of wisdom, our schools,

yet, a heavy burden for parents and humanity to carry till the end of life.

A child’s twinkling eyes full of hope in the world, thrust its fingers longing for love and

guidance by adults to embrace the world.

Today, we have failed the child.

Hang our heads in shame.

Cry the world! It’s a Black Day for humanity.

We have killed innocence, dreams and hope.

A sad day for humanity.

The heart is crying for innocent children,

we shall not be able to carry this burden on December 16, 2014.

This post is dedicated to the innocent children who were brutally murdered by zealots and cowardice terrorists in Peshawar, Pakistan





Love at the expressway in the bus

The Volvo bus that moved at neck breaking speed on the Mumbai-Pune expressway abruptly stopped to a halt. It started pouring heavily which caused an accident that caused bottleneck on the road. He removed a copy of ‘Brunch’ from his bag to read as the bus ambled slowly on its way. Reading always calms his nerves during the tiring traffic that refuses to clamp down.

The tall and fair-looking woman was dressed in a grey corporate suit, struggling to hold her laptop bag, luncheon box and West Side carry bag, sat next to him. “Oh! Women and shopping. Can anyone beat that,” he is amused. He peeked outside the window and wondered when the rain is ever gonna stop. She flips her hair back on her shoulder in a rather sensuous manner that broke his concentration. He felt the scintillating perfume wafting through the air. Struck and mesmerized by her presence and oozing hotness wouldn’t be an under-statement.

Today, his reading took a serious beating and the magazine found its place, cosying to the office files in his bag. He moved right and left, feeling restless at her sight since his heart is now wrecking havoc. “Should I strike a conversation with her? Saying Hi! What if she ignores me and shows attitude. Nah! It will look stupid.” He pulled his ear plug listening to songs and the voice of his favorite RJ, Malishka, on Red FM. Perhaps, radio will make his immune to her charm and boost his ego.

The silence was killing him. Thoughts were raging into his mind, sitting close to each other, their arms brushing past each other. He was dying to tell her how beautiful she is and how his mind has been enraptured by this presence. Yet, he couldn’t garner the courage to approach her. After one hour, the bus swerved towards the Food plaza. She scampered her way out of the bus and he got up, watching her steps. He got out of the bus and the rain has stopped. Lighting a cigarette, he furtively looks around to catch her glimpse but she has disappeared. “No chance,” he told himself. “She is too hot for me.”
He orders a cup of tea at the stall. He took a sip from steamed glass of tea and he was distracted from a hand, gently stroking his shoulder. He turns around and saw her smiling face, flashing her dimples who expressed a sense of familiarity. “Karan, Deepa,” she introduced herself. It took him a while to recover. ‘I was dying to speak to her and she has landed in front of me, calling my name,’ he couldn’t come to terms. He stammered, “H-i-i-i.”

“You remember me, Karan. Wait! How would you?!,”

He is wondering how on earth she knows his name. The thought crossed his mind, ‘Is she a stalker?”

She jumped on her feet and giggled, “Apostolic Carmel High School..we were always together and I would be waiting for you outside the gate every morning. We would hold hands to enter the class.”

“The one day, I left the school because my Dad got transferred to Delhi. Wait, I’ll show you something.”

She fidgeted inside her bag, removed her diary and showed a scribble to Karan written with a child’s handwriting

“Karan and Deepa. Never say good bye.”

Tears rolled down the cheeks. They hugged like lost friends and lovers. On their way to Mumbai, they talked non-stop. The bus stopped at Dadar station and they walked hand-in-hand like during the old days.





Everyone Has Their Own Truth.


A brilliant post that must be read and mulled upon. Let’s be each other’s strength in disagreement. Open up:)

Originally posted on quickmeups - short uplifting messages.:

It seems like the Earth is currently engulfed in arguments. There are religious arguments, geographical disagreements, unrest and frustration. I think one thing  seriously lacking is compassion and understanding.

It can be so easy for us to become consumed by our own viewpoint and belief that only we are correct, which can lead us to completely misunderstand our neighbor. If we each see the world through a unique lens, then of course another life will look strange to us through our lens.

We need to step back for a minute and remember that…

Everyone Has Their Own Truth.

Amish family living a much different life than most of us. Everyone has their own truth.

An Amish family living a much different reality than I do. Photo: OttawaAC

“I feel like when people judge me they’re not judging me, because they don’t know who I am.” – Gisele Bundchen

We each have our own unique set of views and beliefs. My beliefs may be very different than yours, but that doesn’t…

View original 445 more words

Spooky files: The midnight ride

He lies motionless inside the graveyard, frozen in fear, surrounded by the cement slabs housing the dead. The cemetery wore a deserted look as his eyeballs popped out, moving right and left, silently praying that a human soul would come to save his life. The dashing ladies’ man that he once was has been struck over night and now dons the avatar of a frail creature.

Shivering to death in his white tee and paralyzed as fear run down the spine, he slowly turns his neck at the deserted graveyard as no soul-human and otherwise, could be heard from afar. It rained heavily. Not a single whisper broke the night’s silence but dogs ferociously barking to the faceless night. The clock struck midnight.

The powerful engine of the Yamaha bike steered to life, exploding into a thundering noise like his persona, girls swooning to his Don Juan charm. The hot wheels, coated by metallic steel rolled like magnetic thunder as he sat straight on the leather cushion and riding like the King of heart, swirling and dangling in the air, wearing his black blazer.

Image credit: Google


The bike zoomed past the multiplexes on the wide street as he approached the traffic signal and iconic building everyone marveled at for  its sheer delight. He spotted a tall shadow and slowed a bit to cast a glance. Thanking his stars, he smiled, “Another catch at this odd hour past midnight.” He stopped his super hot engine in front of her.

An oval faced woman, dressed in a long white skirt and jet black hair falling on her shoulders smiled to the biker. An unexplained power captured his senses and body, which drew him towards her like magnet. Her angelic smile captured his imagination and nothing on earth could let go of this opportunity to hold her hand. They remained silent for a while and the intensity in their eyes did all the talking.

Finally, she looked straight into his eyes and coyly asked, “Hi! My car broke down and I remained stuck in this rain on the deserted streets for three hours. Can you drop me home, please? My mom would be worried.” He gallantly removed his black jacket which he made her wear as she sat on the back seat on the bike, zooming past the green Maruti car.

She indicated an alley where a huge mango tree stood, giving shade to an equally big but old, colonial wooden Christian house, beautifully made of corrugated tin roof. She kissed him on his cheek. On the way back, he realized that the black jacket was missing but was too late to make a u-turn.

Two days later:

He excitedly rode his bike towards her house to take back the black jacket and another excuse to ask the mysterious woman for a date. What he was going to see would blow him mind. He was hit by thunder and wondered whether he missed the address in his excitement. He looked around only to realize it’s the same alley! He pushed open the decrepit gate and walked towards the house. His head was spinning and felt that he was about to crash on the floor as he tried to recollect what happened yesterday. The huge colonial house that stood tall suddenly disappeared to be replaced by an abandoned two-piece house, roof dangling in the air, supported by damp and moldy wall.

He was greeted by a wrinkled face, 60-year-old woman in a disheveled state, giving him cold stares. “Yes!” she menacingly asked. “I came here to take back my black jacket which the girl forgot to give me back. Where is she? ” he tried to peek inside the house.

“Girl..jacket…who?” she angrily asked.

“The night before, a girl, wearing a long white skirt was standing on the street and took a lift with me on the bike,” he blurted out.

“I mean, the girl whom I dropped at this place, yesterday.”

The old lady received a shock and asked him to enter the house. His eyes popped at the sight of the angelic smile and standing tall on the photo frame, hanging on the wall.

” This girl,” he excitedly pointed at her picture.

She calmly replied, “She is my daughter. But, how is that possible? She died in a car explosion ten years back on her way to attend her best friend’s wedding at the church. “

She burst into tears, “If you don’t believe me, you will find her at the graveyard. Her name is Diana Fernando.”

He rushed to the graveyard and frantically looked for Diana Fernando. His jacket was hanging at the gravestone, scribbled with ‘In Loving Memory of Diana Fernando’.

His body lay cold on the ground and his face looked fresh, wearing the expression of a smile, at the graveyard. He breathed his last during the wee hours in the night as Diana held his hand to her world.

Disclaimer: I claim no originality to this story which was first narrated to me during my teens. Of course, the only claim to originality is the way I interpreted the story and sketched the characters.



Thirst to quench

He walked under the scorching sun for hours in the busy street and sweated profusely, depleted of energy. Suddenly, he was thirsty and was longing to see a shop to buy a bottle of cold Bisleri. No shop could be spotted, not in the looming distance. He cursed his destiny. It was a new city in the outskirt when he set on a crazy journey to explore for days. Zooming on a bike for days, he finally stopped at this destination and the traveler in him, handed the Yamaha bike to the renting company. Taking upon himself to explore a new city and new life, he was suddenly transported to an alley and steps took him to the small but modest railway station.

Kids could be spotted playing cricket in the galli, their tiny legs soaked in mud as village women, spinning their saree till their thighs carried buckets of water on their head. He suddenly felt a  glimpse of hope and almost reached out to them, asking a drop to quench his thirst. ‘But, it’s not cold water.’ As he turned towards the women, they disappeared in the flick of second. He wanted to kick himself in the ass. After all, who is the thirsty man who let water disappear like this? Stop whining, the soul tells him. Own up to your decision to see life in the country side, far away from the hum-drum of city life, malls and super fast cars and, of course, the beautiful girl-friend.

He almost jumped with joy when he spotted a water tap at a looming distance. To reach the water to save his energy, he got to cross the railway track, especially after someone told him that he wouldn’t spot a dingy shop. For that, he has to take the municipal bus that will reach the other end of the outskirt in an hour. He pulled his motionless body, showing sign of weakness and pushed his legs forward as he climbed the platform from the gap on the muddy terrain and pressed his hand on the cement slab, rolling his body like a soldier in war zone. Finally, he crossed the railway track and reached his destination. He felt a sense of jubilation and groveled in front of the water tap as if he has finally found God. A sudden spurt of the tap water flew on his face and he rolled droplets in his mouth like his favorite chocolate. He felt the water hard to swallow down this throat to quench his thirst. It didn’t matter that gush of water flowing was not freezing cold but it’s water.

It was his moment of truth. He wouldn’t imagine that tap water in a distant rural village would be his savior. On the spur of the moment, life was suddenly stopped and his looked around to see not a single life could be spotted. The water has suddenly stopped. He felt a burning sensation in his parched lips and dry throat. He furiously twist the tap and shake it violently like soldier toggling with his rifle. The water has suddenly stopped running.

Cover Reveal: Sundari Venkatraman’s Matches Made in Heaven

Sundari Venkatraman, known for her light and breezy romantic stories, is coming up soon with her next release, a collection of romantic short stories, ‘Matches in Heaven.’ I am happy to host the cover release of ‘Matches Made in Heaven’- a romantic short stories by Sundari Venkatraman.

Brace yourself for yet another romantic adventures bearing the imprint of Sundari Venkatraman. Wish her the very best and I am sure, her latest offering will be a best seller this December. Book your copy.

The author can be contacted on


Cover Reveal:
Romantic Short Stories by
Sundari Venkatraman
Sneak Peak

Swayamwar on TV reality show; Dating Clubs; Matchmaking websites; parents setting up their children with one another; friends getting married and more – there are many ways that couples get together for hopefully a “Happily Ever After” experience. MATCHES MADE IN HEAVEN explores the various premises in the form of short stories that one can relate to in everyday life. There is even one based on Gods falling in love. Shh! I am not going to say anything further. It’s for you to find out.

And there are thirteen of them. While many insist that “13” is an unlucky number, I am quite fascinated by it. I absolutely believe that it’s a lucky number for me. That’s why I decided to publish this anthology with 13 romantic stories. 

About the author

Sundari Venkatraman has authored four novels and a short story anthology till now, Matches Made In Heaven (anthology) being the latest. The Malhotra Bride; Meghna; The Runaway Bridegroom; Flaming Sun Collection 1: Happily Ever Afters From India (Box Set) and Matches Made In Heaven have all been self-published on Amazon under the banner of Flaming Sun. The three novels are regularly seen on Amazon’s Top 100 Bestsellers’ Contemporary Romances list. The Box Set and Anthology are bound to catch up soon. 

A great fan of Mills & Boon romances over the past four decades, Sundari has always believed in ‘Happily Ever Afters’ and all her books promise happy endings. 

Matches Made In Heaven is a compilation of thirteen short stories – all romantic – based on many situations anyone can come upon in their day-to-day lives. The stories revolve around the different ways a couple can get to meet and tie the knot in a culture rich country like India. Those reading the stories will definitely be able to connect realising that one of the situations has definitely been a part of their lives. 

So here you go……..
Book Launch by:


Heart is the abode of paradise and God

In the quest for paradise and goodness,

we set to conquer forces of hell and evil.

Fear and fury instilled in the mind, heart and soul.

There is just one path to the final destination.

It’s our heart in which resides the magnificent and beautiful temple, mosque and church.

Seek and speak to God inside the heart,

it’s our inner strength that makes us good humans to fight human prejudices, forces of evil for

there is no hell in humans.

We shall swim to heaven like the humanely prince.

This poem is inspired by the magnificent words of Baldeep.