Left Right Romance Chowk: Chapter 1

Hey, people! I am writing a brand new rom-com and campus romance novella on the blog, ‘Left Right Romance Chowk.’ It’s the first chapter, ‘Blueberry kiss.’ Hope you will like this fresh romance outing that I am doing after a long time.

Chapter 1: Blueberry kiss

The knotted silky long hair and black curly tresses decked on Sejal’s hair like the Pharaoh perched on its crown. The brightly painted yellow room shimmered in the sunny afternoon as sunlight percolated inside the room. The curtain was pulled out and the sea breeze blew inside. She wore a plain white tee and a black short.

The soft music, Kabhie Kabhie mere dil mein khayal aata hai aired on Radio Mirchi felt like the fresh dew inside the modest apartment standing tall in the outskirt of Mumbai and four legs separated by a thin distance. He wore a pink short. Their legs touched each other as they sat on the bed. He was wearing Sejal’s short. The smoke billowed inside the room that metamorphosed with the sunlight flowing inside. The joint was passed between both hands. Her voice chirped to the sound of a bird cooing insanely in his ear. He was already high on ganja. She was zonked.

A bottle of wine, lays chips and birthday cake was splattered on the wooden table. Her voice blurred in his ear, “Your name is too long…I am calling you Mann. Fuck this Manendra. It sounds like an orgy gone wrong.” There were no reasons to celebrate. Just like that toh party karo nahin toh bhalu ayenge humein lene was Sejal’s swan song. It rang an echo in Mann’s ear as if it has become their love anthem.

She slowly perched her body backward, oscillating from a sitting position to spread herself on the bed in a playful mood.  The peachy eyes started intensely at his green Tantra Tee shirt with the tagline, ‘Tell your boob to stop staring at my eyes.’ “You lecherous man,” she snickered. “It’s the fault of your eyes. Kya karna ka irada hai? Don’t think too much or have high expectations. I ain’t letting your quivering lip touch me. I’m no chocolate.”

He slowly pushed his body on the bed to rest on his side and grabbed the palm of her hand. The lovelorn man twisted her hair lock with his fingers. “You are a mystic princess,” he whispered. He was trying to find his balance on the small bed and awkwardly moved his body. “How are you feeling inside? Hope it’s not hurting your asset,” she winked.  It was their dare day. Sejal called the shots and challenged him to wear her clothes, pink short and underwear. They exchanged each other’s clothes, were stoned and drank wine to heavenly bliss.

“Nah!” he made a face like a sad pup eyed dog and she mocked him playfully with doe-eyed expression, “Cho chweet…my little puppy…mera bacha handsome ladka aur mein ladki beautiful.”

Mann lashed his tongue out and gravitated his head towards the rotating ceiling fan. She slapped him on the hand, “Pass me the joint na and stop behaving like a guzra zamana ka dejected Aashiq. I am no Meena Kumari, mere Dilip Kumar.”

She took a deep drag and passed to him. Their vision became blurred. “Oh! This shaadi,” he blurted out. Sejal slowly moved away from her position to sit on the bed. “Dude! Why the fuck you get such crazy ideas about shaadi? We are only 18 something. What makes you think that I am going to elope with you? I love thrills but not itna. I don’t have any intention to make history in 2017 and for fuck sake, Laila Majnu or Romeo and Juliet were chutiya.”

“This shit is so fucking good! Waise bhi who is speaking about Shaadi,” he pretended to be under some magic spell. She pulled his hair, “Dude it’s you. Where are you?”

“In your arms,” he pretended to be a coy bride and rested his head on her lap. Sejal grinned, “Yes! Of course. I thought you were selling pani puri outside Salman Khan home in Bandstand.” He laughed loud.

Beaming like a child, Mann longed for a kiss. “Please yaa! Just once,” he pleaded. She shrugged off his demand, “I told you that I am no candy or chocolate and you are no kiddo. It’s my lip. Nah! It doesn’t like your taste today. As it is, your body perfume feels like raita.

He almost belched out what the fuck…when she clung to him and pressed his mouth. Mann was too stunned to react. “Chalo! It’s been bery long time for a blueberry kiss,” she cupped her lip to his face. They kissed again and their lips were pressed together like glue, exploring every line, inch, and angle.  She brutally pulled away from him.

It hit him like an electric jolt. Mann stammered , “Excuse me!” She was unfazed, “You haven’t heard or what! Get out of my house.” He protested. She dragged him out, “Buzz out man.”





#QuotedStories #4: Lost voice in the art of silence

This post is written as part of #QuotedStories  #4 hosted by Rohan and Upasna on their blogs. I choose to combine the two quotes to make it into fiction:

In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

Silence is one of the hardest arguments to refute

-Josh Billings


Disclaimer: The post below is a work of fiction that doesn’t have the slightest bearing on my life and the people surrounding me. Trust me, I have broken up in the past with kisses and pain but on very healthy terms. Of course, my friends are the most wonderful thing that happened to me and am forever grateful to them. Truly blessed I am to have them in my life.

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#QuotedStories: Lost voice in the art of silence

It’s the story of my break up. I choose to stay muted and silent at the rocket of accusations flung on me. I stood there and faced the accusations that felt like sniper during war. My eyes conveyed sadness and hurt that spoke a thousand words. I choose silence as the weapon to defend myself. It was her choice to listen to strangers who wanted to drift us apart. I stood accused in the courtroom prosecuted and judged by her. Who says that I didn’t have any defense to put my best arguments forward? It was the silence. I choose silence to refute the balls of fire thrown at me. It was my best defense.

Don’t they say, silence is the best weapon. I let her speak for I was convinced that her fury wouldn’t subside. It was like the fire ravaging my soul. She would be satisfied only after ripping me apart, emasculated my dignity as a lover, man, and human. The hell-bent conviction to bring me down and insult me in front of everyone, my friends and her gang made her the victor. She hated it when her ego was bruised.

The weapon in her hand was my silence which echoed guilt to her eyes and the anger that rose and spiraled inside her. Every single thing that happened between us was brought in the open. But, I knew that she was going to lose her force and the anger that boiled inside her would be doused like fire. It’s my silence, right. There is no winner or loser in a relationship. The silence has empowered me and slowly, nursed the wounds, scars and bruise that cut and bled through my veins.

There was another reason for me to remain silent. It was not her. My friends who knew the truth. They choose to remain like mute spectators and it hurt me the most. Silence can be a weapon and sow the seed of destruction at the same time. Not that I need them as a shield to justify myself. Pack of lies was told. They were my own who knew the sacred truth but they chose to dishonor it. It was not their words that mattered but silence. It’s their right. It hurts the most when your own choose to be spectators when you are disrobed in an open court. They were my pride and ego. Their silence was the one thing that hurt more than she did. She was a victim of falsehood and manipulation. But, they were not. Not a single word. My friends! The weapon that pierced my heart and soul bore their names.

The gentle and still seas at night become stormy and turn into a whirlwind at the sight of the high tide to defend its occupants. Don’t they say, the high tide lifts all boats!



Sex with an ex (10): The Final act

The waft of stormy breeze blew past the yellow curtain with dotted gold that rolled like balls knotted into each other. It seems like a tale from the Arabian night. She looked like a Goddess who conquered love, defeat, angst and pain. The shadow of her resplendent body, the freshly sculptured face, nape, and naked body from top-to-toe shimmered and glittered like gold.  She wore a nymph form and shadow that intrigued and scared him at the same time, the flawless skin and the mysterious deep eyes morphed into intense human form.

Ajay flung his cigarette butt as he stood outside the balcony in the dark and admired her from a distance. She was too beautiful to resist. But, at the same time, he didn’t dare touch her in the current avatar. How she transformed into an Arabian princess! Her lusty eyes invited him to burn into the fire of intense love. She slowly hailed her hand like an invisible angle. He couldn’t say no to her. Ajay slowly climbed on the bed and gaped at this naked body that lay in front of him. She was the Goddess of seduction, sparked illusion and yet was real at the same time.

There was something evil about her and the flurry of emotions displayed in her eyes sent a shiver down his spine and an electrified sensation that ran deep inside his body. He almost fainted on the bed. She ran her fingers sensually inside his white shirt and unbuttoned his blue denim, pressing inside his under pant. It hardened him. He couldn’t control the sensation. She was in control of his senses, twisting her body towards him as both swirled and rolled on the bed. There was a power that stroked and captured him and he kissed her passionately on the mouth. It felt like thunder. Slowly, he reached her neck, back and slid his hand and cusped his face under her round, curvy   bottom. The passionate kiss shone like the trace of butterfly that adorned her flawless and creamy skin.

The gentle woman that she was has suddenly turned into a fiery and wild tigress who pressed her leg and knee on his chest with force and violence. It hurt him. He yelled. Yet, he wasn’t complaining as she unzipped her bra and gently took his hand to explore and make her stiff as he bit her nipple with passion. She felt light. It was the most fulfilling sex that she ever craved for and they reached the elixir with sheer brutal force and power. She was dominant like lightning travelling faster that wind gust. The slow caress became like wild boars in the jungle craving and satiating hunger. Both of them were deprived souls in quest of their animate spirit and predators hunting for their target in the lone forest.

Ajay couldn’t recognize this woman. He wondered, ‘Is she the same woman who I once ever loved, gentle, sex shy and pushed me away as I desired more from her?.’ He was confused and helpless. After all, the past 48 hours has given him a jolt that he wouldn’t be surprised if she took the form of a ghost or revealed an evil side that exterminated him. He would die happily at her hands. Deep inside, he was scared after the whole chase and emerging with scathed and scars from the jaws of death. Both of them moaned and their bodies interlocked together, she scratched him while he pushed his whole body inside her. He took her name in agony, ‘Anita’.

She chided him with a smile, ‘Anita and Ajay are dead to the world. I am Rohini and you are my mysterious lover that the world doesn’t know but heard of. Baby! Do I need to remind you every time? ’ He smiled but at the same time, was amazed at her transformation. She knew what he was thinking, “Don’t ponder so much. We gotta fly tomorrow to a new place where nobody will ever recognise or chase us. It’s a new birth and new world. But, we saved our city, our Mumbai. The Unsung heroes are us for no one will ever get wind of the calamity that could have hit and killed people. It’s time to leave everything behind and no regrets, please’

At times, Ajay really wondered whether she is Rohini in real for her every move, cunningness and scheming mind came into play be it life or sex, remind him of his ex-wife. How she transformed into her overnight! The more he thought about it, the more he lost his head that spun like a tail and dragged him into an entangled web that both couldn’t give a definite answer.

It was six in the morning when both of them wearing identical white shirt and black trousers on grey blazer looking like corporate honchos stepped into the plane. They were welcomed by the sensually beautiful hair hostess whose jet fair fell on her shoulder and was sensual as the night stars in her red blouse and blue short skirt.  Ajay fixed his gaze on her curvy body and breasts and winked at her. She was floored by his move and softly spoke, “Have a safe flight sir.”

Both Ajay and Anita, who became Rohini, fastened their seat belts. She teased him as the airhostess flitted her way past them, “Nice boobs…hmm how can you miss her curvy and athletics legs?” He planted a peck on her lip. The plane zoomed with speed to disappear in the cloud and sky to an unknown destination as Ajay and Anita took new names on their passport.s A new beginning.

The end

Post script: Finally it’s done. It was in December 2011 when I wrote the first outing one of the rare times when the title struck before I worked on the story. At that time, I had a vague idea of what fiction looked like and dabbled in an amateurish manner. There were few people who found it engaging. Read it here. As it has always been the norm with me, I write something and forget it despite writing down that the story would be continued. It took me more than five and a half years to revive the story. Never in my wildest imagination that I thought to continue the story. But, I did in 2016. Read the second part here. Though the title is Sex with an ex, I turned into a thriller with conspiracy, treachery, shades of grey to make my characters human. Though sex is set against the backdrop, there are many chapters that may suggest there is no sex but chase to save a city. I earlier thought to make the characters Rohini and Anita genuine friends but injected grey elements in them to make the story go forward. It turned into a suspense and actions towards the climax like in our good commercial Hindi movies. I have always believed in the entertainment and masala quotient in my stories. Logic is not for me in stories. Of course, in the last few chapters I went to the Hindi cinema route revisiting the earlier chapters and inject rewind and fast forward. It’s only in this last chapter that I visited sex and erotic scenes to stay true with the theme, Sex with an ex. Hope justice has been done after I revived the story and took more than four years to write and edit this novel. Happy reading. You can read the rest of the chapters here. Thanks you everyone who read Sex with an ex. It’s dark. I still can’t believe that I’ve done it and more so taking so many years.

Sex with an ex: Chapter 3 

Sex with an ex: Chapter 4

Sex with an ex: Chapter 5

Sex with an ex: Chapter 6

Sex with an ex: Chapter 7

Sex with an ex: Chapter 8

Sex with an ex: Chapter 9

With love


Sex with an ex (9)

Anita’s furtive eyes followed Ajay’s gaze as the BMW car they were in, waded on the busy street of Mumbai and he almost cursed at the yellow-and-black cabbie doing a U-turn in front of them. He avoided the taxi just in time and banged on his window. “Easy,” Anita said. “Bhenchod,” Ajay cursed.

He sweated as he steered the wheel with his right hand and fidgeted with the latest silver coated i-phone with his left hand. Anita was losing patience and lunged out at Ajay who didn’t say a single word, “Dude, do you realize how I escaped from there? I almost flirted with death to get out of there to meet you, the moment you called. At least, say something rather than driving in silence and pointlessly doing the round of Mumbai on New Year eve as if we are some fucking tourists. What’s the deal?”

Ajay slowed the car and removed a bottle of Black Label Johnny Walker whisky snuggled under the driver’s seat and gulped a drop down the throat.  His eyes were red and he looked like a weak, emasculated man who hasn’t slept for days. He tried to reassure her and touched her naked arm, “Roshni is my estranged wife and she is sleeping with your fiancee but not for long. He came as your fiance and the whole thing has been a set up by Roshni who brought him into your life since she was persuaded that you are the only one who could break the locks of the vault that would make them richest to rule the entire Mumbai. She has meticulously planned the whole thing and played the victim card to earn your trust. She knew about us from day one. Roshni is behind the biggest gang of corrupt business nexus with politicians involved in nuclear weapons who want to bring the city to its knee so that they rule us,  You have been part of their hatched conspiracy and she has exploited your emotional weakness at very instance. It’s either us or them. Two people have to die or else, the guilt will forever haunt us to our grave. You have given them the password to the biggest secret. It’s a scam, a terrorist attack to destroy the city today. We have to stop them. It’s their last act.”

Anita was flabbergasted and looked at Ajay with shock written all over her face. She lost her voice and felt dizzy. “Sh…” Anita couldn’t complete her sentence when they heard a sharp beep inside the metal silver coated roof inside the car. Ajay was seething with anger and was scared at the same time. His heart was racing ferociously. He knew that Roshni and her lover has put a device inside the car. He had no time to react but steered the car to maximum speed, almost flying over the pavement and leaped onto the JJ flyover. Ajay saw no possibility to stop the car and the black-and-yellow cab that was on their trail and reared the BMW.

Suddenly, a flurry of gunshots hit the high luxury car. It was Rohini and her lover who were following Ajay and Anita since a long time. A deadly device was planted inside the car. After doing the cat and mouse chase and firing were exchanged, Ajay lost control of the vehicle which hit a concrete wall, painted in yellow with the phone number of Vijay Coaching class.

Thud! A huge explosion deafened their ears and the glass windows splintered, hitting them on their faces. Ajay and Anita clutched to each other and their eyes slowly blinked. They fell unconscious. Rohini urged her lover, “Fast! We got them. The device is hidden in Anita’s handbag and both must be dead by now. Get it now.” As she rushed towards the car, the two lovers mysterious disappeared. “Where have they gone,” Rohini’s eyes which were sprouting fire suddenly became icy cold and her face went blank. “We don’t have time. It’s do or die. Jaldi, let’s find them,” she dragged her companion along.

Ajay and Anita’s face and clothes were soaked with blood and hid behind the abandoned and rusty railway track. Anita was shivering and almost shrieked in fear when Ajay pressed his hand on her mouth. He flung a red apple and crushed can that landed inside the BMW car which rolled and escalated to make the noise of humans struggling inside. Rohini and her lover were distracted and ran to look for their targets inside the car.

On the spur of the moment, Ajay pressed a button on his i-phone and bang the car exploded and the fire ravaged both Rohini and her lover. Anita was flabbergasted and hit Ajay on the chest, unsure whether she should cry or laugh. She held him tight.  Ajay whispered in her ears, “To the world, Ajay and Anita are dead. We will be born again in a new city and taking a new identity. Tomorrow is a new day with hopes and aspirations to start all over again.”

Ajay cupped her lip with his hand, kissing every layer and she pushed her lip inside his mouth and their tongues pressing and biting each other, swirled passionately as they embraced a new life. It was the kiss made in paradise.

(To be continued)



Fiction: Cheat Kiss and the frog

‘What did you do just now?’, Mehr’s face turned shy and red, shifted her gaze away from him in the crowded coffee shop to watch the rain splattering on the glass window. He nonchalantly said, “Oh! I was trying to count and feel the butterfly. She wore a feigned smile to express surprise in an ironical way, “WoW! Genius! Where was the butterfly roaming? On my lip. I am flattered.”

Kamal tapped the wooden table with his hand and fingers humming, “I stole a kiss. I peck her on the cheek. She turned her face away. A coy princess. The butterfly lips didn’t kiss and melt.”

“Aha! Mr Shayar. You are in total mood today and better don’t buy moods condom at the shop. Keep the smartness inside your pant,” Mehr deliberately stitched his lip with her words. Mehr has a natural flair for words and this is one thing that made her Kamal’s hot pursuit until she relented.


Image credit: Google.

The rain lashed uninterruptedly for hours. Mehr stuck her cheek like glue to the glass pane, watching the branches clattering outside and water pouring as black umbrellas resurfaced in the city, people flocking for shelter and safety under the thin roofs on the street, housing a line up of old colonial buildings in a row. The face tingling with icy cold sensation was a favorite pastime and she loved this feeling to death. Kamal inched forward to stroke her cheek but he suddenly felt a spurt of numbness on his palm and fingers. A dripping cold sensation ran down his spine and made him shudder. He jerked backward with the cold feeling that almost made his palm and fingers numb.  Mehr broke into a cackle of laughter. “Now, you know why I am a cool oven. Caress me at your own risk. I am electrical and piping red-hot.” He mocked her laughter, “I thought you were cold like the icy water.”

“Hey, Mister,” she lightly chided him. Perhaps, you don’t know how hot and desirable I am.” He was not going to let go of the moment and jumped on the occasion, “You gotta prove your hotness quotient right now here in the crowded cafe after this tall claim. Show some guts, babe. It’s a perfect time. The rain will make it something to remember. The romantic moment, rain and breeze will soon elapse. Enjoy before it melts.” She knew what he was hinting at.

Mehr would play hard to get. At least, he should do some hard work and not empty talk to kiss her most prized possession, the moist lip, She is not going to give in so easily this time. She smiled with naughtiness brimmed to her lip. “Nice try, dude. Better be more creative. After all, it’s a question of lips which I don’t barter for free.” Kamal was losing patience but faked a smile, “You wanna me move the mountains or sing Karaoke in this place full of couples busy making out to win over you. It’s just a kiss yaar.” She put her seductive smile, “Try better. Buck up your act and words. Take your time…I am a hot pursuit, after all.” She winked at him.

Kamal tapped his finger on the table and fling a rupee coin in Mehr’s direction which amused her. She looked at how he expertly tossed the coin with his index and asked, “What are you doing?” He casually distracted her, “Look at this dude wearing fancy trousers. He looks like Ranveer Singh in this funky Pyjama.” She turned her face towards the random guy. He calculated his move as she turned her face and held her waist, swiftly planting a kiss on her quivering lip.

Kamal felt the dripping sensation of moist lips that made him smile. His heart warmed as their mouths cupped. Mehr was taken by surprise and blushed, almost hiding her face under the paper napkin. She moved her face closer and kissed him back. Their hearts melted. She couldn’t stop herself from cajoling him with a tender touch on his face, “You are a cheat kisser. Look outside and see your reflection. Just do it na.” He relented and saw a frog soiling in the muddy patch.

He was taken aback and muttered, “What! You think I am a frog.” She was elated after pulling this one on him, “Of course, you will turn into a cute frog after kissing me. I am a true princess who needs no kingdom.”





Choice of words: #QuotedStories

This post is written as part of this prompt (Fiction + personal), Choice of words,#QuotedStories, Follow your heart but take your brain with you – Alfred Adler hosted by Upasna and Rohan.

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I climbed the stairs, intrigued by the sweet and enticing voice trudging but as I raced my way upstairs to close on her heels, she was disappearing by the minute. The mysterious voice held me in its spell and I was enamored by the lullaby. My soul was captivated by this unknown force that kept pulling me in her direction.

My legs were numb and stood paralyzed but nothing could stop me. I was in short of breath and sweated profusely. The alley was dark and the staircase deserted. I was determined to unravel her identity. A strange feeling encapsulated me that her voice echoed a sense of familiarity that we’ve met since ages in another world. This sensation ran deep down my spine and it pulled me towards her. I couldn’t think properly. This was the last thing that I could do. Perhaps, I was listening to an inner voice that wouldn’t give a damn to reason. I knew that I was treading a dangerous path. But, who cares!

I inched within a distance of her shadow as I neared the white coated wall and wooden door. I searched thoroughly for her. She was nowhere to be seen. It was an enigma of sort. Maybe, life’s greatest illusion. For me, she was life. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life with her. My heart was beating unusually fast and stood paralyzed with fear. It was now or never, I told myself. In all these years, I lived in constant fear. But, not anymore even if death crossed my path.

I pushed the door with all my might, banging it with my fist and body which made it open wide on the terrace and suddenly an unknown force flung my body, propelled by the wind towards the edge. I felt like a bird flying in the blue sky and flitting past the crystal clear cloud.  The voice has brusquely stopped. I looked around but this place looked eerie. I was standing on the crossroad of life-and-death, my feet firmly entrenched on the roof’s end of the skyrise. My head was spinning as I looked down the city with its inhabitants and cars becoming smaller with lights moving faster than the corner of my eyes. My vision blurred. Suddenly, my eye struck on a banner lying upside down on the huge and sprawling jamun tree: Follow your heart but take your brain with you – Alfred Adler


I often wonder, what if one has to choose between the heart and the head for it’s impossible for someone to carry both with them in this big world of thinking.  It’s like the analogy of who came first, egg or chicken. The short story above is an analogy of sort on what keeps raging inside my head when I take decisions. I always trust my intuition and decide on the spur of the moment. I have been designed like that only: The head or logic has never been my strongest point.  I am someone who always thinks with the heart. My high point of argument: If we had no heart to feel the pain, love or making decisions, the head would never exist. This quote by Alfred Adler about following the heart but taking the brain along is quite tricky, complex and subjective. I can’t recall a single time when I haven’t followed my heart. It hasn’t resulted in the best decision of my life which often has led in hurting myself. I have left several jobs without thinking of its implications or weighing the consequences such as payment of loans and EMI or my own expenses. Trust me, it was the roughest patch in life where I didn’t have money to buy a single cigarette stick for myself and broke my own piggy bank for daily survival.

I can’t recall a single time when I haven’t followed my heart. It hasn’t resulted in the best decision of my life which often has led in hurting myself. I have left several jobs without thinking of its implications or weighing the consequences such as payment of loans and EMI or my own expenses. Trust me, it was the roughest patch in life where I didn’t have money to buy a single cigarette stick for myself and broke my own piggy bank for daily survival.

Still, I shall tell you it was the best decision that I ever took in life for following my heart and ended up being in a fix taught me hell lot about resilience, patience and going with the flow. It helped to refine and define myself as a person. At the end of the day, I will always choose to follow my heart rather than carrying the head along. I am planning to for an iPhone 7 and logic would tell that it’s stupid to throw away so much money out of the window. But, I am someone who toil real hard for my money and why the fuck give too much importance to pricey logic. Life is short. Treat yourself well for it’s you and no one else deserve the good and bad things in equal measure.



Fiction: The devil casting its shadow

It poured heavily that night. Thunderstorm rocked the city like a time bomb. The crowded streets felt like a desert and everyone flocked to the confines of their four walls. The whole country watched in horror as the news unfurled live on the idiot box. The politician who indulges in rhetoric about patriotism has been nabbed to be in cahoots with terrorists and was conspiring for a terror attack to struck the country. The people were in a state of shocked and yelled betrayal in front of their TV set. It feels like the hand of the devil casting its shadow on the life of the average commoners.

After all, such kind of traitors always take the people and their followers for a ride, fooling them by using emotional gimmick while they ride on crores of gold. The country is slowly recovering from demonetization and the sudden death of a revered iconic woman politician in the south when it was struck with another sharp blow on the face.

The bomb has been diffused. The Indian army, NCG commanders, and the entire police force have barricaded the sea and port declaring curfew till the politician is not arrested. Helicopters are hovering below the sky and above the tall buildings in the city to ensure that no mayhem happen till this terrorist is not dragged out and handcuffed, to a secret location. The TV crew and journalists are having a field day, stationed in front of the sprawling bungalow of the neta-turned-villain airing live update. The entire country is on tenterhooks. It is the day when the commoners are winning against celebrities with shows like Big Boss and Kaun Banega Crorepati registering abysmally low TRP not exceeding two points. It’s judgment Day.


Cigarettes were stubbed in the ashtray inside the studio apartment. The wooden door was wide open that gave an aerial view of the city from the balcony. The television channels were flipped to get the latest news and, in particular, some bizarre news that would rage and boil inside his crazy mind. He confined himself inside his studio, not daring to move his feet past the door. After all, he was engulfed in fear.

The power of imagination halted after being a self-made prisoner for 360 days of writing his novel. Politician arrested for terror act, rain, thunder, and fall in TRP…the thread was missing. The author banged his head on the table with pen in hand after writing 359 pages for he couldn’t arrive at a breath-taking climax. After all, what will happen when the cop arrest the politician involved in terrorism! He suddenly went blank.

Loud fists were heard on his door and he turned around to see cops waiting for him. They thrust him with force on the floor and handcuffed his hands. The CBI officer winked, “Game over, son. You planted a false video in the house of the Minister and played a smart game to convince us that he is a terrorist.  We found out everything and how you’ve brought the whole country down, in chasing this man, barricade his house and bringing the city down.” The officer ordered to his junior, “Take his whole manuscript. After all, he will write the climax in jail.”