THE Autodriver - Hidden truths about Chennai

Let me skip the part where I say this happened when I was doing my internship and I chose to meet up with my almost-always-awfully-late but an awesome project partner in the evenings at Express Avenue - Chennai's best and most celebrated mall in the recent times. Simply put, the atmosphere was condusive there. Well, there was this fashion show that took place with gorgeuos models with glowing skin and rich dresses which I shall....Ahem ahem...conveniently skip (Now now, no groaning) to discuss matters of greater significance.

Note: All conversations are in English, for readers' convenience.





"Express Avenue", I said firmly to an auto I just managed to catch in a road that literally boasted CARS loudly.

"Evalo aavum (How much is the fare)", I asked promptly before setting my right foot inside the vehicle.

"Nooru ruva."

I set my right foot firmly inside the auto, carefully stowed my laptop bag to the side and started the trip, satisfied with his character. Little did I know that my next sentence would be the basis for this very post you are now reading.

The Scare - 1

Saying "I was busy" is no excuse. Calling myself a passionate blogger without a single entry for four months is of not something I can be proud of. But after months of hectic last moment-work completion-due-to-initial-laziness routine, I finally fought through my holidays to do an internship when I encountered this particular and a true incident where I finally thought, "Hey, this would make a good story to tell." So folks, welcome back to my blog and Happy reading!

Note to readers:
1.Short stories are not (yet) my forte. Proceed at your own reading risk!
2. Places not revealed for personal reasons.





Headache. Upset stomach. Where is the damn train?

I looked at my watch. 3:55 pm. Krishnan was busy jabbing away on his phone. Was it a girlfriend? None of my business, I chided myself.

Krishnan who? Well, It was my second week into my internship at Z. Krishnan was one of my project mates. We had a swell first week and a not so-swell second week. Reasons for that were my health, our randomness and our realization of "Woah, this a vast subject", all in that order. My stomach took a turn for the worse and here I was whispering prayers to all the gods I knew to take me home safely before my body betrayed me!

The station at Z was where we always stood to take our local train. Krishnan got down at A and a few stops later, it was my station B. Today, we arrived earlier at the station, quite earlier than our usual 5:15 train. I guess that's enough introduction.

"I am going to kill myself if its the same dingy train that came yesterday. Dude, tell those samosa hawkers not to get into this one. Absolutely no place man", I said, keeping a straight face with a contantly twisting stomach, trying to sound cool.

Krishnan looked up and threw his typically distracted I-type-yet-I-hear-you-without-distraction smile. Many people I knew,always asked Krishnan whether he was trying to be a military man with that tight posture, restricted lip movements and a sound physique. He appreciated humor of any kind with open arms, but was generally a silent person. No point distracting him.

Long honking cushioned with Doppler Effect. Phew! The train arrived. Not dingy. Double phew!

Empty with seats!!! Triple phew! Triple Yay in fact. After jumping compartments like two excited school kids, we settled down in a first class compartment which was empty, barring two people.

"Who's bag is this?" , Krishnan asked and plonked himself next to the window seat.

"Bag? What bag?", I asked.

This is where, my dear kind readers, the story finally begins.

It was a harmless looking red shoulder bag with black sling. With the letters TNROA printed on it.

I had this habit of trying to answer people's questions without giving a no. So, I switched to Sherlock Holmes mode. Half guessed the fact that he was a tall man judging by the length of the sling. Quite a careful and an economical fella when it came to matters of money. Well, the fact that it appeared worn but well used was really a giveaway. TNROA? I didnt have Holmes' brain.

"Tamil Nadu Revenue Officials Association", I exclaimed after a minute. I could tell you I was superhuman. Nah. Il be honest. Krishnan saw me googling it.

"So, he's a revenue officer? Hope he wont check our tickets.", I thought.

"What dya reckon? A bomb inside that?", asked Krishnan. Damn you man. You had this knack of hyping petty things up and sizing huge things down.

"Dont be silly man! Bomb? In a local train? Gimme a break.", I said fending off his loudly spoken thought.

"There's no one in this compartment. Somebody left it here, didnt they? Looks like it was on purpose.", persisted my partner.

For the first time in my life, I regretted reading crime novels and action thrillers.

"Dai dai, dont give me the creeps. My stomach i already weak."

By this time, our train crossed 2 stations and was chugging along to a halt on the platform of D. Here was where the nearby college's "hot chicks" and other college boys would get in. Three of those "other" boys got in.

Now, Im going to give them names. They played such a vital part in this one. Let me see...
Im calling them Ipod, Racer and Foodie. Ipod cos this guy was hooked on to it after the bag incident, Racer as he started playing that bike game and Foodie because he was pleasantly round, chubby and....you get it, dont you? Hey, dont blame me. In my defense, he WAS carrying a Food Management course book or something!

"Excuse me, but can you keep your bag on your lap?", asked Racer.

Oh dear! This was going to be one long train journey!

Who owned this bag? Why was it left here? Was that actually a bomb?
Well, it wasnt a bomb, cause I'm alive typing this. I'll conclude this part with one no-brainer of a clue as to what you can expect. 'The Scare' turned out to be ironic.



To be continued.







 

The 'Juice' of my life.

Twitter competitions are a rage now. Everyone at office, college, home or outdoors are madly tweeting way to win something. For people who organize it, it is a great promotion. Win-Win.
This, however, is not just a poem for winning. It is a true story. For the #HangoutWithFizz competition conducted by Appy



The first drop soothed the tongue
of ripe and bitter tastes of the past.
Scared at first, doubtful I hung,
of your inherent sweetness, 'Would it last?'

We bonded, like two hesitant people
over dinner, functions and parties.
With time, we became a known couple
intimate than any known pair of hotties!

You made me drunk, you made me happy
with apples and sugar, ofcourse dear Appy
whose every drop was a kiss
of new life I would never miss.

There were times good and bad
but with my Appy, I never once felt sad.
The comfort you gave, I never (untill now) realized
but you gave it to me, fully chilled and iced!

'Wish you had eyes, that would sweetly blink'
But one day, Hey, I swear I saw you wink

when i mentioned, 'Friends, do try him out,

He'll be your coolest best forever friend, no doubt!'

My thanks is lost. Speechless, I have no words
xcept the musical tune and those whistling birds
who sang your glory and cried,
'May your HAPPINESS spread far and wide"

Karma is a bitch -2

This story's first part can be found right here

Six nights later.

Jeff switched the channels on the T.V. with no particular interest. He was getting married tomorrow. Everything was taken care of by his buddies. Harry had managed to stay sober throughout the preparations, which was an achievement, for he seldom stayed sober when he was on a drinking spree. Pollock and the rest took care of inviting the families and the guests. Neal made sure Jeff wasn’t involved in the process. Darlings, he thought fondly.

But one thing still nagged him. Kay.

He never saw her again in the bar. Jeff often found himself with a beer every night at the Anstruthers, hoping to find her, staring lustfully at him, teasing him. His manhood often stirred at the  very thought.

Jeff couldn’t stop thinking about her. She haunted him in his dreams, often waking Jeff up, sweating and alarmed. He remained puzzled as to why he wanted to give his address on that day. It was as if he was told to give it by himself.

The clock struck 9. Jeff was bored. He switched the T.V. off and decided to retire for the night. He changed into his nightclothes and was just about to climb on his bed when he heard a knock on his door.

“Neal”, muttered Jeff, “probably wanting to check if I’m alright.”

He staggered back surprised when he saw who it was. Kay.

Karma is a bitch - 1

DISCLAIMER ( and an informal FOREWORD as well)

 This story and its characters does not have any resemblance to people in real life. It is advised not to proceed with the story if you dont prefer reading vulgar or stories with a primal theme, if you know what I mean! Because its going to get raw and primal soon. The title of the story literally explains the present sitaution we mortals are facing and this story is intended to convey a different message altogether. Hope my first attempt at a proper story clicks well with my readers.

Aravind R Sankar

KARMA IS A BITCH

Taken from google images

The night was illuminated with skyscrapers and lights. The traffic was heavy as horns blared throughout the Anderson and Dickens Avenues The streets were bustling with people, all joyous to celebrate the approaching New Year with their loved ones. Some carried gifts, the others the hands of their beloved. In one such street of Manhattan, a small celebration of sorts was taking place inside Anstruthers, the local pub.....

“CHEERS!”, they shouted.

The thudding of the six beer mugs were drowned in the hoarse drunken toasts of Jeff’s best friends.