Tag: Inspiration

#2017- the year of lots…

Somethings never change… Do they?

The enthusiasm that bakes your mood, while you have your favorite book in your lap, no matter the crackers that yell to pronounce the end of a year.  There is a lot to say about the year that gave us a wonderful experience, though the volatile memory could only remember a few of everything…

I ain’t gonna need an alarm to wake me at three in the morning…

I was happened to read the above line, in a novel that I didn’t recall the title. And it came as a desire to me, to live for those days. It wasn’t so hard and, I gradually found myself loving it. I began to wake before the sun and make enough things to inspire the day. It is as if you add something invaluable at the start of your day.

It is great to start a year with memories that are meant something for me and, I’d like to thank everyone for making it easy to say such things…

And also, I’ve started to write a script.

So, I say that 2017 is truly a year of lots…

-Thank you…

#the appetite of a writer

A man walking on the street…
A tall, young man with improper gestures kept his one injured hand steady, while the other swaying to pace along the street…
A small boy caught the figure of a heavy man thumping the ground while passing through…
It was the pity that he wanted to see in the faces of the neighborhood, murmuring about how a good man like him could get injured, thought to consult him for any support at the sight of his injured hand…
Now, which statement could make the powerful impact…?
i would say the statement that focuses on the character. It is only possible when the author is in their shoe.
On the present note, not more than a week has passed that an Amazon guy left a book on my doorstep. It was for one of my roommates who had ordered a week before.
i always say that nothing is a coincidence. How could a stranger pass a book at exactly the same time that I was present and the other wasn’t? What are the odds…?
”A house for Mr.Biswas by V.S.Naipal.”
i strongly believe that there will be an appetite for every author. To be on the side of the one character and make a heroic appearance throughout the story, or to be on the side of none except the fate. The latter one resembles the non-fiction as every page is realistic yet ‘unadventurous for some people’.
i am half-way through that book, tempting to turn a page only to kill another chapter.
Writing is awesome only if i could see those classics arrayed on my shelf, waiting to be praised…
It would be great if you can comment me your classics and, i promise to do my best…

Thank you for reading…

{And also, this is my 50th post. i love you all, without which my stories wouldn’t have served any purpose. This is the period of my life which i call it a devil’s puzzle. It keeps me engaged in my passion yet hard enough to keep track my financial career. If you’ve any advice, make sure to keep me updated.}


the true heir (4/4)

“What are you thinking ?” she asked the boy.
“I don’t know.”
“Then you are…”
” Which is…?”
“Thinking about your problems…”
“I’m fine.”
“Alright. But remember that you can always tell me.”
“Do you like it ?”
“What do you mean ?”
“Things that are to be done after college… Your passion for being a chef and your obligation of being something. What I am saying is that you could make money but you won’t be able to transfer hope to the next generation.”
“No one can talk about hope as it is infectious. And, on a second thought, what do you hope for…?”
“That everything is possible if you start something…”
“That is one big ‘If’. Besides, What am I going to lose ?”
“Nothing and Obviously, you gain nothing…”
“Look, your opinion doesn’t matter. It’s always good to take a promising career first.”
“And after making money…”
“What the hell happened to you. You don’t always ask these many questions.”
“Don’t mind. Whatever it is, I always like you for not judging me. I just want to wish you for your life.”
“Oh, Finally, huh… Thank you and you know that I always reflect the same of your wishes.”
They parted in good spirits. They’ve decided to meet the others on every new year.
One fine morning after two weeks,
Sanjay found that his son was missing with a slip glued to the mirror.
I am not sure to start this journey at this very night. Especially, when there are a lot of whispers around me.
I’ve had some revelations in the recent days. A wise man once quoted, when someone didn’t lose everything when they don’t have anything, then they are in the sight of a true success. I began to feel the truth in every prospect. I wonder why it took me this long to start a journey to see the actual beginning of my problems. Good thing is that I wasn’t afraid of them. I don’t know that I return with success or with a lot of happiness or at least when the society has a different opinion about life.
P.S… I wouldn’t blame anyone if you’ve found few bucks less in your wallet.

Sanjay felt the joy to keep the letter inside his pocket and proudly, walked away.



Thank you for reading…



the true heir (3/4)

“What’s the point, dad ?” he finally asked, rubbing his blue eyes.

“Just a few minutes away.”

He parked near a hotel and took a walk along the deserted road.

“Come along…”

Sanjay stopped near a huge billboard, with an advertisement of a bulb on it.

“This is it…?”

“I am going to tell you a truth, son”

“Okay, this is a bit scary.”

“Look at that bus stop. My name used to be famous for this place, like the one of a kind. There was a lot of praises and wishes from my friends. This is the farthest place that I’ve traveled from my hometown. Everyone says that my broken fingers wasted my career. But the truth always makes me a culprit.” He continued,

“It’s not that I didn’t love playing cricket. But I didn’t have the courage to go for the last mile to achieve it. If I say a reason to convince you, it may not be the truth. I could’ve blamed my mother or the whispering neighbors or my ego to challenge a bowler only to hurt the naked fingers, but it doesn’t matter.”

Sanjay said, looking away from his son. When he turned towards his son, his eyes were attentive as ever could be.

“Son,…” It was new for both of them, “When you love something, make sure to cross the extra mile. Life is always a quest to find your true happiness. It is rather tempting but never compromise on your dreams.”

Later on, they walked away.



-Thank you for reading…

the true heir (1/4)

The 21-year old didn’t hesitate to take an extra glass of alcohol.

“College is an addiction, isn’t it?” he let his sharp voice to spread evenly among his friends.  It was on a twilight day that the three graduates decide to share their happiness.

“Just half a glass and now, he is on…” Said the other, with a chuckle.

“Addiction…Huh?” she finally asked, submitting to the temptation.

“Don’t encourage him.”

“Come on, let’s play a game. Explain it to us and if you can’t convince…” As she struck with words to fall out,

“Convince you. I don’t need to.” He continued, “Let’s make a toast.”

“Before anything, I would like to suggest you something…” his friend continued, “I know you want to be a writer. I know your knowledge to reform make you say crazy. Remember, we live in a crazy world where neither is ambitious nor encouraging. The system was always corrupted and people who would try probably end in a bad shape. I know your rush as hormones at this age but….”

His friend changed his posture and continued,” I once knew a friend very much like the passion of yours. An exact same ambition yet he isn’t wise enough to take my advice. He went around raising his collar to find his goals and now, you won’t believe me the position he’s in. He finally said that I am right. I am not saying that as a victory to me, but it’s just a good foresight. Everyone isn’t aimless, look at our friend…” he pointed his hand to her.

“Don’t bring my reasons…”

“No. It’s not an embarrassment to make a right choice. Besides, who am I to judge you. I am not offending you, my friend. But you must be able to grasp the reality of the situation. And for the toast,

‘To us for making money’.” said his friend.

“Fancy that…” she said, clipping their glasses.

The third one finally raised his glass and said,




-Thank you for reading.

#how I found ‘Captains courageous’

We always feel lucky to see the part of the world that inspires us.

I must say that I am quite grateful to breathe and see the works of David Fincher. Maybe he has captured every situation of our lives.

I happened to rush down four stairs of our office building on the evening of July the 12th. As the memory pushed me to remember my forgotten charger, I have no chance but to climb the stairs. It took another half an hour as my boss insisted on listening to his brilliant idea. As I have an enough comfort to leave the building,

Poets would have described the evening as calm as still water until it went cats and dogs. It came to a halt only to show me that I had no money in my pockets. I walked to the nearest ATM and as it was a late evening, it consists of notes worth two thousand rupees. My eyes left the calm mood and began to find a way to get enough money for bus fare. It found the nearest bookstore midst the soaking weather,

“What do you want, brother..?” A young man asked, only after he removed his headset.

“Uh…That book” directed to the extreme left.

The shopkeeper gave a smile at the two thousand rupee note in my hand for a book worth about fifty rupees.

“You could’ve asked for a change,..” he said to me while I was leaving the store.

That is how I’ve got Rudyard Kipling’s Captain’s Courageous and the currency notes suitable for my bus fare…

Only If I haven’t forgotten the charger,

Only If the ATM had one more hundred currency left,

Only If I haven’t had an impression that no one would give me a change for two thousand rupee note,

Only If I haven’t been kind to offer thirty rupees to a beggar on the morning run,

I wouldn’t have got the book.

It is an exact replica of a scene from the 2008 movie named ‘The curious case of Benjamin Button’ directed by David Fincher.

The book isn’t the greatest read but the process is…

To think of various perceptions and get to know the importance of every moment…

I began to think that it might be how I’ve started to write quarterly stories.


Thank you for reading…


the sid’s narration (4/4)

Not often did the judge took time to personal appearances,

“I know, friend. The bill got me lucky .” said the judge over his phone.

The bill has been passed to make live coverage of court rulings on the request of people. Ninety-five percent of curious people say ‘aye’ to watch jury on the recent bomb attack. While the Sid walked into his house with a sheet of paper,

“Where have you been..?” asked his mother.

Pretending to be deaf, he increased the television volume.

“There he comes,..”

As the judge never liked his fat image in the mirror, he relayed his trust on good expressions.

The boss was the only man who stood lifeless in custody. The case was pretty strong against them. while the defense claims,

The thin man was delusional and …

Really, how often does that happen? Boss began to enjoy his thoughts.

The woman heard a lot of stories from him.

Few thousand bucks will make her write a novel.

“Yeah, I know he’s crazy. One day, he comes running and say, he was once a gladiator.” trying to look natural with her sheepish accent.

Why would anyone want this? who is my client? A client who can profit from everything…

His thoughts were interrupted by the next witness,

“How did you find the clip..?” Prosecutor asks the reporter.

“My husband…” She wiped her eyes, continues “ he was having an affair..” She made sure to get the attention.

Goddamn theatrics.

An unfortunate stream of thought led the boss to grin.

“Do you mean to insult the court ?” Judge stares at the boss.

The young Sid realized that his entire family was gathered to watch the ruling. While he was walking to his bedroom, he overheard a conversation,

“I would regret if I’ve missed any of it.”

“Yeah. The bill made it happen.”

“The bill, huh… I think the government has made a great decision before the election.”

The young Sid hold the paper and thought about how it landed on his own terrace.It might have produced a silly grin on Sid’s face but the euphoria of chasing his goal will prove to be everlasting.


Thank you for reading…





the missing adjective (4/4)

There is a stern, often traced as a stone face appeared before the camera. The broadcast titled “The officer on the bridge” made a greater attention than expected. As it is a weekend, the count keeps going up on the dinner time. It took no time to tell the tale of an unforgettable incident in his life… With a sharp voice,

While I was guarding the bridge under my senior officer, I could see the despair mounting on every face. It’s been an uncomfortable period of work under the freezing atmosphere decorated with a full moon.

A young couple going home… A boy with a girl, certainly a prostitute… A man smuggling cocaine…

Past the hours of clichéd outcomes,

A young boy with dark eyes,

“Where are you going, kid?”

“To the city..”

I made no efforts to ask and started to check. The car began to accelerate into a wild beast, as I partially opened the truck.. I lost the balance and fall short of breaking the jaw. Everyone shifted their attention.

“I saw the blood..” I shouted.

My senior officer whom later I knew as the same man in the video ran up to me…

“Is there anyone inside?” He asked me in the hustle of alarm.


He processed the situation that I reckon with the help of past experiences.

“It is a setup. They are on the bridge.” He began to shout.

“Lock in’s and out’s. Send a few out on the pursuit. Move your asses, quick.” he turned to me and said “Tricky bastards. I will kill them”

While I read the descriptions of the car on the intercom, a soldier began to jog beside us and he didn’t bother to make his sentence sound low.

“That lady officer is damn hot. Isn’t she? ”

That sentence quickened the pace of blood in our nerves, as it seems only a few of us know that no lady is recruited for this operation.

Later on, we found two officers in the forest with a stolen clothes..”

This interview telecasted on the major channels of the city. Out of many people, only one man seemed to find his perspective of narration would be different.

“Hi, I am Rastogi verma..”

The other end of voice is a human, modified into a robot through the years.

“I am calling to know about a Journalist..”

He saw a picture on TV of a woman, who was said to be beside him on the bus.

Her eyes were dark…He thought she might not have a night sleep.

Her hair was blonde… She might have applied the dye.

He wanted the picture to be who it was supposed to be, but nothing felt true. The journalist erased her history. And once again, Rastogi was pushed into the mystery. He searched for days until a fine morning.

An envelope is on his doorstep. It is white on every side with no names. He opened to contain a letter along with a check…

“ Dear Rastogi,

I know this letter finds you with many doubts. Allow me to say that I am amazed. Although the story is a lie, it held the purpose. Ask it yourself, why would a fortunate woman like me spy on you unless..? In our whole journey, I always tempted to say that we share the same bloodline. I want to say one thing. I read your resignation letter while you’re typing beside me. We both know it is not the reason. I wonder how it would be the same man who saved my life when he truly believes a story to be true. Not a long ago, our father passed away in a peaceful way. We both have built this company through the storm of many unsuccessful years. I don’t consider money as a debt. The reason I give you a few of them is to say that it shouldn’t be a concern for what you really want. For the years forward,

Be seeing you…                                             ”

He smiled. A smile that exiled the feeling of mystery.

He went on for a vacation.

the missing adjective (3/4)

A broad eyed witch once told to a woman that her five-year-old boy would lead a mysterious life. The word “mysterious” is often tempting, as though a nerve of memory film the image of adventure.

While I sit beside a gifted typewriter, my vivid memory didn’t resist to remember the situation, as I reckon, happen to be on five weeks ago. I must confess that the episode of our escape has been the greatest day of my life. As for now, I found that the story of a man with a blue hat is a lie. I truly admired the journalist, as the story is nothing short of a reality.

I begin to gather the happenings of April, the 21st.

On such a sunny day, our hope seems to surface with a sight of the road, after a continuous search for civilization in the forest. The journalist seems tired except for her eyes being a controversy.

We need to cross the bridge..” she said, picking the advantage of Highland.

A stream of thoughts blocked our sense of being in the middle of the road. It was returned when a car screamed and made a halt not more than inches from us.

A teenager stepped out,

What the hell is….” there is a pause, anger changed to tense “ Oh, god…are you those two people..”

What ?”

I will give my car… Just don’t kill me, please..”

What the hell are you talking about..? ”

Take my car, man.. I won’t tell a soul.”

kid, calm down. I think you held us of someone.”

Are you not from the bus massacre? ”

We are..” I said, “ How do you know that? ”

“ I..How do…” he laughed.

He acted normal until she talked to him in a genuine calmness as if she inherited it. She explained the video inside the broken phone. In exchange, we came to know that the bridge is heavily guarded to catch us.

Most wanted people in the city. Are you kidding? ” I asked, as it is a terrible joke.

We are..Unless we show them this video..” She turned to the teenager and said,

We need your help.”

Uh..I am still uncertain of this whole thing..”

You can have the video.”

I didn’t ask.”

I insist..”

While the lust for fame gleamed in his eyes, the sound of two patrol officers seems to continue in our way.

With a sharp voice, I said

I have a plan.”



Thank you for reading…

To read next quarter, click the missing adjective(4/4).

he remembers nothing (4/4)



An old man is waiting, yet his shivering hands….                \(delete)

The image of an old man on a rainy day is…                          \(delete)

Droplets of rain hits an unusual visitor….                                 \(delete)  


I can’t even start a goddamn story. Memories resemble an anchor slicing the horizon of a sea.

The phone buzzed and a screen displayed as Vinod-Publisher. A familiar voice,

“Hello, champ. You do wanna hear a great news, don’t you? ”

I continued the silence.

“Rastogi, Are you on crack ?”

“Uh..No. Why do you ask? ”

“Oh, boy.Your rough party was all over the news. Anyway, Our book topped the amazon’s list, pal. We have a lot of work to do.”

This voice seems very familiar to him. Without a doubt, he asked it loud and clear,

“ Who wrote it? ”

With a heavy gasp, his tone became cautious,

“Who knows it? ”

“No one, I just need to know ”

“Come on, this argument needs to end. A conclusion has been made.”

“Say it, one more time.”

“Okay. I didn’t know who wrote it. I chose your market name to publish a writing. As I said you before, we can share a lot of money.”

With a delay of seconds,

“ Look, we ain’t done harm. Besides, ”

He disconnected.

Audio clip of this conversation can go viral within seconds. Only if either of them might have recorded it and most importantly, to press ‘send’. A bundle of newspapers lies near to him. Every review he read, every critic he knew mentioned the book as an art of thinking. He saw everything that can possibly come from a success. Only that he didn’t write it.

He knows that he might lose everything. Everything that gave him enough comfort to lead a life except he didn’t own it.


It ain’t a right way. 

He pressed the ‘send’  button.

After few years,


February 4th, 2020.  

                                           Second… It can’t be more thrilling than it is. A front-line soldier may not know his last second or A prisoner may not have a chance to use his last second. To whom Life truly mean is a person who knows the true perspective of happiness and thereby to own it. My story is all about one true journey…