Wednesday, December 03, 2014

waking up on the battle field

I opened my eyes to the sharp twang of bowstrings, and suddenly the scene before me started becoming more clear.

I could clearly make out one of our archers putting all his life into ensuring that every arrow flew as far as they were meant to, and the speed at which he was losing the shafts meant he was panicking.

This didn't feel good, and I couldn't see how many more archers made up the line. They needed to relax if they were to be effective, and I wondered which moron was the commander around here. I wished I could just walk out and get them in shape.

Its when I tried to move that the searing pain cut my vision again. I was just summoning my strength to stand up, when something braced my face with a heavy whizzing sound .I knew it was an arrow, and it indeed was.

A black coated shaft with silver feathers and tough metal. A fine shaft indeed and I couldn't help appreciate how many hours of art would have crafted such a wonder. A shame if they were being wasted upon corpses and random trees.

On closely examining the shaft, I could see that it had pierced the shield kept inside the tent, and the blade was still intact. The moment of admiration passed when I identified the marks of our enemy. My heart pumped hard. The enemy archers were hitting the camps and with such fine arrows, and our foot soldiers won't stand a chance against an onslaught.

It was time for a retreat. I looked around for my commander, but couldn't find him anywhere


I open my eyes to the constant tip-tap noises, and suddenly the scene before me started becoming more clear.

I could clearly make out one of our pals putting all his life into typing a mail and ensure that no one can reply to it in another day, and the speed at which he was mis-typing meant there was a release today.

This didn't feel good, and I couldn't see how many more coders made up the office space. They needed to relax if they were to be effective, and I wondered which moron was the supervisor around here. I wished I could just walk out and get them laid off.

Its when I tried to read my mails that the searing pain cut my vision again. I was just summoning my strength to send a reply, when a notification blinked on a screen with a screeching sound. I knew it was an issue mail, and indeed it was.

A mean and nasty one with enough logs. A fine mail indeed and I couldn't help appreciate how many hours of composing would have crafted such a wonder. A shame if they were being wasted upon non-existing defects and random teams.

On closely examining the mail, I could see that it had found some real defects and it had more logs. The moment of admiration passed when I identified the marks of a customer issue. My heart pumped hard. The testers were hitting the teams with such fine mails,  and our developers won't stand a chance against an onslaught.

 It was time for going Out of Office. I looked around for my manager, but couldn't find him anywhere.

back to the school

I have been taking some distance courses and recently our exams were conducted in the Delhi Public School.

During one such exam, I managed to finish a couple of hours ahead of schedule and had to wait for my friends. Without enough battery backup on my phone, I had nothing else to do than roam around.

The school has 3 or 4 buildings each consisting of 3-4 floors for the classrooms and other specialized activities. Having nothing else to do, I decided to poke my nose into anything and everything around.
And so I kept going on rounds, clockwise and anti-clockwise, up and down various stairs for a good part of a couple of hours. I read all the tiny articles, class posters and charts made by the students of primary school, stuck on bulletin boards, blackboards and there were also these pieces of art stored in some rooms.

Needless to say, most of the contents were regular and the kind you get from net. But most of the small articles were cutely decorated, written in squiggly handwriting of a new writer. I wondered how many of them enjoyed it and how many just wanted to get over with it.

There are couple of these articles that really got my attention. One was a poem written by a sixth grader on bullying (that was the theme in the entire building). I wish I could share it here, but even kids have copyrights, so I am not. But it had an innate sense of pride in rejecting bullies and standing up for oneself. I wished someone had written such stuff in my school days. It was such a strong spirit. I hope the tiny hands had written her own words and if so she would definitely write more.

There were couple of articles on festivals by even younger kids which reflected their love for playful Krishna or their traditional rituals which put in simple language of kids sounds very cute.

And there were some which shocked me. No student of 4th Std would be able to write articles using words like "sunkissed beaches", "Rugby is good for cardiovascular health" and all. This was clearly the work of parents, elder siblings etc that is so proudly posted there. This upset me because not only were the parents creating an unnatural balance among peers, they were also doing a disservice to their own wards.

In my school days, taking credit for work done by parents or even asking them do such a thing would almost always result in scolding and a round of beating. :) Memories of running around the house to avoid being beaten always accompany a bitter-sweet feeling.

Anyway schools are fun. With or without exam :)

End of a year

Its with such pace that the year 2014 has passed, and I must say passed over me.

I feel like being hit by a truck when I think back. I have been overwhelmed and beaten hands-down in my games this year. Well.. at least a couple of rounds.

But what saddens me is the tiny Blog Archive dropdown in the right side of this post. I was proudly watching the every growing number of articles and sending those as feedback to myself. The number has unfortunately, very unfortunately slumped by more than 50%.

In place of the 57 I wrote in 2013, I wrote only 20 so far in 2014. A year of less writing seems like a year of distraction and unhappiness. Well, after all shouldn't I have reasons to write? If not, then things are not ok. But I am not so sure now. Anyway, that is matter for another day.

Another year with a slump is 2009 and rightly so. That too was a year of big changes, and exposure to new difficulties. I gripped back slowly and definitely 2013 was a marvellous year. But was it the flicker of the dying lamp? Sigh..

Well, the sadness definitely let me overcome my inertia and let the words fly through the tips of my fingers into the slimy office keyboard and weave some of those wordy fabric that I so often loved to do.


hope someone still keeps an eye open for my ramblings, because I am taking your invisible presence as my blessing and encouragement to train the narrator in me to walk again.

Sunday, November 09, 2014

bloggers blah

I have been finding myself thinking on and off about something.

Who are we bloggers?  What is our role in all the noise of stuff that you see all around you. I hope we need not argue on the fact that there really is all the noise of opinions, judgements, facts and portrayals and  frankly lack of truth or relevance is the last reason for someone to stop reading an article.

We stop reading for various myriad reasons, and in our busy lives with hardly any time to spare for actual reflection on someone's opinions to form one for ourselves, it has become so norm that only the better 'decorated' content stays in limelight and can impact opinion making.

Hence I personally like to keep the opinions to a crowd of limited eager readers that can actually reflect the content and make opinions for myself.

But off late I have been unable to produce written stuff, and I have been giving myself lots of reasons and excuses. While I know I don't have to give myself an excuse for what I started on my own choice, sometime the thought that the innocent and sometimes erudite pleasure of writing blogs would be forgotten by disuse.

But I saw some videos and Vlogs( Video blogging ) on many social issues and could only smile because most of them were just about stating the person's views, however poorly placed they might be or appropriately timed to ride the wave of popular events in social media. If such content can make its rounds deep into the social network, I said I should just go ahead with whatever I have in my mind. Though this new unseen kind of gnawing or rather sudden reordering of priorities make it imperative to find new strategies to keep afloat and cut down the sword arm itself in a grand swish once the veil is lifted :)

Mood quotient: Exam morning. Jaane kya hoga. Playing "Banjare" from Fugly. "Donno which way to go, aage hoga kya" mixed with clarity of Design Patterns images, clubbed with images of departing memories and curiosity of events ahead :)

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Sprouted moong pulao - with a tangy twist

Well, Diwali evening it was. Rode in heavy rains from office and reached home only to find myself extremely bored.

After a while of lazing around, I got to Tarla Dalal's website and decided to cook up the Baingan Methi ki Subzi

Off I went to the market to get the stuff. Half way through the shopping, it started raining heavily again, and I had come back home.
Now, I was left with some ingredients bought for the recipe and some I had just picked up. It took 5 minutes to get a plan in my mind, and off I was to wash n chop n throw in spices I found on the shelves.

And what I ended up with, is this.

The detailed recipe I posted on the popular recipe blogging site Cucumbertown, which is such a pleasure to browse and hassle free when it comes to adding recipes in a jiffy. After all patience isn't a a virtue of the creative lot.

Check it out and let me know how it turns out for you and I would be even more happier if you can add your variants on Cucumbertown or give me more suggestions :)

Bon Apetit!

Sunday, August 17, 2014

the icy seductress

the soft gurgling noise of the icy rivulets fills the stark silence of the pitch black nights.

the silvery water keeps rolling and knocking against soft round pebbles that fill the river bed

the soft streams cradled among the rocky mountains seem to carry a strange divinity

I went to sleep every night with the same soft gurgling sound filling my ears, and the images of the clear blue water tumbling all along the rocks filling my mind before I lose myself into its magical hypnotism
dipping oneself into the hypnotic trance

I wake up each morning and walk over the icy rivulets and seat myself on the rocks by the river, often letting my limbs play with the flow of the icy waters. I kept wondering about the tiny streams flowing eternally, gracing rocks of all shapes, tumbling on and on, forming the shape of the land for huge distances, and making up the eternal cycle of life.

Clocks were seldom needed here as the river seemed tell the time in synergy with the sun and the thick mist. They together formed and dispersed all sense of time in the valley. They decide when you wake up and when you can summon enough courage to walk out of the tent. They decide when you get tired and when you get into slumber.

when ones very breathing moments are left to the mercy of the skies, the boulders around and the ever strengthening currents of the icy waters, life becomes a synchronous embodiment of the very same elements that surround us. In their company I had the strong sense of being alive as a human being again.

Left to the wild in a group of like minded and similarly witted human beings, man learns to create a sense of community and life among the forces of nature.

Felt like being close to the real purpose and sense of being human... again.. a sense of continuous rebirth :)

Image copyrights are owned by Cijo George

Saturday, August 16, 2014

writing travelogues

When I look back at my five years of self reliance, I must have visited many places in my free time.  Many short and long trips, many silly and many life changing memories fill my mind when I walk down the memory lane.

And often I think of writing them alongside the various travelogues that I have penned here. But I don't think I am such a good travel writer as those I see out there for some reasons. Maybe I can't really get out of the sphere that each trip creates around me and write about it in a manner that new travellers might want to read.

Something sticks around from all these experiences in some corners of my mind and comes out at various unexpected moments, and makes me behave in ways that set me apart. So when someone recently said that experiences stretch our minds to a new level, and once you are there, there is no real coming back, I couldn't agree more. You can of course act and try to put up with the world as if you are getting along completely. But being someone else to be part of the world, however attached you are to its members, is a crime. And I am pretty sure that almost everyone is guilty of it.  While the world doesn't allow one to be what one wants to be, it does allow one to know what one wants to  be. Believe me, knowing it can make huge differences in the way one lives his/her life.

In tat manner, travelogues are a personal and spiritual guide to understanding myself and my reactions to the wonderful experiences that travel provides. I often crave to be able to sit down and note the passing thoughts and conversations in my head and those had with fellow travellers. That , according to me is a satisfactory piece of travel writing. Providing a guide to other travellers or a piece of well placed words to sooth connoisseurs comes later to my mind..

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Maduraikku pogathedee..

After pacing around in the scorching heat of Madurai, I finally find myself in the temple complex of the Madurai Meenakshi Amman Kovil.

The first thing that catches my attention is the blissful ecosystem with the peepals and the neems hanging over the ever clean tiled street surrounding the  Amman Kovil. I would consider myself a criminal if I ever understated the bliss and calm around. The soothing hymns floating along keeps the air even more rhythmic.

For those with an appetite there are many options. But right now I am after the famous Jigardanda alone. Waiting for some space to be made after the heavy lunch I had at the wedding, not to forget the extra load of soft drinks and tea that I had.

The experience becomes even more blissful after couple of hours of roaming along the streets under the hot sun, carrying a sizeable bag. The heat is slowly getting on me, and sweat flows down my face but I was strolling slowly.

I had been to the Madurai Meenakshi Amman Kovil a couple of times before this, and I still had around three hours before my train back to Bangalore. Having lots of time helped me observe many things around me. The hawkers selling  a variety of colourful bangles and cosmetics passed by with their wares, and were followed by a father holding his son's hands and telling him stories while walking around the compound. I wondered how many times my father would have held my hands and took me to umpteen places telling me fake stories to prevent me from running away ;) That moment, I wished to be home, to stop roaming and sit besides him and listen to the stories that he has to tell now.

Snapping out of my emotional whirlpool after a moment, I decided to take a good look at the gopuram. I think it was the South one I visited first. After a few attempts at clicking photos, I felt like an idiot and decided to examine the art work with my eyes. Roving my eyes over the large structure made my neck pain and I decided to take in the sight at ease. So, very much unlike my usual practice to stand and walk for long hours, I decided to sit down and enjoy the marvel in front of me. Nothing else was in my mind when I was immersed in the beauty of the ancient construction. Each demon, each God, every mythical figure in it seemed to weave stories in my head as the facts about Madurai's history kept rolling into my head from some storage. I might even have had a full blown historical and artistic conversation within my head before I decided to snap out of it and tweeted the pic of the beautiful tower :)
the towering beauty
Seeing me sitting on the footsteps of a closed shop, staring at the sky, a couple of roadside palmists approached me and tried to make me take the bait by offering to predict my career, matrimonial ventures and even going as far as claiming that from my face it was clear something big was coming :) I managed to break out of their circle and walked to the next tower. On the way, I found a hand loom showroom where I decided to check out sarees for Amma and found even more beautiful ones than the ones I had bought from Pothy's a while ago. But after getting a firm scolding from Amma for overpurchasing I managed to filter only two good sarees from that shop and moved on.

I didn't find the other towers to be as imposing as the Southern one, but they were pretty good as well. I soon found myself approaching the shopping areas and bagged some Amla and also managed to down a tasty cup of Jigardanda

 before I decided that I had eaten too much and started walking in the direction of the railway station, hoping I will take a couple of hours to reach. But it so happened that the railway station was too close :(
Tired after all the walk and all the food, I dropped my bag and sat down beside the platform, tweeting and whatsapping a bit even as my phone battery threatened to die out soon. All of sudden it started raining and I had to pick up everything and move to the first platform, grumbling all the way. My eager eyes soon found a notice which read "AC waiting room. Rs.10/- per hour. Tickets available at Platform I". It was pasted outside the waiting room, and so I guessed it meant I had to take the tickets from the ticket counter and went in search of it. Phew, it was a near 10 minute tired walk to get there and after another 5 minutes in the queue, the person at the ticket counter informed me that the tickets were available at the waiting room itself. I smiled a weak smile, thanked him and trudged back.

What followed was an hour of a repacking, recharging and telling the stories to all my friends. I stayed some extra time in the AC room until the train finally arranged and I had an uneventful journey besides a fully loaded
The murukkus, paan packets, kaaracheeva packet and couple of sarees bulged my bag as I put myself to a tough sleep among the chug-chug of the railgaadi :)


Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Chase the Monsoon - Season 6

Contd from.. Season 5

All the excitement and adrenalin that we had accumulated until then, vanished off our faces. I could see that the other guys also were anxious and prepared to face the music.

Some stuff remain in your memory when things turn messy dramatically. One moment you were cruising and howling at the top of your voices, drenched in cold rain, and the other, you wait for some random cop to hold you for no reason. I have had many such encounters. And I can picture even now the image of the police jeep rolling on in slow motion, with our eyes following those of the inspector in the front seat, wondering when his eyes would settle on us.

It occurred to us only after a moment that the jeep had crossed us and went on its way, the inspector probably deciding that we were not even worth his glance. Smiles reappeared on the riders' faces, and jumping on our rides, we decided to not further test our luck.

Soon we found our way out of the expressway and were gunning all ahead towards our destination - Aamchi Mumbai. The drenching was constant on the way and I guess we sort of became impervious to it. Fuelled by more tea and vada pav, we were soon rushing into the suburbs of Mumbai. The landscape changed from light green mountains to evenly shaped dirty apartments and muddy truck yards.

After a while of riding through this mess, we were close to our intended destination. We were gonna stay at a friend's place.

Well, nothing much of interest happened after that until got to his home. We got out of our really wet situation and dried our shoes while the friend's Ma came and chatted with us, scolding us for our adventures while appreciating our achievements.  Along with the hot tea, the warmth was truely felt not only on body, but also in mind. So far away from home, we felt at home. We laughed sheepishly at our follies and beamed when they spoke of our guts and maturity ;)

Soon, it was time to head out to explore Aamchi Mumbai. Mother didn't allow us to take our bikes, and for a moment we thought if we would get stuck in bus traffic. But so tired and weary of riding in the wetness we were that we couldn't disobey mother. So we headed out with our friend there. I didn't even hear where we were headed.

Soon we were on our way to the railway station. Now I started getting interested again, after the brief lull. Mumbai's local trains! The ultimate travel experience. What fools were we not to even think of it while planning our trip.

It was getting late. I was damn tired. New city, new lights, new stories. We kept chatting about so many random things, guffawing loudly, hanging out the signature style from the local train, and imagining the infinite movie bollywood scenes shot in the famous local trains. Oh, did I mention the tasty hot vada pavs we picked up from the station? :)

Got down at Victoria terminal and surveyed the scene of the terrorist attack and caught a cab to Nariman point. I remember only that my father keeps coming here for official purposes and was indeed here when the terrorist strike happened. I remember those tensed nights. After writing the blog post when the attack happened, I badly wanted to see the places. And there I was, in a completely unplanned fashion. While most of Mumbai was closed by the time we were there, Nariman point was quite crowded, thankfully.

We had nice dinner from a local restaurant there and I ordered according to some tips from Foursquare, which turned out to be perfectly accurate.

Next stop: Leopold Cafe. All the emptiness in the streets was compensated by the tightly packed crowd there. I spent some time observing the bullet holes at the entrance before catching a table. We spent quite a lot of time there eating, drinking and chatting as a another friend of the friend joined us with lots of stories and jokes. The ambience was simply awesome.

We hung around for a while afterwards clicking pictures of the places and the crowd, and then headed out via the now emptying street to the Gateway of India.

No words. Simply amazing. Picked up memories of me sitting there with my brother when I was in my 6th Std, and savoured the beauty of the lights along with the Taj and Trident in the vicinity. The Taj entrance was beautifully lit up with luxury cars moving in and out while the Arabian sea shone in the combined light of the white moon high up in the sky and the man made yellow lights all around. Sadly the sea stank and we could only accept it with shame that it was one of the beautiful spots to relax at.

Next stop: Marine Drive. It was a sensory overload by that time, as sleep started seeping into my limbs and I could feel someone switch off each section of the body. I fought it and tried to absorb the images and sounds. We sat there for a while, or rather lay there staring at the beauty of night, clicking some crazy pictures.

It took a full shower of midnight rain to wake us up from the half slumber and clamber into the next cab and we directed to Band stand or Bandra and maybe something more. I just hung on, watching the empty streets pass by as the rain hit the windshield heavily.

I guess we did a very late attempt at covering most of Mumbai and ended up being at places at very very odd times. Shah Rukh khan's Mannat looked awesome at 1 AM, and so did some more other's which I don't recall now. I just stood there absorbing it all as my final lights started going out. Next I remember is sleeping until we got back home in zombie mode.

Early next morning, we continued our wonderful love story with our bikes and the green roads, this time returning to Pune to end the lovely days and the memories we generated were just too much and we used the long ride to absorb it :)

Oh did I not mention the freak fall and the damaged bike and fleeing from the bike owner, and sleepily browsing through beautiful book shelves in Pune? :-) Those are memories for me and my comrades alone..adios reader..

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Lord of War

Opening up the news websites, or on switching on the TV, I regularly see images of soldiers carrying weapons, or protesters demonstrating in front of policemen armed to the teeth. Add to this the image and news of regular shoot-outs in various neighbourhoods.

On one such occasion I couldn't help wonder what I would think on seeing the same images, if I were to own a significant number of arms and ammunition factories. Supposedly, I had connections in the shady east Europe, or North Africa or South East Asia, to name a few, this would have been fairly easy too..

What would be my thoughts? Would I be noticing the weapons, the nature of usage, the country, and going over my deals and plan my charts? Will I call up my execs and ask for ground report? I would maybe run calculations in my head on which gang leaders I would want to meet, which lobby gangs should I fund, which political party to add my weight behind and so on.

I would be a very busy man for sure, as competition is heavy in this business.
The low cost Chinese models make it hard to negotiate with the rich yet stupid clients that we arms tycoons have to regularly deal with. And the rascals who run for shit like peace and charity missions continuously make me lose markets. But then the damage they make hardly makes a dent in my profits.

Dealing with politicos is the hardest part everywhere. The shady goons in their employ bring good deals, but going ahead with their cuts has to be a very discrete, else I would be the one who has to face the music. Its easier to deal with anarchies and rebels, and hence our organization has been dedicated to creating more and more such markets.

Well, last but not the least the domestic markets are booming everywhere. Ranging from people who keep guns to defend their property from neighbours to those who want to keep their illegal empires intact, I have a big list of customers.

Its tough going these days, but we are good at this, so don't be surprised if you find your closest friend or relative in my customer list :) sooner or later..

Tuesday, July 08, 2014

this is fashion

when Pretty Preeti came to school,
wearing a pretty short dress,
and she looked awesome
they said this is fashion

All my friends bought the same
and I was told
"you should try it too,
because this is fashion"

When I showed it to mom
she said
"Sweetie, its too short,
but then its the fashion"

Next day when I wore it to school,
I could feel the eyes of boys on me
but then I told myself
"its the fashion"

When the news broke that
some school girls were eve-teased
I heard someone say
"its the fashion"

The poem has been written from the perspective of teenage girl who grapples through the conundrum of fashion in a society that glorifies and condemns with equal villainy.

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers

Saturday, June 28, 2014

Being conscious

art is a form of consciousness

the more you feel conscious about the world around you, people and their perceptions and yourself, the more likely
you are to work on a piece of art, sooner or later.

practicing detachment from the regular rational cycle of daily chores and thinking allows your brain to explore that extra areas that reside in the fringes of your consciousness

the result of these if you begin wondering, is not just the creativity which is considerered as a magical elixir by many, but also helps in the ability to enjoy very rare and unique perceptions of almost everything around you.
If you observe passionate and genius artists, they are often very compassionate and capable of receiving a lot of contradictory emotions and perceptions and the work of art they produce is usually their reflections on these.
Drop your attachment to the daily chores you do. Let go of the daily anxieties and pursue something new. Trust me, its not boring to detach because you are going into a desolate zone, but a more fertile one. Once your mind is freed from the regular beaten path of your routines, it can expand according to its capacity and soon make you aware of many more things to engage with.  No words can help you until you take the plunge and let go.

Detach from your digital occupations. Because even when you are relaxed, your digital devices keep you tied to a small circle of actions to engage with. Go take a walk, keep you phone away and slowly release yourself from the small circle that your life is, and observe the world around you.
Check out this awesome article from the National Geographic about the "Ultimate Digital Detox- Walking"

I feel all the different paths in the world, science - both ancient and modern, martial arts, yoga, all forms of art, sportsmen, and so on follow their own steps, but eventually reach similar conclusions. Hence if you observe, people occupied in these areas tend to overlap their interests and perceptions during their lifetime.

Most importantly, try to let go of your expectations on yourself, especially your creativity. its like a shy baby. look away and it gets into action. Action by Inaction. now that gives it the zen touch it deserves.. sayanora..

Sunday, May 25, 2014

savouring SP Road

SP Road is famous for being the one stop electronics gadgets fix-it-modify-it-or-buy-new destination in all of Karnataka.

So it happened that I went there last saturday to get my huge list of broken gadgets back in action.

It was my first time there and took a while to find the right shops and haggle and tinker with stuff myself when the shopkeepers couldn't.

All this action tired us out by 1 PM and the sun was scorching. Scouting around the area we found a iced neembu paani shop which looked dubious but we decided to give it a go.

Then we stumbled upon this chat counter with Kadi being used as the 'masala' in samosa masala, kachori masala, bhajji masala etc. This caught my interest, as I am one who hates the masala thats sold in Karnataka in most shops, and I love Kadi :)

Even the Chilli Bhajji tasted awesome, cut up, and served with chopped onions, sweet and chilli chutneys :) Yum.

To top it up we had a cup of cold lassi too :)

And meanwhile I noticed that SP road had more electronic waste on the floor than paper or plastic, rightly so. Pic: Part of the complicated circuitry we stepped upon accidently.

For the Bangaloreans planning to hit SP road, I would recommend to check these outlets while you go hunting for the cheapest and best gadgetry in tech-savvy Bangalore.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

a very productive day

whoever thought that a day of power cut could be so productive. There was no supply from 9 Am to 5PM. After frantic efforts to do other things, I managed to get myself to sit down and write. Yes, write without electronic devices.  Even my phone got switched off, and hence it was just me, sitting alone in my room with just my pen and a book, scribbling away.

Usually I get stuck and think and struggle to get to write fictional stuff. Today words were flowing after a short initial impasse and I could barely keep my mind up to speed with my pen, as it it drove me ahead and over distant lands and across a multitude of characters.

I managed to pen 6 short stories with slightly different plots, but quite similar styles. The latter half of the fast writing was helped by a idea that was partially inspired by a friend of mine. I went out and found batteries for the radio and had the music blaring as I wrote hypnotically. But my hands hurt :)

A day well written :) hope readers enjoy

deadly western winds

The spark didn't last long. In the windy plainy, it wasn't such an easy task as well. Her wet golden hair hung on a side and she had her warm rung over herself. Her clothes were hung over the shrubs. Swearing out loud, she lit another match and this time managed to light the fire.

Dusk was approaching and it would get terribly cold in the valley. She didn't fancy the idea of dying out there with her target so close by.

As the warmth of the fire spread, she brought out the final piece of dried meat and started munching through it, wondering about the day ahead. The strongest fort in the kingdom lie ahead of her. She could refill her supplies from its rich warehouses, and wouldn't have anything to worry about for months together.

But first, she had to infiltrate it. No way the guards would allow a westerner like her to walk into the gates and take their supplies. She took out her scimitar and sharpened it slowly. A couple of months ago, her tribe laughed at her for not being able to lift the same scimitar. Now she wiped it clean off dried blood every day to keep the blade smooth. What an irony.

She calculated in her mind on how many days it would take her to infiltrate the fort, and how much blood would be spilled this time. Her well chiseled arms could wring many a strong men before she would give in, and her scimitar could very easily claim a dozen necks and many more limbs, if it ever came to it. But she knew better ways of 'persuasion' and prepared herself for it.

Soon the fire died down and as the moon rose fully, the wolves came out prowling.


Jimitar woke up startled and peeked out of the wall in the direction of the western valley. He could hear loud howling and growls. The wolves were making a killing on some weary traveller headed to the gate which was under his division's guard. He shuddered at the thought of the tales of the demoness from the west that was the talk of the town since the last two weeks, as news of ferocious killings kept arriving from spies far west. He didn't notice the trembling wine bottles, as he reached for one and took a long gulp before going back to bed.

reading between the notes

Music kept playing on and on and his ears were drunk in the rhythm of music.

She noticed him tapping his legs and staring into the distance, as if in a trance. He seems to tune into music, as if it was everything. It was the only time she could actually let herself examine her feelings for him. Having met him only a couple of months ago, they shared a light friendship.

He didn't talk much in the company of others and on general topics. But they shared a bond on weird topics and they could go on and on for hours without feeling bored. But once the topic got over, they went to back their respective corners. She never really understood the nature of their relationship.

She was comfortable with him in many levels, but feared getting any closer and sensed a similar reaction from him. A decision to overcome this impasse was difficult and there were no overwhelming impulses to act. His platitude didn't help either.

She sighed deeply and packed her bags. After all the night was young, and the sun wasn't gonna rise any time soon.