Sunday, November 4, 2012

Hunger



This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 33; the thirty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
The theme for the month is 'Celebrations'



They were keeping a watch on the supposedly enemy ship since two days. There have been no action of any kind. No response to warnings, No SOS calls,no movements were noted.....nothing at all. Their defense education was telling them not to get onto the ship without instructions. For it was a warship & it could even be a trap.
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He handed over the Binoculars to his colleague & went for a walk on the deck.
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"Arre....check this out...There is some movement.Looks like Somebody is there."
He ran back & snatched the Binocular from his colleague."I cant see who that is, a Boy, A girl, a Man, a woman, or an animal. But I am damn sure...whoever that is, is in a celebratory mood."
"Are you sure ?"
"Damn sure.....I can clearly see a loaf of bread...... & listen carefully to the sounds coming out. This is definitely some celebration. Hunger is the biggest enemy & that somebody has just won over it.Imagine you are hungry for days & then u find something to eat"
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"I see some point. I can understand the situation on the ship in distress.. ...That certainly calls for Celebrations. I would have done the same thing in that situation....But What do we do now ?..."
"Just pass on the message to the command about what we saw & wait for instructions."
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Moments after he was back.....
"There are instructions to destroy the enemy ship.......?"
"How can we do that?......we just noted some celebratory mood on the ship. Destroying the ship means certain death for that somebody"
"Dont worry about death.....let's get on with our job & Destroy the ship.....do not forget what we were taught.....Death is the Celebration of Life."
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Boom....after a while there was a deafening sound of a torpedo & the enemy ship was gone.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton

Monday, October 8, 2012

The Untold Story

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'An Untold Story'
The Editor threw the papers on his face. "I had replied to your email that I want something new, an untold story. Why the hell you are back with the same old stuff. In three days get me my story else put in your papers. Get your story & personally give it to the Sub-editor. I am not in town".
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He walked out dejectedly.He had poured in his heart in the news story thinking that it would make a difference to the lives of people involved but it had not made any difference even to the Editor.He didn't even gave it a second look.
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After a couple of days........
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"Here is the untold story. Please have a look. I am sure you would have never seen something like this before."
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The sub-ediotr looked at the papers & looked up to him in utter dis-beleif. "How do you know this ? Were you not working on your story." .
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"Exactly....that's what I was doing. I was present at the site working on the untold story" "So ?"the sub-editor shouted back. .
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Suddenly The sub-editor noticed something on his shirt & screamed...."Are you mad....anything wrong with you ? There are blood stains on your shirt"
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"No way....I am all fine. He had left me no option.He was desperate for an untold story & I had to create one."
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Roots

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 30; the thirtieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
There he was.... standing at the beach looking towards the sea with keen eyes. That ebony body was well suited for boxing. Boxing came to him naturally. They all loved him at the Boxing Club.

But nowadays there was a sudden change in him, he was turned into a soul less person for quite some time. He would be seen around but he always seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. His presence was like a rootless tree.

He was a prospective Olympian for the club but he would not be seen at the club for long. They kept wondering what might have happened but nobody would know. A couple of months back the team had been to Liverpool for the Boxing tournament but he never fought a bout, for he returned home without telling anyone.

While in Liverpool the team happened to visit the International Slavery museum of Liverpool. The city once infamous for being the capital of Slavery trading.

He had never heard about slavery before and the experience came to hit him like a lightening shock.

He was taken aback by what he saw. He was pained by the images. The "Middle Passage" numbed him.

Thousands stuffed in cargos of ships as if they were cotton or coal. The men would be shackled together with iron chains during the treacherous journey of 5-6 weeks on the sea. The women would be beaten and physically forced to have sexual relations with the crew members. The sick would be fed to the sharks. So much so that the sharks would follow the slave cargo in anticipation. For they were just the slaves to them, a commodity that would bring them prosperity. They would buy them or kidnap. Nobody would be spared, be it women, children or even the olds. Every able bodied person they could lay their hands on would be forcibly brought on the cargo. They would be branded like other commodities with name of the brand written on the shoulder. Children deprived from their mothers, mothers taken away from their children, fathers forced away from families. They uprooted generations for centuries in the organized trade.

The archives of the advertisements hit him like a bullet. It would roam in his mind like hundred pins.

Available for sale, Just brought from Africa, 41 healthy men of The Cunard brand, 9 boys (they would surely turn into obedient slaves), 13 women. The auction would be held at the town hall.

He could not go through the whole museum. In Whatever he saw, the emotions took him over. He could not see, he could not walk, he could not talk, he could not listen. His soul was lost.

When he could find some composure he took the first flight he got & headed for home.

He could never bring himself to fight a boxing bout after that. For the first time in life he looked at his skin with a keen interest. Deep within himself he knew what ailed him.

He found the answer after a long searching & it was not boxing. He needed to go back to his roots for healing. He needed to find his roots.

There he was standing at the beach looking towards the sea with keen eyes. The sea was the route to his roots. years ago millions were forced to take the route & made rootless. But here he was now, taking the same route to find his roots.

Notes : *Middle Passage : The "Middle Passage" was the journey of slave trading ships from the west coast of Africa, where the slaves were obtained, across the Atlantic, where they were sold or, in some cases, traded for goods. It was the longest, hardest, most dangerous, and also most horrific part of the journey of the slave ships.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. I’m thankful to Nikhil(The silent words), who introduced Blog-a-Ton to me, and I debuted in 12th edition.
Credits Image - Shades of Orange by Harsha Chittar Courtesy - Curious Dino Photography via www.blogaton.in

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Revenge



This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 22; the twenty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.


"Hey Man close the door, its raining. You have the right to other plans but I want to sleep" the person trying to sleep in the birth no. 72 snapped at Vijay.

The man's anguish was understandable for It was 3 AM in the morning & the train was dashing towards its destination. "As you like it sir,So many doors have already been closed on me" Vijay murmured to himself & got back to his seat.
He was moving back to his home town, where his mother was waiting for him. She had never given up on her infant terrible. He hoped his little daughter & estranged wife too must be waiting to hear from him. At least he was hoping so. They had separated some years back & Lilian took simona with her. They too were supposed to be in the same town not far away from Vi jay's home.

Vijay finally reached home to a warm hug by his mother,that's the way she would always welcome her youngest son. No questions, no justifications, no explanations. She would communicate just everything with her silence. That comforted Vijay & he was ready to face life once again.


"So tell me Mr. Vijay what do you bring to the table, why should we offer you a this job" the burly person seated in front of Vijay almost shouted. Before he could utter a word the other member of the panel added, " We are the best business school in the town & we are not your run of the mill business school churning out a crop of MBAs. We always look for innovations, new ways of things in all that we do".

Vijay took a deep breath & almost whispered, "Sir, that's why I am here. I know what this school is all about. I have always admired this institution. I know how unique & innovative this institute is and that's why I have selected this over others. I am so sure this school is not going to fail me."

The panel was surprised & shocked at the selection of words by Vijay. One of them snapped back, "Fail you ? what are you talking about. Your resume suggests you have failed in almost everything that you have done. 10 jobs in 15 years. 2 years of doing nothing. You are a failed journalist, a failed business man, a failed writer, a failed engineer."
The other panelist added, "Your personal record also suggests you are a failed husband & a failed father".
"Sir let me add to the list" Vijay added "I am also a failed Naxalite & a failed robber."
The panel was completely taken aback. They had never met such a person in their life. The atmosphere outside the room was interesting. The other waiting candidates were tired of waiting for the interview to be over. But the things were different in the interview room. The discussion was getting interesting.

Vijay had to explain all his so called failures. It was no mean job but he passionately explained all that he did in his life till then. He continued his monologue, "My failures is what I have with me to offer. It has given me new perspectives & a whole new understanding of life. I certainly know how I failed in all things that I have done. I can impart this knowledge to my prospective proteges at the institute. These failures have told me how to achieve success in life. I am sure, I would be a successful lecturer and the students would find my talks interesting."
By the end of his monologue he has won them over. It was awe inspiring for them.
For Vijay all his so called failures were very dear but he knew the world would not understand his way of looking at things. He had to borrow the words of the world to make his point.But all said & done he had done the job he had set out for himself.

Vijay was back at life with a new zeal. Now there was a spring in his walk,his confidence knew no bounds. He was going to do interesting work with a world class business school & that too in his home town. His hopes of winning back his wife were live again.

He had had his revenge with the so called SUCCESS.


The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

The Journey



This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 19; the nineteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.




Gagan rued his luck. He was at the wrong place at a very wrong time. Everything seemed so wrong. 12 hours at the airport & still no announcement about the likely departure of the Newyork flight. The pilots were on strike & the solution was not in the viscinity. He had no where to go in the megapolis so it seemed the best way to get parked at the airport & watch the proceedings.

He had fought with his dad for this journey. His dad was not very keen to send him abroad for this Masters degree but in the end he had had his way. And here he was waiting for that long journey to start. It was the starting point of his dream which had just started taking shape of reality. A masters degree & then a job in a big company & eventually that green card. The plan was in place, there was no plan B. But he did not know what was in store for him.


Gagan got bored of the monotony & just looked around. There were lot of people seated around just like him. A man seated next to him was glancing through the news paper. As always, a newspapers sounds very interesting when somebody else is reading. Gagan turned to the person & asked him if he could share the remaining pages of news paper. The man smiled at him & gave him the whole bunch. "Take it son, happy reading, read it all,you are not going to find this news paper in newyork". It was Gagan's favourite newspaper & it dawned upon him that his mornings were going to be different without "Deshonnati" the regional news paper.

Once ice was broken they got talking & the discussion turned to the imminent topic of strikes. Gagan was asked, " what do you think ? are these pilots right to agitate that they want only the local language speaking pilots on all flights departing from the airport". Till then gagan had no clue about the strike. He was so engrossed in his own dream that he hardly had time to look at things around. Gagan started wondering what the fuss was about. He wondered how could people get so worked up against fellow citizens. The man suggested him, "Son dont worry the earth is round & the people are same everywhere.I have spent half of my life in newyork but still I feel like an outsider. people interact with you, you get a feeling of acceptance but for them you remain Indian. At first you dont feel it but slowly you start to read the signs. Every thing around shouts at you, telling ou that you are an outsider".

Gagan had hardly looked at this side of the dream. Their discussion continued the late night & without realizing something had changed in Gagan.

Morning arrived & with that also the news of end of the strike. But now. gagan seemed dis-interested. He picked up his luggage & walked out of the Airport. The journey had given him the courage to look at things in a new light.



The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Change



This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton Season 2 edition 18; the eighteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.


Rohitash ran to his mother, crying. His mother, Neela had to leave everything & rush for him. He seemed inconsolable. Following him was the whole gang of the society's little ones. Rohitash was the Bhaichung Bhutia of the society. He used to like football & was good at it. His father had brought him the best football. It had the FIFA emblem on it along with snaps of many a football heroes. Presently he started explaining Neela what had happened.
Hitler uncle had once again confiscated their football. Whenever an opportunity would present he would do a thing or two which would annoy the kids in the society. The name Hitler, was coined for him by the kiddos themselves. He would always scold the kids for breaking the silence around his flat. His Flat was on the first floor right in front of the only open area in the society. The kids had no other option. They would try to control the noise but soon they would forget it & would get noisy. With kids even Chess would be a noisy game. :-) To his dis-credit, in the past, Hitler uncle had even confiscated their chess boards & carom boards. The kids would complain to the elders in the society about Hitler uncle but nobody would dare talk to him. He was a known as a highly volatile, attacking person. He could get very abusive at times. Everybody would keep a distance from him & prefer not to cross ways with him. The only person who could talk to him & get things done was Kelkar uncle. He was friends with him & would often get back the things confiscated by him. In fact Mr. kelkar was like his link with the surroundings. Last 2 years Mr. kelkar had not been around, he was out of country on a 2 years long assignment. Rohitash & team knew that only kelkar uncle could get them their football back. But having learnt about his absence they were so sure of not seeing the football again. That's why the team had joined Rohitash for the complaining. episode. Neela consoled Rohitash & patiently listened out the boys. She knew she was hardly of any help. But she promised to get them a new football the next day. That changed the mood of the gang. Moreover she also got some good chocolates for each one of them. The kiddos gang was happy again, Hitler uncle was forgotten for the moment.


Satish Khandekar was a well known advocate in the high court. He was working with the Mudholkars, a very well known legal advisor firm in the city. Being amongst the best, he was a busy man. Apart from being volatile people were wary of his being an advocate. They knew he would talk himself out of any situations. But there would be times when he would not be out of home for days. Nobody knew much about them apart from Mr. kelkar. There would be hush-hush talks around about the family. The couple was a lonely one & things were not going smooth with them. There would often be quarrels between the two. At times his wife would be gone to her parents for long. Mr. Kelkar was a regular visitor & would often try to spend time with his volatile friend during the crisis situations. On the face of it, Hitler would seem such an apt tag for the man. In reality he was not much of a Hitler. The only thing was people had not seen that side of him. His acquired loneliness, the dis-figured family life had taken a toll on the man. The hitlersque persona was like the rust formed on a fine metal pot. Unless the rust is gone one can't see the reality.


Soon the exams were on and the kids & the parents got engrossed in their own world. It was time to forget & forgive the Uncle Hitler. Books, studies, schools, teachers, child care etc. were the priorities now. Most of the kids would find it difficult to get to the playing fields & away from the burgeoning parents. For many, the pressure of the parents was the real thing than the exams themselves. The society premises would become a no man's land during the exam times. For, the premises would ware such a quietness as would be seen in the breeze less jungles.

Eventually The exams got over. Suddenly, the quietness was gone like the steam gets off from the pressure cooker. The premises again became a busy happening place. Cycling, football, cricket were again the flavour of the season. As it often happens with children, they are quick to forgive & forget. Uncle Hitler would be forgotten during the off-exam times. He was any ways always there & the kids had found their own ways of working around the problem.
The game of chess was on & it seemed an interesting battle. It would often be difficult to get the gang around chess board. But never the less, some of the kids would get on with it. and Chess being the brainy game the gang would want to show off their brainy side. Although Chess was a rarity, whenever it would be played, there sure would be a crowd around. Soon the gang took sides on the board. The suggestions started pouring in.
"Chimmo, move that rook & take that pawn".
"Swaral, get out your queen & Kill that white Bishop".
Suddenly there were 20 kids playing on the chess board. The noise had reached a crescendo. It was time for Mr. Hitler to arrive on the scene. It was time for Mr. Hitler to arrive on the scene. and he arrived without delay. There he was watching over their game. The kids were astonished to see hitler uncle. Having Known him, they were afraid. In a hurry somebody just took up the chess board & collected the pieces in their bag. They thought he would scold them & just pick up their chess board. But the kids were pleasantly surprised, there was a marked change in hitler uncle's ways. He was smiling. By wearing a smile you can be friends with any kid in the world. What was happening was a testimony of that. Soon he brought out a bag of some American chocolates & distributed those among them. He stayed there for a while & then invited all the kids to his home. They hesitated but never the less followed him up to his home. He took them in a room & the kids were surprised to see all their confiscated things there. Everything was properly kept. The footballs, the bats, the cricket balls, the chess boards, all was put in a glass cupboard. He handed over everything to the kids & again some more chocolates. They could not believe their luck. They had got back all that was theirs. The best part was, they were now sure he was no more Hitler uncle. It had now changed to Satya uncle. The transformation was sudden but so complete, from hitler uncle to satya uncle. The kids returned to their homes & soon it became talk of the housing society. Everyone was wondering what was wrong.
Satish Khandekar was seated in his chair looking at the television screen but his mind was beyond it. Clearly,He was thinking about the future. He was overwhelmed with the umpteen positive possibilities the phone call had brought to his life. The phone call in the morning had changed his life. His wife had called up in the morning to inform that he was going to be a father. The news they had been waiting for, since 10 years had finally come. & it was just about the right time. Everything in his life had got so stretched, he was on the edge. The news was just the thread which would save him. The past just went through his mind. Those umpteen visits to those fertility clinics, those never ending enquiries from the relatives about the absence of a child in their lives.
"Sorry, it did not worked out. better luck next time."
"We tried our best, I think we must go for another laproscopy"
"There are 70 percent chances but we are not sure. Its just statistics"
"We have a 30 percent success rate & there is no way this would fail"
He was very fond of kids & would always talk to them whenever they would be seen. But there would be some people who would say "Okay !!!!! that's why he always makes it a point to talk to kids.That consoles the absence of kids in his life.". They were so wrong. Kids or no kids of his own he was so good with children. They would become his friends in no time. Such were his ways. But those caustic comments had changed him forever.
They had listened to so many doctors over the years & had finally stopped the treatments. These treatments would make big holes not just on their pockets but it would also throw the couple on the edge. It were no less that an emotional breakdown.
Sometimes the relatives would be so blunt about it. Whenever they had been to a family function people would often enquire about their treatment.They would just ask why it was not happening. Some would just throw Over the suggestions albeit with the concerns. The prime suggestion would be visiting a particular shrine. Satish was not much of a believer but still the suggestions of different shrines would not stop. Finally there came a time when they stopped meeting their friends & relatives. They would hardly be seen in those family functions. It was no wonder, Over the years this all had drew the couple apart from each other. The domestic life became a mess. It was to their credit that in spite of all that they had been through, they remained a couple.

But now, things had taken a different turn. The news had come just out of no where. He did not know what to do ? what to feel ?. He was so confused. That was when he heard that noise. Generally it would annoy him but today was a different day. he suddenly knew what he should be doing. He just walked over to the children & did what his heart told him. He was no more the hated Uncle Hitler. He was now satya Uncle. The rust was off the pot now. It was shining with lustre. The world had just become a better place.


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Saturday, December 4, 2010

The Mystery



This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 17; the seventeenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following
Blog-a-Ton.


"This is a real story. The names in the story are real.The three of us had gone to watch a Rugby match in Marseilles, France over the week end. While returning we discovered that the Public transport was not available till our hostel hence we decided to walk & lost our way. I have tried to re-visit the scare of that night."



Shobhan was vehemently thumping on the glass pane with his both hands but there was no reaction in the room. It seemed like; the sound was not reaching any ears. He continued it for a while but in vain. He stood on the staircase for a while, holding the sidebars & then returned to the other two. His face wore a sad but determined look; he had not given up yet.
Shashwat looked at his wristwatch but it was so dark it was an effort to see the time. He exclaimed, "Abbe!!! Its 01:00 AM it’s almost 45 minutes since we jumped over those gates. Let's sleep on these staircases, we have no option now. We would see that old man tomorrow morning when the door opens. I would give him two slaps below his ears". He said so but his face was communicating something else. There was fear on his face but it was good to talk. Talking somehow was reducing the fear.
Vithal asked him, "Can you translate this in French, Three Indians found dead outside a French chateau. Apparently they were trying to enter the castle. Further investigation is on" Hearing that Shobhan got angry. He shouted,"That’s a real possibility if you guys don’t shut up. Think guys!!!! Think".

Suddenly he saw some movement inside the room right at the end of the stair case. A shadow was moving around & then another coming closer to the window. Shashwat said, “Let’s run, it looks like a ghost". None of them believed in ghosts but the whole thing was quite scary.
It was a dark European night. Although it was September, it was too cold for the Indian trio. They were inside the courtyard of a French chateau. It was a big second empire style castle built on a hill. It was quite an imposing structure. It was surrounded by a big park at the back, which was going downhill. It would give a panoramic view of the city. On the two sides there were huge open plots which had started to look like jungles because of the shrubs & huge boulders lying around.
There were some big old trees in the garden in the courtyard. The shadows of which were adding to the darkness of the night.
The castle was a three story structure. The gothic style with those paired columns, boxy mansard roofs had made it look scarier. The front side had four round staircases going right to the top. They were all made of wrought iron. The only light which was on in the courtyard was to the right most corner of the building. The light & the Stair cases added to the look & made it scarier, almost like a scene from any hitchcockan movie. The more they were looking around; it would feel more & more scary. Suddenly the wind started blowing. The tree leaves fallen in the courtyard started moving around making that typical hissing sound. Shashwat now also realized that they had not noticed the noise of the night bugs, the crickets. He joked, "The sound of the night bugs is ditto like of those back home". He received another scold from Shobhan for this untimely joke.
Since they were already noticing the noises around that made them more skeptical. Shobhan suspected of hearing some noises from the close by buildings. He thought these sounds like the noise of the rowdy boys encountered by Vithal while going to
the castle. He turned to Vithal & enquired what had actually happened. The noise had become clearer now & they became fearful if the gang was coming towards the palace. After all they were in a port city & they all had heard about the gangs in a port city.
The trio was at Grenoble in France on an official assignment. Somebody at office drew their attention to the ongoing Rugby world Cup in France & they decided to watch a match. That had brought them in Marseilles. It was a late evening match. They had already been through lot of trouble for getting an accommodation in the unknown city. This castle was away from the city centre but never the less they had a place to return to. The manager had told them that, the castle would be closed by 10:30 & gates would be locked after that but especially for them he would open the gates if they return by mid-night. All they had to do was, make a telephone call. With the city maps at their disposal they made elaborate plans to return to the castle after the match. They had become confident of returning in time.
After enjoying the wonderful game of rugby they started towards the Castle. The suburban metro was on till a particular station, from where they had to walk to the castle. They disembarked at the right station but lost their way after that. After a long walk in the unknown city they had finally got to the palace, the youth hostel. But they had missed the deadline & the old man, the manager would not respond to any phone calls. They had made umpteen calls but none was responded to. They had given up on him & hence jumped in from the tall gate of the palace.

Presently, watching the shadows at the window Shobhan thought of giving it another try & he rushed to the window. He started talking to the shadow in the window. For the first time he got a response. The man was clearly terrified. Naturally so, it was unexpected to talk to a stranger in the middle of the night & that too, through the window.
Shobhan requested him if he could open the window & let them in. The man refused it. He said his girlfriend was afraid of the sight of total strangers at the window. He instead, asked Shobhan to keep away from the window or else he would call others of his group. It looked like a hopeless situation but shobhan was adamant. He continued his discussion unbothered. He had become more confident now. His urges turned into kind orders. After a while the man gave up on shobhan & decided to help. He came out & opened the door which was attached to the staircase. The moment he opened the door there was an alarm. The man got fearful & suddenly closed the door. The trio was still out. Clearly, they had missed the moment. But they now knew, somebody must have heard the alarm & there was scope. They gathered at the door, waiting for that somebody to come for the rescue. To their delight, the door got opened. Somebody just shouted to get in & close the door. The alarm had hardly blown & they all got in. That somebody was disappeared. He must have been afraid of an encounter with total strangers in the middle of the night. The trio rushed to their room & threw themselves on their beds. Nobody was in a mood to talk. Sleep came very easily & soon engulfed them to its world. The ordeal was finally over.

In the morning the old man came to their room for his reguler survey visit. He was shocked to see the boys sleeping calmly in the room. His face wore a mystical look. He threw some French words at them; they didn't know what that meant. Those were surely some French expletives.



The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked
here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.