Two weeks back, on a sunny afternoon, she got a call. “Rhythm, there is a new task for you, check your mail, and report to Headquarters immediately.” Before she could ask any further questions, he hung up. Hurriedly, she got out of bed and packed her bag to visit the Headquarters. 

She has been working as Pennyweighter for a man called Jack. It started as a game when one day she painted a replica of Salvador Mundi by Leonardo da Vinci and replaced it with the original and earned her first Billion dollar. No one noticed this theft except Jack, who had his eye on her throughout the auction night. To keep his mouth shut, he took thirty percent of the total payment and asked her to join his monkey business. 

Rhythm was an orphan from the time she can remember; she shuttled herself between orphanages and different foster homes. It made her skeptical about people and their intentions. She considered trust as the first step towards self-destruction. That’s why she always kept herself one step ahead of the others in the game of life.  

The auction is in a palace with an invite-only guest list. The world’s best security surrounds the castle. Rhythm is not exquisitely beautiful, but you couldn’t resist looking at her when she walks into a room. She is a hummingbird amidst the crowd of white swans, small yet colourful with a melody to melt every heart. She is wearing a simple vintage white dress; a matching fascinator adorns her long, tied hair. With the elegance of a princess, she walks down the hall.

Holding a glass of sparkling champagne, she moves towards her destination. In the centre of the room on in a beautiful pink coloured glass box lies the lustrous Kohinoor. While she is still rehearsing her plan, a tall man clad in a black tuxedo walks towards her. “Isn’t it beautiful,” she looks up at the speaker and nods in agreement. He laughs and whispers in her ear, “I know, you are planning to steal it.” Bewildered, she takes a few steps back. But he pulls her back and gazes deeply into her eyes and declares, “You are soon going to fall in love with me,” and walks away casually, leaving her befuddled. 

She calms herself and looks around for the man. She has to execute her plan before the mysterious man returns. She stealthily pulled out the replica and tapped the left corner of the case with a laser beam intact in her nails. A small opening appears, she surreptitiously replaces the diamond with the replica. While the crowd is busy laughing at Prince’s jokes, Rhythm walks away with the Kohinoor.

She picks up her phone, said, “Please bring the car to the gate.” She crossed the room briskly. A smile of relief adorns her face when she sees the Rolls-Royce at the gate. But before she could sit in the car, the tuxedo man stops her. “You cannot leave now,” she politely rejects his advances and says, “My car is here.” A wicked smile plasters his face, and he utters, “But you haven’t seen the real Kohinoor yet.” She splutters with an ashen face, “What about the one in the hall.” Smirking, he replies, “Oh, It’s just a replica. The original one is inside a safe, shown only to VVIPs.” 

He held out his hand, unwilling she grabbed it and went inside. They walk into the elevators, and the man pressed the button for the top floor. On reaching the top floor, they walked straight into a brightly lit room. There, on a high slender, wooden table sat the Kohinoor laced in a red velvet cloth without any other protection. She freed herself from his grip and moved towards the table. She picked up the magnifying glass from the side and examined the diamond. She turns back and asks, “Why isn’t it inside a secured case,” he laughs and says, “A thief would never be able to enter inside this floor without my permission.” Leaning in, he kissed her rosy lips. The kiss felt like melting sugar; the more she devoured, the more she craved his luscious lips. And when he gently pulled away, there was a fire of desire in his eyes, engulfing every tiny molecule of her body.

He held her hand, and they silently walked in his suite; he called his Butler and said: “The Night is over for me.” Keeping his phone aside in silent mode, he ferociously kissed her nape. They were like a well and thirsty traveler to each other; the more they drank, the more they craved, filling their body and soul’s insatiable desires. 

The next morning when she woke up, the only thing she remembered was his handsome face in the moonlit night, the gentle breeze ruffling his dark brown hair, his synchronous breath, and the reassuringly slow and steady heartbeat of his heart. 

She got out of bed and went to the bathroom to take a shower. When she came out, she saw a message on the side table saying, “I am in a meeting, don’t leave without meeting me.” She smiled, liked a fool in love and got ready, and moved out of his suite. She was leisurely walking around when she heard a peal of laughter; inquisitively, she walked towards the incoming voices. 

When she peeped in through the slight gap of the door, she saw two-man talking obnoxiously. To her horror, she realized it was Her Man and Jack, her boss. And they were talking about her. “I told you she would fall for me; no woman can resist aristocracy, now we will have both the diamond and the insurance money.” 

Jack asked, “What about her?”.

The Man laughed, “She will go to jail in case of robbery, but not before I get the money from the insurance company.” 

Tears rolled down her eyes; she was right all along in not trusting people. She moved back into the suite and changed into her biking gear, which she kept handy for emergency escapes. She left the place, leaving only a note for the deceitful men. 

“Leaving right now, but my surprise awaits you tomorrow.”

The next morning, the world woke up with Prince’s news in police custody for the missing Kohinoor’s treachery.

How Human…

The silver knife in the pool of redness was lying in the sink. Among all those dirty yellow dishes, there were spots of red. And then there was this day-old curry smell, with a hint of fresh blood smell.

Sometimes we cut ourselves, and sometimes others cut us. Sometimes it’s physical, while sometimes it’s emotional. Sometimes it’s apparent, and sometimes it’s a little obscure. Sometimes its words said very non-nonchalantly, that slit you apart, leaving you to writhe in pain, with paleness left behind. Most often, the malefactor is unaware of the consequences of their words. And sometimes they are, and they intentionally go on, causing the massacre. Sometimes its revenge and sometimes it’s their idea of fun.

Alizah, who has recently converted herself into a human, was unable to comprehend this capacity of human hatred. She has witnessed their love for each other; this aggravated malice was unthinkable for her newly adapted human brain. In her race, they killed each other with a touch, when someone crossed the written code. But she realised that human though considered killing an offence and called it murder, took great pleasure in throwing heart-wrenching words. And no one is to be blamed if someone dies of bad words. Those who die because of words were often considered too weak and unfit for human society. There was no social code that found death with words as murder.

Closing her eyes, she tried to recall the medication to stop the bleeding. In her veins, there was still some element of her past life, which was capable of healing injuries, caused by humans. Holding her wrists, she concentrated on her black molecules, which slowly stopped the oozing blood.

Today she was able to survive and heal, but who knows for how long will she be able to bear the atrocities of humans? Whether the love of millimetres, provided over short spans, will turn the hatred of litres. Only time will tell whether humans can be real humans to a non-human.

Prologue : Wolf Moon

I often wonder what were you looking, when you found me.
Maybe what you say is right, that you weren’t looking, it was like I came in your way and stopped you from going forward without me.Or maybe what I say is true, that we were destined to meet, the way we met. I think my version looks more romantic, yeah bit fatalist, but who cares.

But somehow, this one quoted line doesn’t quench the writer inside me. I want to have a story that paints the town red like Romeo and Juliet’s, but they have a tragic ending. And I am not a big lover of sad endings. However, the hopeless romantic that you usually call me desires quite a lively end. And then there is this reader inside me who would crave a different version. I can’t write what I won’t like as a reader. That’s the only rule I go by when it comes to my writing.

So the best thing would be to have an open ending, showing the marks but not the ways and allowing each reader to have their imaginations run wild, making the story much more fulfilled.

We all hold so many stories inside us. Some we share with one or two people, some with a group and some with none. But there are only a few stories in our life that need to be out there, in the open for the world, to relish, to devour, and to lose themselves in its essence.

I feel our story is one such tale, simple for those who believe that we live only once, complicated for those who live for the world and multilayered for those who live multifaceted life.

So with a lot of trepidation’s, I let my story breathe its course, to find its path, and to reach its destination. May all my readers find a part of themselves in this story, may it touch something deeper within you, and may you find the one you are seeking, knowingly or unknowingly.

“Who could be so lucky? Who comes to a lake for water and sees the reflection of moon.”
― Rumi

PS: This is a prologue to the fiction I started writing a while back, you can check Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. I will come with Chapter 3 very soon.

The Room

Darkness loomed in the room, no lights, no candles, only the voice of swaying cypress trees from outside. Clanging windows, fluttering pages of an open book and an upturned basket full of fruits lying on the floor. The storm came, taking away the calmness of the place, and leaving behind the chaos that needed settlement.

She walked cautiously, calculating every move, touching and feeling objects to mark her way in the room. The lamp still stood intact in the leftmost corner, reminding her of the time when she read her last book under its luminous light. The dusty rug showcased the distance between the room and the human touch. The stack of diaries with blurred designs, the pen stand filled with colored pens but dried inks, talked about the years passed by in both their lives.

It was autumn when she went to bed, yesterday and when she woke up the season suddenly turned into summer. Somehow she has missed the winters altogether or maybe passed them in her dreams. How would you feel if you were snuggling in a small corner with hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, reading a spooky book one evening and somehow you dozed off, and when you woke up it was sunny and too warm to sit beside the fireplace? You were dreaming of entering into Narnia from the cupboard because that’s what the story told you all along, but you never get the chance to witness the war, you only see the green pastures and the lion standing up the hill.

Even though you witness the bright side at the end, but what about the journey? Isn’t the fun always lies in the journey, and not in the destination. And what about the learnings and the wild whirlwinds that would have made you much stronger as a person. You stand on another side of the storm unprepared for the stark new reality of your life.

Yet, this was her reality now. In the blink of an eye, the library has been invaded by nature, in her sleep. Now she had to make darkness her ally. Figure out the path and set the things back in order before the arrival of the next pumpkin-picking season.

As George Elliot said :

“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the Earth seeking the successive autumns.”


Have you ever felt that you are living someone else’s life all along and your real-life awaits you, someone where else. Reshma has this feeling in her heart from the time she came to realize her existence on this earth. Her life on the shore was a sleepwalk where she has moments of wakefulness when she meets city dwellers coming to the island from far away places to dwell in solitude and enjoy the loneliness of their soul. 

She couldn’t comprehend their need to isolate themselves. She, on the other hand, craved the madness of chaos and crowd. She has lived too long in the shadows of loneliness, and now her heart fluttered to fly high in the world of noises. But she had no idea how to break the chains that have bound her too long with the place she has called her home. Home is not always the place where you live, sometimes its the place you need to travel, to find the missing piece of your soul. 

On one bright Sunday morning, she was standing on the shore looking at the vastness of the ocean. And there arose a whirlwind in the middle of blueness, stirring her soul. It was like a wolf howling inside her chest, wild with the anticipation, of what lay ahead, beyond the horizon. The seizing typhoon brought the fishes to the shore, and they were wriggling in pain, their eyes had a fear of death that waited for them in no time. Yet, they were all trying to swim back in the water, not giving up the hope to have one more last chance at life. 

This struggle broke Reshama’s stupor and brought her to senses, and then she ran, like never before, not looking back at people calling her back, she kept running as if her life depended on this action, she ran breaking the roots tangling her to the place she called home, all along. 

No one knows what they might find across the border after all a border is just another wall of that side. But not crossing it just because everyone thinks you shouldn’t, is not the reason enough, to walk across the boundary line. 

I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floatin’ around accidental-like on a breeze. But I, I think maybe it’s both. – Forrest Gump. 


The limp body was lying in the pool of blood, waiting to be picked up from the floor by someone who will care enough. The blood wasn’t dark red, it was coral which made it feel like as if the coral reef was bleeding instead of a human body. People, as usual, started to gather around, most of them were there to witness what death looks like, for others, it was mere gossip that they would talk about on their dinner table. And then there are always a few curious ones, who want to know what exactly happened that led to this situation, but none of them cared enough to touch the body. They all assumed that nothing was left, that the light has gone out, and the only thing they could do is call the ambulance to pick up the body. Yes, now it was just a body, ready for burial in the graveyard or might be cremated, who knows, after all, no one came claiming it yet.

The spirit of the body was hovering over it, wondering what the commotion was all about. Why suddenly all these people were interested in her. People who wouldn’t even return her smile were now asking each other about her existence. How come, she became the talk of the town by one act of pursuit. Most of them were whispering, so she couldn’t decipher what exactly they thought had happened to her. The only thing that she kept wondering was why the so-called caring people, who would go mad about run over body of a dog on the road wouldn’t even dare to touch her body which still has few last breaths to take on this mortal world.

She chuckled at the synchronicity of the situation, no one cared enough when she was there, existing with her breaths, and no one cared enough now when she was ceasing to exist with her last breaths. The only thing they were determined to know was whether It was TAKEN or GIVEN?

PS : The story came from the Limerick that I wrote long time back for a challenge.

The Red Gift

There it was, in the open, lying, in front of his blue gate, on a golden box covered with a red silk cloth. A simple yellow stick note slipped under the box. The light from the full moon was making the box and its content glitter. All that was glittering wasn’t gold but was far more precious than everything he ever possessed.

He never knew there would come a day where something that he has chased for so long would be lying at his doorsteps, for his to keep, for a, forever. And now when it was so near, he was afraid to go near it. A surge of sudden fear uproared making him apprehensive, and he felt as if his mere touch would make it vanish away. The disquiet of the night led him to think that all that was happening wasn’t right. Somehow he was questioning himself again and again whether the bestowed gift wasn’t his to behold?

He knew that someone has given up everything to bring it up to him. Someone has crossed oceans and boundaries to serve it to him on a golden box. Someone has given up thyself, for thou were the Thee. The musings of his mind won’t settle down, and they were keeping him away from his long-cherished path.

The zephyr holding the fragrance of what lay in the wrapped cloth, tantalizing his senses, to look beyond his vision. His eyes fell on the stick note, with crabbed writing in red, saying,

“The gift is yours to behold, do what you think fitful.”

The words pierced his soul, subsiding every dilemma of his heart and mind. He sauntered towards the golden gift with the glistening eyes. With trepidation, he picked up the golden box, looking again at the scribbled words, touching them with his fingers and savoring them, giving delight to his soul. And then he unraveled the red cloth, holding the most precious gift of his lifetime, her HEART.

“In your light, I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.”  ―  Rumi

The wolf and the moon

‘The wolves love for the moon has its reasons, what reason, only the wolves heart knew.’

In the silence of the night, it was the wall clock which reminded him of the time. It’s one am now, and from the past one hour, he was busy attending all the birthday calls. But he was still waiting for that one call, and he started rechecking all of his social media accounts. He has unblocked her number, her accounts everywhere in the hope that she will wish him.

You know that feeling when you have everyone around you, your family and best friends except that one person. One person whose smile can make you go weak in your knees, one person who sees you as no one has ever seen you, one person who made your life a brighter place by just being there. And then there you are smiling and laughing, enjoying but yet aching to see that one face, dying to hear that voice one more time. Alas! Life is such that not every birthday wish comes true even if you blow a hundred candles on your 30th birthday. He kept the phone on silent mode and went to sleep.

The morning was holding coldness of the winter, but the warmth of the bright sun was adding sweetness to it. He woke up with few missed calls and a lot of messages on facebook and WhatsApp yet that one message, that one call was missing. He shrugged and laughed at his stupidity. Why was he expecting this miracle? He knew her too well, how stubborn and determined she could turn if she sets her heart to it. And she had set her heart never to bother him again.

He called back a few of his friends while eating yogurt and muesli at breakfast. While he was still eating and talking, he saw unknown number calling. He suddenly cut the call short with his friend. He quickly picked up the new call wishing it to be her. Instead, it was the uber driver calling him to inform that he was waiting in the parking lot. He suddenly picked up his office bag and left the unfinished bowl of the breakfast.

In the cab, he kept thinking about her. Her silly gifts, her midnight birthday wishes and her excitement over his birthday. It’s not that he hadn’t tried forgetting her, but every time he thinks she is fading from his mind, something of her comes back, making all the progress go in drain.

Once he reached office, he switched off his phone and submitted it at the security counter. He was working on a high-security project, and they were not allowed to carry cell phones in work premise. He swiped his card and entered the office, and there were balloons and a birthday card on his desk.
He smiled, and this reminded him of his last birthday, wherewith all of this, there was rose bouquet with a funny note from her. He sighed, the more he tries to run away from her memories, the more she comes closer.

His reverie passed, when one of his colleagues called out his name. People started gathering at his desk and wished him. He promised them a dinner party after office hours. The day passed by quickly. After all, when you are knee-deep in work, time loses its sense. By the time he came out of the office, it was 8 pm, he collected his phone and booked a cab. He told his colleagues that he would join them at the restaurant in an hour. He wanted a few minutes of loneliness, away from the chaos of the world. As he sat, in the cab, he started browsing through his messages, everyone wishing him, his college group calling him names, he chuckled at the bullshit, his friends were still capable of doing.

He browsed some more until he saw that name sitting amongst all, shining like a full moon. His heart skipped a beat, and with shaking hands, he opened the text.

“It’s here again, your special day and in a way mine too. On this special day of yours, I wish an abundance of laughter, happiness, bliss, and love. May your all dreams come true.

For a moment, he forgot to breathe, and when he started, he didn’t know what to do. He re-read it a few times before he realised that this is the way she has always been, not asking but giving, everything of hers to him. And then he knew what he has to do. He asked the cab driver to drop him there only. With a flushed face and broad smile, he dialled her number.

PS: So in continuation to the last fiction story I wrote, here I present the Part 2 , I hope you are not disappointed. For all those who haven’t read the part 1 of the story, please check it here.

Please do share your feedback, it keeps me motivated and helps me to improve as a writer.

Crescent to Full Moon

As darkness engulfs the vacant streets,
I light up myself,
To eat up the delicate shadows,
Of her, fragile body.

She was walking on the pavement, lost in her thoughts, uncared about the drizzle turning into heavy rain. The long wet hair was sticking to her face, and the crocs were squelching on the empty road. A little beam from the nearby lampposts was falling on her left side, and she looked like a crescent moon, awaiting perfection. A deep unsettling feeling has surged inside her. And these fluctuating waves were leading to a simmering pot of fire hidden deep inside her. Why was she feeling so angry? Was it a person or environment, causing her so much trouble. An unpleasant day which started with her losing her black pearl earring in the shower to her nearly getting hit by a car while crossing the road — followed by a stormy discussion with her boss on a new project.

She has given up on people a long time ago, or has she? Was she disguising her expectations from herself? After all, this time did she still believe that people can do things for her, selflessly. Or is just one person from whom her all expectation come rising. But she gave up on him too, a long time ago. And yet here she was feeling broken again because he didn’t reply to her text. She knew he wouldn’t, yet she couldn’t stop her heart from betraying her resolution of never texting him again. How could she, it was his birthday, a date which meant so many things to her. But then it was she who has asked him to leave her alone. She still remembers the night when she cruelly said those words, cutting the last thread of their unnamed relationship. She knew he had blocked her from all the platforms, but she hasn’t done that yet. She didn’t want to close this last gate, what if he wants to talk to her someday and what if when he tries, he couldn’t reach her. Hope against hope of losing or should she say finding herself again in those eyes where the chaos of the world, subsidies. Or maybe she needs to learn the art of walking alone. A tear trickled down her cheek, she smiled wryly and wiped her tear. It’s then she realized her phone was ringing in her raincoat’s pocket. Fumbling she took it out of her pocket. Glistening like a pearl was his name flashing on the screen filled with tiny rain droplets. She looked bemused, and then she smiled, lightning her dim eyes.
Now standing below the lamppost, she was the radiant full moon.

PS: Huhhh… finally after so many unfinished drafts of poems and stories written over last few days, I managed to write this small fiction piece, today. I hope you guys like my attempt. Do share your feedback in comments section.

An Autobiography of Wandering Soul

I always wanted to share my feelings with people. It’s just that I never got the chance to do so. I am just normal thing out their searching for the reason of my existence. My story of birth and survival is long and a bit boring too. But yet I have decided to tell my tale. I was born…Sorry I could not state the exact year as I got separated from my parents at the birth. I was fortunate enough as I got adopted. My foster-mother told me that she got enchanted by my charm. I was a little tiny body wrapped up in ice blue, from then on this color has become part of my individuality. Later on my foster parents had their own child and I was left in their store-room. Lying there in a forgotten world, I decided to search about my being in this world. I started out by finding my ancestral history which was searching people to listen their tale. Our lineage was some 3500 years old from the deserts of ancient Egypt. And then around the 11th century BC some of them moved to China and again out of their exploring attitude some of them got settled in ancient Greece and Rome during 1st millennia BC. But after the fall of the Roman Empire around 5th century AD, they disappeared from public appearances. It was only after 16th and 17th century, they spread to France, Italy and England. And after that this world has become their home. Now that’s quite an interesting history, isn’t it?

So finally I knew from where I came but I still didn’t know where I belonged. Let me tell you, living a life of negligence was not an easy task. I slid into darkness from which only an angel could bring me out. And for me that angel came in form of a beautiful eighteen year old cousin of mine (my aunt’s daughter) who took pity on my state and begged my mother to give my hand in her’s . In official terms she now became my responsible guardian. Under her guardianship I blossomed like flower, accompanying her to every place she visited. She became part of my life or rather I should say she became my life. But my happiness didn’t last too long, my sunshine got engaged to her longtime boyfriend. I hoped that she will take me to her new home but her husband denied it. Day before her marriage we both cried hugging each other, she with loud groans and smiling tears and I with heavy heart and unseen tears. I again became a restless soul and hid myself in my cocoon of dullness.

One day my aunt found me lying on her bed, while cleaning my cousin’s room. She decided that I should now move out of this house as my guardian angel is no longer staying with them. But she was kind enough to take my responsibility and find a new home for me. From then on she posted various advertisements on various sites for my adoption. After a long time her desperate search for my new home or I should say new shed ended. I again landed up in a new home with a new guardian. But this time I don’t expect anything out of anyone. I have learned one thing while living with these people, that no strings attached relation is the best one. Now again, I go with my owner (as I like to call them) to her office every day with a smile. She is kind enough to give me a smile every morning when she holds my hand and take me with her. I now know that my destiny lies in being the wanderer of the world, living a life of non-living in the living world.


Ice Blue Umbrella

P.S: I wrote this piece thinking of what if an umbrella had a soul . Have you ever thought about any non-living thing in this way ?? If yes, then please share your thoughts in comments section . I would be really glad to hear your take on this 🙂

PPS: I am now a proud guardian of an Ice Blue Umbrella 🙂