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Showing posts from March, 2014

Exam Room Romance

Exam 1    I reach the exam centre five minutes late. My bicycle got punctured. Papa lectured me all the way to the centre. I get checked by the police as I wait impatiently.     I sweat profusely as I run up two floors of stairs with a heavy satchel. I check my card. Yes. I am on the correct floor. I enter the exam room.
    The question paper has already been distributed. I rush to my seat and start drawing the margins on my answer sheet.     A little less than three hours later the invigilator collects the answer sheets. I am in a hurry to attempt all questions when he snatches away my answer sheet.     I rest my head on the desk. It went terribly. Exam 2     I reach the exam hall on time. People keep trickling in till the last bell. The bell rings and suddenly the  invigilators come to life, distributing question papers with the efficiency of well-oiled machines.     I spend the next three hours writing, revising and improving my answers. The exam goes better than I expected. I sh…

Spoons and Forks

Growing up was not easy for the young Luke Forkstein. Everyday he would return home with a scratch or a dent. He got picked on lot by the bigger forks because he did not look like the others. He had curvy tines and an awkward scoop. They had named him 'poop-scoop'. They would tell him to go back where he came from, which really confused Luke, because he was from the same town! One day he asked his mother, "Mum, why don't we look like the others?"
        Philippa looked at her son. She had always dreaded this moment. "It's because we are spoons," she said, sitting down at the dining table. "Sit down son... I'll tell you a story." she said, passing him a bowl of noodles. "This was before the the great cutlery war began. I met your father in one of your grandfather's parties. Your father was one of the finest in Forkland. We fell in love immediately. Your grandfather was furious when he found out that I wanted to marry …


    “Sir, Mr. Tiwari is here. Should I send him in?”
    “Hmmm… Okay. Send him in”    Moments later, the door opened, and a middle-aged man walked in. Mr. Tiwari was dressed to the nines in a suit and polished shoes.
    “Namaste Joshiji.”, he said, his palms pressed together in a traditional Indian greeting.
    “Namaskar, Tiwariji”, the minister said, “Take a seat”
    “Thank you.”, Tiwari said, pulling up a chair for himself. “I believe you know what I am here for.”
    “Yes. I do. And I have already told your people that this project is not possible.”
    “This project is very important to me. I would even say that I’m very sentimental about this project.”
    “Then make the changes we have suggested, and we will let it be built”
    “You know it just as well as you do that we won’t be able to afford to make the changes so late in the project.”
    “My hands are tied, Tiwariji. Your project poses a risk to the public. If it collapses, we will both get in trouble. I can…

Freaky Night

It was dark. He was sitting listlessly on the sofa, waiting for his wife to prepare the bed. Oil lamps flickered in the palatial room. She walked in playfully, and gracefully, dressed regally in a sari.

        He stared at his homely wife in disbelief, as she walked across the room totally oblivious to him. She radiated like he had never seen her radiate in the three years of their marriage. She walked to the table and picked up the dish. She looked utterly gorgeous. Maybe it was the isolation, maybe the boredom of a dead phone, or just the atmosphere finally kicking in, but he felt excited to see his wife.

        "Am I really looking at my wife? Or are you some angel from heaven?", he asked.

        She looked at him—puzzled—as if he were the last person she would expect to see in the room; but in a moment, her eyes lit up, and her smile stretched ear to ear. She licked some ice-cream off of the dish, and glanced lustfully at him. She looked ferocious.