Skip to main content

wish wagon




(Technically my first short story.... which was supposed to be  published in College Magazine but it never made it to the print. Please read and review,,,)






The car enters through the newly painted Gates of the Complex.  Watchman Shivdas pays his regular respect with a salute… As the car passes he gets trapped in his dream and wonders “Will my son earn the perfect life they live?”. In the car, young girl with headphones penetrated to her ear drums and gazing  through fifty two years old Shivdas, a woman beautifully dressed in pink sari with a smile from lips , a man busy on his cell phone.. ; all driven by the driver…. 

Another pair of eyes fell on the car,,, the eyes belonged to thirty one years old Mrs. Dutta of flat 307-A.  The eyes looked at slightly wrinkled skin which was covered under the make up and ornaments.. Mrs. Dutta sighed “ A lucky woman she is,  mother of a well mannered girl, wife of a successful man, a house of her own, hence she is still young”…

As the girl stepped out, seventeen year old eyes of  Kavaya  fell on her..  Kavaya traced the ears stuffed with the headphones… The headphones connected to the Ipod held in hand… She remembered the recent past when she was refused her demand of Ipod by her father… Kavaya uttered “ Sixteen is what she is, and yet she has what I was denied of being underage… No wonder she is loved more than us”…

The valiant heart  of twenty eight, started beating  faster inside Viveek,  as soon as he saw the car and the man..  Viveek has aimed higher, he wants to be successful, is working double the efforts… He aspires for a Apartment and car by Thirty one, married by Thirty three, and father by Thirty five… All planned for life.. As the man walks past him he adds to his planning “ I have to become rich and valuable like him”..

This family has become the ideal happy family… They are economically strong and sound, they travel together, eat together, laugh together, … to the people of complex, they are an inspirations… No maid ever backbites, no neighbour gossips …

                                                                                             *** 

The door opens, the maid gives a welcome smile,
 
Three strangers’ part as soon as they step in… the furnished drawing room…. 

The girl enters her room, shoves off the Ipod, which was never played, but was a defensive tool against any awkward questions,, Her door shuts, and the sign board shines  ‘Do Not Disturb, Knock to enter….’

The man enters the master bedroom, undresses, takes of his tie- dropping the arms for today’s war… He looks at his youthful picture, a boy with a microphone… He gets lost in thoughts,…. But he wakes himself up, and dials a number and gets busy with his next presentation….

The woman takes of her jewels  with her cello-tapped smile,… She walks to her closet, to keep her ornaments safe, to suddenly meet her certificate of excellence- buried under the boxes of trinkets her solace in life…  … Her painted lips part to speak, but she knows not what to speak….   

                                                                                               ***

The maid calls out for dinner,

The strangers again meet….

The girl, the women, the man, sit together and looks down at their bowls of soup…. They eat in silence;…. But the three pair of eyes avoid meeting each other… yet, when they meet, an hollowness gulps down the compassion and communication  … Fate sleeps, something futile catches  the three pair of eyes residing in the faces, they read something hanging in front of them for years….

"Other thing may Change us, but we start and end with the family"  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Book Review: When The River Sleeps by Easterine Kire.

Book Review: When The River Sleeps by Easterine Kire. Quote: Perhaps the answer lay not in striving but in being. In simply accepting that the loneliness would never be eliminated fully, but that one could deal with it by learning to treat it like a companion and no longer an adversary. Ville a hunter wakes up from a dream, ventures out to search for the heart-stone; that holds the power of the river that's asleep. And this stone is guarded by wailing-angry-widow-spirits. Many attempts have been made at magical realism in Indian English writing, and I didn't like them. My personal opinion is that magical realism needs a deep connection with nature, maybe never explicitly explored in the text, but the traces of that connection always shows in the words written. And I have always argued that North East India is the most fertile ground to plant the seeds of magical realism in. Easterine Kire, pens our deep connection with nature for the national readership to gawk...

Word Addict...

                Witch that resides in my heart becomes rest less every-time I loiter down the only bookshop (actually there are many,only two of them have readable books) in my Town. The witch again goes wild, when her stumbling feet walks down College Street in Kolkata. My every visit to Kolkata compels the witch to go there and I feel immense joy running down my blood vessels         I chanced upon Penguin  blogspot  about the modern methods of buying books how times have changed and how the writer feels about it... I was having personal thoughts to write about my evolution as a book addict , and the blog post  helped me to write my own..                  Being a girl I know shopping is the best therapy to distress soul, but for me book buying is the biggest therapy which irritates my family. I still remember my first visit to College S...

Book Review: #Orangetoons by Shreya Sen

Book Review: #Orangetoons by Shreya Sen Quote:You are anyways going to carry the baggage right? So how about caring nice things in it? Just the perfect little pocket size comics you need before you end your day and curl up under your dohar. Hilariously illustrated, gives you what was once known as pearls of wisdom and what we would call as: two penny thoughts every millennial carries in her purse. Superbly relatable if you wear glasses and have untamed hair and have a thing for boxers. I deliberately did not photograph the inside of this tiny book. But it is a good example on how to do your independent or self-publishing gig right, the size, the colour and the binding are to the point and nothing extravagant or flashy. A lesson for young creators of comics can learn from, keep it short and simple. Just get your own copy from @shreyasensagoli. I especially loved the art with the caption: Allow objects to change if you wish to preserve them!