A Show Of Hands…

This thought just struck me.

And I need all of you to help me make it work.

I’m starting a story with one paragraph here. Thereafter, I am listing you, in the order that I would like you to respond.

Here’s what you have to do: Write a paragraph, not more than four sentences long. E-mail it to me. I will publish it. That will be an indication for the next on the list to prepare and send his/her set. We work our way to the end of the list. I will neither edit nor moderate your contributions since the aim of the activity is to see how well we communicate quite apart from the use of words…

Let’s see how well we make it happen.

She sat down at the table and ordered a cappucino. The warm April sun had finally brought the town to life. The piazza was abuzz with folk, all seemingly occupied in the great pursuit of Life. Watching people, as those very few who knew her would confirm, was her quiet manner of saying “I’ve had enough” while she…

{Raunak}

was wondering “Why? Why did this happen to me? Till now I’ve been good. So why do I have to go through this?”  Then suddenly ashamed of her self pity she decided to take hold of her life and move on. It struck her like a brick wall- If she did not stop wallowing in self pity then life would be worse than what she had been through.

” Hey there! Can I sit on this chair? ” he asked, breaking her chain of thought. “Sure! Anyway I was about to leave” she replied. “What a beautiful woman!” he thought suddenly having naughty thoughts in mind. “Wait!” he started behind her, when..

{Natasha}

.. it suddenly hit him. He’d known her before, in another lifetime, another world.. it seemed like it was aeons ago but ofcourse it hadn’t been that long, had it? Sometimes five years can feel like a lifetime, sometimes it feels like yesterday! She turned around, gave the intruder a questioning look and then looked at him with total disbelief. It couldn’t be him, or could it? His hair was shorter and he didn’t wear glasses anymore but he still had that air about him, that self-assured demeanour she had found endearing the first time they had met. Not knowing how to react she…

{Sunny}

backed off, violent images of the past flashing before her eyes.

Umaparvati turned around in an instant and started walking as fast as she could.  Far, far away from the man she had once loved.  Gaurishankar Pandey was his name.  Tall, dark, and handsome, he had appeared to be the man of her dreams when she first met him.  Not only was he goodlooking and charming, but was also an immensely succesful auto-rickshaw driver from Bulandshahar.  Sophistication and class oozed from his silky red kerchief around his neck, the bundle of 555 pataka biri that he used to smoke, and the shiny packet of Manikchand gutkha in his shirt pocket.  As her legs picked up pace, she recalled that her father was about to marry her off to some investment banker living in NYC when she had happily announced that she was pregnant with Gaurishankar’s child.  As she kept walking, she now saw him standing right in front of her !  In her haste to get away, she had walked all around to piazza only to come face-to-face with him once again.  What was he doing here ? That too in Italy, for heavens sake ?

And then she saw it, that horrible black-and-yellow autorickshaw. But what was an autorickshaw doing in Italy ?  Was it …

{Chaitali}

…actually there? was she imagining? was she seeing it there because she wanted it there? She turned around with a spin to interrogate the situation. He was not there. She looked at the autorickshaw and there he was in it…slowly approaching her.
The autorickshaw was galloping! There was a cool breeze blowing her hair. Her skirt flowed and matched the rhythm of his silky red kerchief making ripples in the cozy April breeze.

Her dream had started off to show her the lover – the choice of whom she had left to life and destiny. She had expected to see a handsome prince on a white horse. The horse was however replaced by that horrible black-and-yellow autorickshaw. And her prince – the tall, dark, handsome autoricksahw driver? Oh yes!! She had still wanted him so much – her swollen womb reminded her!

She did not want this dream to end…

{Vivek}

…and nor would it, had it only been a dream. The Ghost Receptacle had generated a reality far more stretched out than any imagination and far more intense than any emotion. She could have realised that it was a bad idea but she wasn’t conscious enough, and nor was this a trial trip. Gaurishankar had paid for this criminal service discreetly and now the trip woudln’t stop until the programmed period didn’t end. He knew he had to have his revenge. What better revenge than making her fall for the most atrocious parts of his personality. What better revenge than making her love him for all that which she hated the most.
Her love for him oozed from every pore of her body and she felt her head go dizzy with love for the rickshaw and the driver. Every inch of her existence craved for Gaurishankar’s greasy hands to caress her falwless skin. Images of the backseat of the rickshaw filled her head, and her eyes closed to intensify the memory of every touch, every feeling and every little sensation.
Amidst all this, a small feeble voice in her head tried to cry out loud. The small gasping voice tried to reach out to and awaken her conciousness. The small voice was actually a 5 point multi hertz vocal jolt on her ear drum that Dr Sameer Stylist used on his own wife, to save her from what seemed like a certain death. The voice said, “I love you Batty, come back.”
She saw a crack in the window of the horrible-black-and-yellow…

{Hitesha}

“Ugh” she wrinkled her pretty button nose in pure disgust. She stared at the black and white dribbled monitor for fifteen seconds, then folded her elbows on the table and leaned on them with a sigh. This really was not helping. Who in their right mind, writes about rickshaw driver ghosts and ghastly love stories?

She looked around her. Blue black magpies split the white fluffed skies with their elegant flights. The winds rustled through the sweet smelling pine trees and carried their flirting scents right up to her. The sun kissed her thoughtful expression, as if encouraging her to not give up just yet. She shook her head once again and did a mental check of what she already had with her:

Gaurishankar, Umaparvati, a picturesque setting in italy, a haunting love story and a writer’s block…

{Abhinav}

.. disgusted with her choice of reading this pathetic blog.. she shuts down her laptop. As she gets the screen down.. she is delighted at the sight of the one hour old cappucino. Rightly justifying the fame of the shop.. the coffee was still fresh with its seductive aroma. Sipping it drop by drop, she was unknowingly staring out of the window. As a result of the weird article she read, she drifted down in her old memory lanes…
The confident and beautiful Suzane of today, was just an year back a helpless Sultana. After the death of her mother, she had to work as a maid to feed her alcoholic father at a tender age of 13. She had her own dreams.. but she never knew when they were thwarted as she grew up in the actual reality of the now famed Slumdog Millionaire- Slums of Mumbai. The beautiful Sultana at the age of 16 is forced to marry Aslam, in return her father is promised free liquor till the time he lives. Aslam a druggist was a devil.. but life continued.Physical and mental abuse were a routine..Father died after an year, as such his existence had ceased to matter for her long time back. The pain and anger of all these years was expressed when at the fateful night she accidentaly killed her husband while ressisting the daily beatings. Sultana runs away to Kolkata.
She has had enough and now she should free herself and respect her life. She had to make quick money. Being illiterate she knew she had to take a bold decision. She acts on her strength and enters the proffession that is looked down (but at the same time fully utilised) by the so called society. And Suzane is born..
Not only is she rich.. she has many influential clients. Soon her dream was going to come true. She flies down to Italy as the wife of one of her clent Albert Decousta (the smuggler). Now Suzane is at a place where she can comfortably forget her dreaded past and start afresh.
But Albert is no better than Aslam, and she had to find a way out ……. 

{Amey}

…from coming full circle like Umaparvati. Yes, the nira glass was now replaced with the most expensive champagne money can buy, the autorickshaws gave way to a Bugatti Veyron. She no longer took the 7.34 local to Bhayander, but the 7.34 TGV to Paris to gaze at another sad lady in a painting (who is said to be really famous). Holiday spots were no longer Khandala or Lonavala but instead Ibiza and Venice.

Yet it all seemed the same. With Aslam, even though married to him, she was the adornment of a lot many beds. So with Albert. At least the monsters now did not reek of gutkha. She was as lonely now as ever. Needing love, care and compassion. Albert had promised all that, but it all proved to be a mirage, which disappeared as soona s they landed in Italy.

Disappointed at the turn her life had taken, she sighed and focused outside the window when she saw him. Tall dark and handsome, almost as if he was the aforementioned Gaurishankar. Right then she knew that this was…

{Aks}

{Gurleen}

{Kunal}

{D}

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