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Everyone loves stories. Everyone has a story to tell.


January 2016

Shankar and Millie

Shankar was nothing if not meticulous. He did everything in an orderly fashion and the one bedroom, sparkly clean apartment of his was a standing proof of it. There was never a thing out of its place with clothes hanging in a row in the compact wardrobe; handkerchiefs, vest and underpants folded in a symmetrical pattern and arranged in respective drawers. One would never find a coffee stain on the table, the floors were shiny and not a speck of dust could meet any fingertips. All this managed by the man alone with no woman in his life, not even a domestic help.

Shankar himself was a vision for sore eyes – his hair never out of place and the clothes were perpetually wrinkle free as if no one existed within it; his car sparkled even on the dusty roads. In a world of mess and chaos, Shankar was laughed at and looked down upon. People called him a simpleton.

“Shankar, look your shirt button popped out”, they would tease him.

“There is tea stain on your desk”, they would bother him

“Hey Shankar boy”, they would walk over and ruffle his hair.
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It’s A Beautiful Day Today !

After the alarm clock had snoozed infinite times, with tugs of sleep still pulling my eyelids tightly, I struggled to see the time on my phone. 7:30am!! The alarm had been snoozing for past hour and we had 45 mins to get out of the door so that no one is late for where they need to get to.

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A Dreadful Night While Traveling By Indian Railways

Travel is meant to be an enjoyable experience but there are times it becomes just the opposite. Our storyteller tells us about a horrifying experience while traveling by train in India a couple of years back. This story happened two years back but similar stories continue to happen even today and there is little to no measure in place to address it. There is also no dearth of onlookers who silently prefer witnessing the wrongdoings. 

Continue reading “A Dreadful Night While Traveling By Indian Railways”

The Turquoise Scarf

It is little after ten in the morning. The early birds have left and the regulars have settled in. The café is quiet except for the usual sound of the espresso machine and a grand piano being played at the far end. There is discussion about Trump and the presidential election happening on one of the tables.  A charity event is being strategized on another. A few people sit huddled at an oblong table, fixated to their screens and typing away to glory. A group of women, in hiking gears, are engrossed in a late morning breakfast of croissants and latte while discussing all things in life. 

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