my freaky stories

The rain and the request

It started raining. There was no place to hide. Did he even want to hide? He had always loved the rain, the flow of drops from up above. He wanted to get wet. Well, sure enough, he did get wet.

The road was empty. The rain went heavy. He was enjoying. And then he saw someone out there on that empty road. She was a girl. She seemed to be the same age as his. She was enjoying the downpour as well. And why had he not noticed her until then? He left the question in the air and kept looking at her.

She looked tall and fair. She was there at a distance, sometimes looking back at him. He couldn’t see her face. She was far enough for that. And the rains; they had reduced the visibility furthur. Shall I try to get closer? He asked himself. And even before he could get an answer from his inner self, he was walking in her direction.

She had stopped noticing him. She was too busy with the water falling all over her. Her blue colored jacket and the denim trousers gave her the look of a college girl. He stopped walking once he was close enough to have a look at her face. Was she smiling at him? No, obviously that was his fantacy. Wait a sec, she was indeed smiling. Smiling at a stranger! He had to be sure. He had forgotten about the rain. Now it was only her. He had to be sure how she was taking him and then he asked himself. Shall I go to her and ask? And even before he could get an answer from his inner self, he was walking towards her.

She was indeed smiling. Smiling at him in the rain. Who was she? The rain had slowed down to some extent, but it was still thick. Now her face was clearer. He looked at her but didn’t speak (or rather he couldn’t speak?). He did not know what to speak. She did know. And she spoke

“Hi, this rain is lovely. I am P”

“P? hi, nice to meet you. This is Q”

“Am i beautiful?”

“What? Oh yes, sure you are. Of course, you are. In fact you are awesome. “

“Can you do anything for me?”

He was confused. This girl who called herself P appeared to be crazy. Or may be she was acting like one. What did she mean by ‘anything’?

“What is it that you want me to do?” He replied with the tone of a confused man.

“Do you see that bird there, besides the bush?” She asked him as she pointed towards a small bush on the other side of the road. He could see the bird.

“Thats a duck. Do you want me to catch it for you? I will surely do that.” And even before he could get an answer from her, he had started walking towards the bush.

“No wait. I Want you to kill it”

He paused. He thought he had heard something wrong. May be because of the rains. But had he heared kill? He turned back. She repeated her desire. His face turned dull. She was indeed crazy, he told to himself. Why the hell in this world she wanted a duck to be killed? He had no clue. And why the hell would he do such a stupid thing? He was standing there, frozen. His mind was throwing so many questions and this time it was impossible to move any more before he could get an answer from his inner self.

Why should I kill a bird? Just becaus a crazy girl wants me to do so? Even before he could get an answer from his inner self, he saw the duck moving away. He followed it with a blank mind. In fact he ran towards it. The bird was soon within his reach. And he grabbed it. He brought the duck to P and asked her finally.

“Why do you want me to kill it? What has it done to you? Are you crazy?”

“I will answer all your questions but only if you do what I have asked you to do. And you don’t have much time to think. I want you to do this before the rain stops. And I can already see its slowing down. Do this fast Q. Please kill this bird”.

He turned back. He was still not sure. He could either leave the bird from where he had picked it and leave the place. Or he could actually kill the bird and then get to know why did she want him to do so. He looked at the bird. It was not making much noise. It appeared to be sick. It was sick. He realized that if someone didn’t take care of this creature, it would anyway die. And then he looked towards the sky. The rain was indeed slowing down; time was running short. And then suddenly he felt the bird go cold. The creature had collapsed in his hands. It had died. He didn’t know how he felt. He hadn’t killed the bird but it was dead.

He turned back. Oh my! What did he see? She was lying on the road. Unconscious. He took his right hand to feel her breath. She was not breathing. She was dead. The blue jacket had turned red at places. That was blood. She had killed herself. He ran away.

He commited suicide the same day next year.


The art of tearing wrappers

Yes, it’s an art. Some people are good at it. From a big pack of waffles to a sachet of the worst packed detergent powder; they can tear open the sealed wrapper in one good go. These guys kind of have it in them. Their hands find the pattern, detect the best spot on the packet, where one slight twist of the plastic in some typical angle will do the job.

I am definitely not one of these talented wrapper tearers. In the small town in which I was preparing for JEE, my bro and myself often used to get candies from shop. I never liked those which were sealed inside the world’s most secure wrappers. My bro has been good at getting things out of the packet pretty fast. It was me who suffered whenever we took halls, chloromints and sealed stuffs like that. What I usually had to do with such candies was to switch to the aid of my strong canines when fingers failed to do the magic. At times even the teeth didn’t work. And finally it used to be my bro who did the favour for me. Annoying wrappers.

This problem persists here in IIT. It happened today. There are times when all you lose is time, putting fight to tear the wrapper. Some times its a little more. Today it was a little more. I took a choco bar. And this ice-cream had been put inside such an annoyingly sealed wrapper that I had almost lost my patience. However hard I tried, it failed to break free. And the poor choco-bar lyed there inside the wrapper; waiting for me; me waiting for it. And here was this wrapper well aware of what was going to happen to it as soon as it was torn. It was like any other wrapper, refusing to obey you. This wrapper looked like the villain in a typical movie, not letting me, the Hero to reach his love, the choco bar. And by the time the villain was finally torn apart and thrown into a dust-bin, my love had melted enough. I had to devour it fast to stop it from leaking in all over my hands.


2:51 AM and its me who’s suddenly worried

I am worried about myself.

I am here in the best college in India which can give anyone a masters degree in civil infrastructral engineering. It was indeed an effort to get in here.

It will take more than two and a half years before I am awarded with the degree. That will be a dual Bachelor’s and Masters degree.

I never feel like an engineer. Will this world respect me as an engineer when I step out of this great institute of technology?

A few moments ago, I googled for a civil infrastructure company and that led me to the webpage of “never heard before” Colorado based civil infrastructure company. There was a link that led to internship program at that place. As I read it, i found out they take about 20 guys each year as interns and involve them in their projects. Can I ever be one of them? Will they ever call ME?
There are obviously more crucial questions to be answered. Why do I want them to take me in? Well the answer is pretty simple. I wanna get hands-on experience in this engineering field because this is the area in which I am going to be called a Pro. But have I ever cared about being a Pro. Have I ever looked at things that way. No.

So you understand now why I am worried. I am worried about myself. I am worried about my attitude towards life. I dont say I dont like my attitude. I love it. But that gives me pains sometimes. Specially when I realize I have been missing on something because of the way I have set myself mentally. And just because I love this attitude so much, its so difficult to change it. Am I confusing you? Oh.. I think I should have better told you about my attitude in the first place.

I will call it “carefree”. It gives a sense of freedom when I get up with this attitude. It gives me pleasure. It lets me feel life whatever way I want to. And so i love this attitude.

But then it sure has a problem. I dont care about the future. The future’s not going to care about me. So this is how this carefree attitude gives me pain. Whenever my mind does the future-probing, the same attitude that makes blood run inside me at other time, hits me with a solid bang.

Bang Bang. I dont need to conclude all the times. Do I?? Dint I tell you I am carefree?


The Ganglion

did you say:
dont know what is it?
a ganglion of course
isn’t famous a bit

it is a disease
that can do no harm
a ganglion is nothing
it got no charm

you see a hill
under your skin
its so small and yet
you lose your grin

as the doctor sees
the mistry he solves
“its a ganglion
on its own it dissolves”

you wait desperately
for the hill to vanish
that happen soon
you always wish

you look at your wrist
where it lies
the hill, the ganglion
not at all nice

one half of a TT ball
put inside your skin
thats the ganglion
a stupid bulge therein

as the days pass
the bulge only grows
you get worried
on your face it shows

you bang at his door.
the docotor says: “hi,
if it doesn’t leave
lets kick it high”

he uses the syringes
does this, does that
and the ganglion is gone
the hill turns flat

the unwanted guests
who keep coming on
you have faced often
aren’t they ganglions?

no doctor can help
all you do is wait
a ganglion is better

you can at least operate


Love at first sight

Love at first sight is not love. But yes, it is indeed a feeling that can grow into love. And if it does so, only then is the phrase “love at first sight” justified.

I told it’s a feeling that can grow into love but not love itself. Is there a name for this feeling? Sure. It’s called infatuation. At first sight all you get is attracted. If you are a believer in love at first site, you would take infatuation for love so unknowingly. If you are a non believer you would know it’s not love. Immaterial of who you are, the fact is that this infatuation can grow into love in some time. In how much time? I cannot answer that. Can anyone?

When I say this infatuation CAN grow into love I mean to say that it doesn’t always grow into love. Following all kinds of path, this feeling which erupts at first sight may either die or transform into something else or the best of all turn into true love. The path this feeling follows is dependent on so many things. To start with, it depends on whether you are a believer in the philosophy of love at first sight or not. How? Read on.

There are two possibilities that exist if you are a believer in the philosophy of love at first sight.

If you are a believer, it will take relatively more time for you to realize that your feeling is not at all love. This happens only when things don’t go fine with your belief. When you happen to interact with the object of your affection and ‘something’ tells you things are not going to work out. You start getting closer to reality. But you do that slowly, at a brisk pace. This ‘something’ is a weak feeling and the well disguised strong attraction still appears to be nothing else but love. Finally there comes a time, it sure comes, when you have no doubt that it’s not love. Love was never there. And the instant this feeling comes, you have transformed into a non believer. It’s good and it’s bad too. It’s good because you realized that love at first sight never existed. It’s bad because your attraction failed to grow into love.

The second possibility is that, if you are a believer it might so happen that you never realize the fact that you are not actually in love. You might always hold this view that it was indeed love at first sight. You might never realize the transformation of the feeling of attraction into that of pure love. But then how does that matter? If at the end of the day you are in true love, whatever you assumed in the beginning will look alright to you.

There is no meter that can confirm whether you are in love or not at any point of time. So if you think that you are in love, it’s impossible for anyone to convince you otherwise. But irrespective of your understanding of your feelings, the fact remains that at first sight it is attraction and nothing else. A believer realizes this only when at some point of time, the attraction goes. The same believer never realizes this if that attraction never goes and indeed it transforms into true love after interacting with the subject and after some time.

Now let me talk about the non believers. They can be talked about in three sets. Let the first set consist of those whose feelings die in some time. They reassure themselves that they were correct in rejecting the idea of love at first sight. For these people they do not get the chance to deviate from truth. This will become clear when you consider the other two sets of non believers.

The second and third set deals with those whose feelings grow into love. One set of persons would conclude that they were fools when they didn’t believe in the philosophy of love at first sight. They would think they were wrong earlier when the truth is that they think the wrong way now. The third set would realize that though it was not love at first sight, it grew into love with time and interaction. These men/women are capable of seeing the transformation. They saw their attraction grow into love. Earlier I had stated that the first set never got a chance to deviate from truth. I guess that’s clear now. This last set has the option to believe like the second set, but they do not deviate from truth like them. They have the option to think like the second set; think things which are not actually true. These people are the ones who understand the world the best way. They see the truth. They can never be blinded to think that love at first sight exists.


A part of a process

A part of a process,
don’t know much about.
But I’m only a part,
I have no doubt.

And then I ask:
what is this process?
Why does it exist;
has it any causes?

I keep on thinking…
without any clue.
They keep coming
like bolts out of blue.

They are the questions
that catch me offguard
and force me to think;
they hit so hard!

Visions get blurred;
answers never found.
Ideas and speculations
fill up the background.

The reason of my life,
I try hard to see.
But the space’s so hazy,
so dirty, soily and greasy.

Will I ever play a part?
Small or big, isn’t trivial.
What is it- matters.
Need an answer, that’s real.

I need to know, who I am.
And what am I doing..
Why am I living?
Where am I going…

So many things..
They are spread around.
What’s meant for me-
can that be found?

Or shall I believe,
this world is mine?
There’s a process and a part;
where lies the line?

I’ll die one day….
This life I shall leave.
I’ll quit this process.
Some men might grieve.

The process wont stop.
My part’ll sure end..
Why’s this process needed?
As its part why are we sent?

Who did program?
Programmed me and the rest;
who know to survive,
who run and who rest.

Who breathe unaware
and never realize,
they are just slaves.
They live with lies!

These slaves of the world
shall some day be packed.
Their part will be over,
& then, they’ll be sacked.

They are needed for
the process, and so am I.
What if I refuse?
What if I wanna die?

That will be a flaw;
a flaw in the code
that makes me live
and follow all, on the road.

Such flaws we have seen
and named them suicide.
The process still works,
life exists with pride.

And I lie down here,
still unaware….
What am I doing?
Why am I here…..


an unfinished story…

And that night he couldn’t sleep well.

It was raining heavily in the hot afternoon when Rohit was having his cup of black coffee. He was sitting in front his Dad’s computer and keenly watching a movie of a kind which he couldn’t have watched even if a single person was around. Yes, he was alone. His dad had gone out to work, and mom was in the market. Rohit was the only child to his parents. The rainfall had made the mercury go down by a few degrees. The cool breeze was adding glamour to the climate. It was about 2.00 Pm, but it seemed as if evening had already arrived.

As thunderstorms became very frequent, Rohit decided to switch off the system. He was well aware of the poor condition of electricity infrastructure of his rented house. During one such thunderstorm, the previous renters had to sacrifice their television. Rohit had no intentions of letting something similar happening to his dad’s latest machine. But he had no real work to do. The coffee was almost over. Before he could think of anything the telephone rang. He was indeed waiting for it. He thought it must be his mother, asking him to come to her by car and pick her up. Rohit’s mother liked him driving their car; so much that on his 18th birth day, she gifted him a driving license.

Rohit picked up the phone, but it was Sourav there on the other side. Sourav was an old friend of Rohit. They had known each other since, std. III. After their plus two, they had to separate. Rohit had gone for engineering, and Sourav had joined NIFT, to study fashion designing. They were still best pals, and remained in regular touch.

Sourav could only say “hello”, and the connection broke. Rohit put the receiver back and waited. But another call did not come. He then decided to call back. But the line was engaged and he could not contact Sourav. After a few attempts he gave up, and left the room. The rainfall had almost halted. The sun was again preparing to roar. The weather was still fine, and Rohit decided to go out for a walk. He asked Vicky, if he would accompany him. Vicky nodded and both of them stepped out of the house. Vicky was his dog.

He crossed the first corner, and then the second. There were the same old shops. The same old men, at least they looked same; the usual ones. But this one was not the usual one. He was taller than everyone else present there nearby. It wasn’t only the height that made him look different in the crowd. There was something else. May be in his eyes. Or the way he was staring around was too peculiar, too noticable. It appeared to Rohit as if he was the only one able to spot him with a difference in that place. The reason must have been his joblessness, at least that is what he thought. He looked at Vicky. He could see the same curiosity in the dog’s eyes, as were in his. Doggy dear had noticed that tall guy too.

There was nothing more to do after all that observation, thought Rohit, and so he moved on. It had become hot again. The sun was smiling at everyone for no reason. No one smiled back.

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Getting back to myself ..

Getting back to myself
Is what I’m doing
Yes getting back to myself
All the time
At least I’m trying
Getting back to myself
All the time….

The days come
Come to me like pigeons
They keep on flying
Flying all the time
And I see you every day
Think about you
Yeah that’s you in my mind
Nothing great I can do
Man I am getting blind
But still trying
Trying hard to get back to myself
And trying that all the time


professor, professor

Professor, Professor,
why don’t you teach?
All that you blabber,
is out of our reach.

Blabber you do;
and you give us pain.
When in your class
nothing we gain.

Simplest of things
look so complex;
courtsey to you!
You come to perplex.

There was a time;
on bed, we’d sleep.
Now in your class
we can sleep, real deep.

In your lectues
no joy we find.
Leave us dear prof.
We won’t ever mind.

listen this on :


it is my life

It’s like the sea
The dreadful sea
It is my life
why can’t u see

It roars and it cries
It always tries
It is my life
It’s in disguise

At times it is calm
So smooth, so calm
It is my life
It spells its charm

And then it roars
With all its force
It is my life
It’s mine of course

It’s like the sea
The dreadful sea
It is my life
why can’t you see