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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. About Writer’s Ezine: When Alfred Hitchcock said “Ideas come from everything” little did he know that everything would mean literally everything in this world. Taking inspiration from him, two fellow bloggers and friends – Namrata and Arti debated one day the exact meaning of Freedom of Expression and its rightful usage is today’s times. And so was born Writer’s Ezine, a monthly literary online magazine (E-zine) with the intention of providing platform to emerging as well as established writers from around the world.

July 2015 Issue

question the biggest mystery of all times – LIFE. This is one place where readers, writers, poets, photographers, idealists, thinkers, atheists, believers and story-tellers all will be in sync with creativity. We accept submissions in poetry, short-stories, non-fiction, author interviews; book reviews etc. (Please read Submission Guidelines for details). Cover Photo Copyright – Arti Honrao

Born out of a need and a necessity of solely being able to express all that one feels, thinks and understands Writer’s Ezine is one place where writing and creativity come together to ensure a wonderful experience to the reader. As you read along and turn a page you will find your mind wandering into places you never thought of before, making you sit up and www.writersezine.com | admin@writersezine.com | www.facebook.com/writersezine | www.twitter.com/writers_ezine


Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. This e-magazine is a compilation of Poems, Short Stories, Short – Story Series, Non – Fiction, Photographs published on Writer’s Ezine. Image source Google Images, unless mentioned otherwise. (Photography submissions © of mentioned author. The photographs in the magazine are printed in grey scale. The coloured and high resolution photographs can be viewed on www.writersezine.com or www.issuu.com/writersezine The copyright of the work published in this magazine remains with the author of the individual work. Please contact the authors and Writer’s Ezine if you need to use the content. You are free to share the content as long as you retain and respect the copyright. Visit Writer’s Ezine (www.writersezine.com) for details Find us on Facebook www.facebook.com/writersezi ne)

July 2015 Issue

Twitter (https://twitter.com/Writers_ ezine) Send us an email (admin@writersezine.com) WE on Issuu: http://issuu.com/writersezin e WE on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1LV3o5a WE E-magazine site: http://mag.writersezine.com WE on What’sApp

What's App on the number provided in the image with your details (name etc.) and your query. WE admin would reply as soon as possible. Writer's Ezine would broadcast alerts frequently about important notices and newsletter with direct links. All you have to do is add WE to friend list if you wish to get the alerts and inform us about the same. You can trust WE, your number would not be shared with anyone and WE would not send you spam.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. About Administrators: Administrator, Editor, Promotions & Marketing Manager, Assistant Relationship Advisor: Namrata: www.privytrifles.com

July 2015 Issue

Do check out our First Print Magazine Pothi: http://bit.ly/1sieaH8 Amazon: http://bit.ly/1AKWxnA Flipkart: http://bit.ly/1x6IRZn

Administrator, Web-designer, Strategist & Relationship Advisor, Co-editor: Arti Honrao: www.artihonrao.in Do share your feedback with us. WE would love to hear what you have to say testimonials@writersezine.co m The Kindle version of the magazine (Volume I to VI – April 2014 to September 2014) is availabl at http://www.amazon.in/dp/B 00TWOLKO0

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. Do check out our Second Print Magazine Pothi: http://bit.ly/1GbzB7S

July 2015 Issue

Do Check our Anniversary Issue:

Pothi: http://bit.ly/1AG3GfK The Kindle version of the magazine (Volume VII to XII – October 2014 to March 2015) is available at http://www.amazon.in/gp/p roduct/B00WANSPAW

Please visit our badges page http://www.writersezine.com /p/link-to-we.html and pick your favourite from the various badges to display on your site/blog and spread the word about Writer's Ezine Download the App

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. Segments on Writer’s Ezine

July 2015 Issue

Prompt of the Month

Author’s Quill

Books are magical and the ones who create them are magicians. Author's Quill is a segment that will bring all those magicians to recreate some of the magic through their quills, as they know it the best! As we all love to hear what they have to say, WE brings to you some of your favourite authors in this segment. Month on month WE will invite amazing authors to wield the magic of their quill and take you to their magic land which only they can create.

WE believes that at times creativity looks for a muse. So here we attempt to give you a muse month on month that will tickle your creative buds and let your imagination take a flight. The rules remain the same. The prompt remains open till the last date of submission for the next month’s issue. i.e. till 20th of the month to be considered to the next month’s.

Read what they have to share with you!

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. Literati

A bi-monthly column which will bring to you interesting tits-bits about literature starting from authors to their books, everything that you ever wanted to know about it is here now. Join our columnist Aneesha Myles Shewani as she takes you along on a journey where the smell of books is in the air!

July 2015 Issue

Cook-N-Tell

Till now Writer's Ezine managed to gather various flavours of romance, suspense, mystery, longing, pain, life, death, thriller... every chapter a new story and every poem a new song. And that is when we realised WE missed out on a very interesting flavour - one that adds a zing to it. So here we are, presenting Cook-NTell a bimonthly column which will have some amazing, mouth-watering, easy-to-make dishes!

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

Cover Photo: Happiness About Arti Honrao Story Behind the Photograph: A few days ago I was playing with my nephew's bubble gun and smiling to myself as the bubbles drifted away with the wind. This particular one was stuck on one of the plants we have at home. I cannot explain what made me do it but I rushed to get the camera and clicked a quick photo before the bubble burst. After looking closely at the photograph I clicked; I really appreciated the beauty of it, the colors of it. A quick click turned out to be an amazing click. Life's like a bubble - make memories; cherish them before the bubble bursts.

Author of fiction books titled 'My Life story' and 'Is This Love & Autumn - The Last Leaf' and novel 'Resemblance The Journey of a Doppelganger' Arti enjoys writing short stories on Relationships. She has attempted writing different form poems but most enjoy writing Prose poems where she gets to express without the limitations of words or rhyming. Most of her writings depict human feelings and emotions, which she tries to bring onto the page and into the minds of the reader. She believes that essence of writing lies in not only entertaining the reader, but speaking to them through words. She writes at www.artihonrao.net and can be reached at contact@artihonrao.net

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

Life’s Backup

Unlike every month this time’s WE issue began on a somber note. What else would you call it when one of the admin’s laptop crashed just few days before the deadline resulting in losing a lot of work making it a SOS situation! Luckily WE servers are intact and hence the rework could happen. It was just a matter of time and efforts. This made me wonder, how often do we have back-ups of our lives? Well, not often. And when it collapses we feel at loss as we see all that we have lost till now. By back up, I mean imprints of memories in form of pictures and some meaningful time spent together. Recently a friend of mine was travelling and lost her wallet, credit card and camera in a bus. Luckily the wallet didn’t have much money and the credit card could get blocked in time, thanks to her speedy action it is the camera that worried her. She was upset about

losing so many pictures with family that she had captured in it. After consoling her for a while my next reaction was, “As long as those people who were in those pictures are there with you photographs can always be recreated. Lament losing people and not things. People can never come back again, while things can be bought again.” She looked up at me, suddenly stopping her crying in between and smiled. “You are right.” Never let the situation get better of you, for it is just a small test He has decided to take of your faith and strength. By buckling in at that time you are telling Him that your faith is weak, you don’t trust Him enough to believe that this too shall pass and neither do you have the strength to face it all. Yes I agree it is often a surprise test rather than a previously announced one but then

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. which teacher doesn’t love surprise tests. And with life being such an amazing teacher we ought not to complain! WE team fared fairly well on the test as we managed to bring this issue out on time. It was just a matter of few hours of burning the midnight oil and a little extra effort to ensure that, that’s it. Looking at the joy on all you readers faces, the efforts were definitely worth it. So is the case with life, once you see the results of your hard work you eventually feel how worth it all was. On a rather serious note, remember it is also okay to not always score an A in every exam. It is okay to fail, to

July 2015 Issue

score average for that is when you know where you weak and you can work on it

accordingly to make it better and better every time. After all it is just a bend and not the end of life. With some amazing stories, lovely poems, inspiring author interview and motivating Author’s Quill story WE team has lovingly brought together this issue and would love to hear your feedback on this at feedback@writersezine.com

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

IN THIS ISSUE The Page Will Turn The Adamantine Border Sohan and Chanda Nankhatai Biscuits, Bunraku and the Theory of Knowing When to Read The Truth Underneath Pratik Deshpande Chettinad Egg Curry Grow Old With a Smile The Purest Dewdrop Change That Drives to Erudition There is a Place Let's Be Educated Go Green A Night of Lessons The Accident Prompt of the Month for August

Saravana Kumar Murugan Mrinal Chatterjee Vineet Kalucha Anita Shirodkar Pratik Deshpande The Truth Underneath Simran Kaun Biki Mahanta Anita Sahu Hiral Thakkar Shashank Bhardwaj Mohinder Paul Verma Subham Srivastava Nikhil Pandey T. R. Gowthama Nishima Avasthi

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

The Page Will Turn

Heartbroken. Fuming in Anger. Hopeless. Sitting by the window pane I stared at the book kept on the table placed next to the dressing table that houses a wide variety of cosmetics. The most colourful cheerful room appeared dull, the pleasant smelling air freshener smelled smelly, the beautiful smiling rose petals fell along with my smile. Maybe, just maybe, my name is not lucky enough to be printed there, I thought. I stared out the window; even the clouds started to shed tears along with me.

July 2015 Issue

O God please let me rest in peace, I said to myself. I couldn’t control my anger. I logged into Facebook again to check the Likes and Comments that poured in for the status.

Close to 3000 Likes and 120 Comments in 5 Minutes, I shouted loudly, as if the God is going to hear me. It failed to reduce my anger. I read a couple of comments which was posted by my besties, just like the pouring rain tears flooded my eyes. I threw the phone crying like an eight-

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. year-old for an opportunity to ride the bicycle for the first time. I might fall; I knew that but not even in my wildest of dreams I wished to be robbed by an experienced celebrated person. All the lights went off. Shit! Power cut again, I screamed like a banshee. I stared at the book again; the title was trimmed down by two words, the name printed under the title is a famous name but that cannot allow The Author to own my book and The Author doesn’t deserve any accolades. I fumed in anger. My friend brought a candle inside the room. I wiped off my tears and thanked my friend. “Page by page, paragraph by paragraph, line by line, word by word, is copied from your manuscript. I think you should write to the publisher.” I lifted my head and looked into my friend eyes. “I did send an email after reading the sample chapter.” “Did you get a response?” “No response so far. I feel dejected cheated thrashed and thrown away on the road.”

July 2015 Issue

“Why don’t you write about this on Facebook?” “Nobody will believe my words. Nobody will support me. Moreover The Author is a famous writer and most importantly a good looking writer too!” “You should appeal to your friends in Blogosphere. I am sure they will come to help!” “I know that…but do you think writing in couple of blogs would help us? Don’t forget that we live in India. Here news is a sensation for a day or two, after which they are either forgotten or ignored.” “I do not understand your point. I want you to raise your voice against this.” “And then?” “And then you can get that book published under your name.” “Do you think that will happen? The Author has a huge support and can block me from entering into this world or The Author can also ask to? ” I thought before saying that uncultured word. “Will you allow that to happen?”

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. “I won’t. I will not raise my voice either. I am a creator. I can create magic with my pen no matter how many times I lose. But that doesn’t mean I will allow people to take advantage of me.” I paused for a minute, looked into my friend’s eyes, “I will selfpublish my books.” My friend smiled and it boosted my confidence. I know crying will not help and I am not going to cry anymore. I will surely grow in this field and when it happens, I will not let this crime happen to any debutant. I will make them aware of content patent rights and will make them to copyright the content before submitting the manuscript. I will change the way publishing industry works. I will because…no one should undergo the pain I had to. And no one should ask why every debutant has to undergo such sinful things in this literature world. Every day one or the other finds their book being printed under someone else’s name. Why? Why me? “Do you think it will happen?”

July 2015 Issue

The Page Will Turn. And that’s my way of tasting revenge. My lips curved after almost three hours. About Sarvana Kumar Murugan: Saravana Kumar Murugan is the contributing author of seven books, a senior software engineer by profession, a romantic writer by passion and a photographer by choice, was born in a middle-class family. He is known for his romantic short stories and meaningful poems. Apart from writing, he loves capturing life through his lens, giving life to paper with his pencil, and satisfies his own stomach with his cooking. He writes a blog called ‘Few Miles’ under a pen name, ‘Someone is Special’. He can be contacted at contact@iamsarav.com or on his page: https://facebook.com/iamsa rav.page. Editor's Comment: The harsh reality of the literary industry brought out very beautifully.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

The Adamantine Border

The pressing issue of conflicts between nations makes me write the feelings of ahh you can say a boy and a girl in love, or a mother or any filially related person with her son, and the mental plight they face. The distance is so less yet the border still stands notoriously adamantine and separates them perpetually.

I see you there, Looking at me irresistibly… In wait for a hug, A loving peaceful hug. You can walk, also run and come fast as possible Even, The distance is so less A mile to be covered Just in a while But, to our dismay In the real way, We are very far Farther than anything. The paradox of this is so poignantly maudlin…

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. Just because of our countries being arch-enemies, Rivals who are in fiendish rummage of sheer vendetta. The feud of which never settles, Never does the fire ceases. Standstills the ceasefire, Waiting perpetually. For the two which was once one, Separated and divided stands now for ever and ever. Howsoever, One can mechanically settle for peace And remove the border for once But, No body No mercy, no lord can remove the adamantine border That barricades us now within…

July 2015 Issue

About Mrinal Chatterjee: Mrinal Chatterjee hailing originally from The City of Exquisite Natural Beauty, Jabalpur, M.P. is currently pursuing his degree of MBBS from MGMMC, Indore. A very keen observer who likes to write poems a lot in more than one language, on very subtle, random topics. Also, has a very good hand in writing articles, stories and all. To know more, you can visit his blog at http://mrinalchatterjee.in. Editor's Comment: Touching and moving

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

Sohan and Chanda

It was late one cold evening. You stood staring rapt at the juggling clowns. You wore dirty pink. Your dress was undersized, hair unkempt and face unwashed. Dancing colour lights dappled the dusty fair ground. Loud singing blared from speakers hanging on wooden poles. I looked at the peanut seller and felt hungry. I followed as you began to walk. You walked proud. You walked like a lady. I noticed your shiny red high heels. You tripped as I wondered. My toes peeped out of torn sneakers. I stopped at a distance. You stood talking to the doll-seller. He gave you a big stuffed doll and pointed to your feet. You gave the doll back and stared expectantly at him. He ruffled your hair with his heavy hairy hand. He laughed and dug his arm deep into his dirty sack and took out a small doll. Held by its hair, the doll dangled in your face. You touched the doll

July 2015 Issue

lightly and stared into its big glassy eyes. His bearded wrinkled face gleamed in a big smile as he pointed to your red shoes again. His other hand extended the doll. The singer broke into a fit of coughing. You took the doll, held it to your chest and ran. I threw my tree stick aside and ran behind gripping my falling oversize pants. We ran past the tightrope walker, the fire eater and the ice cream stands. You stopped behind the dark parking lot and sat panting on the pavement. I came and stood in front of you. You looked at me. You hid the doll behind your back. I smiled. You stared back angry. I looked at my dirty hands. I offered you my last piece of gum. You chewed slowly looking in the other direction. “You gave away your high heel shoes!” “Hmm… for the singing doll.” “Oh … does it sing?” “Yes, and dances.” “Then why do you call it Singing doll? It should be

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. named singing and dancing doll!” “It talks too. Like you and me.” “Then its name is Singing, Dancing and Talking doll!” “No, I call it singing doll.” You stood up without looking at me and began to walk. I followed two paces behind trying to talk. You answered only occasionally. Flickering distant lights of our railway town became brighter. You turned to look at me and waved before entering your door. You lived in a shack by the railway track. I slept on the railway platform. My father was the town drunk. You didn’t have a father. Your

July 2015 Issue

mother worked with visitors during nights. My father stole for a living from passing freight trains. We met every day. We ate

charity meals and played all day near the town temple. You decided the games. I fought the guys who tried to spoil our games. I stammered while talking. You spoke like a prime-minister. I enjoyed hearing you talk. I could aim better, so I won us more marbles. You loved bright shiny marbles. We sat long hours at the lonely crossing bridge. Our

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. feet dangled to the dried river beneath. I threw stones at passing trains and talked of bashing up the cruel stationmaster someday. You cupped your ears to muffle the noise and imagined buying yourself a school uniform someday. I talked about owning a big shiny car. You dreamed of becoming a famous movie star. Your breasts began to swell. My voice started to crack. You woke me up in middle of one night. You were speaking out of breath. You told me of mother’s visitor who got into your bed. You ran out screaming. You took my hand and held it to your cheek. You were trembling. Your doll was in the other hand. We took the next train that stopped at our station. ____________________________ The big city breathed noise and coughed diesel fumes. The neon lights mesmerized you. Milling crowds scared me. Fishy smells of the coast nauseated you. Distant ship lights through morning fog

July 2015 Issue

came like dreams.

ghosts

in

my

We went half-hungry. I found work at a tea shop in the busy market. You went to clean the houses. We slept on pavements. Tea shop owner beat me whenever I broke any glasses. Men with moustaches grabbed at you as you climbed the dark damp staircases. I often dreamed of owning a gun. Your doll urged you to return to the railway town every night. I managed an auto rickshaw to ply. You found work in a beauty parlour. I worked sixteen hours a day. You charmed the clients and made money. We had a room of our own to sleep in. I bought my own taxi on loan. You ran your own beauty parlour. We worked hard. We ate at Chinese restaurants on weekends. You wore shiny suits and sarees. Your hair changed style every few days. I wore starched white clothes with imitation leather sandals.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. The wandering astrologer said our future was bright. Money will be plenty. He had refused to answer any further questions. The planets moved and took positions to make me richer than dreams. The years ticked on faster than the clock. My lips smiled wider every time I saw the growing bank account. Prosperity given flesh on my ruddy cheeks grew faster than my expanding taxi fleet. My pride grew faster than it all. I missed my commitments to you most of the time. City crowds made me visible. I ran for Taxi Union President and won. I lived for the world, and money, and fame. City crowds made you insignificant. You longed for the carefree world and times of railway town. You wanted to live for me, and for love. You wanted us to marry. We did. I already had city life as my queen wife. You wanted a home. I bought you a house. You got wind chimes for the door. Tiny flowers bloomed on

July 2015 Issue

our window sills. You put posters of angelic kids in our bedroom. I was hardly ever home. We had sex every other night. We spoke only when needed. My ignorance saw a happy quiet between us. Your loneliness perceived the weeds growing between us. _____________________________ You returned early from your shopping trip. You found me in our bedroom with your neighbour friend. You looked at me very confused through moist eyes. You didn’t scream or shout. You just whisked the bed sheet, pillows and threw them off the window. You went about doing the household chores silently. I tried to talk but could not. I came back drunk senseless late that night. I dreamt myself standing between parallel tracks with opposite trains crossing speedily on either side. The roaring metal of trains was a mind-consuming high. The calm afterwards was utter loneliness. I brought you a diamond necklace. You smiled briefly. I

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. had been missing your smile. You never wore that necklace. Your body was cold, coarse metal, eyes were stones. I wanted you screaming at me, shouting like a mad one, crying uncontrollably. I pulled you towards me the other night. You were motionless in my arms for a few minutes and then suddenly rushed to the washroom. I could see you getting sick over the basin. You came back and lay down with your back towards me. You mumbled something about the doll complaining of a stench all about the house, some stench of rotting relationships. I didn’t understand it. Your doll had been talking in riddles lately. I looked at you sleeping at the other edge of the bed. I felt lonely. I wondered if my father was still alive. I asked if you ever thought of your mother. You shook with a start, as if woken up from deep sleep by some sudden loud noise. You shot me an angry glance and turned back slowly without saying anything. Later I heard you sobbing. It was the first time I

July 2015 Issue

saw you cry since that day. It felt like a relief. You were not at home when I woke up the next morning. The room was filled with an ominous emptiness. I looked through your cupboard. Everything was there as perfectly ordered and managed as ever. The doll wasn’t there. _____________________________ It was all over within a week. Day one- It did not sink in. I waited for you to come back before it turned dark. I spent the night without any sleep. My mind felt thoughtless and numb. Day two-The emptiness inside me was a constant hollow. I spent the day denying myself and ourselves. I blamed the neighbour divorcee for being so accepting, for not pushing me away when I needed to be. I blamed your fickle mind, your insecurity. I blamed women, the city, the loneliness. I blamed myself. Day three- I told myself I didn’t care. I dressed up and went to work. They were fighting among themselves when I reached. The supervisor had found a young

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. driver to be stealing fuel from the fleet cars. I held the driver by his hair and punched throwing him on the floor. I kicked him in his stomach and he bundled up pulling his knees to his chest. I kicked straight into his face spouting blood out of his nose and lips. The supervisor was trying to stop me. The whole scene turned a kaleidoscope of blurred images in front of my eyes. I was seeing my father being beaten by a group of people on the platform. He was caught collecting spilled grain from an unloading freight train. His face was full of blood. I was standing next to him, scared and crying, wrapped around his leg trying to pull him away. That was the first time I tasted fear. I saw you standing at a distance watching the scene. I was a man possessed. I was mouthing obscenities. Finally I remember hitting him on his neck with a car jack lying nearby knocking him unconscious. Day Four – Heard the driver died in the hospital due to excessive bleeding.

July 2015 Issue

Day Five –The drivers screamed for my blood. Rival taxi union leaders stoked their passion further. I went into hiding at a friend’s place in the suburb. Day Six – Cops raided my house looking to arrest me. Later in the night, the drivers came and set my house on fire. Everything was razed to the ground. Day Seven – I left the city before daylight broke. A runaway to hollowness. _____________________________ Chandan Gudiawala is a strange man. No one knows where he comes from or where he goes. Yet he is always around in all the fairs and circus shows of the area. His dolls are exquisite and charming. The most exquisite of all is his famous singing and talking doll. Little girls giggle and clap every time he takes out the famous talking doll from his sack. They look wide eyed and mesmerized when the doll tells them stories of her previous birth when she was a fairy princess. Some girls want to buy the talking doll. Fathers get

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. exasperated trying to explain to the demanding girls that the doll doesn’t really talk. It is Gudiawala Bhaiya’s voice trick. They go on crying, stamping their feet into the muddy ground and repeating; “Papa, the doll talks. I just saw it speak!” At the end of the show Chandan always puts the singing doll in a bird cage before throwing it back into the sack. Little girls often ask, “Bhaiya, Why do you keep the doll in a cage?”

July 2015 Issue

About Author: Vineet Kalucha Editor's Comment: Amazing depth on the complexities of human nature and its eccentrics.

Most of the times he rushes them off without an answer. Sometimes, when in talkative mood, he may answer something like; “Those that learn to talk, learn to fly as well. Have to keep them caged.” Little girls understand him and nod back appreciatively in agreement.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

Nankhatai Biscuits, Bunraku and the Theory of Knowing When to Read!

Writing, and for that matter reading, has taken on a whole new meaning in these cybercentric times. Who had heard of blogging, kindle and twitter

July 2015 Issue

a few short years ago? And how did writing get to be known as ‘content’? But here we are, wholly immersed in the world of micro and instant everything, and sometimes I wonder if the next generation will have the patience or the attention span to actually read a book from cover to cover. Hopefully, this reflection will not deter writers of books- I think it would be a great pity for people, kids and adults alike, to be deprived of reading a novel, in the good old-fashioned way that I used to! The unforgettable taste of nankhatai biscuits dipped in chocolate milk and hot summer afternoons spent under the shade of the big banyan tree in the garden in front of my house are the two unforgettable memories I associate with being

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. transported into the exciting world of make-believe. Summer holidays were the time to devour books, and when I was young, these were mainly obtained from circulating libraries; not for us was the luxury of brand new books with their inimitable fresh papery scent! We were frugal then, even though we didn’t know rainforests would be severely depleted one day. But there was something to be said for well-worn, much thumbed editions that came my waythey were like old, comforting friends with which to while the long, TV and laptop-less hours away. I remember being held in thrall by adventures of the quintessential English children who solved mysteries, got themselves in and out of scrapes, outwitted the bad guys with aplomb, went to the most exciting schools and yes, ate exotic sounding things like macaroons, potted meat sandwiches and hot, buttered scones (remember, I’m talking sixties here, and all these delicacies had not yet made

July 2015 Issue

their way to India!). What wouldn’t I have given to go to school at Mallory Towers, or sail a boat to a forbidden island. And reading made all that possible-with the added bonus of learning something new every day. At some inspired point at the age of eight, I even decided to concoct a little story of my own, replete with smugglers, intrepid children, lost treasure, and of course, a loyal dog who thumped his tail and stole bacon off his owner’s plate at regular intervals. This was written laboriously in a small notebook with a grubby pencil in largely illegible handwriting; it was a good ‘time-pass’ activity, but fortunately no one really read it besides me! I still remember the line I considered my masterpiece: it went something like this. ‘In the cold, damp darkness of the cave, Susie heard complete silence for the first time in her life, and she suddenly understood the meaning of real fear.” How pleased I was with my turn of phrase!

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. As I grew up, my passion and fascination with books continued, but I studied art rather than literature, and became a graphic designer. Oddly, given my avid preoccupation with reading, I’ve never actually studied literature. How to critique a piece of writing, or even how to analyse it, how to recognise a theme or a motif were things that were not in my realm…. until my kids were in high school studying in the IB system, and I was exposed to writing in the technical sense. I guess kids going to school pretty much like going back to school yourself; I suddenly developed an appetite for European history through the World Wars, and discovered the existence of Bunraku, a traditional Japanese form of puppetry, and something intriguingly esoteric called the Theory of Knowledge. Wow. All in all, the name of the game was reading everything I could get my hands on. And all of a sudden education took on a new meaning! Though I learnt how to analyse a piece of writing through all this back to school

July 2015 Issue

business, the actual writing didn’t come till a bit later. Working with writers and creative people for twenty plus years, the lines between art and copy began to blur over time, and I began to write as well- at first, advertising copy and later, I began writing travel content for my husband’s destination management company. That moved me on to food content for various platforms. The next step, seamlessly, was clearly a novel. I’m not sure how and when the bright idea dawned; unlike my new protagonist Simran, writing a novel was not some burning desire that I had cherished. ‘Secrets and Second Chances happened over a period of six months, and once I had a manuscript, I held on to it for another year without actually doing anything! Call it fear of rejection, doubts about its viability, the terror of unleashing such a personal part of me onto an unsuspecting public, whatever. I finally decided to send it to a couple of trusted friends to read, and then everything took off from there.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

The acceptance of my manuscript by three publishers in a very short space of time (thanks to a canny literary agent) was quite gratifying, and it looked like I was all set. However, the process of writing and getting published, I discovered, was way simpler than actually selling the book. I somewhat naïvely believed that once the book was published, I was home free… no one told me about promotion, publicity, launch events and book tours.

Well, kind of. And eventually, the effort is worth it because I do want as many people as possible to read the work that I have so enjoyed creating! Nights in Pink Satin is feisty and fun, a racy light read and I have received amazing response from everyone who has read it- including my 85 year old father who devoured the book in a day, and loved the story and the characters. I had so much fun writing the book that I truly hope it brings as much joy to my readers.

“You have to put yourself out there,” said the ones in the know, nodding wisely. “How will anyone know you’ve written a book unless you tell them about it?”

I’m now well into my third novel, enjoying the process as much as ever. I relish the way everyday incidents, chance meetings with people and the odd remark overheard in a movie theatre can morph into inspiration of the best kind. I’m often asked about my penchant for writing stories based in metro cities; my answer to that is, it’s what I see around me, and what I know well. It’s a world I’m comfortable in, and it comes naturally to me.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, the idea that my book would be marketed by the publisher while I sat back and basked in my achievement was banished rudely. I had to, literally speaking, wake up and smell the coffee, and get my act together. One lives and learns, as the adage goes, and when ‘Nights in Pink Satin’ was published, I was ready.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

About Anita Shirodkar: Anita Shirodkar was the creative director (art) at Mudra Communications and has spent twenty years in advertising. She is currently creative consultant to a destination management company that promotes tourism to India. She has also forayed into food writing, including writing content for a gourmet food store in Mumbai, and a cookbook which she has designed, photographed and ghostwritten for a nutritional specialist. Anita resides in Mumbai and Dubai, where she manages a business.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

Book Review

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

:Intro:

:Book Review:

Piyush Mehta, a young graduate bags a job in one the biggest real estate giants of India. His life goes pretty well as he finds the love of his life. A good secured job, a home with his family, his love life, everything blossoms until one day, while returning from work, Piyush finds himself under attack by Majeed, the biggest criminal of the country. Everything changes since that, and Piyush now has to make some choices, which may change his life forever. Decisions that he has to take for his family, his love and for everything that is at stake, along with finding the answers to the questions that came along.

1. Cover: The cover of the book is not very eye grabbing and doesn’t do justice to the title in any manner.

His quest to find why he was attacked by the biggest criminal of the nation and what is it that threatens to take away his simple loving life and people around. Can he find the answers? Can he stop the things that might not just effect his life, but also the whole of mankind?

2. Presentation: The presentation of the book is very simple and one that can be called mediocre in terms of dealing with detailing. 3. Narration: The narration of the story is very nicely done though in the first half the story does feel draggy but then in the second half with all its twists and turns in place it kind of leaps forward making it an exciting read. 4. Characters: The characters are very common, easily relatable and connectable for a reader. However a strong charactersketch from the author, especially of some of the most pivotal ones would have made it more gripping a read. 5. Plot: The plot revolves around Piyush a young man and how his life changes after he gets a job. The plot is very

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. well conceptualised executed.

and

6. Storyline: The story line is very realisitic with a lot of real life possibilities thrown in it making it all the more entertaining.

July 2015 Issue

/ grammatical errors in the book. They kill the charm at many places and force a reader to stop reading to understand what is being conveyed by the author.

7. Story Flow: The story flow is a bit rickety with highs and lows making some places dull and some very entertaining for a reader. 8. Language: The language is lucid and it could have been more effective in terms of proper editing and proof reading. The book has lot of typos and grammatical errors making it a huge turn off. 9. Pros: The plot is the biggest pro for the author. It has all the necessary things for a block buster crime thriller movie. It is the execution which could have been better, given that it is his debut work it definitely feels that the author will in the long run deliver something more bombastic than this one too. 10. Cons: The cons are the weak narration and the typos

:Overview: The overall rating for the book would be 3.5 out of 5 purely to the author’s attempt at this novel. WE team feels the author has potential and would like to thank him for sending across this book for review, also wishing him all the best for all his future endeavours.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

Author Interview

Please extend a warm welcome to Pratik Deshpande this month as we talk about his debut book along with all that he holds close to his heart. Basically he is a Chartered Accountancy and Bachelor of Commerce student residing in Nagpur. Truth Underneath is his first novel. He started writing at the age of 19 and lives with his parents in Nagpur. He wishes to take up writing as a full time career.

July 2015 Issue

The blurb of his book reads: Piyush Mehta, a young graduate bags a job in one the biggest real estate giants of India. His life goes pretty well as he finds the love of his life. A good secured job, a home with his family, his love life, everything blossoms until one day, while returning from work, Piyush finds himself under attack by Majeed, the biggest criminal of the country. Everything changes since that, and Piyush now has to make some choices, which may change his life forever. Decisions that he has to take for his family, his love and for everything that is at stake, along with finding the answers to the questions that came along. His quest to find why he was attacked by the biggest criminal of the nation and what is it that threatens to take away his simple loving life and people around. Can he find the answers? Can he stop the things that might not just effect his life, but also the whole of mankind?

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

was spontaneous. But then I realized that I wasn’t equipped to do the research on my own. It needed a lot of physics, and I had just started my Chartered Accountancy. Truth Underneath’s fundamental was a story that would have sufficient practical approach and it should keep the reader intrigued. So the climax came first and then the story developed in the course.

1. Tell us about your journey to becoming a published author. It all started as a concept that came to my mind, it was spontaneous and the same day I was writing my first novel, which I ultimately scrapped and Truth Underneath found its way. After that all the weigh was put on a story that was not a letdown, a number of editing sessions followed. And finally, here I am, feels great. 2. The Truth Underneath – how was this story born? I started my first novel with a vague concept, as I said, it

3. Why do you think your book is different from the others in the market and that a reader should pick it up over them? I asked this same question when I was half way through the first para of the book. The main reason that Truth Underneath is different from others is that it starts at a very different setup and after the first half, it suddenly turns dark. Truth Underneath’s beginning is at a very light level, a humorous love story and just when the reader is about to wonder ‘what is this?’ It turns into a dark ruthless crime thriller. In Truth Underneath, one can easily corelate himself as the

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. protagonist, as it’s a story about a common man’s journey. 4. How much of real life is infused in this story? The story depicts the life of a young Piyush Mehta, a civil engineer. A normal guy, with a normal job and a modest lifestyle, and how he tackles the attempts on his life by the country’s biggest criminal. So a lot of real life is there as to how a common man would react to attempts on his life and how he would face the violence and the dark things. It’s basically the unorthodox ways he chooses to fight out the odds, like any helpless young man would do to stay alive and keep his family safe. 5. One reason to why you write? That’s a tough question to answer. But once you start writing, it’s hard not to keep doing it. 6. In future do we see you experimenting with genres? If yes, which ones? Yes. In fact I have already experimented with my second

July 2015 Issue

book, The little girl who changed my life. Truth underneath is a mystery crime thriller whereas, The little girl who changed my life is about a young man and a little girl, who decides to look after her when he finds out about her extreme stage lung cancer, and the relation between them changes his whole life. One day, maybe I’ll try with something else, but for now, I am back to crime thriller with my third book which is currently in the pipeline. 7. How different is the author Pratik to the real Pratik as a person? Author Pratik is very frank and polite, real Pratik is very reserved and a nuisance for his mother. Yes, I am one of those who can’t do without my parents and a couple of people I love and care about. 8. How does it feel today to have the word author associated with your name? It feels a lot professional and kind of creates a responsibility to not to let down my readers.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

9. What is the message you are trying to convey with your book here? No matter how small or helpless you are, if you try real hard, you can get out of any situation. 10. Is there anything you would have liked to change about the book, if given a chance? In terms of the story, no. In terms of other things, well, not being satisfied is human nature. 11. Any words for your readers. In terms of the story, no. In terms of other things, well, not being satisfied is human nature. Thank you very much for your time

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

Chettinad Egg Curry

Prep time: 30 Minutes Cook time: 15 Minutes Total time: 45 Minutes

Recipe Category: Curry Recipe Cuisine: South Indian Cuisine

Serve: 4(Servings) Calories per serving:274 Fat per serving:17.06 g

Ingredients: Eggs: 8 (hard boiled) Mustard seeds: 1 tsp Onions: 4 thin and well sliced Tomato: 3 large [pureed]

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. Green chilly: 5 slit lengthwise Ginger: One inch piece chopped finely Garlic: 6 cloves chopped finely Salt: to taste Curry leaves: 10 -12 Oil: 2 tbsps. For Roasting and Grinding: Dry red chilies: 5 Coriander seeds: 3 tbsps. Black pepper corns: 1 tsp Cumin seeds: 1 tsp Fennel seeds: 1 tsp Cinnamon: 2 stick

July 2015 Issue

Method: 1. Hard boil the eggs, peel them and make small slits. Keep them aside. 2. Blend the tomatoes in the mixer and keep it aside. 3. Roast the dry ingredients mentioned (For Roasting and Grinding) until nice aroma fills the room. Let it cool completely. Grind it to fine paste by adding water in the mixer. 4. Heat oil in a kadai, splutter mustard seeds then add curry

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. leaves and let it become crispy. 5. Now add onions, green chilies, a pinch of salt, turmeric powder and sauté until the onions become translucent. 6. Add the ginger & garlic together and sauté until the raw smell vanishes. 7. Now add the pureed tomato and mix really well for about a minute. 8. Add the grind paste and let it cook for about 3 – 5 minutes or until the oil starts to separate. 9. Add the boiled eggs, 4 cups of water and give a good stir. Cover and cook for another 5 – 7 minutes, the oil will start to float on top of the curry indicates the egg curry is ready. You can add fresh coriander leaves for garnishing.

July 2015 Issue

About Simran Kaur: Simran Kaur, besides her studies and composing poetry holds a great interest in cooking, as it quenches her thirst to learn new things. Her Dad is the one who evoked her about the beauty and greatness in cooking. He keeps on guiding her and encouraging her in the kitchen. She says, "Cooking is something more than cooking. It strengthens the bond and increases the love for each other. Above all, It's expressive! You may reach her at simrankaur606@gmail.com or myfriendshipsimran.blogspot .in

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

Grow Old With a Smile

unsteady steps flooded my heart with emotions. I was like, oh!!! How would we be forty to fifty years from now on? Would life be this simple as a piece of cake, where nonchalance and carelessness overrides us?

I sat on my balcony sipping a cup of molten hot cappuccino with my legs dangling on top of the iron railings barricading my balcony. As, I was just having a feel of the sumptuous taste of my brewing caffeine, my eyes zoomed in on an elderly couple walking hand in hand on the carpeted grass, maybe out for an evening walk. The love and care gleaming from their eyes amidst their

I was flooded with a very disturbing thought. What after I reach their age, I regret my past life for doing things as I did it. Maybe I could have done things quite differently. What if I wasn’t able to catch all the opportunities that life throws at me? Will I be able to smile and laugh and walk with a heart as ethereal as they are doing right now? I remembered all the grunting and tantrums that we throw right now. Would it be possible than also or are we bound to accept life as it pans out. So why not accept life as it unfolds rather than cribbing over it. Our life is much less

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. complicated now. We can laugh, cry, yell, love, kiss, sing and dance with aplomb without a care in this world. Our life is a lot less monotonous and complicated now as we make it out to be. Do what drives you crazy follow your adrenaline, love like you can never lose, conquer your inner demons, and kill them. Find out your true potential. It can be as simple as decorating the walls of your own room, working up a tune on your harmonica, solving a puzzle of Sudoku with a click of your finger or photographing something weird that catches your eye. Do what pleases you, not what you are forced to do. By this I don’t mean, you leaving your job, dear readers, but at least take a bit of time out from your hectic schedule and devote it to your passions. When you look back at your life some forty to fifty years from now on, at least you will feel a sense of achievement at pursuing something you are sent to this world to do. The biggest hurdle of life is to let go of things that hurts or displeases us. Its futile

July 2015 Issue

holding onto something that can never be yours or will never be a part of you. Never let a failure at office set you back. Never hold onto someone who doesn’t wish to be with you. Maybe that person doesn’t deserve to be with you. Get over a break up and move on because that person was assigned to be with you only for that period of time. Life’s struggles don’t begin with office and end with love. Kick-start a new day with double the vigour because much more beautiful shades are yet to be chalked down on the canvas of life. As they say, “Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny.” “Move on- is the motto of life because that’s what we have to do eventually. No amount of drinking, partying or boozing is going to ease your pain until we let it go from our heart and mind. Cry. Forgive. Learn. Move on. Let your tears water the seeds of your future happiness. Never run away from a situation, dear readers, try facing it and eventually overcoming it. Everything in

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. life isn’t a bad dream that you will get over once you wake up. It’s much harder than that. So start reflecting rather than regretting. As we reach an age when we retire from work as well as from all worldly pleasures, we will ponder down memory lane to the meaningful times we have spent younger. The hits and misses of life and the long list of people we have met who have made a contribution in whatever small way it may be in our tedious journey will be remembered. So starting today, let go off things with a smile. Forgive the ones who wronged you, feel the void created in your heart and let it seep into the very core of your system and carry it with you all your life because it has become a part of you and you are bound to accept it.

July 2015 Issue

About Biki Mahanta: Biki Mahanta is a banker, a freelance writer and an avid blogger. A football fanatic by heart he also has a deep penchant for writing and delving into the emotional side of people. His blogs could be read at www.bixjannat.blogspot.com. Currently he is working on a novel depicting the sudden shift in emotions in the human mind. He could be reached at bix.jannat@gmail.com. Editor's Comment: A glimpse into Life’s little instruction book.

As I recollect myself back to the present holding my cup of, now cold coffee, I wish I would be like the couple whistling among the woods in the midst of serenity and calmness imbibed in myself and grinning at all the memories from the past. www.writersezine.com | admin@writersezine.com | www.facebook.com/writersezine | www.twitter.com/writers_ezine


Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

The Purest Dewdrop

She was like a dew drop, She was fresh, clean and purest of all, But she was so young and naive at heart. She was the sparkle of her parents, she was happy and safe in her shell, but she was going to make a new start. She started enjoying her new life, She was also blooming each passing day, But there was a wolf in a lamb’s garb who had won everyone’s faith and trust in his cart. Who had the responsibility to nurture the young minds and souls, Who had the blind faith and trust of kids and parents’,

July 2015 Issue

But he played with everyone’s emotions as he had wicked plans in his black heart. The gentle soul was scared and ravished, She cried for help and tried to fight for herself, But now the lifeless creature is struggling for breaths with

her whole heart. Her parents are like living statues seeing their dew drop fighting for life, She wanted to hug her parents at least once, But the dew drop was lost and the purest soul went apart.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

About Anita Sahu: Anita Sahu worked in an IT company for few years and after marriage thought of taking a break. Now she is a stay at home mom and trying to explore other opportunities in life and giving her full-time to son, hubby and blogging. She blogs at https://icecandy16blog.word press.com Editor's Comment: Such a poignant description of a burning issue.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

Change That Drive to Erudition

set for an enlightening journey. In its initial phase, this exercise sounds so very rosy & beautiful; it remains so, only till the real action begins. Sharing of great ideas

I am sure you often think of going on long drives. Beautiful Destination, Fun, Adventure & Friends is all what comes to your mind when you think of it…isn’t it? But ever thought of a long drive with total strangers? When you are just being different to all. One such journey was mine. Filled with lots of enthusiasm & excitement, along with great “Expectation” the stage gets

and making “Messing up” of great personal & professional life!! Never Did I Expect this. It’s like a switch has been flicked somewhere and those all who were soul to each other just become poles apart, you can ever imagine to be with. As we grown up, we learn that even the person that wasn’t supposes to let you down probably will. You

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. will have your hearts broken possibly more than once and it’s harder every time, you’ll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. A thousand of consolations given to heart still not convinced with the reason given by me. Was that my innocence, immaturity to understand or reach them? Not that I was the one who committed a mistake but then? Who was behind the curtain that makes me at the center of whole, each one of just wondering & knowing, it was not certainly me, and I left that place and matter half way with heavy heart knowing nothing, telling nothing. That’s what gives me sleepless nights. A conscience bite which says, Though It Doesn’t Matter To Anyone..! So Blind Was I..? Could Not See The Strangers..! The Right & Wrong behind..? The True, the False..! So Dumb Was I..? Could Not Speak..! Could Not Utter A Word..!

July 2015 Issue

What Was False..? What Was Wrong..! The Friendship will always have that unwanted knot! And that’s where I get my first set learning, whom to trust, When to decide, whom to ask for help & most importantly what “not to do” when forming a team! “Futile Luring” of bringing the best of minds together only ends up bringing the worst of “Egoist” together. How much ever you try, destiny plays its mindboggling games & leaves you petrified thinking. How and why did it happen??? And the only option left is to accept it with an open mind, the reality…! When I introspect, I find that even if you mess up with some relationship, it’s quite in your favor!! I have lost something; I have gained much more aside! Making new friends, friends whom you can look forward to act the wee hours of mid night in times of trouble & most importantly you find you’re “True Self”.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

Move on with great confidence! “It hardly matters as to who you are when you start the journey, but it matters a lot as to what you do in the process & thus what you became in the end.” We chose what, how and where we will be in each moment. I stand differently today. One will be appreciated if he/she goes with a passion. Do not chain yourself to old habits or pattern of behavior there by, no chain yourself to relationship that no longer serves you, even hurts you! Any day we wish, we can have a new start! Just come out of your comfort, its unbound knowledge outside. I found the world lovable. The fault is not in stars but in us. We created our circumstances by our past choices but we have capability to make it better choices beginning of the day. We can choose rest over labor, entertainment over education, delusion over truth and doubt over confidence, the choices are ours to make.

go, some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts & we are never ever the same, be it the change of our living, words, deeds & acts of past, silence , in-actions & reluctance of present, we never the same again. It’s in your hand to keep yourself happy.

My Friends, In the life’s journey we came across thousands of people , some come into our life & quickly

Editor's Comment: A leaf out of everyone’s life that needs to be read and reread.

About Hiral Thakkar: Hiral is a MBA professional who is trying to hone her newly found love for writing.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

There is a Place

July 2015 Issue

There is a place, near the fields, where the tears stop, to let the smile glow. There is a place, near my heart, that tells me to live and search for the places.

There is a place, near the stars, where memories hide, to shower over you. There is a place, near the sea, where the happiness surfs, to make you wet with joy. There is a place, near the mountains, where loneliness ends, to make you soar for someone.

About Shashank Bhardwaj: Shashank Bhardwaj, is a new aspiring poet. He is been writing for the past three months. He has started his writing ventures through the aforementioned blog and has managed to write about 50 poems till now. The writer is silent reader who loves the smell of old books. He is a big foodie and traveler. He is presently about to enter his professional life as a System Engineer. His passions are writing and reading. Editor's Comment: A poem filled with hope and positivity.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

Let’s Be Educated

Let's be Educated, Not by just reading books or getting degrees,

July 2015 Issue

We can teach to at least one person, Who cannot afford the basic education! This does not mean whether that person is in our circle or not, Whether we know that person or not...Just teach. Let’s be Educated!

But just by applying the knowledge in our day to day life.... So that one can learn something from us Or.

Not by just looking beautiful, Showing goods we have that and others may have not, We can buy but others not. Just by giving something which is useless for us, Can be useful for others they can not buy in their lives.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. So that; Everyone can have everything and everything can be used by everyone. This circle must be in running condition.

July 2015 Issue

About Poet: Mohinder Paul Verma Editor's Comment: A nice message for each one of us.

Let’s be Educated! To be a human God has created with inbuilt qualities, To server the humanity God has created. Not to show up, But from the depth of heart where God lives, Help others without expecting from others. This is a social cause. And, One is looking at you. And, Watching you every moment you do anything, With or without your intention!

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

Go Green

I’m speechless; I add values; I’m ‘the’ giver; I’m ‘the’ beauty of space.

Misusing ‘me’ has always been a part of your life; Slashing me gives you capital! You shatter their houses to earn you liveliness; Killing me has always brought you fortune! My colour is ‘green’; The colour of ‘life’; ‘Living’ has always been my ‘right’!

July 2015 Issue

Don’t butcher me, it’s paining, Stop using me, I’m saying! A curse to you spells, “The day, I extent, that day will the last day of your species in this world!”

About Subham Srivastava: Subham is an enthusiast reader. He loves to read books, article and much stuff which he finds interesting. He is a blogger. He has chosen blogging as a medium to express himself and to polish his writing skills. He has been blogging since last December. Editor's Comment: An important lesson for a lifetime

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

A Night of Lessons

It was evening of midDecember I was at home playing play station when dad entered into my room and said “Your grandpa is coming tonight from Shanti express and you are going to pick him.” “What time?” I said. “2:00 AM” he said. “Ok.” I said. I reached railway station of Ratlam at 1:45 AM. As usual train was an hour late and I did not want to drive 10 km again so I decided to wait. Cold breeze was blowing and everybody was in their sweaters. There were few people standing near the fire, I went there and joined them. They were talking about politics in which I was not interested. I have always been an observer so I started observing people to pass my time. There were some people sleeping outside the station, some of them were without warm clothes, there was a police officer in booth half

July 2015 Issue

asleep, dogs and cows were sleeping in random places. I felt pity on those people without warm clothes, I wanted to help them but I resisted myself not because I was a miser but because I thought what can I do for them? I stood there and did nothing. I always wanted to do social work, to help people but never did. There was something that stopped me every time. After some time a tempo full of Bhils (Adivasi people of Central India generally work as labour) arrived at station. They came out and sat on the ground at some distance in the corner. Every single girl had a child with her. It seems like they were approximately eighteen years old and had become mother by which I thought they were victim of child marriage. After a while a beggar came to us and asked for five rupees. He was shabby, his clothes were torn from many places, and hair was big. He looked like he had bathed a decade ago. His facial expressions

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. were telling that he had not eaten for two days. Nobody gave him money instead they scolded him and said “You are fit and healthy you should earn money not beg.” I thought “How the hell he knows that he is healthy or not.” Another man said “See him nowadays beggars ask five rupees directly not one rupee.”

And I thought “And you are too miser to give him one rupee.” By seeing his sad face I felt pity. “I did not help those people without clothes but I can help him by giving him some money to eat.” I thought. I gave him ten rupee note; he took it and moved forward. I felt happy; a pleasant feeling came to me. Then a man

July 2015 Issue

standing near to me said “Why you gave him ten rupees? He will drink alcohol of that.” “I thought, he is hungry that’s why.” I replied. “You don’t know these beggars they make sad faces and earn money. They do not want to work, they are lazy.” He said. “I don’t think he is lazy, I think he is very poor and nobody is giving him work. Nobody who

is hungry would be lazy.” I said. “That’s the thing he is not hungry. These beggars are excellent actors, they make sad pity faces to con people like you.” He replied. “Na! I don’t think so.” I said. “It is like this believe it or not.” He said. I did not want to argue with him so I moved from my place

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. and sat on my bike. “How can someone think like that? How can someone be so heartless?” I thought. To pass the time I again started observing people. Then I saw that beggar, he was begging from everyone but no one was giving him money. At last the beggar sat on the ground with hands on his head staring at the ground continuously. The Bhils were behind him. Some of them were sleeping and some were watching their kids playing. “Why are these kids playing at this time? Why are they not sleeping?” I thought. “Maybe their train will be coming soon that’s why.” My brain immediately replied. A female Bhil saw the beggar and took out two stale chapattis from her bag. She gave that chapattis to his son and told him to give the beggar. Her son went near the beggar and said “Ae! Yeh khaa le (Eat this).” The beggar took that chapattis and took one bite.

July 2015 Issue

My heart was filled with joy that someone other than me was helping him. After some time, the beggar stood up and started walking. After walking to some distance he turned to see that is anyone watching him. Then he took those chapattis and threw them on the road and walked away. The words of that man echoed in my ear. My urge to help people got slapped by his deed. I wanted to give a tight slap to him but I was the one who had given him money. Then Grandpa came out of the station. I waved at him and turned my bike. I saw that a rickshaw passed over those chapattis, I thought of putting them on the side of road so that later any cow or dog would eat it. I was going to do so then I saw a man he was looking like he was from lower middle class. He went near to the chapattis, picked them, put them into his bag and walked away without looking in any other direction. This incident shocked me.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. I took Grandpa home and slept. In morning, I told my father about whole incident. He first listened it very carefully and then said “Tell me, what have you learned from this?” “Never give money to beggar.” I replied. “No! You should take three lessons from this.” He said.

July 2015 Issue

About Nikhil Pandey: Nikhil is an Undergraduate and soon going to be an engineer. Writing is his inspiration and reading is his hobby. He welcomes feedback and constructive criticism. You can reach him at supernikhil619@gmail.com. Editor's Comment: A true story that will give you goosebumps at the shocking reality of life.

“How?” I said. “First one, never give money to anyone before knowing his actual condition, like of the beggar. Second, you can never be that poor that you cannot donate, like the bhils and the last one, never judge anybody by their clothes like that middle class man.” He said. “Hmm.” I nodded and that night became “A Night of Lessons”.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

The Accident

Part One Part Two I checked the kitchen to make sure everything was fine. She was looking after the milk on the stove, meanwhile was probing for something. It must be sugar or coffee powder I thought and helped her find it. After getting her the box of sugar, I was going to the coffee powder. It happened to be positioned right behind her back, on the shelf. I carefully stretched my hand without disturbing her, as she was busy boiling the milk. By the time I reached the coffee powder, she casually turned around as the milk was all set. I lost my balance and was about to fall on the floor. Somehow, I regained my balance holding her. When I was steady enough to see things, I felt my right hand over her lower hip and left hand placed on her lower back. And to my surprise she was not bothered

July 2015 Issue

about the touch, though it is not a licence to my imagination, and helped me regain my posture. Once I was steady enough to stand straight, we exchanged a silent look for a moment, which was subtle yet passionate. Though we did not speak, we were lost for words deep within ourselves and she immediately looked away with a smile. ‘What is happening between us Varsha?’ I lost my patience and asked straight away. ‘Are you doing all this just because I am your friend, colleague or something, or you simply feel like doing?’ I continued further. ‘Wha...a..at?’ her voice faltered. She was actually happy, but was trying to cover up all her emotions, which was very well visible on her face. ‘I better leave now,’ before I could continue further she was ready to leave the place. Sensing her urgency to walk-away, I caught hold of her hand and pulled her closer. She hesitantly came closer with an about-to-smile expression,

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. with her head facing down. She did not resist my grip, which encouraged me to continue further. I lifted her head and saw her passionate eyes. I then closed her beautiful eyes, placing my lips gently over them. Banggg! We were interrupted by a loud noise. As I rushed out to check, the entrance door was open. In silence, she bid me goodbye and led her way out

of my apartment. Next day at the office, there was a team meeting. Varsha and I happened to sit beside each other during the meeting. Throughout the meeting we were playing with each other kicking and

July 2015 Issue

twisting our legs. Actually, the meeting was on 'Increasing Public Engagement' on the portal (WriteUpCafe.com). It was more like a brainstorming session, where we should jumble with ideas, whereas we were scuffling with our legs. As we were enjoying with our own work, suddenly I received a heavy blow on my foot. Unable to control the pain, I gave an intent look to Varsha conveying my pain. However, it was not her as the blow came from a different direction. Hence, I glanced through the room to find the culprit. That was when my Managing Director asked me to take the discussion forward. At the end of the meeting, two people were selected to attend the training cum certification course on ‘Social Media Marketing’ in Queensland,

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. Australia. My name was announced first, being a Manager. I was very excited not because I was selected for the trip, but for my trip with Varsha. I was expecting her name as she was a top performer in our concern and an experienced person in that particular domain (SMM).The blow was heavier than the one on my leg, as the MD recited a syllable which I had never expected. It was Aanchal. I was simply flabbergasted hearing that Aanchal was joining me for the trip. Aanchal, as you know, was my colleague in my content development team. But that’s not all; she was my junior in college, where I chased her like anything along with my friends. And I succeeded in making her fall for me as well. We both were in a relationship for quite a while. She was a self-centered person, excessively preoccupied with prestige and pride. She has a habit of posting anything and everything in the social media platform like Facebook, Twitter, Whatsapp, etc., which I hate the most. I thought she was doing it

July 2015 Issue

purposely to irritate me or to get other's sympathy. But then I realised that she always has a strong need for selfadmiration. She neither respected my values and thoughts, nor listened to my words. If at all she paid attention, she gets hurt being oversensitive. She never understood or even bothered to understand what others were trying convey to her. She was in intense love with herself more than anybody else, including me. However, Aanchal never gave up on me and followed me incessantly. She cannot tolerate failure and she took it as an emotional abuse. She somehow tracked my footprints and joined in WriteUpCafe.Com, being a part of my team. She was determined enough to convince me. At that moment few things sparked my mind. I remembered seeing Aanchal's black Inc.5 slipper outside my apartment yesterday, while opening the door for Varsha. She used to visit her friend, who resides just next to my

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. apartment. In fact, Aanchal visits her friend not just to spend time with her but to keep an eye on me. And then I realised the reason behind that loud noise, which disturbed us (Varsha and me). Furthermore, I figured out that she was the one who stamped my leg during the course of the meeting, again disturbing us. She has witnessed and understood my intimacy with Varsha and apparently was just trying to shatter it. She also had a meeting with the MD last week. Joining all the dots, now I can understand why her name had been called out instead of Varsha for the trip. Varsha with huge disappointment writ large on her face started towards the door. She was disturbed not because she was missing a trip with me but for the reason that her perseverance and dedication had gone in vain. Holding the door, she turned around and gave me a distressed look. Actually, that was the last time I saw her. ***

July 2015 Issue

The day has come, and I was getting ready for the trip, looking not so fascinated. Controlling my tears, I pulled myself out of my apartment to the Airport. Getting down at Thirusulam railway station, I walked down carrying my suitcase to the airport through the underground passage. After completing the security check, I stepped into the main corridor and moments with Varsha flashed before my mind’s eye. I was unable to control my tears and rushed into the restroom where I splattered my face with water, trying to match it up with my tears. Somehow, I convinced and pushed myself out of the restroom. I took a hesitant stride towards the check-in counter of the Air Asia carrier to get my boarding pass. I happened to see Aanchal approaching me with a cynical smile on her lips, as if she had accomplished something. I greeted her without any enthusiasm; we proceeded to the check-in counter and got the boarding passes. After

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. waiting for a while, we heard an announcement about our flight. Thrilled, Aanchal enthusiastically rushed into the aerobridge as soon as she heard the announcement. I pushed myself from the seat and joined the mass in the queue. When I was about to step into the aerobridge, there came a loud noise hum tera bina ab reh nahi sakthe, breaking the silence. It was actually coming from my phone that I realised only after the first two lines. As the phone continued to ring, I picked up my mobile from the jean pocket to switch it off. That was when I saw her name after a long time, Varsha. Without wasting much time, I pushed the answer button and placed the mobile across my ears hoping to hear her voice, maybe for the last time. I rather heard a worried voice from that end, which was not Varsha. It was her sister Shobana, who was literally pleading with me to come to the Chrompet Hospital. I was speechless for a moment as I was unable to comprehend the situation. Shobana said that Varsha

July 2015 Issue

was on her death bed and was longing to see me. I immediately rushed to the hospital to see Varsha in a highly pathetic state in the ICU. I went near her to see her lying unconscious coiled with numerous tubes, one connected with the blood, another one with the ECG machine, and so on. Oxygen mask covered her nerdy yet beautiful face, leaving just her eyes. Crying uncontrollably, I placed my head just next to her and said, 'Varsha, it’s been a long time I saw those beautiful eyes, give me that daring gaze!' Unable to tolerate her paleness, I went down and placed my head over her right arm. 'Rohan, I love you,' she said it at last after regaining her strength and consciousness. I felt a thrill of happiness at that moment and came out wiping my tears to tell her parents that she would be fine. That is when I saw the television hanged in the reception, breaking the news

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time. Air Asia flight crashes into the Java Sea!

July 2015 Issue

About T. R. Gowthama: Gowthama is an Environmental Educator by profession, writer by passion and a nature enthusiast at heart. He is a creative lad, serious researcher, an avid learner and traveller. He loves writing and writes on topics that inspire and interest him, which can be accessed here (creatikaa.blogspot.in). In fact, most of his writings are inspired from his personal life and travel. He is an amateur photographer, whose lens doesn't stop to click moments of life. His snaps can be accessed here (snapometer.blogspot.in). He can be reached at creatikaa.blog@gmail.com. Editor's Comment: A celebration of the chaos called Love.

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

Prompt of the Month for August Details on Prompt of the Month can be read here. Last date for submission: 20th July.

Photograph Avasthi

(c)

July 2015 Issue

Scroll down to leave your blog or facebook notes link. Those who write fresh entries for the prompt and do not have link to share please send in your entries to admin@writersezine.com

Nishima

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

July 2015 Issue

e.com/">Writer's Ezine</a></div> </div> Code for above image: <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://writersezineblog .blogspot.in/search/label/pr omptofthemonth"><img border="0" src="http://writersezine.brav ehost.com/Images/weprompt .png" height="94" width="320" /></a></div>

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Writer’s Ezine – writing one word at a time.

About Namrata If someone were to ask her to describe herself the one befitting word would be “ A Dream Catcher” followed by a child - woman, a dreamer, a dancer, a bibliophile, an author, a poetess, a writer, a painter, a singer, a go-getter, a doer, and an achiever. Having a decade’s experience to boast of in the corporate world, Namrata today is striving to strike a balance between her dreams and reality.

July 2015 Issue

stories. Apart from being a reviewer for leading publishing houses, she is also the editor for various books along with Writer’s Ezine. (An online mag) Her world is made up of loads of wonderful books, a handful of beautiful souls and tons of memories she gathers every moment. She dreams of making a difference to the world, one word at a time!

Mastering the nuances of finance does not deter her from giving voice to her inner most feelings at her Blogs. Having been bitten by the writing bug very early in age she had her first poem published in a coffee table book "Letters from the Soul" anthology of poems at the age of 17. Since then she has been a contributing author to many anthologies and has penned her first book Metro Diaries which is a collection of love www.writersezine.com | admin@writersezine.com | www.facebook.com/writersezine | www.twitter.com/writers_ezine


Writerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Ezine â&#x20AC;&#x201C; writing one word at a time.

About Arti Honrao Born and brought up in Mumbai, Arti Honrao is author of fiction books 'My Life-story' and 'Is This Love & Autumn - The Last Leaf' and Novel 'Resemblance - The Journey of a Doppelganger'. She began studying medicine but realized soon that her real calling was writing. Today after some ten years of blogging at Straight from the heart where her entire work is neatly categorized in Poems, Short Stories, Short Story Series, Fiction Letters, Sentimental Posts, Silent Night and more, capturing some breath taking moments with her camera, and sharing different quotes on her My Two Cents Page and having published a few heart touching stories she is glad she listened to her heart.

July 2015 Issue

twelve. She writes different genres of poems like Haiku, Tanka, and Cinquain etc. but mostly enjoys writing Acrostics which she continues to write. Most of her writings depict human feelings and emotions, which she tries to bring out onto the page and into the minds of the reader. She believes that essence of writing lies in not only entertaining the reader, but speaking to them through words. Her style of writing makes it easier for the readers to visualize the story unfolding around them. She is of the opinion that being good at writing a story is not about the story being unpredictable, it is about the way you narrate the predictable story and still keep the reader interested.

Fluent in English, Hindi and Marathi, writing came very early to Arti as she was dabbling in it since the age of www.writersezine.com | admin@writersezine.com | www.facebook.com/writersezine | www.twitter.com/writers_ezine

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Writer's Ezine Volume XVI : July 2015 Issue  

Born out of a need and a necessity of solely being able to express all that one feels, thinks and understands Writer’s Ezine is one place wh...

Writer's Ezine Volume XVI : July 2015 Issue  

Born out of a need and a necessity of solely being able to express all that one feels, thinks and understands Writer’s Ezine is one place wh...

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