Black and Blue. – Short Story No.8


“Hey AJ, AJ! Look at that couple who just entered!”, Sam whispered gesturing towards the door of Westland Café. I turned back and my gaze fixated, just for a second, on the girl.

“What are you staring at?!”, Sam asked and looked over my shoulder. She knew. “Umm. So you really don’t want me to answer that right?”, I asked, wearing the most innocent smile I could conjure up. Sam looked at that girl, looked down and then straight at me and said “AJ, mine are so small no? Guys don’t like them small, right?”

You see, these are the times when a guy really has no idea what to respond. The obvious reply will, obviously not be liked.

“You are perfect the way you are Sam..”, I said in the most softest of voices possible. “Look at the bright side, you can come out of very tight spots much easily than her!”. Sam grinned. And that’s why she was awesome.

A waiter came with her chocolate milkshake and my strawberry cheesecake. We were seated at the corner table, one of the few spots at Westland that faced the blue sea; our favourite one as well.
Westland Café was almost like our second home. To an outsider, it may seem like another one of those humdrum shacks on the beach. But for us locals, it was nothing short of a veritable goldmine of the yummiest delicacies we could find in the city. And undoubtedly, the best filter coffee.

“So, what happened with Rani at the Gym? Staring and cursing whole day!”, I asked, slicing the cake. “Hey such a pain she is, AJ! You know what she did? She….”
I really don’t know what she said, I had already been lost, her voice forming the perfect music for the song in my head.“….. and then she told….erm… Hey HII, here!!”

I turned around and saw Nikhil approaching. A wide grin lit up Sam’s face, decorated on the sides with glowing red. A loud wave came crashing down at the beach nearby.

There may be very few things more frustrating than being there.
Imagine you’re hurtling towards this heavenly being, like an asteroid through space, but you’ve got the landing all wrong. And instead of touching down in a blaze of fiery glory, you’ve been caught in its orbit, encircling the heavenly body, gazing from afar, hoping for that final touchdown.

Such has been my life since the first time I met Samiksha, 2 years ago at this very café when the ever perky, very effervescent Sam had forgotten her purse and I offered to pay for her. I became her closest friend; revolving around her, protecting her from the vagaries of life. Westland was our second home; the sea, our own special hideout. And then came Nikhil.

“Sam!”, he said with his hearty smile while receiving one of Sam’s bear hugs. I get a hi-5 soon after. He seated himself between Sam and me, taking a bite of the cheesecake from my plate.

I won’t hesitate to admit that I was jealous. Of course I was. Jealous of the way Sam looked at him, jealous of how she giggled at his jokes or stammered and acted like a complete nutjob when he complimented her. Oh, and the cherry on top of my cake of misery? It is hard to the hate the guy. The glitter in Sam’s eyes sparkles as she talked to Nik, perhaps similar to mine as I talked to her. She gave me a warm hug as I left for home.

Like a lone animal in Noah’s ark, I sometimes felt like a misfit, lost and alone. All I wanted to do was to take her in my arms and pour my heart out; I wanted to tell her that she is the most beautiful part of my world. She was enraptured by him; I by her.

This is the story of a day that will be etched in my memory for a long, long time.

Very early the next morning, my phone’s ringtone woke me up. ‘Sam xD’ – the screen read. Sam!“Do you know the time, Sam?”, I said groggily. “AJ..”, her voice, a half sob.I sat up. Venting session at this time?

“AJ.. I like Nik”, she said. “Hmm. Tell me something I don’t know. Why’re you crying?” “Why isn’t he proposing to me?”
For a fact, I knew he liked her a lot. He had told me himself. “Maybe he fears rejection.” I said, voicing my own thoughts.

“Why-why would I reject him?” “I don’t know, you can be intimidating sometimes.” I heard a faint chuckle. “Ass. We were standing near the shore for a long time after you left. It was… heavenly.” Sure it was.
“You love him a lot, yes?” “Yes.” “Isn’t the solution obvious then?”

There was silence for many seconds. Just her soft sweet breaths.

“I’m going to propose.”, she said. “I’m going to-propose! It will be heavenly. AJ! You are awesome!”

A thousand unsaid words volleyed by my mind. I could say them even now.
“Obviously! Go get him!”, I said instead. I shall never learn.

— — —
The shadows on my wall faded as the mobile screen dimmed out. What would I do without AJ? Pushing away the quilt, I got up and walked towards the mirror. A weary face stared back at me, straight hair streaking the sides of my pale, tear-stained cheeks with a background of light orange from the rising sun.

But what if he says no? Am I worth it? … Is he worth it? He likes me. Everyone likes him.

Go get him! AJ’s words echoed. Maybe I should… I will!

I had to make a plan. This had to be spectacular. It took me the better part of the morning to finalize what I needed to do.

I typed out a text message to Nik:

‘Heyy! Come to the Mariner’s Memorial at 4 tomo. Wear that red shirt I gave you. xoxo’

My thumb paused before touching the send icon. I looked up and saw bright daylight streaming through the curtains..

Go get him!
The message was delivered.

I reached Westland at around 3:30pm that afternoon. Inside, I saw AJ with his head low, staring at a mug of black coffee. I went up to him. “AJ! You look bad, what’s up?”

He looked up, dazed; as though I had rudely interrupted a dream. “Eh, just a hurting head. You think the music here is a bit too loud today?”

Apart from the fact that he abhors EDM, there wasn’t anything different about the music here. “No, music is just the same! What’s bothering you?” He got up. “Just a bad day I guess. A walk along the shore should cure it. I’ll be right back!” he said, paying for the coffee.

“AJ, I’ll come with you.”

He looked away and hesitated. “Umm no Sam, just me this time. And I’m guessing Nik will be here soon? Have fun, I’ll join y’all.” he said, turning away, through the door, and towards the shore. Wonder what happened to him!

Brushing away the thought, I took out a sticky note and scribbled on it. It’s a big day today!

— — — —
It’s not unusual to get a message from Sam at 6 in the morning. But a message like this is something that I wasn’t used to. Sure she can be spontaneous but this was out of the blue. And she didn’t even explain why either!

It was half past 3 and I started towards the Memorial, wearing the red shirt just as she had asked. The Memorial – a grand old tribute to the sailors who had given their lives for the Great Battle of 1809; it’s lawns were the envy of the country; it’s fountain shows the envy of the world.

It was a wonderful day; strong breeze with the salt high in the air. It was 4 and I looked around for Sam. She was late.

Teens playing soccer, elders playing tennis, our Mr. Guitar strumming away for his buck. 4:20 and I get a message, ‘I am not coming. Let’s play a game. Find me 😉

Sam! What did she expect me to do? I walked around, looking for a note or a sign. Nothing.
20 mins passed by, I kept pacing up and down the lawn. It took me a while to realise something was amiss.
Each time I passed by Mr. Guitar, he would change his tune and after I pass by him, he’d change back to the old. So I went close to him, and listened. He winked and sang his new tune. It went like this:

“Ooh! Won’t you come?
Come, look beside, the crashing brine?
And see the neptune clutching,
our towering treble of shale?
Ooh won’t you, come…find me?”

A riddle? This, I had not expected. She knew I relished a brain teaser.
Crashing brine… Ok the sea. The neptune holding a treble of shale? Treble of shale. So there are 3 rocks?
Neptune? Not the planet, obviously. What else? Roman god? No, Greece! Sea… Poseidon! 3 rocks. Poseidon’s trident.

She wants me to go to Trident Rocks!

I got up, satisfied, gave Mr. Guitar a hug and some cash and bolted towards the Trident.

I reached the Trident, magnificent cliffs watching from behind as waves crashed onto this natural rock formation. I looked around. It took me a while but behind a giant sandcastle, written using pebbles and seaweed was “WESTLAND BB ^_^”.

And off I scooted to the place where I first met Sam, the Bulletin Board at Westland.

— — —
Back at Westland, I ordered a sandwich to go. Sam had gone home, she wasn’t around here anywhere. Wonder what she did about the proposal issue. The call early that morning had shaken me up considerably.

I walked towards the Bulletin Board; I had heard rumours that Metallica was visiting the city and if they were, Westland would surely have posted it up. I scanned the board, in vain. But I did stumble upon a post-it note which seemed interesting.

‘Tired? It’s almost over!
I’m at the house of the sailors’ guardian. Find me ;)’

What seemed interesting was that, the handwriting was very, very familiar. I looked again. Sam!

The house of sailors’ guardian? The Lighthouse? She needs to work on her riddles, dear Sam! I made my way towards the Lighthouse.

A lone tomato-less club sandwich awaited in vain on a clean granite counter.

The Lighthouse was tall, red, iconic, and non-functional. Non-functional because after building it, the brilliant engineers realised that no ship could ever see its light.

It was deserted on the outside but the door was left ajar. Sturdy stone steps spiralled upwards, leading to the glass dome. I paced up and almost reached the huge stone doorway to the dome; I heard whispers. I crept up behind the door and strained to listen. A sudden, short shriek pierced the heavy air.

“It took me a year, I couldn’t wait. I-I, how was the game?”

“Sam! I never-Wow, you’re amazing!”

“Nik, this is not easy for me to say-I… Nik, would you…?”

“Oh gosh, a ring. Samiksha… Yes, damn get up you!”

I climbed down the stairs as they did what couples do after a proposal. All the way down.

— — —
A blustery breeze swept over the shore as I sat at the cliff-edge, gazing at the Trident being mauled by the savage waves of the sea. Mauled.

This can’t be happening. Not to me. She definitely would have seen how much I care for her.
Two seagulls, one with blue stripes, other black, stood at the edge, pecking and flapping wings at each other.

How could she not? I have been with her through thick and thin! How dare she do this to me?The Black manages to out-peck his adversary. Blue backs away as Black flies over and flaunts his scars to his mate. The Blue looks over at Black, squawking weakly.

I’d give anything … anything to be with her. Is there any point in all that time spent with her?Black nestles close to his mate, their heads resting on each other.

My thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of my phone. ‘Sam xD’. A couple of seconds passed by before I picked up that call.

“AJ, AJ! I have so much to tell you!”, an exuberant voice relayed from the other side.

A huge sigh escapes me. “Sam! Tell me all about it!”

I guess in the end, it was all meant to be.
I got up to leave. Blue shrugged and flew away.

< — – — – — >
Sreedeep Sreekanth (@sreesquared)
Shweta Srinivasan (@GleeBee_)

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Yearning


Dearest,
What can you afford to let go,
To seek the apple of sin?
’tis forbidden; indeed divinely so.
The pain, eating me from within.

Come…
See the fires making me weak.
I yearn for you, you know not!
Cease being such a mystique,
Stop binding me in so tight a knot!

Take me
Because you know you deserve more;
Someone who knows you inside-out.
Only you can stop the inner war,
Stop the incessant self-doubt.

With you…
I’ll have peace and sunshine,
The apple would finally be mine!
The wind would whistle again,
We’d know no more, any pain.
Dress the wound, stem the bleed,
Let us not into the darkness, recede.
— — —
This feel is rare, accomplished by few,
Dearest, come.. Take me with you…

~Sreedeep Sreekanth
21/10/2012, 4:33am

— — — — — —
Yup, back after a long hiatus with a poem.
This was inspired by many people in such a situation around me.

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@sreesquared
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Girls, IIT aaaand Scene!


Ha! A dig at my college girls.
Imflammatory? Yes.

The Average Gunda

 “Eyy, look ! One super figure I saw that time near mess!” “Foreign figure ah macha?” “No, Local only!” “Oh my god!” “Wow, let’s go near and see”…..“Dai! She is that Red Bull selling girl only no?!”

This is TheAverage Gunda (TAG), reporting live from the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, Madras and we have spotted what appears to be, a good looking girl! This rare species is generally considered to be extinct in this part of the city, overrun by the genetically common sappa figures. It has been touted that these are the girls who went missing when god was applying aesthetic touches to his creations.

But what’s fascinating is how these females behave and bond with the rest of civilization. Most think too much of themselves. This could be attributed to the epic ego boosts they get just because they (mysteriously) have double digit likes for…

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Through His Eyes – Short Story No.7


Chill, moist air permeated the small apartment on the 10th floor of Lextor Towers. Four pairs of shoes patrolled the area, searching each inch of the place. Sprawled across a wooden desk in the largest room of the apartment, was the lifeless body of Dr. Edmund Cooper, a renowned name in the field of psychiatry and psycho-analytics, a surgical scalpel sticking out of his throat, the area caked with dried blood.
Looming over him was the grim visage of Private Detective Tony Milestone, his keen blue eyes scanning the room for any clues he could find. The apartment was impeccably neat, everything was perfectly organised and nothing seemed out of place. His gaze fell back onto the pale face of the victim. He noticed a bit of brown paper sticking out from under the body.
Wearing his gloves to avoid tampering evidence, he pulled out the blood stained file – the case history of Donald Fisher. Figuring doctor-patient confidentiality didn’t matter anymore, he opened the file. It read:

July 12, 2009 – Relationship Status: Single, living together (Elaine) – Previous history with drugs (minor, LSD). – Mood swings – Delusion….

Hastily, he closed the file and carefully wrapped it in a plastic bag, taking it back as part of the crime scene evidence. Promptly, he came down and started off to the station.

A black mass moved on the opposite wall as the sirens faded into the night. The shadow of a well-built man, illuminated by the adjacent street lamp created an eerie image in the deserted, unholy neighbourhood. He wore brown leather boots and a matching hoody, seeming ready to run away if needed.
He ambled along the road, his gaze fixed at whatever was in front of him, as though he was in a trance. The headlights of cars formed streaks and lines to his eyes, blinding and slowing him down. After an hour, the grim shadow arrived at the doorstep of Alexander Hemsway. He rapped four times on the wooden door and waited. A few moments later, he heard the lock opening from inside, the door slowly slid open to reveal a man in his mid-30s with graying hair. Hemsway looked up at his visitor and a smile erupted from his forlorn face. “So, you finally decided to pay lil ol’ Alex a visit, eh?”, he said in a squeaky tone, the result of an infection to his voice many years ago. He ushered the Visitor into the living room where a warm fire had been set up.

They sat by the fireplace, having some vintage red Bordeaux, casually exchanging old college stories, as is the norm with old college mates. “So, how are things with you and your fiancé? Last I heard, your marriage had been fixed!”, said Alex. As the words sank in, something broke in the Visitor’s conscience. His nostrils flared up and his eyes widened to reveal bloodshot eyes.
“Hell it was. You wanted me to be miserable? Why? WHY?”, he growled, springing to his feet. Towering over the terrified host, he gave a rubberneck look at him. Mad rage surrounded him. Shouts and thuds were exchanged, accompanied by occasional shattering of glass and tumbling of tables. Silence followed an hour later. The Visitor left the house, put on his hoody and swiftly faded into the night’s mist.

The local police had surrounded the building as fine rays of sunlight diffused through the clouds. The neighbours had complained about the sounds from the night before. Detective Milestone made his way towards the crime scene; the police had reported a suspected murder. He entered the room which was in an utter chaos. And slouched up in a sofa was the limp body of Alex, a shard of glass from the Bordeaux thrust into his larynx. Scenes of Dr. Cooper’s murder flashed his mind. It looked unsettlingly similar to that case, which made him believe it couldn’t be suicide. After examining the body, as was his habit, his eyes began scanning the room for anything useful.
Considering the state of the place, Milestone’s scanning looked hopeless. Just as he was about to give up, after 30 minutes of futile scanning, his eyes fell upon a fat, hardbound; the only object that was in its place; apparent perfection amid confusion.
He opened the hardbound, a college yearbook, dated 2006. In it were a plethora of pictures, all sporting a faded sepia tone. One page was dog-eared somewhere in the middle. It had a picture of Alex and 2 others; a girl and boy simply named El and Don, respectively.
Once again scenes from the previous case flashed before him.
There was something scribbled in a scrawny hand on the bottom-right of the page. “102, No.30, Bumblebee Avenue”, it read. Seeing that there wasn’t any other clue on offer at the crime scene, he decided to check out the address.

Late in the afternoon, the Visitor entered the local Walmart store, dropped his hoody and advanced towards the hardware section. In his haste, he didn’t notice a woman taking the corner of the aisle. She collided, her groceries promptly spilling out of her hands, onto the floor. He helped her up, helped pick her stuff and apologised. Then he looked at her. A fair, young lady in her late 20s, her brunette hair still made into a simple chic ponytail, her hazel eyes still radiant. Just as he had remembered her.
“Ha..Hello!”, she said, eyes wide in disbelief. “How are you? It’s been quite a while, since…” No response came. His eyes were fixed on her, his mouth quivered as he tried to reply. Unable to do so, he grunted, moved sideways and walked away, leaving her standing there, bewildered. Settling up her cheque, she started walking along Eastwood Road, a few blocks away from her place. The pale shadow of a man barely flickered in the orange lights as she turned the corner to Bumblebee Avenue. She entered a single storeyed apartment building and opened the door to 102. Minutes after she entered and placed the groceries in the refrigerator, she heard four equally spaced raps on the front door. She knew only one other person who did that.

She opened the door and there stood the Visitor, her ex-fiance, Don. She looked up at him, let out a sigh and ushered him inside. They were in her bedroom, the hall was getting a new paintjob.
“Why did you do all that? Why did you destroy my life?”, he said, controlling his growl as much as he could. “Do you know how hard the past few months were?” “Don, you know I didn’t do anything to hurt you. I cannot help it if you are too posses… I mean, if you misunderstood.”, she said, looking away at the rising moon. “Misunderstood? I don’t think seeing you hand-in-hand with that.. that guy is misunderstanding! 6 years it was El; 6 beautiful, beautiful years. You managed to kill it all off in minutes!”, he said, the pitch rising with each word he spoke. “I didn’t kill anything Don. You suspected me of a crime I didn’t commit. I have, and I still do love you. You just can’t see it through your green eyes!”, she sobbed, clutching the gold cross he had given her on their 2nd anniversary.
At that moment, something stirred in Don’s mind. His vision blurred, he began sweating profusely, he rose up and looked at her with bloodshot eyes. “I’ve had enough of this. I can’t let you torment me anymore!”. Advancing towards a terrified El, he looked for things to grab and throw, his rage reaching epic proportions. The phone was too far for her to reach, there was no escape. After a few minutes of manic cat-mouse chasing, he gripped her forearm, and pulled her towards himself. “No, Donald, NO!” “And it ends, now, my dear El!”

Milestone had eliminated the other 5 ‘Bumblebee Avenue’s and was on his way to the last one on his list. A serial killer was at large; he had to find him, yet he had no real grasp on his identity. He reached the place mentioned in the address and found the door ajar. There was no sound. He went inside, crossed the half-painted hall, and navigated through the corridor.
At the end was the door to the bedroom. And in it was a woman. The sharp end of a Gold Cross embedded in her throat, like an ancient medieval conquest. The words ‘So, Till the Grave!’ were inscribed on the cross. He recognised her as Elaine, from the photograph. He looked up and saw an open window and fluttering curtains. Her life had ended, but her blood was still warm.
He was here a just a few moments back. I can still catch him!
He called up the squad and asked them to set up a perimeter and scan the area.

83 anxious minutes passed by without any developments. He took his phone out and was about to call Thomas, Head of Squad 2 when he got a ring from Thomas himself. They had found a man in a hoody, unconscious in an alley.
Milestone motored his way to the alley. He found a young man, in his early 30s, dirty and disheveled, in a foetal position. Donald Fisher, so it was you. But why?
Don had a red spray can and on the wall beside him were the words, ‘So, Till the Grave!
Tony had no time to see if that held any meaning. He ordered the squad to arrest Don. He was cuffed up, bound and taken for interrogation.

The moon was full that night. But it’s light couldn’t penetrate the thick walls of the cell Don was kept in. He was on one side of a teak wood table and opposite him was the tired, yet confident face of Tony Milestone. He had got his man, and he was happy. Don had been connected to a polygraph, wires and probes attached to his chest, fingertips and now shaven head.
“Now, Donald. You’ve got some explaining to do.” A visibly worn out Don seemingly had no idea what was happening. “I do? Why am I here? What do you want? Money?”. “Humour? Do I look like I’m amused Don? You have commited 3 murders. That amusing to you, punk?” “Mur…der? You’ve gotta be kidding me. Am I on Punk’d? Where’re the cameras!?”, cried out Don as he studies his surroundings.
Tony had had enough and began the polygraph test. He asked the control questions and set the norms for Don. “Did you commit 3 murders?” “No. I did not.” The polygraph didn’t show any deflection. Don was telling the truth. Apparently. “Do you know Alexander Hemsway?” “Yes”. No deflection. “You shoved a glass piece into his throat?” “NO!”. No deflection.
Tony checked him this time to see if he was pricking his finger to cheat. He wasn’t.
That cannot be. All facts lead to him! How can he not be it?
Tony took out a picture of Elaine and flicked it towards Don. “Seen her before?”
His eyes widened. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Yes. She.. My fiance. Ex..fiance.” “Yes. Your ex-fiance, is now an ex-living person now.” “WHAT?” “Yes. She was murdered. By you. Why? All evidence is against you Donald. So cough up!” “I didn’ kill her. I DIDNT!”, he shouted.
“When was the last you saw her?” “I saw her thrice, in the past days” Thrice? 3 murders. But is this useful? Or just a coincidence? “Hmm, tell me more Don, details!”

“I saw her first at my psychiatrist’s place. I guess she had come to consult too. I tried talking to her. She was… in a bad mood I guess. We argued. Just as we had argued 3 months back. I guess i threw something down in disgust and left the place.” Wow. “And then? When next?”
“I saw her later that night, at Alex’s place. He wasn’t home. But she was. The vixen was at his place, again. He… He was the one who destroyed my life. She invited me in. She thought red wine would douce me down. The fool. And again, I guess we argued. It was intense. We flung anything we could find at each other. I guess the pressure was too much for me, she fainted I think . I had enough, I left the place.”
“Then I saw her today. At Walmart and then at her place, at Bumblebee. I wanted to apologize. But, she’s so stubborn. We had a war of words again. I wanted to finish this once and for all. I grabbed a gold cross I had given her, and threw it out. Everything else is blank.”
“So you didn’t kill anyone?” “No. I can’t do anything like that.” The polygraph hadn’t deflected the whole time.

Tony had been saturated. He had no idea what to believe and what not to. He called the interrogation off for the night.
Back at his place, he reopened Donald’s file, to check up what Dr. Cooper had written.

Mood swings – Delusion.
Note: Unstable mental health.
Quote: “Doc, I’m being haunted by El. Wherever I see, I see her. Whoever I see looks like her. It’s like she wants me miserable always.  Even this evening, I saw her, she was my cab’s driver. This is driving me mad.”
Diagnosis: Fregoli’s syndrome.
Symptoms of amnesia are also shown.

“Fregoli? The hell is that?”, he wondered. A quick Google search gave him a shocker, “The Fregoli delusion or the delusion of doubles is a rare disorder in which a person holds a delusional belief that different people are in fact a single person who changes appearance or is in disguise.”

Unbelievable! So that explains the motive behind the murders! Insecurity! That drove him into committing the killings!
He should be institutionalized, ASAP! Poor chap!
Tony got up, picked up his stuff and immediately started for the station.

Don had been lying in the same cell, a flickering bulb being the only source of light. He got up from his bed and clumsily leaned against the iron bars. Opposite to him, on a dirty yellow wall, there were two mirrors. One was a plain prison-standard one, with rusted steel bordering the murky glass; and right next to it, a shiny new mirror with fresh gold-painted borders, perhaps one left by the previous inmate.

Intrigued, Don walked towards them and stood right in between the two, his reflection falling on both. He peered into the rusted one. A weary, forlorn face stared back at him. Rubbing his eyes he thought about what Tony had told him. He felt suddenly uneasy. He then walked towards the steel mirror. Taken aback, he stepped a few squares behind and looked again. Elaine’s unwavering gaze looked somberly at him.
“Why have you come back? Why here?”, he screamed at the reflection. Frustrated, he punched the prison mirror with his fist. It shattered it into many small pieces. Yet she remained, in the gold one. “”Please go away, I’ve had enough! ENOUGH!” he cried, picking up a shard of broken glass. He started cutting himself, his palms and forearm, repeatedly looking into the mirror, smiling and continuing the routine, until he fell down. Anger got the best of him and in a final surge of rage, he plunged a shard into his abdomen. He quivered and his hands moved in a pool of blood. “Happy now?” he whispered. SIlence followed.

Tony ran in, barely ten minutes after Don’s psychosis. “Damn! The son-of-a-gun! Dead!”, he muttered under his breath. He went up close, glass and blood covered the scene. On the floor at the end of Don’s fingertips were the words ‘So, Till The Grave?‘,

The same words. What could it…. Wait.
Tony bent down and had a closer look at it.

Rearranged, it read …’Everlasting Love?’

< — — — >
Sreedeep Sreekanth
Swetha Ananth.

PS: You can find Swetha at http://whatwacksterzread.blogspot.in/ 🙂
Special Thanks to Swetha’s sister, Snegha for the concept of Fregoli. 🙂

— — —
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@sreesquared
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Lowe <3


A rant posted on 9Lives.
-Deep

Nine Lives

<rant>
Disclaimer: Incidents in the post are true and all I’ve done is take appropriate inference. All that has been stated/spoken below are mostly relevant to the adolescent age group (and people still stuck there!), and also from the Indian background. 

“Indha love eh, oru periya imsa pa!” – Close Friend

Translated, that would mean, “Love is a great irritation!”, and I’m sorry to say, that seems to be friggin’ right.
One of the biggest highlights of human life is how fickle they can be. The sane, intelligent and grounded person you knew, suddenly becomes a sniveling, philosophy dripping dwarf of a man.

I feel like I’m running in a field of roses, the thorns removed by our love“… This was one really cheeesy quote which a friend of mine enlightened me with. And another Devdas countered saying, “Your love is my drug, thorns will not…

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Love makes the World go Around.


— — —
Love, wonderful and strange,
You warm one’s heart…
Its a matter of peace and pride.
It makes our thoughts glide.

It does heal; It does hurt;
But, what else compares to love’s satisfaction??
Passion, affection; Adoration, inspiration…
Bursts within one in love…True Love.

Yes! Once found,
Loves does make the world go around!!

Searching far and wide,
Like a sad, lonely hound…
Remains, without love; without life,
Mind always in strife.
No peace, ho harmony; he lay waste,
His life, ’tis just like paste…

We know, just by heraing its sound,
That love does make the world go around!!

Woe to the person whofails,
to understand and love real love!
It does hurt to be ignored,
to be left alone and scorned!

Till romance, he is bound.
Love does make the world go around!!

Love can rekindle, the soul of one,
dejected, lonely and sad…
It calms, enlightens and heals;
And surely, a bond for life seals!

Come what may, love will triumph.
Doesnt matter–Roses or Chocolates…
Love one, and love one true;
For sure, its like Spring’s hue.

Remember; remember always.
Love really does make the World go Around!!

-Sreedeep Sreekanth

— — —
Peace Out \/
Deep – (@sreesquared)
http://www.facebook.com/DoWMblog 

Fellow stranger


Nine Lives

In a hall of souls, my prayer is for you
In a town, in this marketplace, I am here for you.
Daily trails, and the songs that are made from them.
I cannot give up anything, everything or you.

My faith wants to shine and take you in its hug
My love says beautiful words and means only half of them.
Be too honest and you leave yourself exposed
Seeing with your own eyes too much ain’t pretty always.
I’m saying words of melancholy that, in your diary, once puzzled me.
Your sadness intrigued my half-sleeping mind
My love waited by your side.

Heal, my friend.
If my wounds and scars be my wedding band from you,
may I live through them all, live long and live strong.

– Pooja Mishra.

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