The Tall Tail

 I have a story published on the Narrator Australia site.  Narrator Australia is a showcase of creative writing for new, emerging and established writers across Australia.

Here is a link to the story The Tall Tail

A Thinking Dog's Man

I was working in my study when the rumbling in my tummy convinced me that it was time to take a break from work. So I pushed my chair back, got up and started walking towards the kitchen. And promptly tripped over my sleeping dog, Nawab.

"Ow! Watch it clumsy" said the lethargic canine opening a sleepy eyelid.

"Wouldn't happen if you kept sleeping under people's feet all day" was my quick retort as I made my way towards the fridge. But Nawab was up now as he followed me to the kitchen and the sat down and cocked his head to the side.

"What are we eating now?"

Great! Most people's dogs follow them but mine has to carry on a conversation too. Though at times, just because my canine companion speaks to me, sometimes I forget that he is not human. Is Anthropomorphism a Sin?

"Umm I am having a snack, you'll be lucky if you even get a few crumbs this time. Don't you look at me like that." It's one thing to suggest that a talking dog is simply hairy little human because no hairy human can convey the hurt look a dog can give, especially when denied a snack. Big googly eyes that load you with guilt, suddenly you feel like an overweight Sumo wrestler snacking in front of a starving child.

"Damn you! There you can have just one little piece then. OK, one more but nothing after that." Was I treating this dog as if he was a four-footed person in a fur coats? I'd been delving into articles about research in canine behavior and the consensus was that scientists were frowning upon the use of words like 'personality' or 'intelligence' when it came to describing doggy behavior. Anyone caught doing that was not a rational scientist but most likely a woolly headed human who was busy tickling the subject's ears and going "oosa tickly-pickly boy now, kitchie, kitchie, kitchie....". Now that would be a career limiting move in the world of canine psychology.

"You know," I told Nawab, "I was reading canine researcher Stanley Coren, PhD, of the University of British Columbia. He has reviewed numerous studies to conclude that dogs have the ability to solve complex problems and are more like humans and other higher primates than previously thought. He says, and I quote from his interview now, 'We all want insight into how our furry companions think, and we want to understand the silly, quirky and apparently irrational behaviors [that] Lassie or Rover demonstrate. Their stunning flashes of brilliance and creativity are reminders that they may not be Einsteins but are sure closer to humans than we thought.' And while I think you may rank higher, but as per Dr Cohen, according to several behavioral measures dogs' mental abilities are close to a human child age 2 to 2.5 years."

"You've lost me" said Nawab, "What are you trying to get at?"

"Well I think if behaviors and abilities of dogs are apt to be similar to that of a 2 ½ year old human, then I forgive you your constant hankering for food and your addiction to reality TV shows," said I grinning at him.

"Did you know that Spinoza holds that God has neither intelligence nor will; yet he attributes thought to him, and speaks of the infinite intelligence of God. But it is obvious that these two assertions contradict each other flatly. However it must be said that according to Jewish and Catholic theology God has not discursive understanding, which needs reasoning and analysis in order to arrive at its ends; they attribute to him intuitive understanding. So Spinoza's God is not the 'author of nature,' but nature itself. Now there is indeed reason in nature, but it is unconscious. The spider weaves its web without the slightest notion of geometry; the animal organism develops without having the faintest conception of physiology and anatomy. Nature thinks without thinking that it thinks; its thought is unconscious, an instinct, a wonderful foresight which is superior to intelligence, but not intelligence proper. By distinguishing between cogitatio and intellectus, Spinoza foreshadows the Leibnizian distinction between perception and apperception, or conscious perception."

I stood still with my mouth wide open as Nawab edged closer to me.

"So to sum it all up, similarly I see no connection between a hankering for food and an addiction to reality TV", continued Nawab, as he took the snack from my hand and sat down to eat.

The Blue Sky

A young executive was nervously biting her nails.  She looked around and met the eyes of her ashen faced young colleague.  He gave her a weak grin in a failed attempt to prevent the panic from showing on his face.  Here they were, the chosen nine, all picked for this day's event from which there would be no turning back.  Everything else before this was just words but this was the real deal.  Of course they had all had to sign a waiver of liability because of the risk associated with this task.

She looked at the young man from the account's department who was joining them today.  He looked like someone who was capable of this task.  He was superbly fit and during the training had outperformed everyone by the virtue of being in top physical condition.

"I didn't sign up for this when I joined up", the young woman sitting to her left voiced her opinion.  A few heads nodded in sympathy and a few wan smiles all around.

"No I am serious; I mean look at what they tell us yesterday 'consult your doctor to get his approval if you have any heart problems or medical conditions'.  Hello I am not a Navy Seal.  I've got a Master's degree in Finance instead, so why am I doing this?"

The group was taken aback at her outburst and they looked at each other while some pretended to have not heard her.  The senior executive who was in charge was writing something in his notebook.  He had been one of the prime initiators for the day and was keen to see it go through.  But now he looked up from his task and putting away his book walked towards them.

"It is perfectly natural to have second thoughts you know" he addressed the group.

She stopped biting her nails; maybe it was time to speak up too.  Her heart was pounding as she spoke, "so why are we doing this then?"

He smiled.

"I am glad you asked.  I want you to feel afraid."

"That we are," she replied "but why do you want to scare us?"

"You are the future leaders of our company and have been selected with great deliberation.  Today we just want to take you high up in the sky and throw you out of an airplane at 200 miles per hour.  It teaches you to overcome fears and build confidence.  The feeling you will get of watching the sun while falling through the air can never be duplicated.  The air rushes past you as you fall.  Did you know you can jump off an airplane, fall eleven thousand feet, and still land safely?



When I read a book titled 'The Skydiver's Handbook' by Mike Turoff, there were these lines that have stayed with me since then - 'Jumping is fun! Skydiving is not just falling; it is flying—the closest we have been able to come to free, unencumbered, non-mechanical individual flight'



When you put a lot of effort behind something, you want to believe you'll always succeed and everything will be wonderful.  In you working life you will face many challenges that will impact you.  Now some of them will be tiny and insignificant but others could destroy us and completely turn our lives around.  It's how we face these challenges and our state of mind at the time that determines our ability to continue.  Each time when I jump I look at the sky and visualise what will happen.  I imagine myself freefalling thousands of feet above the ground, falling without a care at the mercy of the elements. Up in the sky there is no stress, no deadlines, and no clients I must answer to. There is only you and the vastness of the sky.  That is all that exists for me then, it's a spiritual moment like no other, and you have nothing else in mind but that moment and your life.  So are there any questions now?"

The young executive stepped forward.

"When do we jump?"

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

 

The Sleep Time Story

It was her first night when she was all alone in the room. 
"Not fair! Why do I have to sleep by myself?"

The little girl longed for the familiar touch of her parents, to be the one lying in the middle, as her hand snaked towards where her mother's hair would have been.  Hair which she would twist with her fingers as she gradually fell asleep.

"Daddeeeeee," she called.  It was more of a summon than a request.

"Oui madam, you screamed for zomething?" Daddy was at the door with his french waiter accent.

"I am thirsty.  Can you get me a drink of water?"

"Zertainly, what ze madam wants ze madam gets" and he was off to get her request.

She took her time, sipping the glass of water, each sip buying her more time with her father.

"Anything else ze madam requires before ze madam sleeps alone?"  The Daddy-Garçon was on to her for sure.

"Can you tuck me in?"

And so he did, elaborately, making sure she was snug inside.

"All done sweetheart.  Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite"

And then giving her a kiss he went out of the room, leaving her a  l  o  n  e.

She turned and twisted around on the bed.  Kicked off the blanket, threw the pillow down, something was still not right.  No matter which way she turned, it wasn't comfortable sleeping alone.  She wasn't really scared of sleeping all by herself, all her friends had been doing that for a while.  It was something that she had avoided telling them about, that little Miss Six still slept with mummy and daddy.

Her dad used to twist the poem she had learned in childcare.  The one that went

When I was one I had just begun
When I was two I was nearly new

Daddy changed it around
When I was one my poo had just begun
When I was two my poo was smelly too

Naughty daddy!  Then he teased her by changing the last lines too.

But now I am six, I'm still sleeping with my parents
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever even when they are grandparents. ;

Well that part was true, she was six now and still sleeping with her parents.  But last week her parents negotiated an agreement. A historic agreement was what daddy had said.  She would start sleeping in her room five days a week and if she kept it up for three months, she could get the pink bicycle that they saw in the store last week.  So here she was, all by herself, trying to sleep alone.

"Dadddeee"

It was a slightly frowning daddy at the bedroom door this time.

"What is it sweetheart?  You know you have to sleep alone tonight"

"But I need someone next to me.  Can't you lie down here tonight?"

"Hmm that will break our agreement.  I am pretty sure clause 1A of the contract on page eighteen, specifically mentioned that I can't lie down with you for the whole night.  I can't dear, you know what a hassle these legal agreements are."

"But I am alonely.  I need someone by my side"

Daddy's eyes went around the room and then he smiled.

"Well I knew something like this might happen.  It so happens that with my astute thought process and forward planning that I was able to think of something that might please madam," he smiled again, "wait for a minute".

Daddy walked out of the room and was back after a minute with his hands behind his back.

"Ta daaaa"

In his hands was the biggest teddy bear that she had ever seen.

"And it's not a toy", he said.  "It's a sleep assistance device, especially designed to meet the needs of young six year olds.  And the occasional thirty year olds too I may add".

With that he placed the teddy next to her and tucked it in.

"Good night sweetheart"

"Good night daddy"

She cuddled up to the teddy and was asleep before she knew it.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’

‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’

‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’

‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’

‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’

‘Little Girl, Toy, Scared’

Desire

You catch a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye.  You know from the moment you see her that it was meant to be.  Your family does not approve, they never have.  Not since the first time you went out with her and came back in the morning.  They looked at you with disapproving eyes as if something dirty had happened.  But you know it was different.  The intoxication of being with her. 
The first feeling of desire, the quickening of your breath, how your hands trembled as you touched her.  How would they know these feelings?

They who would never experience life this way.  Trapped by convention and custom in their staid lives.

How they tried to keep you apart.  Like the time when they locked you up when you wanted to be with her and wouldn't let you out.  Little did they know that you would still smuggle her in for the night.  When they found out they dragged you to a room full of strangers and made you confess your desire for her.  As if that was going to help because you craved her like no other.  You met her at fifteen and now only in your mid-thirties do you realise that you have to end this spiral of self destructiveness.  Only you can help yourself move on from this relationship.

So as you saw the bottle of Scotch your heart was saying 'Yes' but your head was saying 'No'.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

The Writer's Choice

As the moon rose higher into the night sky his hide-out started to get cooler until he was cocooned by a blanket of cold frosty air.  The night shimmered with snow drops that floated through the air and gently fell everywhere.

His teeth started to chatter and despite himself his body was shivering uncontrollably.  The tiny hairs on his body were standing upright and his skin felt cold.  He had to be silent else the noise would give him away and he knew they were looking for him.  To have stayed behind would have meant imprisonment and torture and forced denunciation of his ideals.  This was not something new; his friend had been caught and convicted for writing a poem in his native dialect.  The charges laid were of “inciting secession” and he was deprived of his political rights for five years.  Some considered him lucky as his family at least knew his whereabouts, the Xichuan labour camp, instead of an unknown fate.

Then some years ago he heard about 'Lhakar'.  It was a strange choice of word for a protest movement.  It didn't mean 'freedom' or 'activism' or any other 'ism'.  It just stood for a day of the week - the ‘White Wednesday’ - a reference to the Dalai Lama’s soul day.  It's a day where special prayers are offered for his Holiness's long life.  They would use this day now to assert their cultural identity.   It would be a day for making a political statement by wearing traditional clothes, speaking in the Tibetan language, eating in Tibetan restaurants, reciting Tibetan prayers and buying from Tibetan-owned businesses.  This was their way of saying that while you may own our lands, you do not own our souls.  Our language will not die, our customs not stale and our will not enslaved.

This was his day of expression and he wrote as if possessed by the spirit of the epic king Gesar who fought against the enemies of dharma.  Gesar who rode his miraculous steed Kyang Go Karkar, and waged military campaigns, together with 30 companions, against the frontier countries that represent evil.  He never took the country's name because it was abundantly clear which evil empire existed in his world.  His readers awaited the little leaflets churned out in his clandestine press.  He printed text from the Bardo Thodol for his readers.  The Tibetan Book of the Dead is not about death as such. Thodol means "liberation through understanding." Bardo means a "between state," an interval or transition between two mental states, whether experienced in life or after death.  Or as he pointed out in his essay, a state between freedom and oppression.

When he found out from his contacts that he had been handed a sixteen year prison sentence for “inciting separatism” and “subversion of state power” he invoked the ancient warrior spirits known as drabla (dgra-lha).  From them he gathered up courage to escape and carry on the fight from exile.

So it was that he found himself on a bus from Lhasa to Shegatse, a total of thirty people travelling together.  From Shegatse the group was joined by four guides who would take them on a trek to freedom.  They started walking at night and the trek would twelve days before they reached the border.  Human greed knows no race or creed and after eight days of walking the guides left them and disappeared.   With no guides to take them further the group was further divided in three groups of ten people each.  Each group was to follow a different path in its quest for freedom.  There was a family of five seeking a better life, four monks fuelled by search for spirituality and him.  The youngest child fell ill and the family decided to turn back.  It was him and the monks.  They encountered a group of nomads who gave them directions.  They had to cross two big lakes before they came to the Snow Mountains. 

It was late in the evening when the snipers ambushed them.  He saw the young monk who was leading them fall to his feet.  He saw the blood red colour seeping from the forehead of the young man and gradually spread on the white snow.  He turned and ran as the gunshots echoed in the mountains.  There was a narrow crack in the mountainside, not a cave but just a little space to seek shelter.  There was a snow covered rock in front of the crack, just big enough to obscure its view.  He huddled behind a rock and waited.

There he was now three hours later.  The bright moon hanging high in the sky over the mountain gave enough light to see around him.  But he knew now what he had to do.  He reached inside his rucksack and bought out a diary and a pen.  He opened it and with trembling hands started to write.

"Writing, to me, is a way of keeping my culture alive.  Growing up the first thing we learn about our culture is that it faces a threat like no other.  Tibetan culture is like a fragile flower: beautiful to look at but incapable of defending itself.  With my words I seek ways to nourish it.  Writing gives me a voice to reach people that I would never meet.  It is the life breath of our people.  It is the 'prajna', the wisdom of the heart that sustains our life."

And the pen slipped out of his fingers as he slid down on the snow covered ground.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

The Bargain

You wake up, go to the bathroom and look at the mirror. You run away screaming in fear from the ugly scarred face and tangled black hair.  While running you are still haunted by what you have just seen.  The bloodshot eyes that gazed upon you with a malevolent look that shook you to your core.  There was blood splattered all over the clothes and droplets of blood were oozing out of every available orifice and pore.  The garments that seem to be on fire with a flickering flame that hisses and burns with a sulphuric smell that permeates the room.  Yet strangely you do not feel the heat, how is this possible?

Slow down, stop running says a part of you, as the feet keep moving of their own accord.  And then you hear it, the weeping sound and gnashing of teeth.  You smell the smoke of a great furnace as it starts to get progressively hot.  Hotter than you ever experienced in your life, actually it does feel like being in a furnace now.  You think that you should have started roasting by now in this giant barbeque as your legs finally start slowing down.  You walk slowly now, absorbing the sounds and the smells in this place.

If there is a hell it must be like this you think.  Then you stop and remember.  That deal you did with the Devil twenty years back.  Yesterday was the time when you had to repay your part of the bargain.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

 

Original Movie Plots

It is often said that Bollywood plots are simple: boy meets girl, villain keeps boy and girl apart, boy and girl overcome evil villain and live happily ever after. And at the drop of a hat (sometimes literally) they dance.

 

So maybe it's time to move away from these old formulas and have some new stories to tell. Maybe inject a new realism to the stories and have them adapted for our modern times.

 

 Twisting the Classic Love Story

Boy meets girl.

Boy falls in love with girl.

Boy starts romancing the girl.

Girl files harassment suit.

Boy in jail.

 

 

Friends for Life

Two friends play cops and robbers as kids, and while one grows up to be a honest and upright cop, the other also grows up to be a honest upright cop!

 

 

 

 

Rich Girl Poor Boy

A poor young man falls in love with a beautiful and very rich girl.

When they approach the wealthy, arrogant and powerful father he happily gets them married!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Revenge Is Mine

Consumed by revenge against the corrupt landlord, angry young man becomes a dacoit.

He soon finds that riding on a horse gives him saddle sores.

So he surrenders to the police and gets a job as a Police Van driver.

 

 

 

Separated at Birth

Twins separated in a crowded village fair grow up in separate towns, doing different jobs, marrying and having children, without ever meeting again!

 

 

 

The Cinderella Story

Young woman in village has dreams of a handsome prince, who rescues her from a life of poverty and drudgery in the village. Handsome prince comes to village and hires young woman as nanny for his young kids with a generous salary package and medical benefits.

 

 

 

Angry Young Man

The angry young man, whose mother, sister, brother and kids are killed by the big-time goon, decides to take revenge and reports this to the police who nab and punish the criminal!

 

 

 

 

 

The Love Triangle

Vijay and Rahul are friends. Vijay is in love with Kiran. But Kiran is in love with Rahul. Vijay and Rahul have a fight over Kiran but come to realise that she is not the one. With Kiran`s help Rahul and Vijay come out of the closet and move in together as lovers.

 

The Muzzle

I was on the Internet surfing sites when my dog, Nawab, walked in.

"I have never really liked muzzles" said Nawab.

"Neither do I" replied I wondering where this conversation was going to take us.  Yes my dog talks! And no I will not go through that story again.  I mean Google it up if you care.

"Easy for you to say, you are not the one wearing them" said the feisty dog.

I squirmed, clearly this was not going to be an easy conversation.

"Well you know that the Council does have certain restrictions on noise levels"

"So?"

"So when they receive a complaint they have to act upon it".

"What's that got to do with muzzling dogs".

"Well they can fine dog owners on the spot, you know".

"You could have asked me first" and that hurt expression on the doggy face again.

"I had and I know you said something about the freedom of expression".

"Well considering freedom of expression is enshrined in your constitution I see no reason to curb it".

"Yes but if it disturbs other people then you can be asked to tone it down".

"And a muzzle is what 'toning it down' means?"

I did not feel like getting into another dogfight so I walked towards my computer.

"So does the Internet still permit free speech?".  Sheesh this dog never lets up!

"Of course it does, what a silly question".

"So why are they proposing that some websites can be filtered out? And who recommends that these websites get to be filtered out?  I thought the Labor Party was forced to abandon its promised mandatory Internet filter because it would never have worked and would not have passed through parliament".  Clearly this dog was a serious news hound.

"Sooo it's all good now?"

"Haven't you read the news?  Experts claim that Australians could see political and religious websites disappear if the Federal Government backs a plan  to hand control over the Internet to the UN's International Telecommunications Union (ITU).  It's bad enough already that comments on websites are getting filtered out.  Gah! I could bite someone right now!"

I knew just what the problem was.

"Don't tell me you have got been filtered out on that forum you post on?".

"Well that is to say..grrr.."

"So have you been 'filtered out as per recommendation' or just 'Filtered Out Forever'?"

"Hey its their loss not mine."

Thank you Stephen Conroy - you fine "keepers of morals" and "upholders of free speech as long as that free speech meets your recommendations". Keep up the good work there is an extra bone coming...er sorry wrong reward.


LABOR was forced to abandon its promised mandatory internet filter because it would never have worked and would not have passed through parliament, the Coalition and the Greens said yesterday. 

AN unfettered internet, free of political control and available to everyone could be relegated to cyber-history under a contentious proposal by a little known United Nations body.

Narrator Australia

 I have a story published on the Narrator Australia site.  Narrator Australia is a showcase of creative writing for new, emerging and established writers across Australia.

Here is a link to the story Reality Bites

Goodbye to Facebook

Vicky Pedia

Vicky Pedia (born August 7, 1966) is an Indian Internet entrepreneur best known as a co-founder and promoter of the online profitseeking encyclopedia Vickypedia and the Vicky Doner Kebab company. Pedia was born in Sector 31, City Unknown (reference required), India, where he attended Happy Fool School, a university-preparatory school, then bought a bachelor’s and a master’s degrees in finance from Harrward Business School. While of graduate school age, he taught at two universities, but left before completing a PhD in order to take a job in hawala firm and later worked as the research director of a Mumbai based betting firm. In 1996, he and two partners founded Pussy, a male-oriented web portal featuring entertainment and adult content. The company would provide the initial funding for the peer-reviewed free encyclopedia Nudepedia (2000–2003) and its successor, Vickypedia.
On January 15, 2001, with Larandeep 'Larry' Singh and others, Pedia launched Vickypedia, a free, open content encyclopedia that enjoyed rapid growth and popularity, and as Vickypedia's public profile grew, he became the project’s promoter and spokesman. He is historically cited as a co-founder of Vickypedia, though he has disputed the "co-" designation, declaring himself the sole founder. Pedia serves on the Board of Trustees of the Vickymedia Foundation, the profitable charitable organization he helped establish to operate Vickypedia, holding its board-appointed "community founder" seat. In 2004, he co-founded Vickiya, a for-profit wiki-hosting service. His role in creating Vickypedia, which has become the world’s most useless encyclopedia, prompted Time magazine to name him in its 2006 list of "The 100 Least Influential People in the World".

NOTE: Any resemblance to Jimmy Donal Wales the founder of Wikipedia is purely coincidental.

Thank you to all Movember Supporters

Like all good things Movember has come to an end. The aim of Movember is to raise vital funds and awareness for men’s health, specifically prostate cancer and depression in men. Of the 94 million dollars raised around the world, Australia's share was 22 million dollar, which is outstanding. Our team did an equally great job and raised $468/- for a good cause.