The Message

He woke to the hum of the three tonne truck outside his home, unloading or loading bricks or wood or whatever the landlord is crazy enough to get at nine in the morning everyday. It was nothing new. Ever since he'd moved to this side of town, or rather this side of the village, this is how his daily routine had been. He couldn't remember exactly when he had gone to sleep, but could remember that he had had a good night's sleep. He had come in late last night. It was his job, basically. It was all Roger Federer's fault. If he had not dragged on a match he was already losing into a tiebreak every set, all of them could have gone home earlier. But it was not to be. (click to continue reading...)

(This story has been chosen for the New Asian Writing's 2013 Short Story Anthology, so i am obligated to give you the link to the story on their website, to prevent duplication of content on the web)

But all said and done, i am definitely chuffed to have a short story published for the second time. :)

The Zahoor Effect

Well as you know it’s the time of Ramadan. It brings with itself a self revelation among the people to be good, do good and be cheerful. I think I have always believed it that if there is a change for the good and it should always be for the best (which means it should stay on forever and not for just one month. *tsk* *tsk* like for example now - where they are all goody goody, just to get back into the same old shoe after a month)

Well it was just another day in the month of Ramadan for me today. At around 9 at night, I called up ma friend Nawab and asked him as to where he was. He asked me to join him at the beach. Now Calicut beach is quite picturesque (I mean ‘chick’wise as well as the surrounding wise). So I did not think twice before finding myself at the ‘walk’ in the beach.

There were three of us sitting there – Nawab, Zahoor (his friend) and myself. Both are Afghani’s. So there we were on the beach ‘walk’ sitting on the side wall between a calm beach and some lazy cows on the interlocks (it’s India after all, who did u expect to be on the interlocks?) Well there were quite a lot of cattle on the beach for today. But there were more people than the cattle (thank God).

Zahoor decides to call his girlfriend (an Afghani – been just here for a few years – even he’s gotten lucky, damn… mera number kab ayega?) But she doesn’t pick it up. And he asks me –

“You tell me one thing. I find this really strange. I mean I call girls at 9 or 10. They don’t pick up. But they have no problem talking after 11 or midnight. I sometimes get miss calls at 2 past midnight”

What could I answer?

I laughed. Told him – it might be strange to you. But that’s how it rolls here in Calicut. (Maybe you girls out there can help answer that better)

And then he had quite a few other doubts. He was like a refreshing breeze to the stagnant life that we lived off here. There was laughter. He spoke of the time when he got slapped by a girl. The times he had out here in Kerala. The differences in the colleges in and around Calicut. I can tell you this – he has a better understanding of the people of Calicut than even me. He has a solution for everything. You know why? Coz he receives anything with an open smile. No stress, nothing at all. Come what may, go what may, he lives each moment to the max. I wished to be him for a moment there.

No moment was dull. The Zahoor effect changed my perspective on life a bit – live life, love life.