Book Review : Ten Shades of Life - A Nethra

Fablery is a short story writing contest and it aims to provide aspiring writers an opportunity to come out of their shells and get published. The 'Ten Shades of Life' edited by Nethra A is a mosaic of stories that topped each genre in the contest. The diverse categories under which the contest was conducted and the relentless editing done my miss Nethra has ensured that the diversity has not been lost as the stories moved from entries in a story writing contest to the ones that appear in a collection of short stories. The individual authors Miss Cheyenne Mitchell, Monika Pant, Dr. Roshan Radhakrishnan, Shankar Raman A, Bruce Memblatt, Karthik L, Reshmy Pillai, Deepa Duraisamy, Vinaya Swapnil Bhagat and Rahul Biswas has each produced an interesting original containing their unique signature fro the book.

The stories are bound to take the readers on a roller-coaster ride but the title of the book can be a little misleading. Most of the stories though are a stunning piece of fiction has not much to do with life or the virtues of life. Each story revolves around its own theme and there is no real continuity between them. This has to be expected considering that each has been crafted by individuals who where never in contact and who possess not much in common expect an unrelenting passion for writing fiction.

A better way to look at the book is to see it as a collection of individual stories that has its own unique flavor than as a collection of stories. The book contains ten different stories each from a different genre, and each the best in its own genre.

The Ten Shades of Life is an official Rupertt Aryeen Wind Recommendation

INCARDINES by Miss Cheyenne Mitchell

A rather intriguing story of a girl, her parents and the mystery surrounding their lives. The girl finds the answers to the question of her family that is slowly drifting apart in a book so coincidentally mentioned by her friend. The narration is rather porous and at times you do wonder how it all came to be so, many a questions are left unanswered and mostly most of it makes no sense whats so ever.

RED AND GOLD by Monika Pant

A romantic and touching story of love and belonging, The story touches you at someplace in your heart as the narration goes on. The story is intriguing and with a slight tinge of history in it, it just is a good read.

HARRY'S BLUFF by Dr. Roshan Radhakrishnan

A fast action packed thriller and so full of twists and turns and twists with in twists that you just keep on reading till you reach the logical end. A true nail bitter and it sure is one of the best stories the book has to offer.

SOMETHING LIKE THAT  by Shankar Raman A 

A light hearted and delightful comedy with its own interesting and well though out twists. its just another good read in this anthology.

WEEKEND IN THE COUNTRY by Bruce Memblatt

A appreciable attempt at horror, does it scare you no it does not, it does not even give you a shiver down you spine but its still a good story and the narration is very well done but its just isn't the horror story it is meant to be that's it. A story that many will find interesting.

A NOOTROPIC EGRESS by Karthik L

This story is quite frankly a rather strange mix of one of the most wildly used elements in stories featuring extra terrestrial intelligence that it borders on fictional cliche and the unconventional boy goes to Europe version. This is a strange story for all that matters and the story line is again porous and narration battles hard to hold water but fails. In my opinion this happened to be the most disappointing story that I found in this book.

THE SECRET OF AHIRAAH by Reshmy Pillai

This is a very interesting and engaging story with its own shades of history and life beautifully weaved in to it. This is easily one of the better stories you will find in the book if not the best one. The only problem I have had with the story is that it finished way too fast, if only it did last a bit longer.

WHERE DID YOU GO by Deepa Duraisamy

This is a beautiful thriller that would quench the thirst of any thriller lover, a beautifully crafted story set in the real with with no larger than life characters and a very powerful message carefully disguised in the lines of a thriller.

BARREN HARVEST by Vinaya Swapnil Bhagat

A bold take on the world of tomorrow , bruised and destroyed by the carelessness and ignorance of man today along the lines of George Orwell's 1984 and the Hollywood film equilibrium The authors attempts bravely to answer the question sod mechanized emotions and the mechanicallity of life in the future where humans become prisoners of their own inventions and discoveries. 

A GOOD DAY TO DIE by Rahul Biswas

A real life drama that envelopes the life of three firefighters and their friends and families, the complicated realities of life and the many things that they do in the name of self preservation. A beautifully crafted drama that is what this story is.

About the Editor

Based in Bangalore, Nethra is pursuing her Masters in Business Administration and is a graduate in Computer Science & Engineering. She is a voracious reader and a fiction writer, who puts quality writing over everything else. Her interest in good stories and writing made her start a platform, Fablery, which provides aspiring authors a gateway into the publishing world. She is also working on her novel that she hopes to complete in the near future.

My Little New Nest

Amazingly cute isn't it?

We have even got a nice balcony with flowers blooming there and one with a nice set of swings

 The only bad thing is I have to share it with +priyanshu raj and +Pushkar Maid  :'(

When it Rained in Chennai

It was raining in Chennai, At least in the part of Chennai where he was living. At first he sensed the day getting darker slowly and steadily. At first he thought it was another ruse played by the rain gods but this time around the things were different. The day got steadily darker and then there was the ominous stillness that always and inexplicably came before the rain. The twilight when the peacocks dance and the birds rush to their nests. The magnificent drum-roll that accompanies any beautiful rain. Then he could hear the soft sound of little rain drops kissing the ground.

He made himself a cup of coffee, slowly pouring it out into a mug like he had all of eternity to do that. He walked to the open balcony of his apartment. He could see that it had started raining harder and steadier. Little droplets were falling from the sun shade as a bunch of little marching soldiers. The outside was hazy and the balcony was partly splashed wet by the rain. He leaned over the railings, his nose almost touching the falling rain. He could smell in the earth that was just been showered upon, the air was thick with the fragrance of dry earth. He sipped the coffee and as the hot liquid game him a shiver down his body as it slowly went down. He closed his eyes and inhaled in the world around him and slowly opened his eyes to the heavens.

The dark clouds were rolling in, thick like a woolen blanket. The sky no longer belonged to Chennai but this sky belonged in his memories. He could see in the sepia his life in another city, his home. He could remember vividly how the rain clouds marched in like Alexander’s great army. The torrential downpour that drenched the land around him poured down his mind. He could feel the coldness of the showers and the amazement with his being was cleansed manifested as a small smile that spread across his face.

He remembered the years of his childhood, the endless days he spent watching the monsoon, the thunder and the lightning playing around like two long lost brothers in their reunion.  He remembered the streams that flowed near his house that was up to the brim and spilling from the sides. He remembered the birds that nested in the mango tree in his house; he remembered how she would hide herself in the thick canopy and how she dodged the falling waters. He remembered the wet trees and the green grass. He remembered the cows and the wet muddy trails that led in the plantations. He remembered his mother and she would get him a cup of tea when it was raining and how they would sip it together and watch the rain perched on their balcony.

He was I and being in Chennai for some time now, I miss the land where I was born and where I was raised. These memories rushed to me in a surge of emotions and nostalgia. I wonder how much more my life revolves around the beautiful monsoons of Kerala.

10 wishes on my 22nd

For those of you who are unfamiliar with it and those who would care to know, Two days ago I turned twenty-two. 

What quickly followed was a realization that I have lived one year longer and my future one year less.

After that it was just calls from friends and family, everyone I cared and who cared for me called up at and around midnight blissfully ruining my goodnight sleep and wished me a prosperous and beautiful year ahead.

The cliches... Yes...

But I thank them never the less for making me feel loved and cared for. 

After that I thought

"What do I want for the next year anyway?"

"What were my dreams?"

"What were my birthday wishes?"

By the way

I think this is my first birthday in my memory without a birthday cake and I sure that there are more to follow on in that front.

Okay back to my wishes...

So Finally I decided to pen them down

"My 10 Wishes for the age of 22"

Here they are 

1. Make sure that my fiancee knows that I love her and only her.

I may not be the most forthcoming in matters of love in the universe, and I may at time fell short of letting my dearest heartthrob know how much I love her and how much I appreciate her. But that is going to chance this time and this time she will know that she is the most loved person in the whole wide world.

2. Keep my promises to my dearest heartthrob.

I am not sorry to be bringing in my darling a second time around, It my list I will do what I like. I have given her a lot of promises over the years and its time for them to come due. I intent to keep them too.

PS: I know these are not much of a wish as a resolution, but still they matter.

3. I wish my brother would get in the college that he wants.

I do wish that my brother would find what he wants to do with life and I wish he gets what he wants and what is that which is the best for him, even if he realizes that now or not.

4. I wish that all my friends would get a job or whatever they want after college.

I don't want to talk about it more though. i may not have talked to some of them for some time now but that does not mean that I do not care.

5. I wish all my gang would grow old together.

I wish my gang of thick friends now would forever remain so and that we would have our families would one day join the circle and that they would be uncles and aunts and godfathers to each others children and that we would go camping and trekking together with our families and our dogs. I wish our wives would get together and be as good friends as we are and that we be one good old gang of old friends.

PS: This is a special wish and I really hope this one is granted. That would mean a lot to me.

6. I wish that I be more caring towards my family.

I wish that i be able to show my family how much I love everyone of them and that I give them no reason to think that I care less. I love them, everyone of them but I almost always feel that I am not doing enough in showing them that.

7. I wish that there was something that I could do about some friends.

I know that some of my friends are in trouble and I know that they need help, I wish That I could do something about it. I understand when everyone tells me not to butt in and I accept that many a times I sound like I am preaching. But still I wish I could help them through this tough phases of life. May be my keeping shut is the best thing but still I wish.

8. I wish everyone was happy

I know this is a naive wish and that this is one wish that is probably never going to come true, But still... I Wish it.

9. I wish that the magic in life never dies.

I feel it now, I don't know how I kept the child like wonder in me living till this age. I don't know how I can still be a child at heart and I do look rather young too. But I wish that I be able to keep in intact till my grave.

10. I wish my friends would find love.

I don't think my friends are ready for true love yet, They haven't had there hearts broken yet. So I do not wish them true love but I wish them love for I want to see them fall in love and embrace the feeling of being in love. I want them to have a broken heart and I want them to have the courage to fall in love again and again, to have the courage to risk heart getting broken and finally finding their true love.

Bangalore Vistas : A Comic Strip

My sincere thanks to my beloved friends who stared in my +Arun CS, +Revathy Ganesh, +Rohith Odunghat  and +Rupertt Wind.

The Masquerade Party

Everything about life is a lie, everyone has a costume and everyone dons a mask. At times I do realize that the only place where everyone is who they are is at a masquerade party when they all don there masks and when they are in the costume and caught in the frivolous act of being someone else.

People have a way of hurting you, a way of disappointing you. When you finally come to believe someone they invariable cheat and dishearten you. Some do not trust you to spill their heart and the ones whom you end up trusting are almost always the devil in disguise. They hurt people for the fun of it or do they even realize that they are hurting people.

I know my words are meddled that is only because my thoughts are too. I am confused and scared, I do not know who to trust and I do not know whether I have any friends at all. I realized that the one’s I thought was there were never really there. All I was seeing was a mirage a happy illusion, a blissful product of a deranged mind. At times I hope I knew not the truth. I hope I knew not the actors behind the characters, they were so nice to me the characters. I just wish that the illusion persists and I never wake up.

It would be blissful to revel in the midst of ignorance and what the ancients have come to call as the ‘Maya’.

Trust me truth hurts, why I do not know. I do not know why they have to do what have done. They may have their reasons and though I wish I could see the good in them…

I can’t, I just can’t.

I feel lost that’s the truth and I do not know what to do or what to think, All I want to do is cuddle into a ball and sit against the wall and cry like a little girl. I just wish I could cry and make it all go away.

I just had to tell someone this, Thanks guys for listening. It means a lot that there is someone who would listen to me whine away. 

Womanhood

How can I write about womanhood? That is the first question that popped in my head when my mind wandered on to this topic for my next post. How can I ever write authoritatively about womanhood? I do not know what it takes to be a woman; I do not know what womanhood entails. Whatever I say I have to be blunt and distant, I can’t even pretend to know that I know everything about womanhood because I am not a doctor either. I have read the books, I have did my research and in the general being of womanhood I have a fairly good theoretical understanding of the way the machinery works but does that make me an authority on the subject and for that matter does it even make me qualified to talk about it?

The answer is that I can write about womanhood but not form a woman’s perspective but from that of a man, I can say and write about what womanhood means to a man. I can talk about the envy and wonder that a father feels at the birth of his child, I can talk about the despair and sadness a son feels at the death of his mother. I can talk about the magic of love and the hopes that a husband expects his wife expects from him. But greater than all this I can talk about what the many special woman in his life means to a man and what he would be reduced to when they evanesce from his existence.

When someone asks me what I see as the greatest of god’s gift to woman, I can think of only one answer, the ability to give birth. To be able to create something so magnificent and miraculous just from a tiny cell. I know that the journey is painful and at times almost bordering on anguish, I understand this though I could never venture far enough to feel the agony myself or to accept it in its true intensity. But I believe that it does all makes sense to her when she gets to touch her child, when the soft skin of her baby brushes against hers, when the first cry of the child beats down on her heart like a beautiful symphony. I believe that then all the pain and suffering seize to matter and the wonder of life overwhelms her and love like a miraculous medicine heals everything then and there. But what can a man do then but to witness this miracle unfold in front of him in awe and wonder like a distant observer. All he can do is try to understand what has just happened and try to fathom the intensity of the reality in front of him.

I have friends who weep every month for having being born a woman, alas if only they understood the true purpose in its all enormity. Sometimes I think they do, sometimes I think they are losing it. I for one do believe that this thing balances out all the suffering that a woman has to endure and transcend to reach that moment. Some of you may take to support me and some of you may not. I am happy for those who would say that I am right for that means I have got it right, at least some of it and for those who would take the other side of argument I should say that I have no way of knowing what it means for I am a boy, a man and to understand woman and womanhood is no simple task. I try but I know the chance of truly understanding such intense emotions is a herculean task.

Womanhood is not just about giving birth is it? At times I have wondered thanks to my upbringing, how woman are able to suffer so much? This time I am not talking about the physical pains of being a woman but the many emotional pains that they suffer through so effortlessly. I wonder how a mother can commit so whole heartedly to her child, how a wife can be there for a husband every single step of his life, how a daughter can help his father even when she has enough pains on her own to deal with. I have never had a sister so that is something I do not know about and what having a sister means to a brother. The one good thing about the Indian male hypocrisy is that women unlike men gets to spent a lot of time with their family and at times don’t have to bother about anything else and this instigates the formation of such intense relationships that are not often seen anymore.

I have met some very proud woman and I have met some not so proud ones too, but at this day when I celebrate the anniversary of the day my girlfriend became a real woman (if you know what I mean). I must tell you that deep inside I feel much envy and jealousy to the whole of womanhood and I salute the marvelous women in my life for what they are and what them being there means to me.

Have I told you about March?

What is March to me is a far better question than who is March? Do I know march and how do I know march are even better questions and quite frankly I can’t answer the later duo, simply because I do not know the answers to them. March is an enigma to me, a bewildering and mind blowing puzzle. The truth is that she never existed and if she did her existence was more ethereal that the mirage in the mid-day sun. She exists and she doesn't at the same time, She is and she is not at the same time, yet she persists like a ghost upon my memory, entangling me into the abysmal oblivion of not knowing who she is and why she came into my life and whether she came into my life at all or is it all nothing but the delusions of a deranged mind?

Any story or any sentence about March must be abstract and shall only be abstract not because I intent to protect the identity of an otherwise domineering public presence from stigma but because she is as elusive to me as she is to you by these abstract words. Her existence for me is just as abstract and doubtful. There are times I scrutinize my sanity for what had happened that fateful day when destiny played the tune of fate going rogue.

I saw her, her eyes pierced into mine like the splinters from a shattered shell. Hungry for vengeance they struck me deep and painfully in the depths of my tattered heart. I cried in unheard agony when the heavens itself must have turned deaf that day. Then she smiled at me her smile spreading inside my body like death upon a famished being and bestowing me with a warmness of the ultimate awareness. Alas disappointment again waits for me, the most peaceful of seconds ceased to exist soon enough as all good things. She came and she went in a fragment of time that was far too small that between dream and reality the lines began to blur.

The truth is that I do not know whether I had lived through March or not, I do not know whether March is an enigma or a truth like the lives under the sun. But what march was and what I know March to be, is that march is the beacon of light from a domain unknown that signaled to me that all is not lost and life is yet to exist. March showed me in the twilight between life and death, between despair and hope, between dream and reality that my destiny is yet to be written and my gardens of love are yet to see the spring.

More From this Series : My Long Love Story
January
February Part I
February Part II

Different and Flawless : Tantra by Adi

Tantra the action packed story of a stunningly ravishing and vampire hunting New York city girl named Anu Agarwal, who moves into the sprawling city of Delhi in search of some answers and a couple of blood suckers to kill is both unique and predictable. The narrative is flawless and as Adi takes every reader on a nail biting journey through the alley ways and rooftops of a historic city with some old and set habits. The city offers her an entirely different challenge from what she was used to back in New York. She finds her enemies to be her allies and innocent children to be the price their unholy alliance. She finds powerful enemies, greater weapons and more importantly some answers and more questions to find answers to.

The story is a good and unique one and the narration is insidious, one tends to lose track of time as the story unwinds slowly and painfully. Though the twists are not expertly executed they are not dull or predictable for that matter.The lack of a strong prologue haunts the story as readers are often at a loss when it comes to the why part of most things in the story, Adi was not clearly in a mood to  explore the past of both Anu and the vampires in the city of New Delhi.The book has enough in it to keep you interested till the very end if you have a thing for adventure and don't mind some more than ugly vampires.

The fall side of the story is that its very predictable when you are done with less than half the chapters and it has not one such twist that could keep the readers guessing. Once the villain is revealed it is only a matter of some chapter before its the end.There are no surprises  no drama or not even some real action in it after that point. The story-line is plain and straight forward and taken for granted. One other thing is that for some unknown reasons the author has rushed through the climax way too fast and the whole things ends in a unceremonious ruckus. Thirdly the book lets a lot of questions unanswered even the basic ones that seem to be the very core of the story, in fact the story is not that keen on answering questions as it is on asking them. 

The final word is that if you are looking for a one time read that would take your mind of many a mundane stuff in life, then Tantra by Adi is a very good choice. Its hearty, light and full of adventure and lets you easily be lost in the underworld of Delhi among vampires, magic and some super cool 'Tantric' stuff. But if you are that person who would prefer substantial quality to the books they read and is not at all into a the less classic ones then do keep your distance and find another book to read. This is strictly for a reader who is at leisure and is not much obsessed with everything literary about it. 

Some Specs as given in FLIPKART
Publisher	Apeejay Stya Publishing
Publication Year	2013
ISBN-13	9788190863629
ISBN-10	8190863622
Language	English
Binding	Paperback
Number of Pages	344 Pages

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The Farewell

I don't know why there is a little moist tear drop dancing on my eyelashes, I don't know why there is a sudden feeling of heaviness upon my heart. Did I love them so much to inflict such stranger gloom on my being. I thought I was immune to all these, I have trained my mind to outlive it. I suppose I failed, I have only god to thank for it.

I know I will meet the best of my friends again, they will always be there in my circles for ever to the grave. But why do I miss the others the jokers who made every lecture a little a little less than a comedy circus and the silent ones who have been forever confined to the oysters they live that it was much difficult to acknowledge their existence. Why do I miss the buildings and the pathways, the secret gardens and the little parks. Why do I miss the four walls we call classroom and the the four years they consumed?

May be I know why, may be I am yet to find out the real reasons. The truth! I am not sure I want the truth, it may not be that easy to know the truth, that is my fear. I don't know how many years it will be since we the gang will meet again and I am not sure whether we will for that matter. Oh God! Let that be not true, let there be no daemons lurking in my worst fears.

The college has given me the best years of my life,  something that will be eclipsed by only the first cry of my first born. I have come to believe in life I again and the beauty of it's existence, the tangles of destiny and the crossing of our many paths. Then there is an end for everything, all I wish is that let this be not it, let this be not the time of the drought. Let this be just an autumn preceding a very beautiful spring.

The Priest, The Rabbi and The Minister Joke

A rabbi, priest, and minister walk into the bar. They sit down at one end, and the rabbi says, "Want to hear what I did this weekend?" The other say, "Sure." 

The rabbi, whose name is Abraham, continues. "I talked with my congregation about the importance of circumcision. Our God is a God of the Covenant, and we are the people of that covenant. When we circumcise, we are literally 'cutting a covenant' in the flesh. This physical mark reminds us of who we are and to Whom we belong. It's about personal and communal identity. I am part of the divine Covenant. We are part of the divine covenant together. We are not, and never will be, alone."

The priest and minister nod together and say, "very nice." Then the priest says, "Do you want to hear what I did this weekend?" The others say, "Sure."

The priest, whose name is Peter, continues. "I talked with my congregation about the importance of liturgy. Liturgy isn't just 'meaningless ritual.' When we participate in liturgy, we are participating in an eternal story. In the beginning God calls us into being as a people. It is in community that God transforms us. It is in community that God nourishes and empowers us. It is out of community that God sends us to become enfleshed grace for others as we live out the story of Jesus in the world." 

The rabbi and the minister nod together and say, "very nice." Then the minister says, "Do you want to hear what I did this weekend?" The others say, "Sure."

The minister, whose name is Paul, continues. "I preached about the importance of Scripture. The Bible is the Word of God, inspired by God to grant unto us real guidance in this and every age. It is a timeless book that bears witness to an eternal truth. And the most important thing that it does as the Word of God in text is to point us to the Word of God en-fleshed  Jesus Christ, the Son of God, Savior of the World. It is the Bible, filled with divine prophecy and wisdom, that leads us to take Jesus into our hearts so that we do not find ourselves ultimately lost. 

The priest nods and says "very nice." The rabbi shrugs and says, "Meh, whatever." 

The bartender walks up the the three religious leaders. He asks the rabbi, "Abraham, need anything?" The rabbi says, "Yeah, I'd like a brandy." The bartender pours some brandy into a glass and slides it to him.

Then the bartender looks at the priest and asks, "Peter, need anything?" The priest says, "Yeah, I'd like a glass of wine." The bartender pops the cork on a bottle and pours out a glass of wine and slides it to him.

Then the bartender looks at the minister and asks, "Paul, need anything?" The minister says, "Yeah, I'd like a beer." The bartender pulls the tap and fills a mug full of beer and slides it to him.

The bartender then takes all their plastic and places it by the register, for at the end of the day they will pay whatever tab they run up. 

Then the bartender goes down to the other end of the bar where another man sits. The bartender slides him a shot of Jameson's alongside a rum and coke, and they begin to talk.

Did You get Joke? Huh?

Me Neither :( 

All help accepted!

Disclaimer : Joke as Found on  Evolving Christian Faith

The First Book I ever Read

‘The first book I ever read’… Hmm… That is a misleading topic as any that I could have for this little essay. It ought to be called the ‘First book I remember I ever read’ or to be more precise ‘The first book I ever read that I remember and that I consider a book’. But look at them they are ugly title for any essay, in fact they are so ugly that I myself would not read such an hideously titled essay if I ever got myself to write such an hideously titled essay. So let us stick with ‘The First Book I ever Read’ It may not be precise but it still is a better title.

So…

The first book I ever read was an Enid Blyton Classic and I must thank my class mate, bench mate and then best friend who prefers to be called by the name Sam Rave much to my wry (Look who is talking) for introducing me the wonderful world of fantasy that the world of letters could erect. I still remember the tattered and much dilapidated book that he had in his hand one day. I still remember the musky aroma of the antique pages, its wonderfully faded shade and little termite ridden edges. That for me still is the genuine experience of reading. The torn covers and the crinkles that crisscrossed the illegible front cover. I remember asking him the book, I remember taking it home, I remember opening the book and I remember the aged smell of wisdom drowning me. That day I was lost to reality.

I went on to read every one of the books in Enid Blyton’s  Famous Five Series and then other series and ten more serious books, then came classics, then literature, philosophy, then contemporary, then art and then poems and then I was as much part of the world of letters as ink and inkpot was. The cozy world of carefree fantasy that he has unwittingly introduced me has changed me forever. So much so that my mother and my soon to be wife will have quite a few bones to pick with him, if ever he got too close to them. I was in love by the time I turned to the last page of that book, I had fallen in love, so much in love that within ten minutes I had my nose buried in another Enid Blyton fantasy. He was quite a match maker I guess.

The first book I read was ‘Five on a Treasure Island’ and I have never stopped smiling since, never stopped dreaming since the day I turned the cover and smelled in the musky air of letters.