Lots of words from a few words every day

A promise to myself: from today(err, the day after tomorrow), Feb.1 , 2010, I shall write AT LEAST 250 words a day IN ADDITION to the writing I have to do for my work. I will(very possibly) post my writings here too, though that depends on what I write. So looking my blog to find out whom I was with last Thursday would not be a very good idea. Sorry guys.


I might also become a part of 'a picture a day' event, though i suspect it is going to be sort of pointless because I do not have the datacable for my phone... Stilll.... :)


Now, I do not have anything interesting to say, so let me entertain you with some random glibglob


He was never going to do it. Never. He had that more times than he remembered, and he had fought for it. Sorry if you wanted him to do it, you were out of luck.

There were times when he suspected that the porthole in the next city were somehow related to him. At times, he would feel he was the 'chosen one' if there was ever such a thing. Several times, he had joked one day he might just get up to realise his destiny, but he always knew it was wishful thinking. Wishful thinking, baah.

So I did not expect something terribly different when I went to talk to him. He invited me for a cup of coffee, and actually asked if I wanted ' an expresso, or mocha latte', as if I cared. As if he cared. Whatever, just bring a fugging drink. We talked for several hours, obviously we shared many common interests and hobbies. At one point, he almost said that aloud, but stopped himself, afraid that admitting the fact could lead to other complications. After many cups of expressos, and Lattes and what not, I invited him to a dinner next week. With me, Sitashma, and Nira. He thought I was trying to fix him up with one of the girls, and was hesitant. So insecure. I coaxed him by saying that Nira's brother--or some family member, i forget-- needed some sort of help(implying a job) and it would really do her good if we met. He agreed, reluctantly.

Chabahil is such a noisy place, always. It was almost 8 PM when he came, but the din from the Ring Road almost  a hundred meters away still made our conversations incoherent at times.

'Raul, Raul, Raul, such a long time, ' he said as he came to our table, as if he did not remember the previous meeting. ' Come, come, Ashu, meet Sitashma and Nira! Sitashma is back for her summer break, and Nira very kindly managed some time for us between her college and job, ' I said, introducing the ladies. ' And this is Ashu, the one I told you about.'

'Really Raul, what did you tell about me? I really hope you guys were  not bitching about me, ' he asked to Sitashma as he sat down on the chair opposite Nira's. 'Haha, we were bitching good things, so you don't need to worry, ' I said, taking my seat besides him.

A waiter, dressed in a thick rose-red uniform came to us and handed us three wooden menus. I ordered a milk coffee, and gave the menus to the other three. The orders were usual, and Ashu looked at me quizzically, wondering if there would be drinking. I asked the girls if they were in a mood to get rid of all their troubles. 'Just a little, though. We dont want to get dead drunk in front of strangers and throw up on you guys, ' replied Niru, after a confirmatory glance from her friend.

And then space aliens from Venus came and gobbled up Ashu. We were scared, but everyone around us was acting normal, so we thought we had probably dreamt the entire thing and then quietly went our way after paying the bill, which included a bottle of expensive whisky the non-existing bastard had ordered. Soon I began forgetting that I had known Ashu. It must have been the memory modification charm that the wizards in the nearby table had used us.
Yes, that was a complete story. I tried to get published, but Ayush told me it would need heavy editing, and clearing the theme to make it readable for the nornal readers. Such a loser. Still, I will continue writing meaningless stories  like Chekov and the other fatass Russian writers, and become a pioneer of a new style of writing.


1 comment:

  1. You got bored in the end, didn't you? Still, it was an unexpected ending that brought a smile to my face. Keep writing!

    ReplyDelete

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