20 October, 2013

Budgets - Don't bother.

The sun had risen well above the horizon and was nearing the peak and still I was asleep in my bed on the day the college had allowed leave. It was then when I heard my mother scream from the kitchen. The yell had enough volume to kick me out of my bed and hurry into the kitchen. I looked meekly at my mother, as she stood well dressed to go out somewhere.

“You’re still asleep? See you are in your final year of college and you do not have any sense of responsibility. This is a shame. Anyways. I am going out with your aunt for some purchases and dad has gone to office.”

“Okay” I said without much indulgence in what she was saying and complacently walked around the kitchen positioning myself on a stool that was there. She stared sharply at me, bewildered by my irresponsible way of going about my days.

“At least ask why I called you?”

“Why is that?” I asked, again without any serious concern or interest.

“It was better when you didn’t ask.” She said and immediately a sound was audible inside the house. It was the vehicle of my aunt who had signalled with her car’s horn to indicate that she has arrived.

“See, the guy who delivers paper will come. Check the bill and pay him. Money is at the dining table. Do you understand? I have to go. Aunt Sita has arrived. Bye.” She spoke hurriedly and rushed out leaving the empty cup of coffee on the television.

Completing my daily routine, I cleared the television top, dumped the cup in the kitchen sink and lounged myself on the couch to watch something on the television. After endless channels of blathering and bilges, I settled on a news channel that relatively attracted me. It was a heavy dose of some sharp talks on unnecessary issues and objections on trivial arguments, the program got over after an hour or so.

The new enlightenment I had received from the idiots chatting in the idiot box urged me to turn towards my bedroom to have another deep nap when I heard a knock on the door. A man had come to collect the paper bill. I walked up to the television for the money, paid him and got the receipt. After some deliberation in my bed, whether to do something else or sleep, for a minute or two, I heard another knock on the door. My mother entered with fury-filled eyes and a stuttering stomp.

“What did you do?”

I was caught unawares with the question. “What?”

“How much did you pay for the papers?”

“Around three hundred. I think.”

“Can’t you even see what he has added? He hadn’t delivered the paper for a week and you pay him for a whole month.”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“You have to. You are growing up. I can’t be taking care of you even now. You have to indulge yourself with the household.”

“Come on. I am not even reading the paper. Dad takes it to his office. How will I know how many days he has faulted?”

“See. You can’t be like this. You have to take up some responsibility. This is a family. Everyone has to put in some effort in running the house. You are now a grown up. From next year, you are going to go to office. You will be employed. Will you still be saying something like this? Will you say ‘I don’t know if my salary’s been credited in my account?’ You have to grow up and look at the family budget.”



“Fine then. I will.” I said with aggression behind a reluctant fa├žade.

“Don’t cut me down. When I talk to you, you listen. If you do not check what you are paying for, you will be taken for a ride. People will cheat you and strip you off. You have to be careful. Look after our family budget from now on. It is your responsibility. Household budget is very important. If you do not check what you are paying for, we will go in a downwards spiral. So be careful.”

It wasn’t that bad. The exposure to my household accounts only made me interested in such topics. I was keen in learning more about the issues of finance and money. Budgets were my stronghold. I didn’t have to force myself to look into them after some time. They interested me. I was swooned into the working of financial and economic systems and I saw any program that involved finance, with interest.

The parliamentary budget was in session and the news channels were fighting it all out over the allotment of budget to various sectors of the economy. Then entered a monster to put an end to my pleasures. My dad asked me for the remote to change the channel. I was in disapproval of his actions but my arguments against him were of no avail.

“If you don’t give me the remote now, I will cut the connection this month and make sure that the television doesn’t work in this house. Ever.” He threatened and snatched the remote from me. Anger surged in me and all I could do was stomp out of the room in anger and lie down on my bed.

Hours passed in my sleep and I was aroused from my sleep by my mother to have dinner. I refused to have anything with the anger filling my stomach and the ego sealing the same. She was unaware of all the happenings and listened to my narration of the incident.


She then said, “Why do you want to see that budget?  Nothings of avail in watching it. There is nothing to be done.”

THE END

Thank you all for your dedicated visits to this blog of mine that I write hoping to I entertain you.
-Seeker

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26 September, 2013

Never Ending Noises

A huge crowd had gathered. No one had called for. Nor was anyone giving away something free. The crowd was waiting for the barrier to break. Nobody wanted to be there. At least, not with all the other people around, in that number. There was not much choice to walk away from the crowd, especially when you stand amidst it. Among those various head was mine. In the centre.

Traffic Jam


This uncalled for crowd was tremendous. If the air consumed was huge, the air let out was cyclopean. I looked around and found many lifeless souls waiting for the right time to proceed. All were longing for something or the other. But the foremost at that point, they wanted to get out of this mad rush, either by going ahead or by staying behind. Both were hellacious options. None can blame them. It was the wrath of the sun in the tropic city.

Suddenly, everyone moved. Rushed. As the deer would, upon sighting the predator. As the ants would, upon the first instance of disruption. As men would, when terror strikes. It was none of the above. Way was allowed. People swarmed, rushed and hurried to get in front of another as though there was a race. It was a race, in their eyes.

The Red made way for Green. The vehicles started to move. It was not a slow and composed movement as it normally happens at any signal but somewhat of a cutthroat competition to get past the signal before it changes back to red. And everyone was in it. Everyone squeezed through as much as possible between other vehicles as worms would to dig themselves deeper into the traffic, moving past other vehicles.

They did not move quietly. Horns were blown incessantly even before the vehicles started to move but they themselves took all the time in the world before changing gears and accelerating. They cared least about others, wanting others to be prompt while they themselves wasted others’. Among the mob was a man. With 200cc bike, loud and terrifying horn and trendy accessories, he was a new millennium, self-proclaimed street racer of not even a third class ability to participate in a real race but with enough artillery to show off in public.

The caitiff person on the bike started to sound his horn. The loud horn irked every man on the road. With some swift controls, he guided the bike ahead of a few vehicles. A kid driving a cycle along the corner was in his way. He moved close by and blew his horn and for seconds the kid’s ears were deaf. So were those of some other commuters. After pushing over many others and driving over an elderly person’s foot, the man was out of my view. He was not driving fast. He was flying slow and low.

I was watching the circus of the guy and had missed the one thing that had happened. I found every face that was brim with excitement and anxiousness, filled with dolour. The signal had gone off. It was red. Probably a tenth of the traffic would have gone past and it only grew. The expectation in everyone’s eyes, to reach home and kiss their family a good night was pellucid even amidst that turbid blanket of smoke from the vehicles. It was half past six in the evening.

The signals changed many times but the vehicles remained still. Despite this tranquillity of the traffic, the motorists’ hearts turned clamorous. Many got down from their vehicles and walked up street to have a look at what happened. Some shook their heads dismissively upon returning. I did not bother to enquire as to what happened.

It took a humongous hour and a half for the traffic to get streamlined and move as to what would normally take a comparatively easier time of half an hour to pass hundred metres to the signal. I drove my vehicle past the wreck that was lying at the road and was intrigued by the happenings around. I stopped my vehicle and moved towards the group that clamoured around a car. I asked a fellow what had happened.

“Accident. Three vehicles. There was this car.” He said pointing at the bonnet wrecked car, which I was barely able to see and continued his speech to show that he knew everything that had happened, “It came from that side” pointing to the direction that went against the one I came from. “Then this bike came from the opposite side. Bike was driven by this teen while the car’s owner is a mid-aged person from some IT company. They both ran the signal and got into an accident. To top the cake, a bus came and hit the car on that side.” He ended signalling the side facing away from us.

“The biker was thrown off and landed on the windshield of the car. See that. It is broken. The centre from where the glass cracks arise is where the biker landed. Then the bus came and hit the car pushing him down. He is taken to the hospital. The car driver is shouting at the bus driver for reckless driving. He is saying that it was the mistake of the biker that the accident took place. This person itself ran the signal. The only vehicle driving properly was the bus. It moved on seeing the green signal. These two vehicles were rushing to cross the signal before the other vehicles came in.”

I then tried to move forward when I saw a police officer entering the crowd. He called upon his two other colleagues who were in the eye of the storm. They were taking statements from the bus driver and the car owner. The biker was nowhere to be seen. I assumed that he must have been taken to the hospital.

I turned around to leave the place when I found the bike’s broken visor under my leg. It read ‘I am not riding fast. I am flying Low and Slow.’ He surely did fly, from what the person told.

I looked around when I got on my bike. Many people were still making their way ahead of others by trying to squeeze themselves through the traffic. It was just the same as what that guy had done. All the people were stranded because of the recklessness. It was not just the recklessness of two people. It was the recklessness of the whole society.

We don’t drive fast. We just fly Low and Slow.

--- THE END ---



Thank you for Reading
A Special Thanks for all my Readers
I thank you all for your continuous support by reading my blog and not leaving any comments, Ever...
- Seeker

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13 September, 2013

Shades of Silly Suns

Hail the sun of the morn that rose, 
Or so from it's place it thought. 
Shining bright since it arose, 
Line that others have also bought. 

Surface is cool, very hot within, 
On looking at the scums outside. 
It cools itself with some fine Gin, 
Following scums that live beside. 

When eve returns, it falls below, 
But forgets the fall on it's rise again. 
It's rise but superficial yet slow, 
Worlds nigh don't see what remain. 

Men are like the sun that rages again, 
Forgetting that it's a temporary gain.

The End

I have been planning to write two series from this month of September. Hopefully, I will be able to publish at least one this month while the other, which is a Fictional retelling of Historical events in India, may take some time. Probably next month.

I thank you all for your continued support and Hope that you like the new makeover.
Just one thing, I ask of you all. Please leave your comments. 
It would be a great motivation and will help me improve.

Thanking you all for the support...
Seeker


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07 August, 2013

Carting Creature



Ant


Cheerless creature,
Walked with it's head down.
Without many feature,
Ferrying itself with a frown.

Brittle being,
Carting load on the back.
Anyone seeing,
Wouldn't give heed to the sack.

Moving steady,
Chest grew with a pant.
Carrying heavy,
Like an elephant on an ant.

Poor little boy on his way to school.
Carrying his school bag like a fool.


The End

Thanks for your Suggestions, Support, Comments and most of all Your Dedicated Visit to this blog.
-Seeker

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30 July, 2013

The First Feeding

Gomati looked at the clock to her right on the table. It was six in the evening. She concluded that she had slept in three hours more than what the doctor had told. Her right hand was rather painful and she knew not why. Then reality struck in and she remembered her child. She turned to her left and found it beside her in the cradle.

The First Feeding
Soft and shining, the legs of the cherub were visible to her. Clothes covered the child and she was barely able to see above the thighs. She scanned the room if anyone else was there near her who would attend her. None. None that she could call or would attend her. The general ward was bustling with people sans any noise. Had it been another place but the hospital the decibels would have reached hazardous levels.

A nurse came by and stopped in front of her with a tray in her hands. She then moved on calling out at another nurse to attend Gomati. With a smile on her face, the nurse congratulated Gomati and picked up the baby to show it to her. The face was characteristically white in colour with a gold plated chain around its neck. Gomati tried to lift her arms but was too tired to do anything. She could not even speak. She mouthed the nurse asking what gender the child was.

“A beautiful girl” replied the young nurse removing the cloth covering the body of the child.

The spectre face of Gomati turned into an abode of happiness and her eyes emitted rays of joy and happiness. Her parents entered the ward and rushed forward to cosset the child. Her mother took it from the nurse, started fondling the baby, and enlivened her face to entertain it. Her father looked on at the happenings and smiled in happiness. He too joined in with his wife in entertaining the baby. Gomati searched for the desiderative soul that had been eagerly anticipating the birth of the precious gem. The man who made her a mother.

Time flew by with the grandparents entertaining the child and Gomati rested herself after the tiresome experiences. After some time she spotted her husband coming in. The room became dark upon his entry as he covered the only light source in the hall by entering through the door to the bedroom. Gomati flitted. She was in her house with her two week old on her lap. Her face reflected the sorrow upon Death’s entry.

Reality struck her. Again. The dramatic dream she was having was too good for her to let go off. Fate is a cruel player of games against our dreams. It had made its move against Gomati and she felt completely helpless lacking the willpower and the strength to go against it. Her husband. The man who entered the room just then.

“Are you still hanging on to her?” asked Patel.

‘She is my life. The child that I gave birth. If things were to culminate into such a circumstance then I would have chosen a different path back then ditching you.’ She thought but did not say to her husband.

The house in a village near Dewas, Madhya Pradesh was filled with gloom and the weather made it worse. The unusual off-season rains made the days in the house of the Talwars even gloomier adding to the painstaking decision made by the family members upon the insistence of their Son-in-law, Patel.

Tears filled the eyes of the home’s only child, Gomati as an old woman entered the room after her husband. The primitive clothing clad woman came near Gomati and laid a sorrowful smile upon the baby and the mother. The wrinkled hands of the woman touched the face of the baby and she ran it around the face admiring the beauty of the sapling that had just sprouted. The hands then moved over to the hand of Gomati that was holding the child and drove its way to the face of the piteous mother.

The wrinkled hands were not as fragile as they seemed and were laden with the strength of a young and able young woman of twenty. Gomati’s soft clutches of the child did not cause any hindrance to powerful hold of the woman, as an ant’s stance would do against a storm. The harsh holds by the woman woke up the baby and after some wriggle. It let out a loud cry for its mother.

Hearts began to melt. Beat. Hurt. Most of them turned towards the cry but remained silent and soon turned their eyes towards whatever it was they were staring for more than five hours. Gomati rose and made a few steps towards her husband to speak up but the stare from her father intimidating otherwise made her follow the long followed system and culture of the society. Women shall never speak against men in their lives. They shall remain the domestic slaves for the men whiling away their lives in kitchens and televisions but shall never protest against anything, especially against their husbands. Gomati was very good at that. She will remain to be so.


The old woman, who pacified the loud cries of the baby, fed milk to the child. Soon the crying stopped. The girl’s voice came to a halt. So did its heart.


~~~~~~The~~~~~~End~~~~~~

It's been sometime since I wrote  a short story. With my eyes on my novel and my new-found passion for poems it's hard to sit down and write a story away from the mentality with which I write my other works. I have reworked my priorities and making time  for writing my blog in my schedule. Be surprised if you find a poem or two between my stories from now on. Hoping to keep with the monthly updates from now on. 

Thanking you all for your massive support over this period of stagnation...
Seeker...

30 June, 2013

Look Beyond

When Sudden fascinations strike you hard and they happen to take you along paths of excitement, amazement, fortune, experience and knowledge, it is better to follow.

My sudden fascination towards poems has made me write another one again and here it is. A simple, small time poem on looking beyond at the time of despondency.


Look Beyond:

Poem


Look beyond,
The world is new today.

The tramps of the night,
The spoils of a fight,
The wrong and the right,
Are long past gone.

A gloomy day,
Burning hay,
Lost way,
Just look beyond.

Falling will,
Times of chill,
Days of grill,
Are long past gone.

Intrusive guys,
Vehicle's noise,
Dropped choice,
Just look beyond.

Wars of death,
Olive wreath,
Doomsday breath,
Are long past gone.

Thieving mice,
Scanty rice,
Melting ice,
Just look beyond.

Men have marched,
Past the fields parched,
Achieved next notch,
By looking beyond.

Look beyond,
Thy shall rise.
Look beyond,
Thy shall be wise.

Never be torn,
Worse is long past gone,
So look beyond...
Look beyond.

13 June, 2013

Becoming an Eagle

For a change my friends, I test waters in poetry. With different forms of art being explored I take time to invest my time in a novel and thus have been a little tight on my schedule to work on my blogs. Soon enough I will start my work back here as I continue to venture beyond the boundaries set for me by Mr. Nobody.

Until then I hope you enjoy my poem. This is my debut as a poet.


Becoming an Eagle
Becoming an Eagle


Becoming an Eagle

Driven by it's instinct
The bird returns 
Home to sleep.. 

The day's toil,
Wore it down
As it dreams deep..

Lights rise,
It opens it's eyes,
To see the vast Sky..

Above flew one,
Soars alone,
Without a shy..

Deep inside,
It has it's pride,
In looking at the Sun..

It swooped below,
to catch a foe,
No, not for fun..

It soared high,
To reach the sky,
Behold an Eagle it became..

None hoped so,
When it swooped so low,
That it would rise Again.

05 February, 2013

Dreams of David


It was falling apart. He knew it. He also knew that the only way out was to go through the rough patch. Deciding so David came back home to confront his failing marriage from the shop he owned, after two days of continuous and vain work. Opening the door he found his wife Ivy at the kitchen and went forward with big smile on his face and said “Hey. What are you up to?”

“Why does it bother you?” she snubbed him in an instant and went on with her cooking while he returned, feeling sad, to the bedroom and hit the bed. The two days of hard toil had been in vain and he was already running late in repayment of loans. The loan shark had given him a week’s time two days back for the repayment of the amount payable to him and it was for this that he tried so hard. The losses from his business were the reason for his failing marriage, he believed and that his private computer hardware company was hit because of the recession in the economy. While these thoughts went on in his mind, his eyes pulled themselves down, despite the evening sun shedding their light over his face, after working for the two days without a single minute of rest.

The sun came down and went well below the horizon without disturbing David until some noise disturbed David from his sleep. The door of his bedroom was slightly open and light from the hall came through it illuminating the darkness in the room. With droopy eyes he got up from the bed and continued towards the door and had a look at the digital clock which hung on the wall showing that it was seven at night and he stopped his movement when he began hearing the voice of his beloved.

“Yes. Mr John… I am really sure of getting the divorce… Please get the necessary papers ready… I am yet to speak to him about this… I don’t even want any of his property or anything from him… I just want to get over with this… Yes. I will give you all the detail the coming weekend… Sharp at nine… I will be there.” Spoke Ivy over the phone which clearly indicated that the person she was talking to was a lawyer. She had gone through a lot of hardships the last few months and was too weak to bear it anymore. Ranging from frequent harsh responses to accusations of infidelity, she had heard it all from the only man she loved or the only man she had loved. Her decision was to leave him and no one was there in her mind.

Wide awake with an aching heart, the pain of loss was something he had never experienced and was now feeling it hard to even think of the loss of his wife. He was now at the bed with tears flowing down his cheeks and he was trying hard to control himself. Gaining control from the shock he had just received, he went out of the room and seated himself on the sofa. Trying to be nice he flashed a smile at his wife who in return took no notice and finished her work before going to sleep.

The situation was out of his control and he vividly understood the same. Whatever was happening was irreparable. Being an ardent believer of god he consoled himself by saying that god would take care of him and his problems. Getting up from the sofa he wandered around his own home like a vagrant in search of a home and finally reached his daughter’s room.

She was fast asleep with her black hair falling down her face from the right side covering the beautiful face of hers adding to the innocence of the nine year old. It had been a long time since he had admired his daughter like that. He had no time to do such things and was well consumed in his work. It had been a long time since he had even seen his daughter. Seeing her was one thing which he loved but now he had to make time to have a look at her. Looking at his Mary and thinking all this, he inadvertently began crying alongside her bed, barely realizing it. When she twitched, he got conscious and left the room, leaving the guilt at the doorstep of her room.

Sofa was occupied again and he began to nap with his head hanging behind over the back rest as he drooped. With a loud bang the television in front of him worked and he woke up startled to find his wife at the entrance of the bed room facing the television with the remote controller in her hand. She was an ardent follower of the late night news for she believed that that was the time when really good news discussions came up. Coming with an indifferent look on her face she wore the mask of a person interested in the news while in reality her mind was wavering all around the world and over her better half.

“Dear.” David started, “I know that I have been rude to you. I am sorry for all that I have done. Please bear with me. I will only be a matter of weeks until I return to normal and we can be the same old couple we once were.”
“So you do realize that we are not the same. Do you know what all I have missed because of you? I have shared your success and am very much ready to share your losses but only if you trust me. That’s it. Trust. This is the only thing that I have lost. The past few weeks have been the worst of my life.” Inadvertently tears rolled down her cheeks and they flickered among the varying colours from the television. The colours changed and so did her mind. She chose to go to sleep rather than continuing the exchanges and rose up.

“But it was always you. You are the one who spoiled our relationship with infidelity. Who is he? Have you left him? Rather than shifting the onus on me, it would be great if you’d rise up to accept your mistakes.” David called to the retreating woman of his life.

“Shit. Disgusting. How can you say such vile things?” screeched Ivy in the way woman normally do to such remarks “Once you have gone to such extents, how do you expect me to be with you? I have asked my lawyer to prepare papers for divorce. Please leave me alone. I want to get away from these shits of yours.” Her voice rose to great stubbornness and she continued along her path with tears rushing down her eyes desperately to see the earth and fall down on the ground to split into many smaller droplets.

His eyes were red in anger and sorrow. Tears had dried up and he had no more left to shed. Not that he was feeling to do so. His heart ached no more but raged with fire that was lit by her in the midst of his melt-down in an opportune to pacify the leaving dove. Her words still echoed in his head. “How do you expect me to be with you?” Was this why she left him? Maybe the other guy is far privileged than David and had bought her off the markets in hopes of entertainment for a reasonable time until the copulation? It was all a speculation. Maybe he was well-hung?

The cigar at David’s mouth burned as fast as his mind speculated and was almost at its end but still his wavering mind had not ended its journey in to the void of imaginations but only soared higher than practicality until he returned to the world in which we live because of a knock at the door. His mind raced to the unexpected and uninvited guest of his who was at the doorstep waiting for him to react by opening the door but he was there, sitting, guessing as to who might it be at the odd hour of eleven at night.

From the second knock he realised his out worldliness and started but in the meantime a door 
creaked inside the house and lo behold, Ivy came out of the room and went on to open the door. The tall and comparatively dark person stood at the doorstep and pushed aside Ivy to enter the house despite her repeated attempts to persuade him to leave. He caught hold of her and wetted her lips sweetly in front of David while she didn’t even attempt to resist his adulterous and immoral advance.

“Why are you making her cry? Can’t you see that she’s changed and doesn’t love you anymore? She is mine now. No one can separate us. She wants out with you.” The person declared to David as he kept advancing forward with Ivy in his hand.
“She’s my wife. How dare you lay on her your hands?” David retaliated to the anonymous lover of Ivy who was well built and structured and thereby instilling fear in the mind of David while he artfully disguised his fear with a tone that seemed to suggest that he was breaking down.

“She’s mine now.”
“You bitch. After all I did to keep you. You fucking bitch. Bloody swine” David swore at his wife in a fit of rage and sorrow.
“One more word and I will break your neck.” Exploded the buffed-up man and then turned towards his love “Come with me now or I will be here with the police for your rescue.”

Ivy and her lover started to have conversations about the next actions to be taken by them to unite once and forever and thereby putting an end to the menaces of David towards her. The man was ready and set to leave with Ivy convincing him of her safety in being with David until the next day and he once again planted a kiss. Unable to bear the act of immorality, as per David’s morals, David took out the long bat which was lying in its stand across the room and swung it with full might to injure the head and bring down the far stronger man. His fit of rage made him to beat the man continuously until the bat slipped off his hands and then he took the painting hanging on the wall and boke it on his head. Suddenly he felt severe pain at the back of his head and turned to find that his wife was holding the bat in her hand but before he could react anymore he blacked out.

The white room had one mirror and was filled with a table and two chairs at the opposite sides of the table. He laid there on the white floor and slowly brought himself up on heels and had look at the mirror. Two men entered the room and pushed him into one of the chairs and tied him down and thus immobilising David.

In the next room Ivy sat, with a muscular person in front of her, wearing a worried face which also explicitly endorsed her anxiety in the matter. The man in front of her was wearing a long white coat and was looking into a report provided to him by one of his associates.
“But what has happened to him?”
“That my lady is the problem at hand. He is suffering from hallucinations. Schizophrenia probably. We are yet to study him with more insight. You may return tomorrow by evening to have a chat with him. I will call you later in the evening to update you of his status. I guess he started hallucinating last evening, right?” asked the doctor to Ivy.

“I don’t know. If he has been hallucinating then it could be for a long while now. He has changed completely in the last few months. He dreams of various… indecent acts. I mean he hallucinates.” Replied Ivy with tears flowing from her eyes and in a fragile tone as she broke down on hearing that he has become a mentalist.
“That is common. Many people hallucinate what they fear the most. Being put under immense pressure may cause patients to hallucinate. Was he under pressure yesterday? What happened?” interrogated the doctor

“He came home by evening after two days of continuous work. He hadn’t slept the night before and was out at the office. He hit the bed and woke up later at night. We were having a disagreement and were not conversing well with each other. I snubbed him and went to sleep. Then I hear some noises from the hall and go out to find him breaking everything at the house. I thought it was his anger. But then he started shouting. He was speaking to someone. I… I was afraid. His bat slipped off his hands. Not knowing what else to do I hit him on the head after some time.”

“Lucky that he didn’t have any concussions. His head seems alright and there is no notable physical damage to the head in spite of the hard blow dealt. Just some minor injury for the moment. At least that’s what I have been told by these reports. He should be fine in a few weeks under the medication and counselling. It won’t be a major problem. The problem is when he reaches an advanced stage. I conclude that he is not in a risky position as of now.” The doctor concurred “By the way, are you planning to get divorced? He was saying something like that. If that is true then it could be the reason why he started hallucinating.”

“No doctor. Never in my life have I thought of divorcing him. May have a chat with him doctor?” Ivy pleaded.
“It would be better not to.”
“Please doctor. I beg you.”
“But only for a few seconds.”
“Thank you doctor.” She said with gleaming eyes that expressed her full-hearted comment.

She proceeded with caution and fear into the white room in which her husband was tied up as the doctor signalled the guard at the door to let her through after getting briefed by them of the safety precautions to be taken and leaving the hazardous objects with the guard. Inside he saw her with awe and amazement and signalled her with his head to take the seat opposite to him and she followed suit.

“Even though I hate it I wish you to be happy with him. Take care of Mary. Tell her that I love her.”
“I am not leaving you.”
“No. No need of your love. I know that you set me up.”
“David. I will be back. Bye.”
“To see me dead? Fuck off.”

With last words of his ringing in her ear Ivy came out of the room and acknowledged the doctor’s assurance with a nod of her head and continued outside the hospital. Waving her hand she stopped and got into a taxi to her home hoping to see her husband back in shape and fit.

She took her phone from her pocket and dialled a set of numbers from her call history and waited for someone to pick the phone at the other end.

“Hello. Mr John? This is Ivy. I would… No. I want you to stop preparing the papers or divorce. I have changed my mind.”


---The End---

A Seeker Creation


So far, this has been my longest story in this blog. I hope to write riveting stories here and  this could just be my step in the right direction. i hope you guys like it in spite of it's size. 

Thanking you all for your massive support.
Seeker

Who am I? Or is it Who I am?