Appy Stories

 Click! Jess lit her Maralboro and took a deep puff from it. Some remains couldn't be allowed,  to vent out. They had to gnaw at your heart for all the offending, you did with them. She smirked with this thought, and chugged the carbon smoke into her lungs. Ahaaa... It gave her the warmth, the fireplace refused to proffer.  *  *  *  *  *  * "Anne, I will not be home today for dinner. There is this new company we are trying to rope in for the overseas project. The meeting will be followed by drinks and dinner." Jess detailed her roommate while giving final touches to her long eyelashes with the masscara. She walked down the spiral staircase of their rented apartment in New Jersey. Her sharp, pointed  stilettoes made a tapping sound on the wooden staircase, announcing the entry of the Cleopatra in the hallway.  "I will talk to you later." Anne hung up the hour long call as she heard the thumping sound but had failed to hear Jess's commandm...

 It was 2AM. A sinister cry billowed in the sleepy confines of Paradise Heights, Cuff Parade. Stark darkness and complete silence, fear gripped the thudding hearts of neighbors who dared not move an inch of their mortal self. No electricity compelled them to go back to their beds, considering the shrill to be a prank of subdued imagination.  "Hand over the body to postmortem before the media arrives!" Inspector Sainath was quick in delivering his commands. Yet, the media had already thronged the gates of Paradise Heights, given the murder of their favourite musician Sonu Mallick. Sainath banged the door in exasperation, as this was the second case of a lyricist's murder in past three months. The murderer,too, seemed to have an affair with poetry as everytime he left no clues but only lyrics written on the floor, inked by the blood of the dead body.  This time too,  Jana nahi tha tumhe itni door Wapas layenge tumhe hamare sur Ye hamara nahi, aapka hi hai hamare pyar p...

 It was a cold, rainy night. The train had just ejected me out on the deserted platform of Deoli. A tea vendor worked as a part time coolie cum companion for lonely souls like me. With just a bagpack of water, biscuits, few essentials, I was in no need of a coolie, yet I allowed the vendor to pick up my light bag and a heavy conversation.  "Dada, where is Kaware cottage in Deoli?" I ordered a hot cup of tea to boost his google skills.  "Saheb, you have come from Delhi, kya?" Locals seemed to answer your question with another question of its kind. Nodding in affirmation, but not divulging in words because the hurried sip had made a blister on my wagging organ.  "Move out of the station road towards the north. And then take a sharp left to the right of a huge banyan tree that stands in middle of the street." The directions were so precise that one could definitely get lost. Rubbing my burnt flesh on the palate, I paid the vendor for all his services, and amb...

 Mario adjusted his canvas, on the tripod. The brushes, colours, palettes lay bare on a table, drapped with white cloth, nearby. He smiled at the blank canvas. Innumerable possibilities inside, waited to get themselves pictured here. The fluidity of the paints waited to embrace the vacant canvas. With gentle strokes of plain brush, Mario caressed the empty potrait. He could imagine zillion ideas, scuttling their way into the picture. But he held back the urge to indulge himself in the painting, which was already forming a landscape in his head.  The bell rang, and children of all sizes, forms, caricatures bustled inside the barren hall. The quaintness playfully kicked out, with the chirping of these little birdies. Red checker pinforms, and pigtails, danced in to rush towards his canvas. Grumpy shirts and half-pants, kept a foot's distance away from the painting paradise. Mario could see the prejudice in the masculine eyes on what he would make them do. "Boys, rough, bold boys...