Sunday, July 29, 2012



First of all, wish u a very happy and safe facebooking.

To begin with, let me tell you a very common story. Actually, its not a story, it’s part of a daily life.


Deepak is in relationship with Priya since last 3 months. Earlier he had a girlfriend, Ragini. He had broke up with her(Ragini) on some insynchronised opinions they have about approach in life. Deepak is in an Engineering college somewhere in Delhi, while Priya is an Art’s student in Delhi University.
Today Priya phoned Deepak.
Priya: Hello Deepak, I need to talk to you.
Deepak: honey, I am in college, in the middle of the lecture.
Priya: But I………………………….
Deepak: sorry honey, will talk to you later. I am hanging up, bye.
  and Deepak disconnected the call. After 10 minutes his phone vibrates again. Yes, it was Priya ofcourse. He had to pick up the call anyhow, and he did.
Priya: Janu, I……………..
Deepak: look Priya, I am busy, means I am busy. Can’t u get it?
And disconnected the call again.
After some 5 minutes he received an SMS which reads, “U don’t love me anymore no, U have time 4 others but no time 4 me. U R changed Deepu”.

This tantrum by girls always works. So Deepak called her.
Deepak: Hey, whats wrong with you? Aren’t u understand, I m busy?
Priya: I know U are busy with that sl*t Ragini. Why  the f**k   that son of
the bi*ch still in touch with u?
Deepak: hey, whats worng with you? R U crazy? Who told you all these bullshits?
Priya: your Facebook profile! You as*h*le. You have time for commenting on status of that bitch, but no time for me.
Deepak was stunned with the tone and selection of words.
Deepak: Mind ur language priya!!!!!!
Priya: To hell with ur language, you bloody cheater.
Deepak: I can explain, please baby, I am sorry, the lecture was boring so I logged in to facebook. Its not a big deal.
Priya: it is a big deal mr. Deepak Mishra, atleast with me. I cant be in a relationship where one person devotes everything while other cheated.

And she disconnected the call. No need to mention, their relationship expires afterthen.

This is what happens when you have a girlfriend, an ex-girlfriend and facebook account,


Mr. Singh is an ex-Defence person. He have got to marry her only daughter, Kiran.  Singh family had even seen a boy Rohit, working as an engineer in a reputed MNC. The to-be-groomandto-be-bride had liked each other, and chat almost daily of facebook.

But Mr. Singh wants to make sure about the character of  his to-be-son-in-law.for this he approached a private detective agency to spy on Rohit.
The detective agency had only asked for his facebook and e-mail account.

The agency figured out that Rohit had 3 girlfriends in past. They collected proofs about it and  appoints  a guy to investigate Rohit to check if he may be loyal to her wife-to-be or not.
That guy send her a friend request by the name of some girl and no doubt Rohit has trapped in their net. The agency had prepared a detailed report about Rohit.

Mr. Singh was shocked to know that his every prediction went wrong as per this report. The report also recommended not to marry his doll with that Rohit.


These two cases are just a part, there are so many other  stories which proves that people today living dual life. 1. Social life and 2. Social networking life.

Beware of the guys and girls whose both lives are insynchronous.
Again happy facebooking, (if you still can)

Please comment

Thursday, July 26, 2012


Forbidden love story
A short story accentuating “fake love tradition”
continued from part 6.....................

(click here for reading part - 6)

But what the hell…… It had broken down into pieces. The large “resistive touch screen” was cracked. My smart phone is not that smart, I thought. It had become futile. I took out the SIM card and trashed the phone into bin.

Next day, I called up Ajay, with my newly owned phone, not a smart phone this time though, for congratulating him. But the real motive behind the call was something else, something obvious. He was in Patna itself, probably busy in marriage preparation. The call was formal and quick, provided he was busy, he was in roaming and he was my senior too. The marriage was scheduled on 3rd August, about 20 days from today. I was cordially invited in the wedding ceremony. The wedding of my own girlfriend and my best friend. Damn!!!

I called up Abhishek, one of my fast friends, whom I once owed 7000 bucks which he never cared to return back. We are buddies since our early childhood since our school days when we used to wear half pants in school. Back in school we shared a same crush, Ms. SANJANA, for few months. Later, I switched over to other girls while he had made her his permanent crush, and if I am no wrong, she must have his crush till date. Though he never gathers enough courage to let her know. Asshole.

After High school, he went to Delhi for claimingly higher studies while I opt for Diploma from our very own city. Although, his higher studies never happened to be higher and he end up with meager  58% marks in 10+2 examination, that’s too from CBSE. Bloody loser. He then waited for a year (usually they call it drop year, but he never meant that) and finally got into some not-that-great govt. engineering college down there in Delhi itself. His college is affiliated to some random University which he always used to curse it. Although, he  is an unwilling backlog collector but ironically never fails to blame his university, his college, and the Indian education system for his poor performance  in academics.

He picked answered my call in very first attempt which was as surprising as the news of betrayal of my girlfriend. Usually it takes him months to talk to me, every time at my expenses. He never phoned me. And even if he does, it was either for financial help or seeking any other kind of favor. Though, I never mind it anyway. He was one of the very rare friends who knew “bit” about my secret relationship with Kritika. He pretended to sound shocked on listening it, although I knew him better than anyone else. He must have been faking. Guys like him never give a shit about this kind of problem. But still, I had got to share my grief with someone. And this someone list limits up to only two friends: Abhishek and Pankaj. As Pankaj was busy enough to take my call, I had to call Abhishek, which I knew would never help anyway.

He surprisingly consoled me. He said that Ajay, the groom-to be is going to take your “leftover”, so I must not give a fuck about that. I wondered how he comes up with these compensatory philosophies in life. He was too cool to sound sophisticated. But it is human nature to instantly become an expert in others’ problem, there is nothing surprising in this. Nevertheless, talking to him had reduced my yearning up to a considerable extent.

Although I had felt like cheated, but had to bit my tongue over our relationship. I couldn’t tell this to anybody else. I just decided to close my heart doors for another girl except one which my parents would choose for me. This misogynist version of mine though, wouldn’t going to help mending my past but hopefully it will evit any future grief of this kind.

Ajay and Kritika are married now, living happily in the same colony. Their flat is few meters away from mine which only add up daily enviety in me. Her father has been transferred to somewhere in Madhya Pradesh. I deliberately trying harder to get myself transferred, anywhere away from this place to avoid seeing her face, her feeling ever again. May god bless me and make my life as awesome as it was used to be before meeting this girl, as soon as possible.


Well, this story should not end up like this. At our chromosomal level, we all are devised to love the stories with happy endings only. What’s the point of reading a story when there is no happy ending? Stories are never intended to make the readers curse the author for leaving them at a point when they are least expected to be.

But this is not a story exactly; it’s a tragedy in a real life of one of my fast friend. Although, this story is forged considerably to make it readable but happy ending is way too manipulating.

Thank you all for reading this story… err…. tragedy despite of these pesky grammatical errors and typos.

Wishing best for his future….


Monday, July 23, 2012


Forbidden love story
A short story accentuating “fake love tradition”
continued from part 5.........................

(click here for reading previous part)


It was end of June when she finally called me up. Like after two miserable months. That’s too from her Haryana number. The call ends up in 3 minutes, hardly. Too little and late, I thought. I asked for her local number again but she pushed it away making some skewed unbelievable excuse.

It was my turn to panic now.

It’s not that I hadn't tried to contact her before this.  Within this miserable 2 months I had send her some 100 e-mails despite of her no response. I had tried her number almost every hour but to no avail. It is between these two months I realized that it wasn't only sheer amatory. It’s more than that, people usually call it LOVE. Although I wasn't sure about this either.

Damn! I am in love.

 I never knew, in my wildest nightmare, that love could be this painful. The feeling was something odious. Every moment all I could think about was this girl only. And ironically, she couldn't be generous enough to reply my mails, my SMSes. All she did was a phone call worth 3 minutes.  3 fucking minutes in two not-bearable-by-any-standard months.  Too little, too late.

Is she oblivious about my feelings? Is she had in any trouble? Is she alright? Is she found someone else? Is she don’t love me anymore? …. Loads of deliberate questions begin to spam my mind, reducing my thinking ability. But my heart obstinately ruled out this feeling. My hear and mind are unofficially becomes rivals. Practically speaking, I was devastated, lost my radiance, feeling myself as futile as if belongs to any nowhere land, some unknown planet. I loved this girl, figuratively 4 years elder to me, like anything and she didn't even cared enough to ask my existence as if nothing had ever happened between us.
One odd day, somewhere in mid of July, postman delivered me a mail. Being its unusual size and hue, it didn’t seem like any official envelope, which I usually receive, all belongs either to my office purpose or some admit cards for government jobs. I was perplexed as it was probably the first “by post” communication entity I had received so far, other than official notifications or letters. I was too curious to check even sender’s address. I tore open the outer envelope in sheer curiosity. It seems like a beautifully designed wedding card. My heart began to pump faster fearing the possible content beneath the card, even before opening it. My hands were shivering, little in beginning followed by higher frequency as I began to flip the first page of hard-covered, golden hue card. I opened the card and read the accentuating words highlighted in dark red thick letters.


The quivering of my hand spread over my entire 5’8 frame. My legs began to shook, making it harder to carry my 55 kg weight on my two staggering legs. I sat on the floor in my verandah. My heart refuses to believe & my mind needs more evidence before accepting this either. I deliberately read down the entire content in which her father’s name was clearly mentioned. It was clear that it was her marriage card. Fuck.

The tremor was obvious. I felt it all over my body. Every single part of my body was shaking like someone had put my entire body system into vibration mode. Although, my heart was the epicentre  It started beating at faster rate. My emotional CPU would have been burst due to peer pressure of this grief. My heart began to bloat with grief. I took out my phone and dialled her number but it was switched off as usual. In compulsive anger, I threw my cell phone on 8 inch thick side wall  It dismantled into pieces, scattered around, found its way into messy heap in my room as it wasn't cleaned from months. I wanted to cry. Cry out louder, loudest in fact, through maximum possible shrill my throat could produce as if it might reduce the fiasco. But I controlled myself considering my where-about.

I grabbed the wedding card again for deliberate peruse. I looked for groom’s detail. It tells Ajay Sharma, Engineer NTPC. Fuck!

This was the same Ajay, my friend, whose car was the most usual place for making out. Making out with his bride-to-be, more than dozens of times in his Hyundai i20. I couldn't understand how to react this scenario. A demon smile spread over my face, strangely. I couldn’t understand where does this envied demoniacs version of me has been cloaking till now.

Does she know Ajay before since she knew me? Does she make out with me knowing its Ajay’s car? Does she do it deliberately? Or she has agreed for this marriage under parent’s emotional pressure? Several odd questions again spammed my mind, blocking my thought process once again. But an unwilling strange demon-smile flattered over my face again thinking of this couple-to-be.

My mind began to arrange all the memories chronologically. The memory was intact, fresh enough to remember almost every touch, every kiss, every make outs, every conversation we shared. It played a fast forward video of the chronicle arrangement of memories and stacked them at 2 or 3 moments where she had asked me Ajay’s number. Though I never cared for it and gave her anyway.

It was clear.

“She had betrayed me” my mind said decisively. I felt a sudden urge to call Ajay. I stood up to get my phone back.


To be continued in final part of the series..........


Click here to read final part.

Please feel free to comment here.

Saturday, July 21, 2012


Forbidden love story
A short story accentuating “fake love tradition”
continued from part 4................
(click here for reading part - 4)


I responded her back in quick reflexes under my sheer ametory. Needless to say, we had done everything possible within that world inside HYUNDAI i20. She had let me explore her each and every part of her body, entirely by her own choice, without any drama this time. We make out for the first time. It was our first sex. Or at least, it was my first experience. I was novice at this till now.

When we were done with ‘this’, we looked outside only to find ourselves in an awkward position without any trash of fabric on our body. We looked into each other’s eyes and burst into laughter, remembering our condition and where about. A silent awkward look followed by a fresh burst of laughter, again and again. Finally, the laughter changed into a shied smile and the turned into a serious look. Soon we both disassembled our gaze and looked outside the tinted glass window of our glass. The world outside “ours” was seemingly dark. Dark enough to give us an illusion whether there was a tree or a person standing outside our car.

“SHIT!” we both screeched in unison. We checked for time. It was 8:30 already. We wore our clothes as soon as we could. Then I switched on the light and adjusted ourselves as well as the car’s interior which had got messed up during making out. I then rolled down the window. A fresh pool of cold air had shaken us. It was chilling cold outside. Winter in this city is a bitch. I thought. I checked for my cell phone and luckily, there were no missed calls. Who else, other than this beauty by my side, could call me? I call my parents all by myself, thrice a week, just to let them know about my survival on this planet. She too grabbed her phone.

“Fuck!”  She screeched. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck”.
The intensity and frequency was increasing with every “fuck”. I am sure if she had continued it at the same acceleration for few more seconds; her voice would have been definitely reached her parents’ ear.

“What happened?”  I asked boisterously to know the reason behind her perpetual use of ‘f’ word mantra with this energy and intensity.

“I had missed 19 back to back missed calls from my parents.” She said panickingly. “It was on silent mode.”

Sure it was. And thank god for this, otherwise it would have been intervened our “magic moment” far earlier. She had put her phone in silent mode deliberately, I guessed.

“They must be worrying.” I tried to look concerned, although fake.

“of course they are. Why else they would have tried my number this frequently.” She replied.

She was more than panicked. She was wondering whether to call them back or not? What if they ask her about? What would she answer for not receiving 19 “concerned” calls? What this…. What that….? Several questions begin to boggle up her mind. She was mentally numb, I’d like to say. I looked at her face. It had turned pink due to terror of this tremor. I felt like kissing her again but I suppressed my urge considering the scenario. It was the time for make her feel better, in one way or other. Honestly speaking, I too had no idea about how to do it? Also this moment would be the pillar stone of our future “magic moments”. I almost snatched her phone from her hand and hopped into MENU option. Home (19). Her phone displays 19 missed calls, the key reason of this trauma. I checked for setting option, reduced the brightness and ringing volume to minimum possible value. It was hardly audible or visible. Before then, I deleted all the messages and all call details.

She was perplexedly looking at me as she bites her finger nails. I then went into SETTINGS menu of her phone and set up a security lock for keypad before handed over her phone.

“Here you go!” I said overconfidently as if I had cracked the password combination of some multinational bank server.

“What do I supposed to do with this?” She asked with obvious genuine facial expression cocktailed with perplexity and preposterous look. “And how will THIS helps?”

“Hmmm……”  I shrilled my nostril as I was expecting this very particular question from her. “Look! I had deleted all the details expect numbers of phonebook as no one is going to check it anyway. You can tell your parents that something wrong happened to phone. The ringtone is not audible and phone keypad is also locked somehow. So you could neither take their calls nor call them back. PROBLEM SOLVED.” I winked with a boisterious smile.

“You are genius, Sachin. This is one of the several reasons I like you so much.”  She said enthusiastically as she kissed my cheek.

I flattered a smile with curling y upper left lip in response. We then switched our position and driving wheels was now in my control. I ignited the engine & pulled away the car. She was still panicked but less than the way she was few minutes earlier.

I credited myself for this. It took us 10 minutes to reach our residence where I dropped her few hundred yards before the colony and took a deliberate U-turn and drove back towards town. The sole purpose of this U turn was to avoid serving any chance to busybodies and keep them oblivious about what was cooking between us. Thanks followed by two smilies. A message flashed on my phone, latter in that night.

Needless to say, it wasn’t our only make-out. Next two months, in fact was full of kissing, cuddling and make-outs. We make out almost every week; sometimes in car, sometimes in hotel-room, and once, luckily at her place, when no one was there at her home.

Meanwhile I had enrolled myself in AMIE to reduce our academic differences. The winter comes to an end. The sun now no more seems adorable. Her post graduation was also about to complete in few months. The frequency of our making out had been reduced considerably followed by frequency reduction of our phone calls and finally the SMSes. Even her e-mails took a week to refresh my mail box. Although, I taken all these for the sake of her exam.

After her exams, she told me that she has to visit her hometown, Patna, where her parents hails from 25 years ago. She promised to give me her local contact number as soon as she reached there. She never did. She had also promised to be in touch via e-mails, but she never send any either.


To be continued in subsequent series..........


Click here to read further (part-6)

Wednesday, July 18, 2012


Forbidden love story
A short story accentuating “fake love tradition”
continued from part 3.................

(click here for reading part - 3)


She loosened her seat-belt while I was still gasping and breathing heavily as if trying to catch the breath for my life. Before I could understand the scenario, she leaned forward, took hold of my stupid face and kissed me on my left cheek.

“Whoa! This girl is kissing me, all by herself, without my initiation. It was exciting, especially when she had dramatically forbidden me to let access her other exciting places on our last date. I had guessed her possible “plan”. May be she was compensating for her last date drama? May be she would let me access he ‘other exciting places’? May be would make-out? May be this, may be thought….? Blah, blah, blah.  Several self-framed questions aroused in my mind whose answers, nonetheless, I wanted to be yes. For all questions. I had understood the meaning and associated power of ‘think positive’.

Meanwhile, she brought her face closer to mine again and moved it in ultraslow motion. Or maybe I was just reading it too slowly. Her eyes were closed. The magnitude of the pneumatic force of carbon-di-oxide was increasing every nanosecond on my face. The relative distance between our faces was reducing. All I could did during this period was loosened my seat-belt and offered her more accessibility. But at the same time, I didn’t want her to make nuisance unlike last date. I wanted to play it safe. I too, took hold of her beautiful face, and approached her to facilitate the kiss. Though this time, I was over-cautious for obvious reasons. We snuggled, our breathed air met each other making a fume after intermixing.

When cold water wave meets hot water stream in seas in Europe, there constructs a warm water current which facilitate a favorable condition for fishes to conceive & reproduce.  This sentence flashed in my mind as Ms. Mahalaxmi, our geography teacher back in class 10th, told us during a lecture to which we never cared for then. I could never understand why the hell we need to learn these phenomenons explaining where fishes love to do sex and reproduce?  Most of the time we used to curse the morons of our state board who had created this book. Sometime we had also cursed Ms. Mahalaxmi for punishing us as we didn’t learned the Cold wave – Hot wave theory. What’s the point of learning all these craps which never has any practical role in our life? I thought.

But today was different. Not only had I understood the theory of this hot-cold fuming practically but also enjoyed it’s ample fruition. The position, in which I was now, was probably one of the best positions I had ever had. Thanks to hot-cold theory, I guessed. I had no offence for anyone by now. Neither for Ms. Mahalaxmi nor for morons of state Education board members. I wondered if this warm current produced by intermixing of hot and cold wave would let me do other things like fishes do, there deep inside the ocean.

I was brought back to reality as she broke my thought process by reducing the apparent distance between our lips to minimum possible distance. Figuratively, it was zero millimeters. As they taught us in METROLOGY about types of fits, our lips were first in clearance fit followed by transition fit and finally into interference fit where there was no positive clearance between our lips. We were kissing. Again. This time approached by her, all by herself. She was bossing the show.

Our exchange of saliva had again taken me to the hot wave -cold wave theory. But her vigorous kissing attempt had brought me back again into real world. A world fenced inside that few square feet area of interiors of HYUNDAI i20. A world which was far better than the warm water current zone of European water bodies or any other parallel world ever exist there. And even if some world exist better than this, I’d never want to go there unless I live in this world, I thought. Meanwhile, I thanked Japanese for making this wonderful car. They should officially rename it as “kissing car”. I had received two perfect (by my standard) kisses in this car after all.

I concentrated more on bacteria exchange process of our salvias’. I cautiously stopped myself in exploring her other exciting places. Our tongues though never failed to twist and twirl inside our mouth accessing each and every possible corner each other’s mouth. Although, it was inevitable keep myself away from her exciting places but at the same time I didn’t wanted to break that kiss either. I was still in dilemma, whether to go ahead or not. Go ahead of this electro n exchange through saliva’s, for other exciting places, to be precise.

I was enjoying the kiss when she suddenly took my hand away from her face and placed somewhere softer than her face. It took me only few odd seconds to realize that this softer place was one of her other exciting places. I had to open my eyes as to confirm my where about. I slowly opened my eyes as if expediting it might ruin the embedded feeling. Whoa!!! I was perplexed by this ocular scenario. I couldn’t believe that whether it was happening for real or I was still in my dreams.

Perhaps I felt my hand over her breast. A perfect pair of breasts hiding beneath her yellow suit. Technically my hands were hardly 2 mm away from her one of the other exciting places, cloaked behind two or maximum 3 layers of thin fabrics. This world was really better. Best in fact, among all the contemporary worlds including world deep inside the water as Ms. Mahalaxmi taught us like 5 years ago.

To be continued in subsequent series..........

Click here to read further (part 5)

Friday, July 13, 2012


Forbidden love story
A short story accentuating “fake love tradition”

(click here for reading part - 2)


What !!! ” I asked with obvious irritation. “How many more months do we need for ‘this’ ?”

Shit! I had asked a irrevocable forbidden question in sheer desperation.

So you are in relationship for ‘this’ only ?” She almost screeched. You all boys are same.

She was not chuckling anymore. I was feeling like being culprit for nuanciating the whole male community. A pool of tears brimmed from her eyes. I wondered how god had created these creatures who masters in art of crying. Tears are their greatest weapon, which could force you to regret for even those stuffs you are not responsible for at all. This hydraulic force is the strongest among all the forces ever known to man-kind. It made me give up too. I had too. Do I left with other valid option. Certainly this hydraulic force this girl had weapon on me.

I am sorry baby. I didn’t mean that ” I apologized.

Damn! I had to regret for the things I wasn’t responsible for. My apology itself proved her dominancy. What follows next is her drama at which girls masters due to their chromosomal structure. They are god-gifted at this art and ironically they know how to use it. And most importantly, when to use it.

No, you don’t love me.” She complained. “All you want is my body. Isn’t it?”

It was true. All I wanted was her body. But it felt very insulting when she said it openly.

“It’s not like that. What I meant was, was… something else.” I stuttered as I struggled for word. I had no word in my mental vocabulary for “this”.

Something else” she mocked. “Something else what?” She demanded with uninterrupted flow of hydraulic fluid from her eyes.

Now this was something callous. First this girl had exasperated me by proscribing to access her other “exciting” places and now she was asking dumb questions fretfully. Doesn’t she know it was subliminal? I had to apologize again and again. Her hydraulic force overtook the effect of my hormonal forces and subsided my enthusiastic need of “this”. I drove her to the nearest bus stand where I picked her from earlier. Though she had explained the reason for her “rude” behavior, latter in the night, over phone. She too had apologized for the same. The next date was happened very soon. In two weeks, figuratively from previous dramatic date. She looked gorgeous as usual. I again picked her from “that” bus stand. We talked about almost everything but we deliberately avoided the dramatic date we had previously. I myself too, wanted to play it in safe mode.  On returning, she asked me to let her drive the car. I readily handed her the key though I doubted her driving skill. I feared inside because of very thought of letting her driving the car. The car which actually belongs to some random friend of mine, senior actually, working in same plant, living in same colony. What if we would met some freaking god forbid accident? What if they find us together crashed in “his” car? Thousands of never-gonna-happen kind of questions begins haunting me.

Unaware of my mental dilemma, she pulled away the car initially at slower pace and then accelerated as soon as we came to the highway.  I was scared as if this was going to be my last day on this planet. This beautiful planet, full of beautiful places, scenic beauty, girls which I yet to explore them all completely. Luckily, though the right turn, perpendicular to highway, came and she took a sharp turn. I expected her to reduce the speed as we reached that road. But she had something else in her mind. Though this road was too deserted to happen any possible collision with any vehicle but its poor condition had made it very uneven for driving let alone driving at higher speed. But she anyhow managed to maintain the same highway-friendly speed. The road was full of patches pits and potholes. Every time the car passes over a patch or any pothole, it jostles like a spring bob, similar to pendulum. I had started cursing the moment when I gave her the keys. I should have denied her the very moment she asked for the key.  She, on the other hand, was enjoying this F-1 practice session risking my life and my friend’s car. I closed my eyes in flinch. I was wondering about her frenzy behavior today. She was not the girl she usually used to be. She was something different. Something should have running in her mind. Something different. Something unusual. Something that I couldn’t imagine. Or maybe it was just another random thought of mine. The car must’ve moving at 160 kph. I guessed as my mental calculator had stopped working at this speed.

I was praying for my life, still closing y eyes, when suddenly my body rocked forward and then backward violently within the allowable limit of seat-belt. It took me few to-and-fro motions to finally come to a halt. I had almost shat my pant in sheer flinch. The break was imparted in such a way that the car slid over a distance of about 100 meters before finally losing its momentum and come to rest ensuring our survival. These few breath-taking moments, though, had taught me almost every law of physics. As being an engg. Student (in polytechnic college) I had gained the theoretical knowledge about Newton’s law of motion but this ride had given me a practical experience about all of them, together. Now I understood why they always says practical knowledge is more important than theoretical.

This sudden halt of car, however, had brought back my senses. I thought we had reached that bus stand. I opened my eyes to wish her good-evening and taking back the car’s temporary ownership in my hands.

But hell yeah….

What the heck is this? We were at same deserted place we had kissed earlier, in our previous date. The date which had drama, tears, crying, yelling, apology and kiss. A perfect kiss. First kiss of my life. Is she going to kiss me again? Is she wants to consolidate for her rude behavior on previous date? Is she let me access her “other exciting places”? Loads of similar questions afloat in my mind, spamming my thought process.

To be continued in subsequent series..........


Click here to read further (part-4)

Wednesday, July 11, 2012


Forbidden love story
A short story accentuating “fake love tradition”
***************************************** Continued from part-1...................

(click here for reading part - 1)

She was looking inevitably gorgeous today. She had wore a skinny salwar kurta which was too tight to cloak her protrudes. Yes! It was that revealing. Even the kurta was deep enough to reveal her cleavage along with top-view of her bosom partially. I wondered if she had does it on purpose. Her over-use of makeup had made me understood the reason for the existence of enumerous fairness industries. She was more than fashion geek by this small town standard. Commercially speaking, we both are equally & mutually responsible for increase in international economy. She, undoubtedly for her fashion and cosmetics I for my ever increasing phone bills.

I stood up to welcome her and extended my hand firmly to shake her hand. But hell yeah…. She had some other plans. She ignored my hand and embraced me. Now this was something bewildering. I was perplexed by her sudden change in behavior. Is this the same girl who was not even ready for a date just few hours ago? But I killed my mind for bickering on these never-so-important topics. What was important that she had hugged me. I embraced her back  in quick response. The very feeling of cuddling this beautiful girl  for the very first time ever was enough to revoke my body system. My heart begun to pump at higher frequency increasing the pulse rate as well as my body temperature. My body system begins to secrete some special kind of hormones and results in a sudden bulge in my pants. I unwillingly loosen my grip and separated myself from her inevitable embracement of her voluptuous body. We then, talked hours over coffee, followed by lunch and loads of ice-creams. This date was not a date anymore. It had became a “spend some more to talk more”. In this end, after spending 1200 bucks what I could actually get in return was two cups of coffee, tasty food, loads of ice-cream and few hours of her physical presence. That’s it, I thought.

No no, wait. Didn’t I mentioned that first-time-ever hug earlier.

She stood up to leave when I offered her a ride on my bike to the bus stand in a village near our plant residence. She embraced me from behind as she placed her profile on the backseat of my Hero Honda splendor plus. We rode off to the bus stand. It took me 10 minutes to reach there. We waved good bye to each other and left.


It took another two months for my 2nd date. I deliberately took my friend’s car and picked her up from the same bus stand. I always wondered about her split personality. But this day was different. We had really started dating in real life. Though it was the slowest love story I had ever known off. Five months of relationship and only two dates. This was something skewed. She took another half an hour to reach that bus stand but I hadn’t muffed again for the obvious reasons. Again we did same kind of stuffs that we had done in our previous date. The difference was of 300 Rs. That I had spended relatively more.

At evening, we left for home. I pulled up the car slowly for the deliberate reason to spend some more time with her. I killed off the engine as soon as we reached a deserted place. She gave me a “what the f**k you stopped the car” look. I pulled out my seat belt and approached her. Nonetheless, she had sensed my intentions and pulled her back in same direction to maintain the relative distance between us that I had reduced during approaching. But the car windows and her seat belt limited her motion and facilitated me to reach for her face. I took hold of her face and pulled it toward mine while approached simultaneously. The relative distance between our faces had expedited the distance reduction. Our lips were only few millimeters apart. A fresh lot of air warm second hand carbon-di-oxide strikes on my face as she breathed out heavily. Her eyes were closed and our lips met in commotion. Oh my holy god! We were kissing. I wondered if I wasn’t dreaming.

Her positive response though had cleared my dilemma. Yes, it was a kiss. A real, beautiful kiss. Finally after five months waiting and few thousand bucks investment had paid me off. I was really getting the kiss of this beautiful girl whom I always dreamed of. Always fantasized about.

The way she was kissing had hints me about her embedded experience in kissing. Though I was a novice at this inevitable art of kissing but her previous experience had compensated for it. I mentally  admired her perfect art of kissing. Although the very feeling of her being someone else’s girlfriend earlier was envious but at the same time it felt good as she was with me right now. Though it hurts that she had lied about her previous experiences, or migh be it was just my illusion.

The lasts for few more minutes. It was a perfect kiss. A perfect passionate kiss. Meanwhile I slid my hands for her other “exciting” places. Suddenly my hands were stopped by her as she caught my hand pushed me away. I rocked back to driver’s seat perplexed about her sudden change in behavior. I was literally devastated.

what the hell”  I asked preposterously.

Easy babu, easy.” She chuckled. We are not doing these stuffs this early.

We are already in relationship since five months.” I retortrd like a kid. “ Five fucking months and you are saying it ‘this early’ ?”

She smiled playfully. Only smiled. Nothing else, not even a single word in responding my childish retort.


To be continued in subsequent series..........


Click here to read further (part 3)

Monday, July 9, 2012



Before beginning the story, it is hereby brought into consideration that this story is a real life experience of a friend of mine. But for the sake of concealing the identity, story is manipulated a bit; names and places of course are changed. To make it worth readable (as I think so, it may be my illusion) few modifications in conversations and situations are made deliberately.

Now, let me expedite the story to avoid losing some potential readers and future-blog-followers. For the sake of simplicity as well as fluent narration I deliberately represent the male protagonist as the narrator of this story. Story seems bit accentuating if narrated by the 1st person itself. Isn’t it?


I, Sachin, 21, single, male, sexually-straight, is an average looking person with a 5’8” frame. I had did my diploma in Electrical Engineering from TCT Polytechnic, a prestigious polytechnic college in Uttar Pradesh established some 25 years ago by govt. of UP to meet the excessive demand of Junior Engineers in developing India. As being an avid student, I did complete my diploma not only with a brag-able mark-sheet, but also with some theoretical knowledge (which most of the engineers devoid today). Though I hate boasting about my academic achievements but at the same time it is equally inevitable to cloak the associated proud feeling embedded within it. It’s always inevitable to mention my academic record without that “concerned” pride.

I was eventually selected in NTPC, reputed PSU branch in Haryana. I was trainee and soon to be promoted as junior engineer. In two month to be precise. This PSU plant, being situated in rural area far away from population they provided us flats in a self settled colony. It was a colony consist of around 70 flats which was shared commonly by trainees as well as by senior engineers. The number of rooms and interior arrangements though defines their ranks and make us feel “I m still a trainee”. But just for two more months, I thought.
There also lives senior engineer Mr. Akhilesh Singh. Although, he was not any special species but the only thing which accentuated him is being the father of this beautiful girl, his daughter Kritika. Kritika, 23, was a beautiful and efficient creation of god production industry. I guess even god too had took it few extra hours on her finishing operation. She was in M.Sc. 2nd year. Eventually our eyes met and not to mention, I had developed a crush on her. Though I adored her beauty and wanted her to make mine like anything but never attempted to approach her for the obvious reasons. She too was not oblivious of my feeling for her which oozed out every nano-second I saw her. She too had a thing for me, I thought or maybe I was just misjudging her looks.

One fine day I received the call from an unknown number. 

Hello” I said in interrogatively as if trying to ask who on other side is being generous enough to call on my number.

 “Is that Sachin?” a melodious female voice echoed in my ear.

Yes! Who’s it?” I asked.

This is Kritika” she said Cooley.

 “Fine thank you” I replied formally. “I m sorry but do I know u?”

Awwweee!!! We live in same colony and u don’t even know me yet.” She said in her female friendly dramatic voice as if we knew each other since ages.

My mind immediately sprang into action.

It must be Kritika, my neighborhood crush” I thought. Who else in my female-deficient colony has this euphonious voice? 

It must be Kritika, I declared mentally to myself.

Kritika?” I asked deliberately to confirm.

Who else could call you from this colony? Also I m the only ‘The Kritika’ of this area” She chuckled.

And she was right. Who else could call me from this colony, except Mr. Ranjan, our asshole supervisor, and some other not-so-important colleagues. 

And this was just the beginning. What followed next is loads of phone calls, SMSes, texting, sexting and every possible thing one could imagine to be done over phone. Our relationship was ripening and I of course wanted to extract the fruit from it. But she always knocked down the idea of real date giving some strange hard-to-believe reasons. She also insisted not to add her on facebook for the reasons of same “genre”. Though she never failed to reply my e-mails and this had become the 2nd most preferred mode of communication we share to communicate. She told me, she had no boyfriend, even though she was in M. Sc. 2nd year. I had to believe. Do I have any other options otherwise? Certainly not, unless I’d risk my just-can’t-get-enough-till-now kind of relationship.
Three months of relationship and no real date. This was something I had never imagined to be ever happening with me. Even when she saw around her house, she couldn’t even bothers to look into my eyes, let alone waving hand or wishing good day. “What kind of love is this?” I thought.  Now since I was promoted as junior engineer at same plant, I could pay worry-lessly for my ever increasing phone bills. I pleaded her to meet me once. What’s the point being in love mutually when there is no space of meeting (read it dating) each other. But It was my love story. Isn’t it enough reason to be weird? Anyway…….

Although, on my chivious demand, she had no way but to accept it. She reluctantly agreed for a date. We anyhow, decided to meet at most beautiful location our small town had.  Despite of being oblivious about latest fashion trend, I chose myself a better pair of dress for this tough-to-earned date. Three f**king months. And my irrevocable waiting paid me off. She came some 40 minutes late from the pre-decided  time, which she had fixed by herself. I should have remark her being late but I was in no position to muff. Do I? Certainly not unless I’d risk my still-not-anything relationship.


To be continued in subsequent series..........


Saturday, July 7, 2012

Application for being my girlfriend

The unknown Girl,
Dreamland city,
Fantasy nagar.

Subject: Application for being my girlfriend.

Dear girlfriend-to-be,
    With immense love and considerable proportionate lust, myself Abhishek bhopali, wanted to say that I had seen you in DTC bus in route no.717 (plying Shahbad Mohhammadpur to Badarpur), in a fine monday morning few days back (20/02/2012). When I boarded the overcrowded bus at Bharthal bus stand(near BPCL Bijwasan, Underpass), you were already seated at window seat of row no. 3 in "women's only" column. You had wore black salwar-suit with black duppatta and a blue cardigan. After buying my fare-ticket(fair, for the first time), I went to your seat just only to see your cute face. You looked so beautiful in those 500 gm exclusive make-up, those mascarra cladded eyelash covering your big black eyes are enhancing your beauty.

    Initially, my mind was full of lust when I saw you. I begun fantasizing about you right then. But when you offered your seat to that pregnent lady who was ignored by almost every seat-holders(who considered themselve as the future of india), My lust for you had immidiately transformed into love and respect. Those were the most precious moment of this year when you stand by me after offering your seat to that lady. I was no more lusting about you. All I could felt about you after that bus ride is the love and respect. I wanted to introduced myself to you but hesitation stops me doing this. Very soon you deboarded from bus at Vasant Kunj D-2. My heart went away with you by then. I had tried to meet you several times after that bus ride but I was helpless as i couldn't meet you in that bus ever afterthen.

    If you are reading this, I want to tell you that I had wore dark blue checked shirt & denim blue coloured jeans that day. You were standing besides me for those 45 unforgettable minutes. Though I had set a criteria for a girl for being my girlfriend, which you are almost compatible with. Considering my love and respect alongwith a little lust for you, I had decided to make you my girlfriend. I know I am Unknown to you and might be possible that you hadn't even bother to look at me that day but still I want you to meet me atleast once. If you consider me worth meeting atleast once, please do contact me.

    I exist on facebook, twitter, blogspot and various other modes of social networking. As you know, almost every person have a mobile phone today, I also have one. In case you want to contact me via email, I do have a email-id too. My contact details are:-
FACEBOOK:  http://www.facebook.com/sattirezone
TWITTER:   http://www.twitter.com/abhishekbhopali
BLOG:      http://oyebhopali.blogspot.com
EMAIL_id:  abhi.gbpec@gmail.com
PHONE NO.: 9716*&!@#$

    Thank you for reading this,

Your wanna-be-boyfriend,
Abhishek Bhopali,
Pyar colony, Ishq village,
Mohabbat pura,
Prem Nagar.

About Me

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Bhopal. Delhi. Mumbai. Thrissur, India
A grammatically challenged blogger. Typos are integral part of blogging