Tuesday, June 28, 2011


Everyone seems to be achieving something or the other. I try to take on something fun, something I have always wanted to do and yet I seem to fail. It is crazy. It is difficult to break old habits.

I think it is something I lack. Maybe a gene or something. I can't do anything against biology, can I now?

Some one find a pill that will reverse these effects? I am tired. 

Monday, June 27, 2011

My Hero.

He just lay there.

He was never around much. But he retired soon. And then, I literally grew up with him. The more I think about him, the lesser I know. I remember him pacing up and down, all day long. He had so much energy.

Hence, it hurts just to see him lay there.

Tubes for fluids to go in. Tubes for fluids to come out. Body failing.

He worked too hard. His job required him to on his feet for 14-16hours a  day. He overworked.

Today, those legs have failed him. Walking himself to the bathroom is a task.

Where is my hero? Where is the man who taught me what patience and calm mind can achieve if only you are persistent? Where is that fighting spirit?

"Last week, I wasn't sure if he would pull through, but the improvement showed in the past 2 days gives me hope." The doctor interrupted my thoughts.

There, he was. My hero. Still fighting. Only now for life.

Stay strong. 

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Lucky 13 Part 2.

Wheee. The brother returns with part 2. Time to give him atleast a new tab on the blog, I think. You can find all of his work on this blog here. 

Find part 1 here.

“You have got to be kidding me, Gwen! Seriously, why can’t you just get off the phone and answer the door for once?”

Forcing her feet to make loud thuds signaling her anger about her room-mate’s laziness, Sarah Dawson comes down the stairs. She sneaked in a quick glance at the mirror, followed by tying up the last few loose hair-strands. She didn’t know who was at the door, but that wouldn’t stop her from looking her best.

They say, for police officers, knowing justice is being served is good enough, but not for the new-age detective. It’s not only about finding the criminals, but also looking good while doing it. But today was something extra special – it was Sarah’s first day as a homicide detective. Obviously, she wasn’t the most experienced officer out there, but with a series of unsolved murders and a serial-killer out on the loose, exceptions had to be made, new recruits had to be brought in. She had traded in her faded, worn out patrol uniform for off-the-rack suits – reminiscent to a “rags to riches” story. She had never considered herself to be poor, and let’s face it, even the top detectives don’t get to have all the luxuries in the world, but this was about earning respect. Sarah had worked her way up, from the bottom. Law-enforcement seminars, self-defense classes, weapons workshops and slogging it out in the real world, she had done it all. Although she was a small fish in a very big tank, full of people telling her she was too pretty to be in the police, too nice. Surrounded by so much of negativity, there was never a moment where she gave up hope. A life-long dream was finally going to come true today.

As the door-bell rang again, her thoughts were brought to a screeching halt, and on opening the door, Sarah hoped she could just disappear of the face of the planet. Between the young, vibrant and energetic Sarah and the equally vibrant and colourful spring morning, stood her aunt - Michelle Rose. Michelle and Rose – both words have such a tender, beautiful feel to them. When you put them together, you can imagine feminine grace and the capability of painting such a pretty picture. Sarah’s aunt though, was the complete opposite. A tall, bulky woman, dressed in a black “Metallica” t-shirt and cargo shorts, Aunty Michelle was a professional wrestler in the old days, under the name ‘Monster Mama’. Hitting her early fifties, it would still take more than one Sarah to take her down – and that’s exactly why Sarah sighed loudly. If only her aunt was the petite figure that her name portrayed, she would’ve simply run over her and deal with the consequences later.

Sarah had a pretty simple way of behaving with people, and there were no exceptions – If you are nice to me, I’m nice to you. If you are not, I do not care. Every time she considered joining the forces as a fresh graduate, and after every promotion, it was the same ritual. Her aunt tried persuading her to find something better to do in her life. She told her how this life wasn’t for her, but coming from a successful woman in a heavily male-dominated industry, Sarah never paid heed to any of her advice. She expected another anger-filled tirade from Michelle, which usually ended with the niece demanding that her aunt leave immediately and never show her face ever again, but evidently, it didn’t ever work.

This time, the young detective was prepared. She sat through dinner last night, thinking of all that she would say to her aunt as her she bursts up into flames like every other occasion. With a curled up fist, solid as a rock, the very confident Sarah was waiting to pounce on her aunt with a barrage of her own; ready to go to war. But after a brief, yet intense stare, something unimaginable happened. As Sarah gave her eyes momentary rest with a quick blink, the near 6-foot tall Michelle was on her knees. The smirk and arrogance replaced with a meek, exhausted look.

“Please, Sarah, please don’t ruin your life. Get out while there’s still time”.
Sarah was quick to reply, without any emotion or distress, “After years of trying to force me, you’ve finally found a more innovative way, but that doesn’t mean its going to work.”
“Sarah, darling, if you keep going along this path, you’ll open doors which have to be kept closed. All those secrets have to be kept untouched. Otherwise, your life will be ruined”.
“What secrets are you talking about? How can my life be any more ruined than it is right now? I have no family – my dad’s dead, and my mother is spending the rest of her life in prison for killing him”.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

long lost -2.

Find part one here

Even though, he was wide awake now, the voices were no different. They still sounded like they were coming from far away. And everything seemed to go on in slow motion. Her lips moved mouthing words but it was like the tv was on mute. Her lips. Those lips. Her hair. Nothing had changed. She hadn't.

Wait she had. They had. Nothing was the same. She had moved on. He remembered all the fights. All the mistakes. The ones he made, the ones he was hurt by. Of how she had changed. Of how she blamed him for everything and then, one day, just disappeared.

He respected her wishes. He had promised her that he would never question her.

"No questions?" he heard her ask.

"I've a few," he replied.

She looked at him and gulped. She knew the moment she had heard about his band performing that this would happen. She couldn't escape. Not like she had the last time.

She took a deep breath and said, "Go ahead."

He looked at her and asked, "Why us? And why now?"

His band mates looked at in surprise. One of them just started to protest, when she held her hand. He had to start laughing. She always hated being interrupted or protected. 'Talk to the hand' was something she always said.

Looking straight at him, she said, "Because I have always believed in you."

His heart sank and he felt the same thing he had felt years ago.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Review of Bru Cafe World, Juhu, Mumbai

Disclaimer : This is my first review. Be kind.

On 14th June, Friend and me decided to enter dripping wet into the Bru world cafe, Juhu. Located prominently close to Shiv Sagar opposite Ramada Plaza, it is not very easy to miss this place.

On entering, the place has a refreshing ambiance compared to the cafe chains we are used to. The place has 2 levels. The upper level is very dainty with just 3 tables. It has been decorated with interesting posters of coffee facts and books. I suppose they encourage sitting there and drinking coffee for a long time while reading (Ah, the dream) One of the best things in the decor was the wall art in the bathroom. It was refreshing to see a cafe give importance to the way a bathroom looks (and hence, hopefully the effectiveness with which it functions)

 This place has a lot of posters like this.
A part of the books on the shelves.

The menu looks to be a good mix of international blends, house blends, teas, smoothies. They also have interesting menu of desserts, that I must try someday soon.Things I am looking forward to try : Black pepper cheesecake, Choco Mocha cake, Tiramisu cappuccino, Basil Pesto bell pepper wrap and caramel cappuccino.

The staff were friendly but seemed a little clueless about the menu. When the friend asked about the french press, it took him a few probing questions to understand what we meant. They however were quick to recommend the Chicken Nizami Roll when asked. Their uniforms are smart and add to the charm of the place. Overall, better training could help this place.

Pricing seemed a little expensive for the international blends compared to other cafes but everything seemed pretty decently priced. After having an Americano, a roasted hazelnut cappuccino and chicken nazim roll cost us less than Rs. 250. Not bad, I say.

Getting to the specifics, I had the roasted hazelnut cappuccino and it was pretty nice. A very subtle flavour but a tad too sweet for me (but then, it is me) Friend had the Americano and said it was decent, he had better and worse. Nothing to brag about. The Nazim Roll was recommended for good measure. Not too heavy but delicious and quantity just about right for one person.

The review in less than 140 characters (for my awesome twitter feed): #review Bru cafe world, Juhu is refreshing in terms of decor and some items of the menu but the training of the staff might mar the cafe.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Lucky 13 Part 1.

Disclaimer : This has been written my brother, Akash. If you like this work more than mine and you tell him so, he might consider making a blog of his own. Till then, he shall leech off my space.

“Believe me, I had nothing to do with it.”, he shouted out. The bright lights make his pupils dilate, and still, the lights pierce his eyes. Moving his head up for a breath of fresh air, he can’t help but wonder whether “karma” had done him in. His lungs cannot take another dip into the icy cold water, but the San Francisco Police Department officials wanted answers. 34-year old, business tycoon, Roy Jefferson has had many visits to the SFPD office – on charges of fraud, extortion and even solicitation, but always managed to hide behind the best legal team money could buy. The large abundance of green paper in his back pocket had made him quite a few friends in the Police Department itself, but this was one deal, neither his money nor his shrewd business mind could get him out of. Found over his wife’s body, with her blond locks and blood all over his hands, he was caught red-handed. An anonymous 911 call had cost him dear. His lawyers tried their best to get their employer out of the mess he had gotten himself in, and in reality, it was extremely easy for the ‘Cutting-Edge Realty’ owner to entice the district police force with a not-so-hefty depression in his bank account, but with the global media fixated to their TV screens and gunning for Allison Jefferson’s killer, the police couldn’t afford any bribery allegations.

27-year retired veteran in the force, mother of two and regarded as the best female law enforcement officer in the country, Melinda Thomas had managed to reach her bed, after pretty much not knowing what sleep was for the three decades that went by, and as soon as she shut her eyes, her phone started ringing. “Sweet Home Alabama” was an appropriate ring-tone for Thomas as she was born, brought up and even served the force in her home state, before an obsession with a serial killer earned her a transfer twelve years ago to Illinois, from where she retired last year. This obsession had ruined her marriage, her social life, almost her career and, definitely, her life. Her daughters had no time to call an absentee mother – an absentee even when living in the same house, her mother had passed away without having her only daughter read her eulogy because she was busy running down a wild goose hunt and her ex-husband who found himself alone on all his vacation, her police years had been difficult for everyone around Melinda. With no friends and a dreadfully distant family, she spent her, now free, Saturday nights and Sunday Mornings watching Alfred Hitchcock classics or getting her old case files out of the closet and attempting to catch the one-man who got away. So, when Roy Jefferson was found over his wife’s lifeless body, the SFPD knew who to call, because of her reputation around the law enforcement circles - The woman who had dedicated her life to finding this man, and failed. Thomas had been in this same position the last time four bodies had been found in her state of Alabama, same M.O., in the span of two weeks
Alistair Lee – 40-year old, Male, Caucasian, investment banker. Amanda Johnson – 22-year old, Female, African-American, waitress. Andrew Peterson – 8-year old, Male, Caucasian. Anna Petrov – 32-year old, Female, Russian Immigrant, Housewife. Different ages, different social circles, different ethnicities and all of them had no enemies. Then, what got all of them killed? They all couldn’t have been in the wrong place, at the wrong time & killed using the same M.O., all in a matter of ‘thirteen’ days. The figure of 13 days can easily be mistaken for 2 weeks, but not when it comes to this serial-killer. The police departments across the country have a compartment in their file cabinet dedicated to who the media termed as the ‘Lucky 13 killer’.