Funny Emails, Funny Cell Phone Forwards, Funny SMS, Funny Quotes, Funny Poems
Funny Emails, Funny Cell Phone Forwards, Funny SMS, Funny Quotes, Funny Poems

To a casual bystander he looked like a dumb cow gaping at a vast plain of greenery. The analogy isn’t quite inapt. On his screen were some of the best stories he ever read. He wondered how he had never found this online or how those stories never made it to a published book. Kesari, upon being informed by his mom, decided to read these himself. A feeling of pity for the author who, he now certainly believed, had a flair and talent for writing, mixed with disappointment, anger and other feelings he couldn’t quite name filled him. He was about to leave comments for the author but then desisted – for more than one reason.

He, still in a state of shock, hesitantly switched off his laptop. His movements were slow and dazed. The light in his room was switched off. He had started reading the stories early in the afternoon with an estimate that he’d be done in an hour or so. He looked at his watch now to realize it was well over 5 hours now. And then it was only a set of short stories he had read. He was surprised how he never realized so much time passing. The stories just gripped him. And when he tried to decide which the best of them was, he couldn’t. They all seemed amazingly simple, yet interesting; unique in that they were different stories and genres, yet common and comparable in that they were all good reads. No wonder, then, time flew by while he didn’t realize it.

Presently the room was dark. He was still. The room was calm. Or so it seemed, considering the clutter in his head. No other noise seemed to penetrate the room. His mom was perhaps in the kitchen, making preparations for a delicious dinner. His mind diverted for a bit to his mom’s cooking. Her dishes were a blessing for anyone’s tongue. He thought they were even a privilege. He decided that whoever had an occasion to be privileged to taste his mom’s cooking was blessed. He thought about his father. He thought about the entertaining stories that his dad told him about his college-time romance with his mother. His mind returned to his main chain of thoughts. His face became grim now. He remained seated on his couch.

He didn’t want to move until he cleared the rubble from the storm in his mind. It was barely a minute from when his face became grim when he picked up the phone. His movements were not as slow as when he had switched off his laptop and reclined on the couch thinking all his thoughts. His fingers frantically searched and dialed his dad’s cellphone number. Read the rest of this entry »

“… we have no time to stand or stare.” We have no time or we make no time. Whatever it is, the truth remains that every one of us has a story to tell. Walk down the streets, look at people, and observe them. Some would be walking nonchalantly while others would be rushing to some place. The old man sitting on the bench in the bus stop must be eagerly waiting for the bus which would take him to his newborn granddaughter. The man standing at the corner, waiting for the bus could actually be hoping that the bus never arrives so that he doesn’t get to go back home to his troubled married life. A young girl standing in the bus stop shelter, seemingly calm while awaiting the bus, could from inside be restless to meet her friends and tell them the story of her new-found love. One should just have a little time to scratch the surface and there will be stories after stories, waiting to be told.

Everyone cannot afford time for such interesting tasks. People are more engrossed in survival, trying to improve their quality of life – merely materialistically – earn that extra buck and find happiness, though ironically they struggle throughout their life for it, thus spending many discontent and unhappy moments in their lives. For example, a family would buy an expensive home theater system, watch events (news and other events) all over the world, watch movies (mere stories told by others) or watch sports to see a fight between victory and defeat (the same old story since the beginning of the universe). How many people would know what is going on in the life of that smiling and charming new neighbor or the wrinkled widower living across the street?

I am a writer. I thank God for making my job implicitly require me to find such stories and also give me the time for it. Sometimes the purposeful observation gets to you. However one might argue, it is another regular task after all. I quickly decided that I needed a vacation. This is another luxury of my profession. I could call it a break from work to enjoy the beautiful nature. I could also use this very break to think away from the crowd and yet be working by writing something – story or a descriptive article about my trip.

On the last occasion that I made a quick decision, I found myself going to Cauvery river’s jungle lodge resort. This was about a hundred kilometers away from Bengaluru, the technology capital of India. I enjoy a special rapport with the staff and the in-charge of this lodge. I called up Andrew, the in-charge of the lodge, my special friend. I gathered that he was going to be out of office for a couple of days. So the first two days of my stay for about four days was going to be without the company of my fellow philosopher with whom I shared many intellectual conversations.

Read the rest of this entry »

WeMove production’s “Nannavala Kagada” after a huge success in Bangalore is now being staged in MYSORE at Rangayana on 7th February, 2009 (Saturday) be there to witness the most hilarious play of the season.

Please,Find the poster and other ticket booking information below

Hayavadana Rao, is an amateur poet, one day he receives a letter from his WIFE, he goes nuts and rushes to his inlaws place…
What was there in that letter?
Why Did he Rush to his in law’s place?

Get to know more about Hayavadana Rao and his escapades…………

WeMove Productions®

Presents the most hilarious play of the year
Nannavala Kagada
(My Wife’s Letter)

NOW, Staging at Sri Ranga,  Rangayana, Behind Kalakshetra, Mysore on 2nd February , 2009 Saturday @ 6:30pm

WeMove Production’s Play in support for Stage Artists

For more information log on to www.wemovefoundation.org

Buy Tickets online @ www.indianstage.in or call 9986016207

Play Wrtten by Dr.S. Gundurao

Directed by:
Dr.Sanjay Shrama
Abhishek Iyengar

Production:

Bharath Kashyap

Make Up:

Maltesh Badigar

Performers:
Rangaraj Bhatracharya
Sri Harsha
Madhuvanthi
Hanu
Abhishek Iyengar

Dr. Sanjay Sharma

Once upon a time there was a little red hen. She lived all alone in a house in the woods. On the side of a hill close by the house, lived a sly old fox.In the den with the sly old fox lived the fox’ mother.

Many times the sly old fox had tried to catch the little red hen. But the little red hen was wise. So Mr.Fox could not catch her. He tried and tried, but the little red hen was too wise for him.

The sly old fox grew thin, planning how to catch the little red hen.

One day he said to his mother,  “I have a plan to catch the little red hen. I will take this bad and put her in it. Have the pot on the fire when I come back. We will boil her for dinner.”

The sly old fox crept up to the house of the little red hen. The little red hen came out to pick up sticks for the fire. She left the door open. In slipped the sly old fox. The little red hen’s back was turned. She did not see him. Behind the door hid the sly old fox.

In came the little red hen with her wood. She shut the door with a bang. There sat the sly old fox with his big fluffy tail on the floor. Quick as a wink the little red hen flew up to a high beam. “Ah, Mr.Fox, you had better go home. You can’t get me,” she cried.

“We will see about that,” said the sly old fox. Then he began to chase his tail. Round and round he ran. The little red hen tried to watch him. Soon her head went round and round, too. She was so dizzy that down from the high beam she fell.

The sly old fox picked her up and put her in his bag. Then away he ran to his den on the hill. But the little red hen had a plan. She took her sharp little knife from her pocket, and she cut a hole in the bag and out she jumped.

Then the little red hen took up a great big stone. Into the bag she dropped it. Soon the sly old fox ran into his den. “Mother, Mother, is the water boiling in the pot?” “Yes, my son, it is boiling hot.” Then he held the bag over the boiling water.

Down fell the great big stone into the pot. Splash went the boiling water over the sly old fox and his mother. So they both were killed. After that the little red hen lived in peace in the little house in the woods.

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry.

He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door.

Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water. She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it slowly, and then asked, “How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she replied “Mother has taught us never to accept payment for a kindness.” He said… “Then I thank you from my heart.”

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt; stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit.

Years later that young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease.

Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes.

Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room.

Dressed in his doctor’s gown he we nt in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to the case.

After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room.

She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally, she looked, and something caught; her attention on the side as She read these words…..

“Paid in full with one glass of milk.” (Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly.

So I was at this party, and I wound up at a table where three attractive single women were complaining about — Surprise! — men. Specifically, they were complaining about the pickup lines that had been used on them in a bar a few nights earlier.

One woman said: “This guy comes up to me and says, `Are you a teacher?’ I mean, is that supposed to be romantic?” All three women rolled all six of their eyes.
Another one of them said: “This guy says to me, `I’ve been looking at you all night!’ So I go, `Hel-LO, we just GOT here.”’

At this point all three women — and I want to stress that these are intelligent, nice women — were laughing. Not me. I was feeling bad for the guys. I realize that there are certain hardships that only females must endure, such as childbirth, waiting in lines for public-restroom stalls, and a crippling, psychotic obsession with shoe color.

So I grant that it is not easy being a female. But I contend that nature has given males the heaviest burden of all: the burden of always having to Make the First Move, and thereby risk getting Shot Down. I don’t know WHY males get stuck with this burden, but it’s true throughout the animal kingdom. If you watch the nature shows on the Discovery Channel, you’ll note that whatever species they are talking about — birds, ! crabs, spiders, clams — it is ALWAYS the male who has to take the initiative.

It’s always the male bird who does the courting dance, making a total moron of himself, while the female bird just stands there, looking aloof, thinking about what she’s going to tell her girlfriends. (“And then he hopped around on one foot! Like I’m supposed to be impressed by THAT!”).

Male insects have it the worst. The Discovery Channel announcer is always saying things like: “After the mating, the female mantis bites off the male mantis’ head, and then she and her girlfriend mantises use it to play a game that looks a lot like Skee Ball.”

Because I live in Florida, my patio is basically a giant singles bar for lizards. On any given day during mating season, I’ll see dozens of male lizards out there making their most suave lizard move, which consists of inflating and deflating a red pouch under their chins.

They seem to think that female lizards really go for a guy with a big chin pouch, but I have never once, in 14 years of close observation, seen a female respond. They just squat there looking bored, while all around them males are blinking on and off like defective warning lights.

Every now and then you’ll see an offbeat TV news story about some animal, usually a moose, that has for some reason fallen in love with, and decided to relentlessly court, something totally inappropriate, such as a lawn tractor. This animal is ALWAYS a male.
On the TV, they show it hanging around the lawn tractor with a big, sad, moony look, totally smitten, while the lawn tractor cruelly ignores it.

My point here is that, in matters of the heart, males have the brains of a walnut. No, wait! That is not my point. My point is that perhaps you women could cut us males a little bit of slack in the move-making process, because we are under a lot of stress. I vividly remember when I was in 10th grade, and I wanted to call a girl named Patty and ask her to a dance, and before I picked up the phone, I spent maybe 28 hours rehearsing exactly what I was going to say.

So when I actually made the call, I was pretty smooth.

“Hello, Dance?” I said. “This is Patty. Do you want to go to the Dave with me?”

Fortunately Patty grasped the basic thrust of my gist and agreed to go to the dance. This was a good thing, because if she had shot me down, I would have been so humiliated that I would have never have been able to go back to school. I would have dropped out of 10(superscript: th) grade and lied about my age and joined the U.S. armed forces, and as a direct result the Russians would have won the Cold War.

That is the awesome power that you women have over us men. I hope you understand this, and the next time a guy walks up and uses some incredibly lame, boneheaded line on you, I hope that, instead of laughing at him, you will remember that he is under the intense pressure of wanting to impress you enough so that you might want to get to know him better and maybe eventually, perhaps within the next 15 minutes, mate with him, thereby enabling the survival of the human race, which believe me is the only thing that we males are truly concerned about.

In conclusion, let me just say to all females everywhere, on behalf of all males everywhere, that you are very beautiful and your eyes are like two shining stars, unless you’re a female fly, in which case your eyes are more like 2,038 shining stars. So please give us a chance. And if you’re not interested, could you introduce us to your lawn tractor?

Many years ago in a small Indian village,

A farmer had the misfortune Of owing a large sum of money to a village moneylender.

The Moneylender, who was old and ugly, fancied the farmer’s beautiful Daughter. So he proposed a bargain.

He said he would forgo the farmer’s debt if he could marry his Daughter. Both the farmer and his daughter were horrified by the Proposal.

So the cunning money-lender suggested that they let Providence decide the matter.

He told them that he would put a black Pebble and a white pebble into an empty money bag. Then the girl would Have to pick one pebble from the bag.

1) If she picked the black pebble, she would become his wife and her father’s debt would be forgiven.

2) If she picked the white pebble she need not marry him and her father’s debt would still be forgiven.

3) But if she refused to pick a pebble, her father would be thrown into Jail.

They were standing on a pebble strewn path in the farmer’s field. As They talked, the moneylender bent over to pick up two pebbles. As he Picked them up, the sharp-eyed girl noticed that he had picked up two Black pebbles and put  them into the bag.

He then asked the girl to pick A pebble from the bag.

Now, imagine that you were standing in the field. What would you have Done if you were the girl? If you had to advise her, what would you Have told her?

Careful analysis would produce three possibilities:

1. The girl should refuse to take a pebble.

2. The girl should show that there were two black pebbles in the bag And expose the money-lender as a cheat.

3. The girl should pick a black pebble and sacrifice herself in order To save her father from his debt and imprisonment.

Take a moment to ponder over the story. The above story is used with The hope that it will make us appreciate the difference between lateral And logical thinking.

The girl’s dilemma cannot be solved with Traditional logical thinking. Think of the consequences if she chooses

The above logical answers.

What would you recommend to the Girl to do?

Well, here is what she did ….

The girl put her hand into the moneybag and drew out a pebble. Without Looking at it, she fumbled and let it fall onto the pebble-strewn path Where it immediately became lost among all the other pebbles.

“Oh, how clumsy of me,” she said. “But never mind, if you look into the Bag for the one that is left, you will be able to tell which pebble I Picked.”

Since the remaining pebble is black, it must be assumed that she had Picked the white one. And since the money-lender dared not admit his Dishonesty, the girl changed what seemed an impossible situation into An extremely advantageous one.

MORAL OF THE STORY:

Most complex problems do have a solution. It is only that we don’t Attempt to think.

An old Greek man lived alone in Marrick ville. He wanted to dig his tomato garden, but it was hard work for his advanced years as the ground was very hard.

His only son, Spiro, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament.

Dear Spiro,

I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won’t be able to plantmy tomato garden this year. I’m just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot.

If you were here my troubles would be over. I know youwould dig the plot for me.

Love Papa

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Papa,

Don’t dig up the garden. That’s where I buried the bodies.

Love Spiro

At 4 A.M. the next morning, Federal agents and NSW Police arrived anddug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized tothe old man and left. That same day the old man received another letterfrom his son.

Dear Papa,

Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That’s the best I coulddo under the circumstances.

Love Spiro

THIS IS AN ACTUAL INCIDENT

On the last day before Christmas, I hurried to go to the supermarket to
buy the remaining of the gifts I didn’t manage to buy earlier.
When I saw all the people there, I started to complain to myself:
“It is going to take forever here and I still have so many other
places to go…”
“Christmas really is getting more and more annoying every year. How I
wish I could just lie down, go to sleep and only wake up after it…”

Nonetheless, I made my way to the toy section, and there I started to
curse the prices, wondering if after all kids really play with such
expensive toys.

While looking in the toy section, I noticed a small boy of about 5 years
old, pressing a doll against his chest. He kept on touching the hair of
the
doll and looked so sad. I wondered who this doll was for.

Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ‘Granny, are you
sure I don’t have enough money?’ The old lady replied: ‘You know that you
don’t have enough money to
buy this doll, my dear.’ Then she asked him to stay there for 5 minutes
while she went to look
around. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his
hand.

Finally, I started to walk towards him and I asked him who he wanted to
give
this doll to.

‘It is the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for this
Christmas. She was so sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.’ I
replied to him that maybe Santa Claus will bring it to her after all, and
not to worry. But he replied to me sadly. ‘No, Santa Claus cannot bring it
to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mother so that she
can give it to her when she goes there.’

His eyes were so sad while saying this. ‘My sister has gone to be with
God.
Daddy says that Mummy will also go to see God very soon, so I thought that
she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.” My heart nearly
stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: ‘I told daddy to tell
mummy not to go yet. I asked him to wait until I came back from the
supermarket.”

Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then
told me: ‘I also want mummy to take this photo with her so that she will
not
forget me. I love my mummy and I wish she doesn’t have to leave me but
daddy
says that she has to go to be with my little sister. Then he looked again
at
the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.

I quickly reached for my wallet and took a few notes and said to the boy.
‘What if we checked again, just in case if you have enough money?’ ‘Ok,’
he
said. ‘I hope that I have enough.’ I added some of my money to his without
him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll, and
even some left over.

The little boy said: ‘Thank you God for giving me enough money’, then he
looked at me and
added: ‘I asked yesterday before I went to sleep for God to make sure I
have
enough money to buy this doll so that mummy can give it to my sister. He
heard me. I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my
mummy, but I didn’t dare to ask God too much. But He gave me enough to buy
the doll and the white rose.’ ‘You know, my mummy loves white roses ‘ A
few
minutes later, the old lady came back again and I left with my trolley. I
finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I
couldn’t get the little boy out of my mind.

Then I remembered a local newspaper article 2 days ago, which mentioned of
a
drunk man in a truck who hit a car where there was one young lady and a
little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a
critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the
life-assisting machine, because the young lady would not be able to get
out
of the coma.

Was this the family of the little boy? Two days after this encounter with
the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young lady had passed
away.
I couldn’t stop myself and went to buy a bunch of white roses and I went
to
the mortuary where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to
see
and make last wishes before burial. She was there, in her coffin, holding
a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and
the
doll placed over her chest.

I left the place crying, feeling that my life had been changed forever.
The love that this little boy had for his mother and his sister is
still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a
drunk
man had taken all this away from him.

Now you have 2 choices:

1) Share this with everybody that you know.

2) Or close this window and act as if it never touched your heart.

If you spread this message, maybe you will help prevent someone drunk to go
driving.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I cannot describe her beauty in the limited time I have here. I was 23 and fresh out of college, when I saw her. I don’t know if it was the hormones but I loved her at first sight. She was the girl of my dreams.
It is said that matches our made in heaven. It was sheer destiny that we were traveling to Chennai on the same train, The Niligiri Express. We were in the same compartment, S1 and were seated next to each other, 25 and 26. It was an amazing coincidence as my ticket had been confirmed only at the last minute.
“Hi, my name is Shalini,” she introduced herself with a beaming smile. She stretched out her right hand. I was shivering when I shook it.
“I am Gururaj,” I said and added, “Pleased to meet you.”
She had a serene, innocent face; the face of the kind of person who gets bullied in school. The image of a woman who couldn’t hurt a fly if she wanted to.
“How old are you?” I blurted out. It was the worst question to ask a woman but I was a nervous wreck and I wanted to talk to this woman.
She smiled at me and said, “Never ask a man his salary and a woman her age.”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t…” My tongue adamantly stuck to the roof of my mouth
“No, it is okay. Let us say, I will be sixty seven in 2050.”
I worked out the math. She was twenty two. I was twenty three. It was perfect! A match made in heaven.
“Do you have a crush on me?” she asked.
“What? How could you ask…?”
“Do you have a crush on me or not?” she asked emphasizing on ‘crush’.
“To tell you the truth, yes,” I said meekly.
“It’s okay. You can be bold about it. I’ll tell you a little secret.”
She pulled my ear next to her mouth and whispered, “I think you are attractive. I might even love you”
I turned pink the next moment.
“Hey you believed me, didn’t you? April fool, go to school. Tell your teacher, you are a fool,” she shouted. She laughed at the top of her voice.
I checked my watch. It was April 1st, 2005 and I had been made a jackass. I didn’t want to look at the woman’s face again. I loved her but I hated her for what she had done. I turned to the opposite side and stared out of the window.
She noticed my sulking face.
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. It was a joke. That’s all. I’m sorry,” she said.
I didn’t look at her and didn’t reply.
“Okay. What can I do to compensate?”
“You could sing a song for me,” I said softly. I wanted to know how well my girl could sing.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.” She stood up and went to the centre of the compartment.
“Friends, we have a birthday boy in our midst. I want all of you to wish him happy birthday.”
The entire compartment including the TTE (Train Ticket Examiner) was singing “Happy birthday to Gururaj.”
She took out a vegetable sandwich from her bag. She said that it was a substitute for a cake. I cut the sandwich and gave her the first piece. She removed the tomato and cucumber from the sandwich. She pasted the cucumber and tomato all over my face. I distributed the remaining bits of the sandwich to everyone in the compartment. It was the best birthday I had ever had.
When all the euphoria died I asked her, “How did you know that it was my birthday?”
She pointed to the card on top of my bag.
“Will you make a birthday resolution for me?” she asked.
“Sure. Tell me.”
“Promise to always smile because life presents too many opportunities to cry. And you look ugly when you are sad.”
“It is a promise.” I rested my palm on top of hers.
The perfectly romantic scene was disturbed by a child’s cry coming from the adjoining apartment. She took her hand off mine. I thought, “Damn, tough luck.”
She went to the next compartment to see what the problem was. The boy was two years old and his mother was not to be found. Nobody seemed to care about the boy.
She carried the boy in her arms and brought him to our compartment. She cajoled the boy by singing a lullaby for him. She had a sweet voice; the voice of a nightingale.
“I love kids,” she said.
“I love kids, too,” I replied, eager to show we had similar tastes.
The boy did not stop crying. He appeared to be terrified of us. His mother was nowhere to be seen.
“You don’t like songs. Okay, I will tell you a story. Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a king.”
The boy listened intently for a second but started crying as soon as she paused.

“Hey, relax. Give me time to think of a story. You are an impatient baby. In this land…”
“I will look for the boy’s mother,” I said. She nodded her head.
I found the boy’s mother, two compartments away. She had gone there to meet a friend. She had forgotten about her kid.
When we came back to S1, we found the boy sound asleep in Shalini’s lap. She had used all her powers of persuasion to make him feel secure in her lap.
“I want to thank…”
“Shh…Your son is sleeping. Don’t disturb him,” she whispered to the boy’s mother and gave the boy to her.
“Do you want the Nobel peace prize?” I asked her cynically.
“I love people. When I am around, the people around me should be happy. That is my philosophy in life,” she said, sincerely.
It made me feel small and stupid in front of her. I began to rethink about my mission in life. Should I be a priest? No, can’t marry her. Social worker, peace activist…maybe.
We heard a voice in the distance shouting “Is there a doctor on this train?”
“Dr. Shalini, here. How can I help you?” she shouted back.
We waited to see the face of the voice we had heard. It was a co-passenger, a bearded man who seemed anxious.
“Doctor, my father is serious. Please do something.”
“Come with me. You could be of help,” she told me. She caught hold of my arm and guided me along the compartment. I had absolutely no say in the matter. Oh! The power of women!
The old man was in a grave condition. His breathing was heavy and he was coughing profusely. He seemed ready to make peace with god. “Open the windows,” she told me. I opened all the windows to allow fresh air to come in.
“Hold him up for me,” she instructed.
I made the old man sit up. She took out her stethoscope and checked his heartbeat. She checked his pulse for variations.
I watched her lovingly as she worked her magic on the old man. She was so soft and tender with people. Whether it was a little boy or an old man, she had so much affection for them. Unbelievably, the old man was normal within half an hour. His son didn’t have enough words to thank Shalini.
“He is okay now. Don’t disturb him. Let him sleep well,” she instructed him.
“I never expected you to be a doctor,” I said.
“Men always think that beautiful women don’t have brains.”
I didn’t know how to reply to that remark. Did she mean that she was beautiful, or brainy or both. One can never understand a woman’s mind. So, I diverted the conversation.
“What made you become a doctor?” I asked.
“A lot of things. It was my father’s dream. Above all else, it gives me the power to make people smile; the power to save lives.”
“Will you marry me?” I asked, spontaneously. I had never been more sure of myself.
“Is this April fool?”
“No. I am serious. See, I know that I am unemployed. I am not even as educated as you. I don’t even look good. I have no caliber. But I love you. Will you marry me?”
“You know nothing about me. I don’t like commitments. I live every day like it is my last.”
“If you marry me, I will live everyday like it is my first.”
She closed her beautiful eyes. She took a deep breath and thought for a moment. The suspense was killing.
“God, why didn’t I meet you earlier,” she said.
I had no time to reply. The doors to my mouth were sealed by her lips. I thought that my head was immersed in the clouds. The people in my compartment pretended to close their eyes. But I could see the men looking at me with envy through the corner of their eyes. It was the most beautiful moment of my life. It still is the most beautiful.
The train came to a screeching halt. We had reached Tirupur station. It was hard to believe that so much had happened in two hours.
There are some moments in life which you can remember even in your sleep. For me, it was what happened at Tirupur railway station. It redefined my life forever.
“I am hungry. Get me something to eat,” said Shalini. She dug into her leather handbag and brought out twenty rupees.
“It’s okay. I have money. What do you want?”
“Get me Strawberry milk to drink. And honey, I love you,” she said, earnestly.
We hugged again. For the last time.
The milk booth was about hundred feet from S1. It gave me time to think about the sudden changes in my life. My parents were conservative people. I had to convince them about Shalini. If they agreed, good. If not, who cares? I loved Shalini more than my parents.
My thoughts were disrupted by the sound of an explosion. It sounded like the aggregation of a thousand thunders. The impact of the explosion threw me off my feet. I turned to look at the train. S1, S2 and S3 had been reduced to pieces, like waste in a manufacturing process.
My only thought was about Shalini. I ran towards where S1 had previously been. I searched for her amidst the corpses. All I could find were severed hands, burnt flesh and a fresh stream of blood. Not a single body was identifiable in the three compartments.
Who on earth could do such a cruel thing, I wondered. I swore that I would get even with the people who had taken my beloved Shalini’s life. I wept like a little boy who had lost his favorite toy. Amidst the tears, I thought about the two hours I had spent with Shalini. Something she had said had struck me as strange.
“You know nothing about me. I live everyday like it is my last. God, I wish I had met you earlier.” “Could it be Shalini,” I wondered. “No, not Shalini. She had too innocent a face to do such a dastardly act. Besides, she was a doctor. And they know the value of a human life,” I reasoned to myself.
The next morning, my worst fears were confirmed. A newspaper report said, “A twenty two year old doctor named Shalini had committed suicide on the Niligiri express. She had taken the lives of hundred people with her. The reasons for the attack are unknown.”
I never understood the reasons for the attack. It could have been personal or ideological. All I can still remember is her face, how innocent it looked. How she made everyone around her happy. How she showed love and care to kids and old men alike.
That face was a mask. Beneath the benevolent mask, was the true Shalini. A hard-nosed, sadistic, terrorist capable of sacrificing human life to satisfy her selfish needs.
She truly changed my life. From then on, I realized that every human wears a mask which he develops over a period of time. It is the mask which is exposed to the world. Beneath that mask, after layers of deceit there lies the true nature of each individual. This real person in each one of us is intricately more fascinating than any figment of wild imagination.
Shalini’s mask was my first love. I will always love her .