He was driving home in the evening, saw some guy on the road writhing in pain after his accident.

He didn’t stop and ignored him thinking that others would help him, he wanted to reach home to his family.

When he reached home, he found that his son wasn’t home, he was late in returning from his coaching.

The phone rang, telling him that his son had died in an accident, no one stopped to help him, and everyone ignored him.

He slumped to the floor, if only he hadn’t ignored his son as well, he might be alive today.



This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 55; the fifty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with Rashmi Kumar, the author of Hooked, Lined and Single and Jyoti Arora, the author of Lemon Girl.


Now that I live in a multistory building in a metro city, rain always feels like a nuisance as it affects everything from my schedule, to the traffic and entire life as well. Mind you that it wasn’t always the case. When I used to live with my family in a small town in a government quarter and when I was a kid, all the kids in the colony including me used to adore rain and wait eagerly for the same.

It was raining again and thus traffic was crawling, annoyed I started to notice the blurry scene outside my car window, as usual few kids were playing in the rain and water which collected on the road. Somehow that scene took me down memory lane and I was back in our small quarter in our small town.

My mom ran outside to gather the clothes that were hung there to dry, soon there were millions of water droplets started falling all around us and soon it was full-fledged torrential rain. Soon there was water everywhere, since it was Sunday all the kids in the colony were at home. One by one every kid in our block was out on our small road to enjoy the rain. 

Slowly we all started playing and singing aloud, it was fun we were jumping in the puddles and then washing the mud in the rain. It was bliss, rain was just pure fun and joy in our childhood.

My mom came to the door to call me inside fearing that I would fall ill but I ran up to her and grabbed her hand and pulled her outside, soon she was enjoying the rain too. It wasn’t late before every mom was enjoying rain with their kid. It was a scene out of some movie, no, forget it people can’t imagine such a joyful scene. 

There were various kinds of sounds coming from different groups and we all were having fun. One by one every family member was out on our road enjoying the rain and singing and enjoying with their and other’s families. I believe that day it rained heavily for around 5 hours and for the entire duration of the rain entire colony was out enjoying the rain.

I don’t even remember when a smile came across my face with this wonderful memory associated with rain and with a sudden jolt I noticed that the cars in front of me had moved and people were honking for me to move. I sheepishly moved my car and the traffic moved again a few feet. I wanted to step outside my car but somehow I controlled myself. But let the Sunday come this Sunday Monsoon would be enjoyed with the family either on the roof or on the road but it will be enjoyed. Thanks for the memories I remembered that there was a time when it used to be my favorite weather.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 18. Image Credits: Monsoon by Yann (Wikimedia Commons). Shared with GNU Free Documentation License CC Attribution-Share Alike.


His Second Murder

Before you go forward here’s the part 1 – ‘His First

Piyali had gotten the job at the same office where
Rahul worked and she used to spend most of her day at the office avoiding Harshal. Piyali’s life was hell because she had lost her love and besides understanding it she could bring herself to forgive and love Harshal. She could
never look at her son because he reminded her of that terrible afternoon and she would again start losing her mind.

Today was Harshal’s 12th birthday and like all his
previous birthdays this one was spent in pain as well, as his mom had again beat him and called him demon. In Fact Piyali had never forgotten the death of love of her life and Harshal’s father Rahul by Harshal himself when he was One and a half years old. 

Of course no one believed that Harshal killed his father, everyone knew it was a freak accident but nonetheless Rahul died at the hands of Harshal and thus Piyali
could never forgive her son for tearing her life apart. She knew it was unfair of her but her mind could never win the matters of heart and thus she would call him names and beat him.

Harshal knew that he killed his father after all his dear mother never let him forget that but he also had very brief flashes from his childhood from that terrible Sunday
and somehow the memories didn’t bring torment with them but solace, he enjoyed the feeling of peace. As he grew older and his mom grew bitterer he tried to find peace and solace among the dark corners of his mind. 

Harshal was tired of all the abuses and decided that it was time to take actions so that he could live his life in peace and so that he doesn’t have to deal with his Mom who would never love him again would always treat him
like an actual murderer who went scot-free. Now Harshal decided that he would have to take care of her mother and if it means killing her and it would have to do. 

Piyali came from the office, as usual Harshal was in his room deciding correctly that he should stay away from her mom’s sight. Piyali went to the wine cabinet and made herself a drink like most evenings, what was different this evening was that the single drink made her lightheaded and she lost consciousness.

Harshal was waiting for this moment as he jumped from his room, he had mixed all of his mom’s sleeping pills in her wine bottle and that’s what had made his mom lose her consciousness. Harshal could never have a better chance he had decided this after watching many movies and as his mom lied on the floor, he picked the pillow the sofa and started suffocating his mom. For few seconds nothing happened but then Piyali’s body started moving and thrashing in panic but her actions were sluggish due to all the pills in her drink and soon she stopped moving altogether. 

Harshal lay panting besides her now dead mother. He felt strangely peaceful and he thought about his life ahead and as he did so he started laughing. At the age of 12 and a half Harshal had committed his second murder.

His Second Murder

His First Murder

Rahul had a small family, just his wife Piyali and their One and a half year old son Harshal. They moved to a new city recently and were settling to the tone of the new city and new house.

The family was happy and husband and wife’s favorite activity was to watch their son grow everyday. From his first smile, first crawl, first time he stood, his first steps to his first words they enjoyed every moment of their kid’s life.

It was a Sunday and after a heavy brunch Rahul was sleeping on the floor enjoying his afternoon Siesta. Piyali was busy with the smartphone keeping in touch with her friends and family. Harshal was playing around making excited noises in between. Harshal was moving through the house playing with his toys.

Somehow Harshal got his hands on the big knife in the kitchen and started playing with it too. Piyali was busy and Harshal came to his dad to wake him up. He tried to wake him up by making those cute noise but Rahul was in deep sleep. Harshal did the next thing where everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Since Harshal had the knife in his hand he hit his dad to wake him up but the knife ended up on Rahul’s throat and it hit him with the sharp edge and knife cut deep and blood started spraying through the wound. With in seconds Rahul was dead.

Piyali finally looked up from her smartphone screen and froze at the sight of Harshal and his first murder.

His First Murder

Tears Forever

This story is written for an Indiblogger Indispire topic Write a story ending with ‘… and the tears never stopped’ #tears

They were the quintessential Soulmates, they came together during high-school and never left each other.

They were together when they got to the college. They loved each other unconditionally and vowed that they would never be apart.

They believed that there would be no tears of sadness only tears of joy in their union.

Their love bore fruit when they got married and started yet another happy phase of their life.

She was working when she got the call, he was in an accident and was Dead on Arrival. She started crying and the tears never stopped.

Tears Forever

Paths to Death – C for Cancer

He wasn’t feeling well … He was troubled with coughs .. he coughed again ..He looked at his hands with horror as there was blood on them ..

He went to doctor … who promptly told him that he had throat cancer .. due to years of smoking ..

He thought how he loved smoking .. he used to smoke 2-3 packets a day .. of the costliest cigarettes ..

Now he was bed ridden .. doctors had given him only 3 months time ..

His remaining time was filled with pain and regret ..

His only thoughts while dying were why did he have to be a smoker? Why did he have to treat his body so bad? Why did he have to play with his life for few moments of pleasure and high?

His paths to death was through cancer obscured by the smoke of cigarettes.



Day 3 brings letter C to me .. my word C for Cancer.

Paths to Death – C for Cancer

Paths to Death – B for Bullets

 It was that time again .. the time of election.

Like always the criminal lord was contesting election .. and

to oppose him the honest candidate was in the forray too.

Mr. Crime’s people tried to force Mr. Honest to withdraw his name from the poll but he wasn’t ready after all he was fighting this fight for the people and they were his power.

Mr. Crime was worried as all the pre poll results were predicting his defeat ..

He knew the solution … on the election day…..

Just as Mr. Honest came out from the booth after voting ..

A Car swerved in front of him and two gunmen opened fire .. Mr. Honest was shot 205 times and then they were off.

Mr. Honest died for people and his killers were never caught,

Mr. Crime won the election once again.


My Entry for April A to Z Challenge 2014 Day 2

Paths to Death – B for Bullets