Mission 2014 !

Dream

Not die

Live

Not lie

Smile

Without scare

Work

Without fear

Think

Not Destroy

Create

Not try

 

 

Pen and Paper

Lost in the circles of life..
She reached out for her journal..
The one thing that's a calming balm,
Always her robust stance!

Her mind was blank..
Though she wanted to pen down her feelings..
Her thoughts hit a block every time the pen met the paper..
She knew her stance had rusted a little over time.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath,
And soon she was in her wonder world,
She let her imagination run amok,
Slowly she let go.

All the inhibitions in her mind faded away..
She decided to get into oblivion for the moment..
As it happened, she felt the calmness spreading..
The pen started moving across the paper.

Sorry, Wrong Number

Onika, a 30 year old, average single girl of a protective family.
A young woman, who was dynamic, enthusiastic about life about 10 years back. Now, quiet, subdued, working as an Executive Assistant to a biggie of a music company.

To Oni, her life was aimless, going no where, no money in her bank, no boyfriend, .a few occasional uninteresting flings, some quickies, nothing exciting, nothing to really look forward to.

Marriage was on Onika's mind, but nothing seems to be really shaping up for her.
Opening her Facebook account, felt like opening a global wedding and baby album.
All her friends, were posing with their better halves and the juniors that they made.

Onika, felt she had no luck by her side. And she blamed her name for it
"Onika, whose name starts with an O...a Big O..."
"its my name that my life is also an O and I also look like a big fat O"

In the meanwhile, some nosy internet bugger, released about 600 numbers of famous musicians on to the internet,Onika's number gets mixed among them under the name of a less famous singer Yashika
 
Onika's phone rings UNKNOWN NUMBER
"Maam, I'm a big fan of your. I so love you"
Then 1 sms "you have a golden voice"
2nd ..3rd..4th........55th..........96 Missed calls
155 Unread Messages

Confused and scared Onika wanted to throw her phone, but no she could not throw her only distraction into the thrash.
While Oni find its annoying at first, soon she receives a text from a very cute member Rahul of a budding rock band whom she had a crush on.
Rahul thinks this is Yashika, the singer and send her beautifully composed lyrics and cute messages.
Onika starts feeling good about herself, and her crush for Rahul, slowly turns into love.

Rahul keeps asking her to meet him somewhere, he starts having feelings for the replies that "Yashika" sends. He wants to profess these feelings to her. Look into her eyes and say it.

Onika is scared, for obvious reasons that if she reveals that she isn't the Miss. Hot Bod Yashika, but petite Onika he will go away. At this age it is going to hurt her a lot.

On 31st December, Onika wanted to start her New Year with a clean slate and a clean heart.
"Rahul, I love you, but i have to tell you something. I know you might be hurt. But, I'm not Yashika, my name is Onika and I stay in Thane. I cant sing to save my life. But, my replies to all your lyrics are from my heart"

Rahul read the message and was confused, Did he love Yashika? or the replies that this girl Onika gave him?
He didn't reply for a long time, well..he didn't know what to reply to her.
He types a message "Meet me at Marine Drive at 1145pm today"

Onika didn't know what to do, laugh cry smile..
Time passed too slowly. She picked up her prettiest salwar kameez, Obviously she didn't have any dresses, one pieces or skirts.

She reached at 11.30pm, and was a nervous wreak,
Would he come?
Would he like me?
Would he be angry?

Then beside her came a nice sports car, and Rahul got out of it, with the most beautiful arrangement of roses Oni had ever seen.

At, the stroke of 12, when the fireworks colorfully gleamed over the Arabian sea, and the city lights reflecting on the waters, Rahul and Oni started their new relationship with a kiss.

Picture Courtesy: Google Images

Contest Winner!

     We told you to write on what comes to your mind when you hear the word "Ghost".

     As promised, the entries have been judged by Sriramana Muliya, author of the book Frankly Spooking. 

     We thank you for participating in the contest (both on the blog and through email). We hope to get more participation in the future :D 

     The winner of the contest is Soumya Mahapatra. 

     Congratulations Soumya on winning the contest! You get a copy of Frankly Spooking along with a custom made story for you as your prize! 

     What Sriramana had to say about the entry

     "Of the lot, it's the best. Combines all the elements well. It is superior on these counts - writing style, suspense quotient, least mistakes in grammar and spellings, also sentence construction."

Thank you so much for taking time out and judging our entries and also for agreeing to gift a special story.

    

     And here is the story that won..

     Beauty

    She woke up in the darkness, confused. Her bed was cozy and warm and she had been dreaming. She had thought somebody was calling out her name.

“Diya…Diya…Diya…”

Like an echo. And accompanied with giggles. She was a little annoyed with herself. There was no one around, only darkness. And in the darkness was she. The calling of the names must have been a part of the dream she was in the middle of. She wanted to go back to sleep, to return to the dream. It was a nice dream and she wanted to complete it. Or…was it? She sat up in the darkness and tried to remember the dream. But she could not remember it. When she had just woken up, she could’ve sworn that it was a good dream, something that she wanted to finish watching. Now, she wasn’t so sure. As she sat in the darkness, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

There had been something sinister about the dream. She frowned in an effort to remember.

If only these stupid people would keep their late night Diwali parties low and stop laughing every five seconds, I would remember, thought she, annoyed.

She was bothered because she could not remember.

In the end she slept, convincing herself that it didn’t matter. She’d dream a new dream anyway.

She woke up the next morning in cold sweat. Somebody was in danger and somebody else was calling her. Or maybe it was the same person. Or maybe she herself was in danger. She didn’t know.

It took her some minutes to calm herself. It was a dream, she kept repeating in her mind, just a dream.

She looked at her cell phone. 7:13 am. The alarm hadn’t rung. Maybe she had forgotten to set it. Dim sunlight was peeping in her bedroom from behind the curtains.

People were laughing some distance away. Diya could not believe that her neighbor’s party was breaking up to go home now. It’s Monday, for crying out loud! She muttered.

And they were sure taking their time leaving. All the while she was getting ready, she could hear them laugh. And how loud were these drunks anyway, to be able to hear them even the bathroom which was on in the other side of her flat. Speaking of bathroom, what was wrong with this mirror? She’d been keeping so busy, trying to balance her social and professional lives this season of late hours in the office and so many, many card parties, she had not even realized that her mirror had developed spots as if it was really old. Disgusted, she covered the old, ruined thing with her hand towel because the ugly thing made her twenty-five-year-old face look like it had spots!

As she got out of her flat to go to work, she didn’t see anyone in corridor. The party had finally spilt. Thank the lord, she thought as she entered the lift.

“Diya! Diya!”

She jammed her hand in between the closing lift doors to prevent them from doing so and peered into the corridor. Empty.

“Hello?” she said, uncertainly. Somebody had definitely called her name urgently. Hadn’t they? They had. It was clear as day. It was a male voice, but feminine. She shut the lift doors now and pressed for the desired floor. She looked at herself in the lift mirror as she went twelve floors down and saw that her eyes looked pale. She had forgotten to apply kajal. Ah, well, no bother. The lift door opened.

But as soon as Diya sat in her car, one look at herself in the rearview and she knew people would be asking her if she had fever or something…that’s how pale she looked without kajal. She quickly took out her kajal stick from her handbag and applied the said product on her eyelids a little vigorously than usual. She turned around to see who giggled. No one. And yet…someone had giggled.

Later that night, when she retured to her empty flat, she saw that the towel was no longer on the mirror. Had he taken it off before leaving? She couldn’t remember. She must have. What other explanation could there be? She saw herself in the mirror. She had wrinkles around her eyes. Is this even possible at my age? Diya frowned.

Three days later, the voice and giggling followed her everywhere. Slow, persistent and in a voice that was neither male nor female, but an odd blend of both.

“Diya…Diya…Diya…”

She was not scared of the giggling. The giggling was an encouragement. She had become so stressed and forgetful off late that it was showing on her face. Her face looked haggard and had fine lines on it, she looked too pale, her clothes didn’t match. Even her hair looked frizzy. Her nails were proving difficult to maintain. And every time she would fix one of these very many flaws, there would be the giggling. Till they giggled, she knew she had not done enough and was still ugly.

It was another Monday now. Diya had spent the entire weekend trying to pretty herself up. But this morning, the mirror—all mirrors—spoke otherwise. In her office lift’s mirror, on her way up, she closely examined the fine lines and wrinkles and the man-woman voice said, “Diya, Diya, Diya,” with so much disappointment that she wanted to die.

Her workstation now had a mirror and she had kept all her makeup in one of her drawers for emergency.  There were blackheads covering her nose and she was analyzing them up close when she heard her friend and colleague Piyali come up from behind and call her. She immediately opened a random file on her computer screen and pretended to work.

“Diya,” she said, coming to her work station, “I need to tell you something.”

Piyali was looking worried and serious. And pretty.

“What?” Diya asked.

“I’ve been worried about you,” said Piyali. She said some other things as well but all Diya noticed was how pretty her skin looked and how  nicely her hair fell on her shoulders. How did Piyali do all this?

“…and, I mean,” Piyali was going on, “look at yourself woman! You look mental!”

Wait…what?

“Yes,” Diya agreed sadly. “My cheeks are especially pale today.”

“Pale?” Piyali scoffed. “You have an entire box of blush on your cheeks. You look like a freaking clown! Listen, I’m worried about you. You’re dressing outrageously. Look at your nails…you’ve shaped them triangular and they’re pointed. Your hair’s made up to look like a nest. Your eye-shadow is spreading on to your forehead! Everyone’s taking about you these past few days. What’s wrong with you?”

“I look like a clown?” Diya said, heartbroken. “Not pretty?”

“Why would you need to look any prettier than you already are?” Piyali asked her matter-of-factly.

Later on that day, while working, Diya glanced at her mirror. To her horror, she saw that her lipstick was fading and her ugly thin lips showed. But she remembered what Piyali said and refrained from applying anymore lipstick.

“Diya…Diya…Diya…”

The voice was urging her, “Diya… Piyali was fooling you because she wants to look the prettiest. Look at you now, Diya, you’re ugly. Apply the lipstick, rub it generously. You look ugly now, Diya. But if you do this, you’ll be a beauty…Diya..Diya…do it…make them red lip blood…”

Like blood. And like that, as if in a trance, she bit her lips till blood flowed and made them red.

It was Saturday now. She woke up suddenly. The man-woman was calling her name. Like an echo. And they giggled. In her dream, she was jumping into the pool whose waters made her beautiful. It was a good dream. She wanted to go back to her dream. She didn’t want to wake up in the reality where she was forever ugly, with pale wrinkled face, her crooked nails, her chapped colorless lips. Or…wasn’t this her dream?

“Diya! Diya!” the voice shouted from the window.

Of course, Diya thought, how silly. I can be pretty. I just have to jump out of the window and I will land in that pool and I will be pretty. I must be pretty.

She climbed out of bed, feeling ugly, and walked to her twelfth floor flat’s window. And as she jumped, she heard the approving laughter of the ghost that had convinced her that she was ugly. 

Belief !

Ding Dong.

Kirti was sitting in her study room, completing her homework when she heard the door-bell.

She knew it was him. And her heart pounded more at the sound of his footsteps into the house.

“What will happen tonight?”, she was scared.

It’s been a week now.  Things had gotten worse from bad. She knew something bad was happening but didn’t know exactly what. She had heard her mother hiding from her and crying. But she couldn’t confront her with that because she herself had done that.

“God, please help us”, she prayed in her mind and got up from the chair and went into the drawing room to greet her Father.

“Hello Papa”, she said with a put on smile, trying hard to make the environment light but got back from him with a shriek.

Her father was possessed! Yes he was! She knew it the moment she saw his red eyes that night.

Mother had been hiding it all from everyone. News of the breadwinner in possession of a devil would have spread like fire in the society and the thought of being denied from everyone had forced mother to hide this all in lies.

But she knew it all now. Every scene was so clear in front of her.

 

Scene 1:

He was working. It was 1 at night and he was working. Sitting on his study table, amidst a heap files was Papa working. He sitting at the study table during night and constantly writing papers, mother called it extra office work again.

 

Scene 2:                  

It was the most happening place for the three of them after a tiring day. But his silence at dinner, a chirpy guy going silent was hard to believe for her as well as others, but mother hid it under the lie of him not keeping well.

 

 

 

Scene 3:

It was 11 at night. He had gone early to office that day. Even before Kirti left for school that day. 6 am was the time in the clock he left that day but now it was 11 and he had not yet come. And mother called it extra work.

 

 

“Memsaab”, Kirti heard her mother talking to the watchman.

“I know about such things. There is a very renowned Baba in our village. I will go and get you some of his tantrum things for your problem. I am sure he only can solve this. You don’t worry.”

Lines of worry were getting more visible day by day on her face. She too was not sleeping at nights now. Her father was also not sleeping. Things were not yet settled. Issue was known but the cause was still unknown.

Next day, the watchman got a clay pitcher.”Ask Sahab ji to fill water in this and then you keep it in your Puja room. The day the water will get dried this will break down and the curse will be broken. You just wait and watch”.

And things happened the way he had said. Exactly after 3 days the pitcher was found broken in the Puja room and father had started behaving bit normal. He had started eating properly, sleeping properly and was now back to his normal talking.

And that very evening Anjali aunty came and enquired about Papa and eventually he was not at home. The only she asked mother was,”He has started talking again? That’s strange and I smell clay, did you get a pitcher or something like that lately?”.

Mom was sweet in not replying back to her every question and Aunties question made it all cleared.

Kirti remembered that morning from when her father had started behaving differently. That was the morning when Anjali aunty was doing some ritual, supposedly a pooja vidhi in their garden and mother was shouting saying that the banana plant whish she was worshipping was not supposed to be worship since we consume it’s fruit and such plants are not holy for worship[ but Anjali aunty didn’t listen and had performed something and even Kirti’s father was heard arguing, “Why you are shouting? Let her do na. It’s just a small petty ritual. It’s not worth shouting.” His disbelief in the ritual had caught him!

 

It’s not about what you believe. It’s how that belief is about. If you believe in God and then you should respect the presence of the other side and maintain never to cross the line to make evil angry and let bad be more influential on you.

Respect, maintain the distance and be safe!

 

On Public Demand

       Sorry, sorry, extremely sorry for not updating about the Ghost contest. The deadline was 1st November and we had just 3 entries!!
       Well, I think I will extend the date. How about till the 20th of November? Write in before 20th and I will send the entries for judging.
     
     Laters ! 

Ghosts that hunt

               "Please please please, let us try na! I want that teddy" I pleaded like a toddler. G raised his eyebrow at me but I persisted and he relented. I always had my way with him, specially when I gave that puppy look and he would melt away.
                We went to the counter having balloons which we had to be burst with dart. Whatever was written below the balloons, we could win! I wanted that cute looking teddy. I could have bought it from the gift shop nearby, but I wanted to win it. The two guys at the counter were funny looking. The taller one had a long nose and pointed ears. The second one looked like a rat. Long nose told us that we had to pay 50 bucks for the darts and we had 5 chances. I asked him if anyone ever won anything and he told the kid before us had burst 4 balloons.
               "Abhi dekho, he will burst more" I boasted. I saw G giving me a look. :P
             
              His first shot was so forceful that the dart burst 2 balloons. The trajectory of the second, burst 3. I was sure we would win something, the rate at which he was bursting the balloons! At the end of it, he had burst 9 balloons with 5 chances. The chits below 8 were blank :O The last one had "key chain".
              It was a brown, heart shaped key chain with something engraved on it. He handed me the keychain. I shouted at long ears, "Bhaiyya cheating karte ho! Itne balloon me sab blank rakha tha". G pulled me aside and told, " I will get you  a teddy. Let's go home now!" I  had to give in.

             We had forgotten about the keychain which I had hurriedly tucked in my handbag. Next morning I found it on the carpet. I almost tripped over it. My first reaction was to shout at G for messing with my handbag. He came out of the bathroom with a confused look. He had not touched my bag. I picked it up and placed it in one of the drawers.

            That night, we had gone to bed early. I, being a light sleeper, had woken up on hearing some noise in the hall.G was sleeping and he became furious if I woke him up from deep sleep. The sound was increasing and I could not put myself to sleep. I woke him up and reluctantly he went into the hall. The TV was on. We both denied switching it on!
            The next few days became creepier with weird incidences. Sometimes our fridge would beep and we would rush to see it wide open. Our neighborhood dog, Jinji, would refuse to enter our house and would bark at us as if we were some strangers. The lemons that we stored in the fridge would turn red within a day. We tried to find our reasons but none seemed to satisfy any logic! I spent less time at home and sometimes we would drop in at our friends' or relatives' house for weekends to avoid being at home till we found some solution.

           A few of our friends suggested us to meet some Pandit or tantrik to solve our problems. One of our friends had a relative who was in vaastu shaastra and occult science. We got his email-id and contact number. I  tried his number but it was not reachable. I reached for my laptop to send him an email. Out of habit, I opened the Google page. I typed a message and sent the email. I came back to the google page and searched some random pictures. Out of nowhere, a brown screen with an inscription came on the screen. I let out a scream. This was exactly the same inscription on key chain! I clicked on the link that took me to the page.

         The page was written by a popular blogger Ashreya. She had written about a tree on which the inscriptions were written. She had done extensive study in Dravidian languages and had studied Dravidian cultures. Her topic of current research was on spiritual worships and the maternal line of worship that the Dravidians followed. She had posted a picture from one of the houses she had visited as a part of her study. She claimed that the house has an ancient history of worshiping the spirits of the Mountain. The article further spoke of how the spirits in that house were no longer worshiped by the continued female line but had instead passed on to some other family which had invoked the fury of the spirits. The inscriptions on the tree meant "Let the female line continue".

      The systems and the lines sounded strangely similar to me. I went home in a state of confusion. I was thinking hard about the information when Mom called.
      "Are you okay?"
      I had always said that Mom had some crazy instincts when it was about me!
      "I m. Why do you ask?"
      "I saw you in a dream."
       Mom and me, both of us had weird dreams from time to time. Dreams that only we could understand. I would confide in her my most meaningless dreams and she would find some meaning in it.
     "You remember you once saw a woman with a huge red circle on her forehead, with long hair and in a red sari?" Mom asked me.
      "Yes, the one who was calling me to her, who had lots of garlands."
      "She is the Goddess of Truth. The spirit of our house."
      "What? What spirit of the house?" I asked her stunned.
      "She is the guardian spirit of our house. You will continue the line through me. Years back the land was taken from your grandfather by deceit. The spirits haven't been offered prayers for years."
      "Why are you telling this now?"
      "Because the patriarch of the family who had stolen our land has died mysteriously. They say the spirits are seeking revenge. You have to go and offer your prayers. Promise to continue the line."
      "Who told you this?" I asked, still incredulous.
       " The villagers have been telling it for years, but now the spirits are showing their powers.  You have to promise to continue the line."

       When G came  home, I recounted all that Mom told. Being grown up in the village, he understood these things more easily. He agreed to take me there.

      Meanwhile, the happenings in our house were still disturbing. The occult scientist we had contacted put us in contact with a man who was specialized as a medium to talk to such spirits. G was undecided about going ahead with the plan. He wanted to shift our house, rented as it was! On my insistence the man came to our house.
       "Your house has a spirit" he said at once.
       We both exchanged looks.
       "I will need to talk to this spirit."

       He chanted a few mantras and we could smell a slight fragrance in the room. It was of sandalwood. Soon the man started to shake and talked in a voice that was not his. We both were petrified at the sudden change.
       "Go, go to that land. Calm the spirits or they will kill my family." He cried.
       "Who are you?" I asked.
       "Chinappa.. The man who stole your lands. The spirits have been making my life hell but now they are after the life of my family members."
       "Why did  you come to me?"
       " The spirits want their true worshipers. You are the last in the line. You are also the most sensitive to spirits. They will heed to  you."
        " I will continue the line. Now go away. Go away from my house and my family." I screamed.

         The man gave another shudder and composed himself. For a long time there was silence in the house. He asked for the keychain. I handed it to him. I had kept it in the drawer of our small temple. The man had built a small fire and burnt the key chain. It smelt of sandalwood.

        The spirits were calmed and finally we were free of the troubles of Chinappa.

P.S: The topic was too interesting to restrain :P This won't be a contest entry though! 

Mistress of Magic!

"Sooo, you are a Mediator?" Riddhima asked her, the middle aged woman, who looked 20 and was wearing grey yoga pants and a long purple jacket.

She gave me a sidelong look and said to her in a non-indulgent tone, "Depends on what you understand by that word. For terms and purposes, I am a Healer, Yog guru or Spiritual Guru to you."

"Okay, but I thought your profile said you were a Wiccan?" Riddhima said, as I felt the annoyance creep on to Tara, the Guru's face, but she kept her calm. I thought I should tell Riddhima about Tara and also may be something about Wicca, which is a benign religion that concerns worshiping of Mother Nature and her elements.

"Yes. You must read up on it. Now concentrate  on your limb movements or you might get a pull". She chided Riddhima slightly and looked at me again. I felt uncomfortable. Riddhima kept quiet after that and muttered, "Yogic Spiritual Guru bullshit. With a temper like that, she should be going to Anger Management Classes!"

I sniggered but noticed Tara's stern gaze on me once again. I had a feeling she would snap at me too! I "shushed" Riddhima and resumed my meditation. The session was over in another thirty minutes and while we were gathering things, Riddhima made a motion to leave. I realized that Tara was looking at me and had asked me to wait. I nodded and looked at Riddhima for help but she had already ran off on her toes.

"You wanted to speak to me, Tara?" I speak, without trying to amplify the shiver in my voice. This woman gave me goosebumps and not in a nice way. "Is it about Riddhima? I am sorry about her. She is really nice, I mean, not that intrusive!" I try defending my friend while Tara motioned me to sit across her on a high chair, the wide white table spangled with Crystals, a flower vase with white lilies and a simple pen and a diary. Nothing else. I liked the cleanliness. I waited for her to answer as she poured two glasses of water and offered one to me.

"I usually don't do this Mudita, but I can make an exception for you, so you can stop pretending." Tara speaks in a hushed whisper.

"I don't understand what you are talking about." I stammer, because of the sudden chill that has settled in the room.

"Hahaha! Don't mess with me! Do you think I am a fool?! I mean, look at you! You are practically glowing Golden! Right? You are a witch yourself!" Tara mocked me, but I still could not understand the madness that had suddenly taken her over. But she was trying to court her fate and it is not a joke to assume you are all knowing and all powerful.

"Such things are not funny Tara and no human can read Auras. Especially not someone as closed minded as you are." I say. I was well read, even though I wouldn't venture into an unknown territory unprepared.

"Oh, so you are telling me that I can't read you? Well, let's see what your cards say!" She picks up a Celtic deck of 11 cards and shuffles them, looking at me and smiling slyly to herself. I breathe in and calm myself down. She was a wonderful psychic, but she was doing it all wrong. She had swelled in power and seemed to have forgotten the nobility of the powers that were bestowed upon her.  She stared at the cards and then looked up at me in horror.

"This is not possible! How can this be?!" She stammered as I looked into her eyes and smiled. Yes, the knowledge must be revealed. 

"You have left me with no choice, Tara." I get up from the chair and go across the table and put my hands on her shoulder. Her smugness disappears as I look into her eyes. I knew she would sense a shift in the air.

"You are a vessel for knowledge and you should tell them when they ask you, But I think it's too late now!" I bend my forehead to touch hers as tears spill from her eyes and she starts stammering, "You are a ghost! You are a spirit! You are not human! You are a demon! You are not human!" She tries to scream. I keep looking into her eyes till she leaves her shell and dissolves into me.

I stretch and turn to leave the room, chuckling. Tara had got something right! The four Death cards spread on the table, lying untouched.

                        ____________________________________________________

PS: Contrary, to popular belief, A death card does not literally represent death. It means the end of decaying and stagnant things - which in Tarot means a mark of beginning of a new life as well.

They are here, and they are watching - "Ghosts" contest

Chitra, her husband Ram and their two kids Neha and Nivesh came back to India after 5 long years and settled in the house that they had bought about 8 years back, but never had stayed there.
It was a nice cozy 1 BHK in the central suburbs of Mumbai, overlooking a beautiful garden and had nice friendly neighbors. It was a perfect cocoon for a happy family.
The few nights after the moved in, Ram started talking, screaming, slowly howling in his sleep, mumbling "leave my hand..leave my hand"  and would eventually go quiet.
Next morning, when Chitra asked him, he would say "A teenage boy wearing Khaki pants and check shirt was sitting by his bed and holding his hand".
Chitra and the kids just laughed it off saying it must be the impact of the spook series that Ram is so addicted to.

Their house had a king-size mirror on the passage connecting the living area and the kitchen.
One early morning, say around 5.30am, Neha, Ram's daughter was getting ready for college and was admiring her reflection on the mirror, when she saw a little girl walking past behind her. Neha turned her head to the left and saw a little girl wearing a pink frock with bow belt tied on the back walk into the living room. Neha, went to the living room and saw nothing. She felt, she must be hallucinating due to lack of sleep.
Ram, still every night complained about the teenage boy.


The house bedroom door had a one-way glass, meaning one can see from the inside but will have to peep through the glass to see inside, and the reflection of the door falls on the mirror of the cupboards in the bedroom
One night, Ram and Chitra had gone for a party, and Neha and Nivesh were in their bedroom watching a movie, when suddenly Nivesh said to Neha "Look, that girl is looking inside" Neha looks at the door but couldnt see anyone. Nivesh tells Neha to look in the mirror, and Neha sees someone pass by. Slowly, she opens the door and is shocked to see a silhouette of a woman floating around the kitchen. Before, Neha could say anything the silhouette had vanished and the house looked normal

When the kids narrated the whole incident to their parents, Chitra called up her mother who knew a thing or two about supernatural beings.
Chitra's mom suggested that the put rice mixed with kumkum in all corners of the house in the night and sleep.
Chitra did what her mom said, she put the kumkum rice all over the borders of the house.
Next morning, all the rice got accumulated in the center of the passage.
Shocked and scared, they explained this to Chitra's mother, who said the epicenter of ghost activtity was the passage and advised them to leave the house.

Chitra was a bit apprehensive of leaving this house, so she postponed it. Eventually, all such activity stopped.
The family forgot all about ghosts there...Until.........

One night, when the whole family was preparing to sleep, they all saw a 7 foot tall shadow, with red eyes and hair till the ankle walking towards them. The lights of the room started to flicker.It looked really angry.
The family huddled in one corner of the room, the shadow gave a nerve chilling scream and the floor was covered with blood.  Chitra almost fainted, Neha's voice couldnt find its way out, Ram was at loss of words, and Nivesh couldnt feel his own tears.
Within moments, the shadow moved towards the passage and the blood on the floor started to move on it own to the passage. The shadow gave one last menacing look and vanished.

The family left that house the same night with whatever they could gather, they never came to that house ever again.
The memories still haunt ever member of the family even today..

They are there and they are watching you

That Picnic - "Ghosts" contest entry

Believe it or not, This is not any fictional work. This is a true story

Six friends, Mallika, Neha, Abhishek, Rhea, Larrisa and her boyfriend Mukesh. Like any normal group set off for a picnic to Gorai beach in Mumbai.

I am Rhea, and narrating this expereince I had when I was in college. I have been made a laughing stock whenever I have said this story to anyone. But, I know how I felt that eve. Even after so many years this day seems very real even today.

After a fun-filled day,we started to head back home by 7pm from Gorai. It was already dark by then

We had to take a ferry from Gorai to reach Borivali and to reach the ferry station we took horse-carriage. The road we had to take had no street lights and had trees on both the sides.

Suddenly, Larissa went quiet and tears started flowing from her left eye. All of us were confused. Only, her boyfriend Mukesh could feel her body is feverish. Other, couldnt feel a thing.

As soon as they got off the ferry station, Larrisa started walking towards the waters saying

"I wanna jump in the water"  to which her Mukesh said ok I will come with you. Larrissa almost pushed him to the edge, Mukesh took it as just another prank until she started crying with tears flowing only from one eye.

We got the ferry and Larrisa is still crying without saying a word. We tried everything in our capablity to console her, and we had no idea why suddenly she started weeping silently. 

The moment we reached Borivali, there was a Jesus Cross made of tiles. Larrisaa wouldn't pass by it and started to scream creating a scene. She suddenly, ran back towards the ferry exit that ends just near the water and sat there in a fetal position and was still silently weeping.

The rickshawala's near by saw this, and told us to take her to a Dargah near by.

Larisaa was just another teenager, slim and weighed about 50 kgs. 6 heavy men including Abhishek and Mukesh, lifted her with a lot of difficulty. We girls were not allowed inside the Dargah. With super human effort, the men, made three rounds of the holy shrine kept inside the dargah. 

Even, inside the Dargah, when the priest tried to rub holy ash on Larissa's forehead, and to everyone's surprise maybe shock, the holy ash was not sticking on her forehead.

The preist, gave up and suggested us to take her to a baba, an exorcist in the nearby slums. We were so scared, that we just agreed and just said ok to it. The men there helped us, to take her to that baba. 

It was a very small house. Nothing spooky. The exorcist was nothing that we imagined of, he was looking just like any other man on the streets. But the moment he saw Larissa, his lazed eyes were alert, as if he knew something.

The baba made us sit, and Mukesh held Larissa who was screaming and violently pushing anyone in sight. 

The baba ordered her to sit quietly, and Larrissa's voice changed.

Yes, it really changed to a proper heavy male, with  baritone and a Marathi accent.

Our fear knew no bounds, S**t scared, is what i would describe it as.

The baba, asked Larissa or say him a few questions,

Baba: Who are you

Him: Im Rajendra, plumber

Baba: Why did you catch this girl

Him: This idiot sprayed a heavy deodrant in the dark and has a very weak will power. Easy target and I wanted to come back

Baba: How did you die?

Him: *laughs loudly* I jumped in the water

Baba: Why?

Him: My girlfriend, Sayli left me, stays in Goregaon

*laughs even louder* I am not alone

There is a woman and her kid standing right behind you.

Hearing this the people standing behind promptly moved. We looked around but of course couldn't see any woman or any baby.

Baba: How did she come with you? Who is she
His voice changed to a high pitched woman voice
"That son of a bitch tortured me to death, I had to strangle my own baby, I will punish him"

Baba: Whom?

Her: Shailesh, I will get him

Baba was about to ask something when Larissa became Rajendra again.

The baba ordered it to "kill" the woman and baby. 

A lot of screaming and shouting happened.

After this, Larrisa suddenly turned normal and had no memory of anything that happened.

The baba then drew two squares on a paper and drew something in it. He asked Abhishek and Mukesh to burn it 12am that night at a crossing where four roads meet, and specifically had asked the girls not to go to the place where the boys burnt it.

It was already 11.30pm by then, we dropped Larissa at her place first then, Abhishek and Mukesh asked us to wait at a restaurant.

And when they came back, they told us, when they burnt the peice of paper it smelt like burning human flesh, and they heard a tiny scream that sounded like a mixed sound of the high pitched female and the male spirit of Rajendra and some strange heavy male voice.

Next day, Mukesh and Abhishek out of curiosity, called up the baba and told her about the smell and the voices.
To which the baba said, he had injured the three spirits but could not kill them, there was also a much stronger ghost lurking after us, that he could not hurt, so he had imprisoned them in those squares and if that paper wasnt burnt in time then the spirits would be free and angrier than ever. It might have even killed Larissa.

Many people do not believe in ghosts, But, they do exist.

If you believe that God exists and pray to God.

Then, trust me there is another world where ghosts do exists.

It is said, that people who have unfulfilled wishes become ghosts. 

I personally never believed in ghosts and super natural things. Until now...........

Spooky Contest

       This october, get ready with your posts to win the first contest on Darlings of Venus. 

        What comes to your mind when you hear the word "Ghost"? 

        Yes, you thought it right. That is the topic for the month. 

        Only there is a prize to be won this time. 

       The winner of the contest gets a copy of "Frankly Spooking". If you haven't already heard of the book (seriously where have you been all this time?), here's the review

       What's more? The winner gets a tailor made story from the author himself! 

       The contest starts  today, 11th October and closes on 31st October. 

     

       The contest would be judged by the author of Frankly Spooking- Sriramana Muliya

        The contest is strictly story writing. No poetry allowed. 

        The word "Ghost" is open to interpretation. No hard and fast rules there. 

        The name of the topic could be anything but make sure "ghost" appears in labels while you post. 

        If you are not an author on DOV, submit the story on darlingsofvenus@gmail.com 

       

        What are you waiting for? Start writing already! 

     P.S:  Contest is limited to India. 

             I won't be competing :P 

        

Behind The Veil

The mirror reflected her beautiful eyes, spilling over with equal parts of love and pain. And then, he came up behind her, laying a white dupatta gently over her head, both charming grin and messy hair in place. Realization dawned - he was gone and so was her ability to love so deep, so pure.

 P.S: Not my genre of writing, not by a far shot.

Orange

He said he'd come. I waited, sitting in our usual spot at the park watching the glistening sun. He probably lied to me, but I was willing to take the chance. I loved him. I wasn't sure if he did. I waited, as the sun slowly set, enveloping me in orange.

~ Soumya

Life of a Pharmacist

Red

She waited with bated breath as the drop touched the surface. Beads of perspiration rolled down her forehead as the drop spread. This was the moment she had dreaded. She had made a mistake but all was not lost. Not yet. It turned red! Yes! the analysis was a success. She threw the litmus paper. 

Yellow

She looked about the laboratory. Everyone had a yellow compound in the reaction. Hers was the only clear solution. She must have got the best product. She smiled to herself. She walked about breezily, humming to herself. Then she saw the bottles. She had added the same thing twice. Her reaction was ruined. 

Brown

The solution must not turn white on addition of water. She tried as much as she could but the solution wouldn't reach completion. Time to submit the solution. The raw material was a skin irritant. The solution supposed to be a handwash. 2 minutes to submission, she filled up the raw material, clear brown. And prayed the teacher didn't wash her hand with that. 

Purple

There was a time when it was her favourite color. That was before it had stained her reputation. She ought to have handled a dye better. Reluctantly she entered the lab. Her labcoat was still colored. The lab instructor looked up and asked," Aren't you the girl who spilled purple dye on new, white work tables?" The entire class laughed. 

Green

I did not love him. But the way he was looking at her, was troubling me. She looked back at him and smiled. He looked pleased, I turned a bright shade of green. I held his hand, he looked at me. I kissed him. She left. He smiled.

~ Soumya

Emotions in Fifty Five words

P.S: This is the first time I have tried my hand on mini-stories. I don't know if i have justified them well. Your opinions will be totally appreciated

Birth

Taking one look at the pink bundle in her arms made his heart melt.He didn’t want this little baby.He wanted her to abort it. But,seeing this little angel now he knew he was totally wrong.

He felt privileged. He swore to protect his little daughter more than his life.

He will be the perfect Dad

College Memories

Walking down the streets of her college, Ridika felt a surge of nostalgia getting over her.

The first day in college, white classrooms, old steps, the canteen gossip, old crushes, letter, fights, that farewell party.

Every memory deeply etched in her heart.

The only song echoing in her head was Shaan’s “Tanha dil tanha safar” 

Marriage 

Adorning a red 9 yard saree,loaded with lot of gold, flowers on her head and so many ladies fussing over her

There was a weird feeling of mixed emotions, she knew its time

Soon,she will sit on her Dad’s lap and amidst holy mantras, she will become someone’s wife and tears welled in her eyes

Death

She could not come to terms with the news she received.She was lost in trance.

Sitting in the middle of the room wearing a white saree,staring at the picture of the man she loved the most.

He couldn’t leave her and go so suddenly,he was with her this morning

No, It was not his coffin