jiggly

{Adjective: Tending to jiggle or marked by a slight, irregular, shaking motion.}

He was fat! A mota! 

Well, I know that's not a nice thing to say and probably ‘overweight' is a better term. But he was clearly fatter than any average human being.

Let’s call him Jiggly. There's a good reason. When he walked naturally, his excess body fat jiggled in a rhythm. He was aware of it and would often try to control his movements. His walk was nothing but a carefully calibrated movement of his arms and legs. 

According to Jiggly, being overweight made him an ugly sight. He was quite ashamed of himself. This resulted in severely low confidence and the inability to be himself around others.

Thankfully, Jiggly had a decent school experience. He had a great bunch of friends who understood that he was uncomfortable about his weight. The friends did not engage in any weight-related discussions. Neither did they joke about it. So, even though Jiggly was unhappy with life, the school was ok.

The real problem started when he joined college. This specific college was known for ‘ragging’. For those who don’t know, ragging is abuse, humiliation, or harassment of new entrants or junior students by the senior students. It often takes a malignant form wherein the newcomers may be subjected to psychological or physical torture.

Jiggly had it tough on his first day. His big size earned him some nasty jibes, which he took on the chin. He had prepared for it. But it turned for worse when he was asked to take his shirt off and dance. The seniors wanted to have some ‘harmless’ fun.

Now, it was impossible for Jiggly to do this. He was super conscious of his body (in a terribly negative way) and would-not-take-his-shirt-off! Come what may! He resisted. He just wished that they ask him to do something else and let him be. When more seniors joined the scene, Jiggly had no choice left.

He cried. He took his shirt off. He always wore a vest under his shirt to keep his upper body contained in some sort of shape. He did not take his vest off. But he cried visibly. He cried a lot more inside. The other part of the task was to dance, which he did with a few random movements.

His biggest insecurity, his body, had been exposed. Literally. The seniors had their share of fun and on seeing him cry like that, tapped him on his shoulders indicating that he could wear the shirt back. Then, they moved on to search for more cheap thrills at others’ expense.

Obviously, Jiggly did not move on. He did not have it in him to continue that day. He went back home. He cried on the way back, that night, and even the next morning. He did not return to college that entire week. When he joined back the next week, he did what he always did best. Keep low.

A few months into college life, Jiggly decided to join a gym. He had gathered some motivation and wanted to begin his journey of weight loss. He wanted to look presentable.

On his first day in the gym, he saw this poster framed on the wall . . .

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Well, that did not motivate him. It did the opposite. The memories of his first day at college came rushing. Nevertheless, Jiggly managed to exercise in that gym for the next few months.

When he lost a couple of kilos, which happened really fast, he gained some confidence back. He was all of 18 years old when he wrote his first (and only) life goal: walk bare-chested on a beach.

For Jiggly, beach meant Goa. He had been to Goa twice with his parents, and he had a liking for that destination. People did not care much in Goa and most importantly did not stare him down. He felt at ease in Goa. He chose 'beach' because that would be the easiest place to achieve this goal. Nevertheless, it may seem easy to many but it was a big deal for him. 

Now, he had to continue his gym and continue the weight-loss journey. He anticipated that he would need to lose at least 20kgs, something that he could possibly achieve in the next 2 years.

Little did he know that he would not be able to achieve this goal in the next 18 years. And even after that. 

After a few months at the gym, Jiggly could not keep his motivation levels. He was bored with doing cardio every day. He hated the treadmill. I’d rather walk outside. He quit! And walk, he did not. 

He gained all the weight back and sank deeper into the shithole of guilt he was used to living in.

The next year, his school friends had planned to meet at the school reunion. Jiggly did not go. His friends waited for him for long. Little did they know that their friend did not feel comfortable in public gatherings. They couldn’t have guessed that Jiggly had gone many levels down in confidence and would not meet them ever again.

Not going to the reunion was Jiggly’s first 'big' compromise in a series of endless, nonstop, compromises made over the next 18 years.

He would wear only ill-fitting and loose clothes. It was difficult to find his size, and this fellow went for a size bigger. He found a few plus-sized stores and just stuck to them. All he wore were clothes that did not reveal the shape inside.

On one of the family outings, Jiggly went into the pool wearing a vest. That did not turn out to be a good decision because the lifeguard asked him to come out. The rules allowed only swimming costumes. Jiggly did not swim ever again. 

His confidence levels were at an all-time low between 20 and 30. He avoided talking to anyone. He did not make eye contact while talking to people. He was just a hopeless human being with an okayish job and parents who loved him as he was. 

Every few months, he tried to get himself to exercise. And he used to start well but was never able to hold on to the habit. 

A key moment happened when Jiggly turned 30 years old. He was super motivated to get it right. It was finally time.

He did not join the gym. He started jogging at a really slow pace, at really odd hours. Very early in the morning or late at night. He gave it his best shot and continued the routine for a year and a half He lost 20 kgs. 

It was a remarkable achievement on the back of endless sacrifices. He had improved his fitness in leaps and bounds. He was still overweight but much fitter. People around him looked at him with respect. Some even drew motivation from what Jiggly had achieved. Well, everyone, except one person, was thrilled with this transformation.

That one person who was not was Jiggly himself. He had achieved the goal of losing 20 kgs and somehow lost all the motivation thereafter. He wasn't happy. He wasn't satisfied either. I guess happiness had stayed so far away from him that he did not even know how to recognize it. 

Coincidentally, he went to Goa that same summer. Was it the time to do that one thing he always wanted to do? walk bare-chested!

Unfortunately, Jiggly did not get it done. He did not have the confidence to take his shirt off. Even when every single person on the beach was occupied with their own plays. Jiggly felt that people will 'start looking at him' if he does that. They will make fun of my body. So, no, it did not happen.

One thing about losing a lot of weight is you tend to gain a lot of it back if you are not careful. Jiggly had become complacent. He ate much more than he needed and did not exercise. 

At the end of the next two years, he gained 27 kgs! His current self was the fattest he had ever been. He continued living in misery until a month ago.

He turned 36 last month. He bought himself a new phone and was saving old pictures... when he found something.

He had a pic from his last Goa trip in front of him. The same trip. He thought that he looked amazing in the pic. 

Obviously, comparing to what he looked like at that moment, his all older selfs had to look amazing. But Jiggly genuinely felt that he looked really nice in those Goa pics. That night, he slept with the regret of not fulfilling his goal on that trip. And he was hurt about gaining all the weight back.

The next morning, a few thoughts popped up in his head . . . 

"What if I look amazing even now... and I just don’t realize it?"

"Maybe, if I were to gain even more and look worse, I’d look at my current pic and find it amazing?"

"What if my happiness isn't even related to my weight? I had lost a lot but never felt happy..."

Those thoughts stayed with him for a few days. He'd often look into the mirror and try to find the answers. One night, while surfing Facebook, he saw a quote.

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If you recall, 18 years ago, a quote that he read in the gym had made him miserable. This time, a different quote did just the opposite. It made him stronger. Just when he needed it.

He had started thinking in the right direction, and this quote gave him the push.

Something from Rumi comes to mind, apt for this situation: "what you seek is seeking you".

Jiggly's life was going to change. He had understood the problems he had been facing. He made a few mental notes:

I need to be comfortable in my skin.

I need to love myself.

My happiness does not depend on how I look.

No one is staring at me. 

I don't care a bit about what others think of me.

Jiggly tried to keep these thoughts, but he was still uncomfortable around others. After all, it was 18 years of doing that needed undoing.

He had a new idea! A simple plan. He had spent the last 18 years of his life being ashamed. He would now try to make up by being shameless. It is critical to point out that 'shameless' is generally considered a negative term. But in this case, it was being used in a positive and encouraging manner to mean 'uninhibited'.  

It was time for Jiggly to be Jiggly 2.0! 

He began his journey with the easiest (in a respectful manner) target, his house-help didi.

When the bell rang the next day, Jiggly opened the door in a vest. It was extremely uncomfortable, but he went through with the plan. Didi was shocked. She stood there for three seconds and asked ‘aunty ghar pe hai?’ (is your mom home?)

Jiggly slowly started doing these random things to force himself into becoming more comfortable around people. A few days later, he was completely topless when he opened the door for didi. Big deal! Didi cringed and went inside. Jiggly laughed.

Slowly, Jiggly, who was now on a path of 'shamelessness', crossed all limits. 

... he spent time in his balcony in just his underwear. If someone stared at him, he'd stare them back, eye to eye!

... he took amazon deliveries in underwear.

... he even walked under his house without a shirt.

... he once walked back home from the market with his t-shirt rolled up, exposing the paunch.

...and just a long list of crazy things.

In order to make himself comfortable, he starting making everyone else uncomfortable! Most of which was the neighbor aunty who had the direct view of his balcony. She had complained about his lack of proper clothing on the society’s WhatsApp group. Jiggly did not care. If someone called him shameless, he took it with pride.

One day, the neighbor aunty was outside drying clothes. That’s when she saw Jiggly mopping his balcony. He was in his underwear. She called out, ‘you should have some shame’. Jiggly said, ‘all my shames got used. This is my balcony. You do not look in this direction if you have a problem’.

The aunty got irritated and grabbed her phone to click a picture of Jiggly in his undergarments in full public view in the middle of the day. 

Jiggly suddenly recalled the ragging incident in college. That day, he had wanted to run away. He couldn't. All he could do was cry, cry, and cry.

This day, the aunty expected him to run away. But he stood his ground, posed for the picture, and did something that reflected that his soul was finally free now! He laughed, laughed, and laughed. 

This was the photo that the aunty managed to click.

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The same evening, Jiggly updated his life goals. 

Walk bare-chested in Goa

Love yourself. Be unapologetic. And be shameless.

And get some real goals dude!

                                                            END 

So, that's the story of Jiggly. I don’t know what’s he up to these days. But more power to him and people like him.

Jiggly could be anybody. Anybody who is too conscious about something that is not even in their hands. Too tall, too short, too thin, too fat, too fair, too dark, too disproportionate, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, just anybody! Be yourself. And if something is indeed making you uncomfortable, just giggle it away.

I’m always pretty, I’m never ugly,

Doesn't matter if it's toned, or jiggly,

I will be myself, I will be giggly,

And will love myself, shamelessly!

- Ksh, June'20

हाउसवाइफ

कल जब मेरे पतिदेव ऑफिस से आए 

थोड़ा आराम किया तो मैनै मांग ली चाय 

गुस्से में देखा मुझे और बोले "भगवान् से डर"

"मै बहुत थका हूँ,  तुम सारा दिन बैठी थी घर" 

मैंने कहा "परमेश्वर", बात कान खोल के सुन 

किसका काम ज़्यादा कठिन, दोनों में से चुन

कोई पूछे "क्या करते हो", तू तुरंत दे जवाब,

मै बोलू "हाउसवाइफ", करके मूड ख़राब 

तू दो पैसे घर लाए, और बन जाए हीरो 

मै काम करू कितना, मेरी सैलरी ज़ीरो 

तू जूनियर, तू सीनियर, तू होता जा मशहूर   

मै तो रोज़ वही काम करू, जैसे एक मज़दूर 

तू मिलता सौ लोगों से, और करता नई बात 

मै रोज़-रोज़ करती हूँ, कामवाली से मुलाक़ात 

तू कभी-कभी थोड़ी, मुश्किल में भी अटक जाए 

मैं तो रोज़ अटकू, जब बच्चे मुझपे लटक जाए  

तू कभी हफ्ते में थक जाए तो वीकेंड पे विश्राम 

मै गलती से थक गई तो लगेंगे आलस के इलज़ाम 

तू सपने देखता है, के कुछ बड़ा कर दिखाएगा 

मै तो जानती हूँ, अपना टाइम कभी नहीं आएगा  

पति बोले 'ओके', भॉँप ली थी उन्होंने संकट  

कुछ ही देर में चाय के साथ, पकोड़े हुए प्रकट

. . .  और बोले "लो आ गया आपका टाइम"

Note from the writer: The household chores are incredibly difficult, boring, and are killing dreams slowly but surely. Most of all, these 'housewives' tasks are bloody thankless. So, let's respect everyone who runs the house. I dream of a world where housewives are officially paid for the work they do. Pakode khilaane se time kabhi nahi ayega! Respect dene se shayad aane lage . . 

Ksh!

नफ़रती कीड़े

कम्बख्त बहुत सारे बच्चे पैदा करते हैं  
सब मिल के फ़िर अल्लाह अल्लाह करते हैं 
क्रिकेट में पाकिस्तान को करते हैं सपोर्ट
फिर वही आतंकी बन के करते हैं विस्फोट 
एक मर्द, दो-तीन बीवियाँ, यह कैसा हिसाब? 
एक ही असली भगवान, यह कैसी बात जनाब? 
काश बटवारे के समय ही निकल लेते पाकिस्तान 
काश हमारे यहाँ न बजती लाउडस्पीकर पे अज़ान 
खैर, हम तो इनको झेल रहे है पैंसठ सालों से 
यह भी याद रखेंगे पाला पड़ा दिलवालों से 
मस्जिद तोड़ दिया, अब होगा मंदिर का काम 
अल्लाह कसम इन से बुलवाएंगे हम जय श्री राम  

इस प्रकार का ज़हर उगलता है नफ़रती कीड़ा 
ऐसी ही ओछी बातों से देता है समाज को पीड़ा 
बुरा चाहोगे तो बुराई ही दिखेगी भाईसाब 
कीड़े तो कलाम में भी देख लेते हैं कसाब 
होगी शांति चारो ओर, होगी शांति चारो ओर, 
जब हम मिल के करेंगे, इन कीड़ो को इगनोर 

Important: This post is not meant to hurt the sentiments of any community, especially Muslims. On the contrary, the sole purpose of this post is to quash people who have nothing but hatred for other communities. This post highlights the kind of 'talks' they engage in for Muslims. If anyone feels hurt or offended by this post, please accept my apology.

मेरा बर्तन धोने का सफ़र

इस lockdown का सुन लो यह दुखद किस्सा,
कामवाली तो गई, दे कर अपने कामों  में हिस्सा

झाड़ू पोछा बीवी का, बर्तन करना मेरा,
दोनों की ड्यूटी शुरू, जब हो ले सवेरा

एक दिन जब sink में देखा बर्तनों का पहाड़,
"क्या घूर रहा है चश्मिश", पीछे से आई दहाड़

चलो जी शुरू करू लेके प्रभु का नाम ,
किसी तरह निपटाऊ यह वाहियात काम

पंद्रह डिग्री झुकना था, झुक पाया सिर्फ दस,
मेरा पेट बीच में फस  गया, कहने लगा 'बस'

सबसे पहले आई हाथ में, सब्ज़ी की कढ़ाई,
खुरच खुरच के शुरू करी मैंने कठिन चढ़ाई

फिर हाथ आयी हाथ कुछ प्लेट, थी बेहद्द आसान,
पल में सफा, पल में दफ़ा, दो मिनट की मेहमान

अगला नंबर cooker का, जिसपे चिपकी थी दाल,
सोचा अपने सर पे दे मारु, कर दू sink को लाल ,

फिर आये मेरे प्यारे, चम्मच और कटोरी,
ज़ीरो मेहनत इनपे, करी फुल कामचोरी

अब आए काँटे, चमचे, प्याली, कढ़छी, छन्नी , छूरी ,
अकेले तो यह कुछ नहीं, मिल के कराए मेहनत पूरी

एक गिलास दो गिलास तीन गिलास, चार,
हाथ इनमें घुसते नहीं, घंटा साफ़ होंगे यार

अगले बर्तन को देखके दिल से निकली हाय ,
कौन है वह मनहूस जो गर्मी में पीता है चाय

आगे संभाल के, इस बर्तन को न आए आंच,
इधर उधर टकरा गया, तो फैल जाएगा काँच

आधा घंटा बीता, थकान होने लगी अब,
मंझे हुए खिलाड़ी ने माँझ लिया था सब,

अब धोने का टाइम आया, महसूस हुई आसानी,
मेरे साबुन में लिपटे बच्चे, अब चाह रहे थे पानी

धोते धोते पानी भर गया, फस गया था खाना,
घिन्न आई बेहद्द , मुँह सड़ा के पड़ा हटाना

कुछ देर बाद अचानक आवाज़ आई, बोली 'यह ले लो',
खून मेरा खौल गया, जब कही से प्रकट हुए गंदे बर्तन दो

किसी तरह धोए सब, ख़त्म हुआ यह काम,
कूद के लेट गया पलंग पे, पीठ पे लगाया बाम

फ़ोन उठाया हाथ में, खोली amazon की दूकान,
दिए 2000 खर्च, ख़रीदा कुछ disposable सामान

- Ksh, May 2020

Will It Ever Stop?

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There’s just no stopping,

To my wife’s shopping,

Week after week, mall after mall,

Store after store, stall after stall,

Existing, fresh, or in sale,

You can’t stop this female,

DT, Ambience, TGIP… or Select City Walk,

Be it a market, a nagar… or simply a chowk,

Vero Moda, Only, Kazo, Marks & Spencer,

Bhagwaan ke liye, please ab toh bas kar!!!

“When will this stop”, I ask my room’s wall,

Suddenly I hear, “Honey, let’s go to the mall”

We enter the store, and she smells the outlet,

She picks a top and matches it with a bracelet,

“Kaisa lag raha hai, batao?” she will look at me,

While I try hard to figure…what I need to see,

“Ok-Ok”, I say this useless thing,

She removes the bracelet and tries a ring,

And then a pendant, and then an earring,

And then a blah blah, and then something,

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One fine day, when I thought it was enough,

I mustered the courage to do something tough,

I said, “No need to shop like this, you crazy woman”

“Don’t behave like a maniac, behave like a human”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not about money,”

“But it’s the time to stop all this… honey,”

She shouted “OK”, and then came near,

And said, “You don’t get to drink any beer,”

“And forget about playing cricket, that’s all history,”

“Why can’t you play, tell your friends… it’s mystery,”

“You’ll come home from office, sharp at four”

“Not a minute less and not even a minute more”

 “No more chicken-mutton, no more prawn-fish”

“Pure vegetarian food--that should be your only wish”

“Forget all your friends, they’re all bad company”

“Spend all your time at home, with family and me”

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I exit the room with my phone, pretending there’s a call,

I come back in a minute, and say, “Honey, let’s go to the mall”.

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 While driving, I feel bad. I was so wrong in asking her to stop! So, I say:

“Darling, these little arguments add to our life... the color,”

“Don’t you think without them it’s going to be so much duller?”

…and she’s happy! And I’m happy.

While I continue driving, thinking how I've made the amends,

And how close I’d come to losing my cricket, beer, and friends.

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This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 42; the forty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. 

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. The theme for the month was "COLOR"

Got 3 votes for this post. The winner got 8 :)

Tormented

 Hi! My name’s Sammy (Samarth), and this is my story.

I was 12 years old. As innocent as they come.

It was summer vacations, and as expected, I was loving it. In the middle of the vacations, my mom told me that bua and phoopha (dad’s sister and her husband) will be visiting us. That was extremely exciting news for me. Well, because they always brought gifts.

So, soon enough, they reached us after an overnight train journey from Bhopal, their residence town. I hid all my excitement and behaved quite normally on seeing them. I touched their feet and quietly stood in the corner. However, in half an hour, I started getting impatient. They kept conversing with my parents and just would not unpack. At this end, I was getting extremely desperate for them to unpack and hand me my gift.

Finally, an hour later, they went to their room. And in five minutes, I followed them. I meant to make my appearance look like an accident. And it worked. Bua saw me and told me that she’s brought something for me. Hell, I knew that already. All I managed to say was, “okay”. Then, she handed me a green colored wristwatch. I fell in love with my wristwatch. The body of the watch was made of thick rubber, and the green was the army green. The watch looked solid and I was sure it would not break even if I dropped it. Great!

At night, the sleeping arrangements were such that Phoopha (I will call him uncle from here on) was to sleep in my room with me and my brother (who was 3 years younger to me). I don’t really remember why such arrangements were made. Especially when I clearly remember the aunt and the uncle had a separate room to themselves.

Anyways, I took the center; my brother was on my right, and the uncle on the left. We did a little chitchat and went off pretty soon. I remember last seeing the time as 12:43 in my new green watch. The watch slept next to my pillow.

Then! In the middle of the night, I was suddenly awoken by the uncle. I had my back toward him, and he’d grabbed my left hand. Then, he took the hand and made me hold something.

I can remember pretty well how the ‘thing’ felt. It was soft like a mouse and a little thick in size. I thought about it but could not identify what it was. It did not seem like anything I’d held before. The uncle did not know I was awake, and I kept acting asleep. He kept holding my hand and continued to make me feel that thing. I was a bit scared. But, honestly, I had no idea what was happening. It was a strange night.

<<Some years later >>

As I grew up, I continued to remember the happenings of that strange night. I never shared it with anyone. It was my personal secret. All that time, I did not even know if it was worthy of being a secret.

Anyways… I don’t remember how old I was, but one day it hit me! It hit me real hard. I suddenly realized what the uncle was up to. He had sexually molested me and made me hold on to his… you know! He molested a child is what I could mutter. I felt really odd. I am unable to explain the exact feeling, but I felt really sick. Yes, sick is the word. And from the day the realization came, there have been voices in my ears. My own voices probably. It’s like my world started echoing with some questions.

Did he do that to my brother as well? Did he do it to me again? What to do now? Do I tell this to anyone?

Did I enjoy it? What if I did? What if I felt bad for myself only because someone in my position is supposed to? What if I am going crazy?

 I felt sorry for myself. My mind was screwed.

<<Some more years later>>

The same uncle and aunt shifted to Delhi. They found a home in our society; my father helped them find one. I had lost all emotions for them by then, so, I hardly cared.

I grew up. But the memories of that night and those stupid questions remained with me.

I had started seeing a girl and did not open it up to her as well. I thought there’s no point. Deep down inside, I felt sick. Very sick.

A few years passed by, and this uncle got hospitalized. He had some major issue that I had no clue about. I still don’t know actually. I did not even bother asking anyone. However, I did get to know that he was being discharged the other day. My dad had asked me to drive to their place to see him. I hesitated initially but then went with him.

We reached their house, and it was total chaos. Seems like the uncle had fainted the moment he reached home. And everyone was in panic not knowing what to do. They decided to rush him back to the hospital. I had been a pretty good driver, so, they carried him to my car and asked me to drive. And I drove him back to the hospital. On the way, I clearly remember thinking of that night. But I drove real fast and the thoughts vanished soon.

At the hospital, he was declared ‘brought dead’. Yes, he was dead.

I walked away from the room the doctor made that announcement. I was not happy, not sad. I was indifferent.

Anyways, suddenly, surprisingly, after his death, the world was silent again. There were no voices anymore. No more questions that I needed to answer. Was this the end to my misery? It was a weird feeling. I would not have wanted him to die for this to happen, but that’s the way it did. In some corner of my mind, I felt a little relieved.

<< @^$&@%##*(!#>>

However, it was all too temporary.

Soon enough, all the thoughts came back to me. Just like old times. My mind kept bringing up the night and the ‘thing’ back to me, pretty well, yet again.

And all that had changed was that a new question got added to the list. Did god specifically want him to die in front of me?

The thought stays with me till date.

And everything haunts me till date. Why can’t I forget all of it?

Why can I still feel the texture of the ‘thing’ the moment I clench my fist? 

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This post was written by me as part of 35th Blog-a-Ton. I got no votes for this one as well. :) This was one of the rare occasions I tried to write something serious. I think I am better off writing humor stories.

Pizza Toppings

The Kukkur family was a middle-class one. There were three members, Samrat Kukkur, his wife Sattori Kukkur, and their son Sukkul.

Samrat owned an export business and was doing pretty well for himself and his family. It could be said that success was starting to get into his head.

Anyways, Sattori had been at Samrat’s case of late. She wanted a house servant. She said she was tired of all the chores and would like a servant at her command, especially now that they could afford one.

Soon, the Kukkurs hired an 11-year old boy. Not bothering about the original name of the boy, they named him Gadhesh.

Gadhesh, of course, belonged to a poor family. He had come from a village in Rajasthan and had moved to Delhi when he was 10-years old.

Anyways, the Kukkurs did not treat him well. Sattori kept Gadhesh busy throughout the day with the household tasks while she stayed glued to the television.

At the same time, Samrat would come home in the evening and scold Gadhesh for no rhyme or reason. 

...

One day, the Kukkurs ordered pizza. They had tried pizza just recently and had taken an instant liking to it.

As their usual routine went, they sat on the dinner table and started eating from the boxes, while Gadhesh watched from the corner.

Samrat asked if Gadhesh wanted a slice, and that brought a big smile on the servant’s face. However, Samrat removed all the toppings from Gadhesh’s slice before handing it over. He put all the toppings on his wife’s share.

Gadhesh felt bad. But he did not think much and enjoyed his share. 

…

After a week, the Kukkurs ordered pizza again. The same old routine followed. They sat and started feasting, and Gadhesh watched, this time in anticipation.

The servant’s stares annoyed Samrat.

He took a slice and removed all the topping. Next, he removed most of the cheese. Then, he handed it over to Gadhesh.

This annoyed Gadhesh. He said he wanted the toppings, which angered Samrat big time.

Samrat, in a fit of anger, spat on the slice and then offered it to Gadhesh. “Here’s your topping, you uneducated fool”, he said.

Gadhesh started crying. He probably continued the entire night… and ran away from the house the very next morning.

Gadhesh found another job soon, this time a much better family.

He worked pretty hard for the next 10 years. He worked in houses and did a bit of repair jobs as well.

In the process, he even picked a little English and started earning decently to keep himself going. Most importantly, he learned from his friend how to ride a bike. It was important for him.

Truth is, while working hard all these years, Gadhesh always had an aim. An ambition!

His friend had once casually asked him about it. And all Gadhesh said was, “I want to become a pizza delivery boy”. His friend could not control the laughter. He said, “are you mad?”

“Of course, I am insane”, said Gadhesh. And he laughed too. 

…

A few months later, when he thought the time was right, Gadhesh went to a specific pizza parlor and applied for the job of a delivery boy. As he’d expected with his skills, he got it!

He knew his time would come soon. All he had to do now was to wait.

And soon enough, he got the opportunity. He was handed a couple of boxes to be delivered to a house, a few kilometers away. The bill on the boxes bore the name ‘Samrat Kukkur’. 

… 

Ting Tong

“Sir, your pizza”.

“Thanks, how much?”

“Seven-Hundred Twenty-Four”

“Here you go… keep the change” 

…

Soon, the family finished all the boxes. They loved it!

..
...
.....
......

Little did they realize that all the toppings had been polished with chunks of saliva.

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This post was written by me as part of 34th Blog-a-Ton. It fetched me no votes. Rightly. And as expected. :)

Celebrations

It was my friend’s birthday, two days ago,

He invited me to the party, how could I say no?

Free beer, free food, free everything, ho ho ho,

“I would drink and drink, non-stop till I throw”

It was a happening pub, the time was eight,

I got ready in time; I didn't want to be late,

How could I make, the ‘free’ stuff wait?

So I entered, and headed to the table straight,

I said my hi hellos quickly, and looked at the menu,

“Vodka shots for me; and some fish fingers too,”

And my same old journey began, but it looked so new,

The only breaks in the journey were the visits to the loo,

After a few rounds of vodka, then came the beer,

I cared only for my glass, not for the people near,

And so I kept sinking low in my high, nothing to fear,

Nor did I care for the car, which I was supposed to steer,

I was getting disoriented, but I did not stop,

When everything’s free, who wants to drop?

And I continued my way, mutton chop after chop,

With my beer mug getting filled, top after top,

Pretty soon I lost my senses, all of them I guess,

I was not a human anymore, just a stupid mess,

I wanted to care more, but I couldn't care less,

Instead of a friend to my friends, I became a stress,

They dropped me home, god knows how,

As I kept puking everywhere, like shit I feel now,

My stomach’s been crappy; it’s the time to take the vow,

“Oh god! Please forgive me, in front of you I bow”

Never again, never again… never never again,

Neither free nor paid, not even in the bargain,

I will not abuse my body, will not subject it to pain,

And if I ever do it again, I deserve to be in a drain!

But… I think sometimes I would want to make an exception,

Maybe at a friend’s marriage… or even the reception?

This post was written by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton. It fetched me 3 votes :) 

An Untold Story

Long, long ago, in an obscure village in central India, there used to be a man named Haiyya Joos. He was a poor farmer, probably the poorest in the village. In a time where his fellow villagers boasted of multiple cows and buffaloes, Haiyya owned just a goat.

To add to his woes, the goat did not even give milk properly. Moreover, the money spent on feeding the goat was quite high. In total, life was not good for Haiyya!

Being a single parent, Haiyya’s only glimmer of happiness was supposed to be his son Kan. We say ‘supposed’ because Kan never could relate with his parent’s poverty. Instead, Kan always longed for toys and other forms of amusement. Which, obviously, Haiyya could not afford.

One day, a fourteen-year-old Kan asked his father to buy a car. Haiyya was amazed at how stupid his son was. They had been in a persistent state of poorness. They always struggled to get the required number of meals a day. And here, his son Kan wanted him to buy a car.

At first, Haiyya thought that his son might be joking. However, Kan repeated the talk about buying a car the next day. And then Haiyya thought Kan had totally lost it. Probably, Kan had always been a retard and just that Haiyya did not notice. Haiyya explained to Kan that they did not have that kind of money and Kan should make do with whatever his dad gave him. Kan was disappointed.

Days passed by and the usual routine followed in Haiyya’s house. Haiyya worked very hard every day to earn just enough to provide himself, his goat, and his son some food. He always had the regret that he was never able to get Kan to go to school. Kan’s days were usually spent playing around the house. And even spending his daily allowance on something or the other. Kan would never save any money.

One day. Kan returned home from his play and ran straight to Haiyya. And the next thing he said made his dad’s jaws drop big time. Kan asked his father for money to buy a house. This was becoming extremely crazy now. Haiyya said “sure”. He took Kan inside and asked him to fetch a stick.

Then, what followed was brutal assault that one would never wish for anyone. Haiyya hit Kan real bad. Then, Haiyya made him make a promise. Kan, almost dizzy and shit scared, agreed. The promise was that Kan would never spend money until really required. Moreover, Kan was to try and save money in whatever form possible. And this way, Haiyya thought Kan would be better prepared for life.

Years passed! The same village now boasted of residing the biggest miser of all times. It looks like Haiyya’s beating took a real effect. Kan would just not spend! He helped his dad with his work, earned little, and saved. But Kan did not spend. There would be days when Kan skipped meals just to save some food. He had become a maniac.

In the village, whenever someone behaved in a stingy manner, people referred to him or her as Kan. Such was Kan’s fame.

One fine day, Kan fell ill. He ran a very high fever. Very, very high. He told his dad he would not be able to help him that day. Haiyya wished him well and left for work.

Kan needed a medicine badly, but he decided to save it. He just lay in his bed the whole day. Also, he ruled out visiting a doctor completely. At least, not until he had some more complaints such as cold, headache etc. That way, he could get treated for multiple things with just one fee to the doctor.

Such was his desire to save… rather, NOT spend.

And this is the untold story about how the word “Kan-Joos” came into being.

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This post was written by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton. I felt the idea behind the post was very good, but the execution was very poor. The ending was quite abrupt and the idea got wasted. Excuse: did not get time to write. Ha :) The post fetched me two votes, two more than I expected :) 

Strangers in the Night

We both were happy, and the time was right,

So we decided to marry, we were confident quite,

Our parents met, and they gelled alright,

They fixed the date and sealed our plight,

The month was Feb, and the sky was bright,

The arrangements were nice, a pretty sight,

She looked amazing, a walking dynamite,

And I was nervous, looking back in hindsight,

I brought her home, and we started just right,

But soon… things became bad, and tantrums became trite,

Words turned bitter, and little quarrels began to bite,

Looking back at the things now, I turn contrite,

We were falling apart; no longer did we remain tight,

Everything was misunderstood, prejudiced without insight,

The rudeness to each other grew to a great height,

It looked like the marriage was getting into a twilight,

Four years later…

Four years have passed, for each other we still hold spite,

But we’ve a child now, so we can’t afford things uptight,

So, for him, we pretend like a couple in broad daylight,

But when we sleep, we are two strangers in the night.

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This post had been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 31; the thirty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. The theme for the month was 'Strangers in the Night'. The post fetched me just 2 votes (poor performance) :) 

To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.