Ankita from
humming words has written a collection of short stories. I read it and found it a great read. It is available on
Amazon and on
Buy Books. Some thoughts that I experienced while reading it follow.
What does it feel like not having anyone believe you? Or people putting you down just to feel good for themselves? Or someone blaming you for doing something when in fact someone else is to blame? Bad, of course.
... The woman, pleased at his quiet servility, smiled discretely that made the corners of her painted lips move up just a little and basking in the glory of her authority with an air of royalty, reclined slowly. Adjusting the fall of her golden-black silk sari vibrantly contrasting against her soft pink skin, she looked at her son and began, "Look at him! He cannot even imagine eating such wholesome food," and pointed towards the frail boy humbly standing in front of them.
In my experience, tragedy and comedy exist together. Ankita's stories are no exception.
"Then come and get married! Now!! We provide trusted Indian solution for everything: off-beam-haywire hormones, sordid heart attacks, lonely dates, hopeless life, chronic depressions, loose screws, addictions, phobias, manias and even bad karma," they screamed in chorus. "This time-tested panacea comes in attractive package with free home delivery!? added the old, one-eyed punditjee, smiling nastly, who appeared suddenly and the entire brigade leapt towards me ferociously!
There is the question of perfection in life. Rightly so, perfection keeps shifting like a mirage.
Finally, Rahul took a deep breath and began, "See, this dog is lame, one ear is cut but otherwise it is fine." "Fine? We want a perfect dog, you fool!" cried his sister, flapping the dog's cut marked ear.
Jealousy is a great human feeling, but the feeling of having someone feel jealous of you is even more intense.
"Does she deserve him? No way!" resentful girls were seen whispering to each other. "Swine has struck gold!" another whispered with a frown. However, these nasty remarks, whenever they reached her, were music to the ears.
Some say the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. I have to agree.
She would pass all the day waiting for him, in anticipation that his return would bring a cheer to her otherwise banal life and the day would come alive but it hardly happened. Most of the messages and calls often went unanswered.
Desperation, or frustration, or both, can lead one to do really illogical things. Sometimes, because of these very feelings, it becomes difficult to see who the real villain is.
"What are you supposed to do when you become from your hospital night shift and catch your delinquent wife in bed with a filthy rich bastard? She just kept on blowing money on those darned horses. I loved my kids ... a lot. So, one night I just took the axe and... still people blame me... why me ....," he said somberly and pulled his collar down to show a deep red scar.
Sometimes we ask ourselves why some people even exist. I am not talking about some random medieval king or queen, but innocuous-looking people who will happily give you the time of the day.
"Stock... file... with pictures... I mean the collection," he replied, taken aback with this sudden change. "These are children, not pets or some made-to-order pieces of handicraft," Sir Thomas growled, taking his glasses off. "You are not getting us; we are donating a good sum. Don't we deserve a good choice? Today, your stock is not what we li..."
Then of course, when it comes to bosses, everybody loves a bit of humour .
... He sits on a high chair and has a peculiar habit of scanning every staff member from head to toe from behind his gold-rimmed glasses as if he could detect cocaine hidden in someone's tummy more surely than a trained sniffer dog.
Short story collections are like music albums: you really, really like one or two stories. Then there are a few stories everyone likes. Then there are one or two stories that everyone else likes. Pointing favourites might ruin it for you.
I hope the book does really well, and that Ankita goes on to write a lot more books.
