“Made for Each Other” – my entry to the GetPublished contest

Made for Each Other” – my entry to the GetPublished contest

The Idea – Just imagine you are an eleven years old guy in the pre-independence era and one day your parents get you married to an eight years old girl. You even don’t understand the word friendship or love; leave alone the concept of marriage. You are far away from what we call as ‘reaching puberty’. There is no facebook, no mails, no texts and not even any mode of communication other than letters which takes at least two weeks to reach a destination. Imagine what it would have been like to get married in these situations, to befriend someone, to love someone and to create an inseparable special bond, the fragrance of which is left in this world long after you are gone.

This story is all about that. It takes place in the pre and post independence era. It is about the marriage of my maternal grandfather and grandmother at the above mentioned tender ages when one is breaking the shackles of childhood and about to step in their teens. The story begins when their lives and destinies decided to coincide. It was after their marriage that they became friends and much later they discovered love – a never ending, never fading love for each other. They themselves didn’t know when this friendship turned into love and later this love became a special kind of bond which you only find in tales and legends, in stories of Romeos and Juliets.

This story is about their hardships, their struggle and all the thicks and thins that they have witnessed but none was strong enough to wither their love for each other. The story portrays how in the darkest of hours she never left him and in fact became his strength and guided him to become strong and successful.

What makes this story real – I would say whatever love and understanding I have seen between my grandmother and grandfather and what my mother has described to me, makes this story very special and real. The unique thing will be that most of the people today, who are in their teens, haven’t witnessed anything like this. The facebook generation doesn’t know what it would have been like to wait for days and weeks just to hear or get a letter from your beloved. This story takes you to those days and what was special and unique in the way people loved in that era. The black & white movies do give you an idea, but it was always about that ‘Hero’ who was very distant from the fact reality. This story is about that common Indian who in the 40’s and 50’s was married before he even understood it. This story is about all the real life events that took place and none of it is fiction.

I would most definitely like to mention that this story wouldn’t have been possible without my mother’s support and verbal narration.

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

If you feel that this story deserves to be told and you want to read the complete story then please like it at this link: http://www.indiblogger.in/getpublished/idea/562/

Banquet on the Dead

Book Review:Banquet on the Dead

Book: Banquet on the Dead

Author: Sharath Komarraju

Reviewed By: Manas Mukul

First of all I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate Sharath for getting his second novel published within a span of six months. I was fortunate enough that Blogadda selected me to review his first book ‘Murder at Amravati’ but this time it was Sharath’s friendly gesture that he himself asked me to review his second one, ‘Banquet on the Dead’. I would apologize for the slight delay in the review as I was caught up with things. I have read the book thoroughly, infact slower than my usual pace of reading and I will try to be as honest as possible and do justice with the review of this Murder Mystery.

For me personally the cover page doesn’t have much significance this time, as was not the case with ‘Murder at Amravati’. As you flip two pages Sharath has dedicated the book to ‘Lakshmibai’ his father’s maternal grandmother. In the prologue we are introduced to two characters, Nagesh and Ashok, who are labourers employed to do the job on a particular day at the mansion where the whole story revolves. The prologue has their version of what they have heard while they were busy working at or around 1 pm on the day in question.

Just like ‘Murder in Amravati’, ‘Banquet on the Dead’ is also set in a small town, Hanamkonda. The story begins with Valmiki Nagarajan, the inspector in charge of the case, and Dr. Koteshwar Rao engrossed in a discussion where Dr. Koteshwar requests the inspector to have a re-look at the case. The story is all about the death of Kauveramma, whose dead body was recovered from the well which was within the same enclosure of the mansion. Everyone including the inspector believed that she has committed a suicide and was about to close the case. But it was Dr. Koteshwar, grandson of Kauveramma, who kept on persisting that he thinks otherwise. Dr. Koteshwar recommends Hamid Pasha, an unlikely ‘Hero’, to Nagarajan in his pursuit to find the murderer.

Nagarajan with his assistant, Hamid Pasha, sets out on unravelling the truth and to find out who the actual murderer is? All the suspects in the story are relatives of Kauveramma with more or less the same motive – ‘Money’. Many a times in the story there is mention of the huge property that kauveramma possessed and everyone who was living in that manor wanted a piece of it, if not the whole. The stand out thing in the story is although being a part of a joint family, most of the members simply hated others. Ironically as you read on you will get a feel that majority of them actually disliked Kauveramma and in one way or the other they wished her to be no more. The story has a lot of characters (suspects) and I will restrain myself from mentioning them and their relation with the diseased. Everyone had a motive and most of them had the means to commit the crime, it all rests on the duos (Nagarajan and Hamid Pasha) shoulders to unveil the murderer. Do they successfully do it, to find out read the book?

I must praise Sharath here in the way he brings out the most miniscule of details about a particular setting and even if one has not been to that place, he/she can very easily visualize how it all looks. The same is the case with the mansion in which most of the story takes place. There is a very vivid description of the mansion and the details are very well taken care of as one gets sucked into the story as if he/she is actually living the story. The diction is plain and simple and is a fast read. The build up to the climax of the book is good. Every time it keeps you guessing who according to you is the murderer.

This time I noticed more negative than positives, I am sorry Sharath but I am trying to be as honest as possible. The book with its 260 pages is way too long compared to most of the Indian fictions that are in the market these days. It becomes a drag in the middle and you have to be patient enough to reach the end. According to me, one of the major flaws in the story is the number of characters that are dished out. You need to make a mental map of the characters and how each of them is related to Kauveramma. By the time you reach the middle of the book, it becomes very difficult to remember just by the name that how was this character related to her. If one has read ‘Murder at Amravati’ he/she will find striking similarities between both the books, like the way Sharath has dealt with the investigation. Because of the build up, you gear up yourself for a shocking or surprising ending but if you want my take on it; you will be disappointed. Unlike ‘Murder in Amravati’ where it had an awesome twist right at the end, ‘Banquet on the Dead’ won’t serve you that.

This banquet instead of turning out to be a great feast it turns out to be an ordinary supper. One suggestion for Sharath, try some other genre also otherwise it won’t be long before people cast you as a stereotype. If I had to rate this, I would go with two and half out of five for Sharath Komarraju’s ‘Banquet on the Dead’.

Manas ‘Sameer’ Mukul

You can also reach to Sharath Komarraju at sharathkomarraju.com

Surprise…Surprise…Surprise…

Surprise…Surprise…Surprise…

“You know tomorrow is my first presentation ever”, she said nervously to me. Her voice was shaking and none of her friends were able to infuse enough confidence in her to make the presentation work. She rehearsed…rehearsed…and rehearsed…to the point that she began to forget everything… at least she felt so. It was left upon me to get that confidence back going for her. I reminded her, “Believe in yourself and think of how good you are and what an awesome presentation you are going to deliver tomorrow”. I knew that my words have a calming effect on her, but this time it was not going to last.

I decided it was time for me to make her feel that I am always there for and I just don’t simply say that ‘I will be there for the smallest of things’. I immediately called her back and broke her heart (for that moment) that I have a company visiting my campus tomorrow and I will have to switch off my phone through the entire duration of the seminar and there might be a possibility where I would not be able to give her a call before the presentation. I checked the tickets and asked my ever so sweet sister to get the tickets done for me (don’t forget me being a student these days was unable to afford the price just a day before ;) ). She managed to get one booked for me.

The next day I had an early flight to catch and she was still sleeping. So the best I could do was to text her, “All the best for your presentation sone, make me proud, phod phad macha dena, I am going for the seminar muah muah muah forehead”. I landed by 10:30 a.m. and her presentation was supposed to begin by noon. I gave a call to her best friend and told her about my plan to surprise her by visiting her just before the presentation and say, “All the best of Luv ‘n’ Luck to her face”. I knew that girls can’t be trusted when it comes to keeping secrets and her friend proved me right by spurting out every bit of my surprise. The news made her extremely happy as if she won a lottery. It was a complete turnaround…she was brimming with confidence…and in the process completely nailed the presentation and answered each and every question that followed.

She knew which hotel I (we) stayed in every time I visited her city as this would have been my fourth visit in the past four months. As soon as she was done with the presentation she didn’t even wait for the teacher’s response…immediately took an auto and reached the hotel. She enquired at the reception…took the spare keys in an effort to surprise me instead…and came running to my room. She was puzzled not to find me there. She tried my mobile but was switched off. She made a call to the reception but could not get any info on my whereabouts. Her face which was glowing with confidence and courage…now suddenly had an edgy and worried look to it.

There was a knock on the door…she opened…anticipating that it will be me she shouted my name. Less to her surprise and more to her shock it was police at the door. She was beginning to panic. The police informed her that a guy was crushed by a truck this morning and they recovered a bag from the accident site with a printout of booking of this hotel room with your name on it. She opened the bag only to find out ‘a Barbie’, ‘a box of Soan Papdi’ and ‘an envelope with confirmed booking for two days and two nights for a couple at the Marriot’.

She remembered, how, since her childhood she never craved for anything except for a Barbie, she had had many delicacies but it was the ‘Soan Papdi’ that made her taste buds go crazy and she visited many places around the globe… rested in many resorts but it was the Marriot which was the closest to her heart. It was all a part of the surprise that I had planned for my bestest buddy.

There are days when God gives you signs or omens which tell you what is going to happen and then there are days when even the Gods get confused what the omen says.

The police told, “The Guy was wearing this shirt” and handed it to her. She straight away recognized it to be my shirt as it was the same shirt in which she slept the last time I was there. Tears started rolling down her cheeks. The blood on the shirt made her scream…scream…and scream. There were flashbacks of, how every night before we went to bed, I always called her to say how much I loved…cared for her and will be there with her forever n ever n ever. She reminded herself of her decision to tell me that how much she loved me…and wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. She cried uncontrollably…gasping for breath…her shrieking voice made even the policemen feel her loss…her pain…her regret of not telling me just for once that SHE LOVED ME…

There was another knock at the door…one policeman opened it. To everyone’s disbelief it was me who was at the door. For a moment she thought she was seeing me just because of the sheer love for me. Without even caring for the standing policemen, who were themselves astonished, I started… Bubu…as soon as I landed…my bag was stolen…last night I wasn’t able to charge my phone’s battery…hence it died…but what’s this…why is police here and above all why are you crying guddu????

She stood up…ran towards me…grabbed me by the collar…started slapping me…kissing my face all over…saying I Love You…I Love You…I Love You.

For all those who believe in surprises,

For all those who like surprises,

For all those who like giving surprises,

For all those who like getting surprised,

And

For all those who will go to any extent to say that ‘All the Best’

It’s not a Goodbye…

But it’s a GOOD BYE…aur han go out there and give surprises…your loved ones actually love it and a HAPPY DIWALI to all of You…enjoyyyyyyyy.

Manas “Sameer” Mukul

ZADA TOH KUCH NHI KAR SAKTA MAGAR.............................................

Reblogged from nayarasta:

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Vo kehta hai ki kuch zada toh nhi kar sakta mai magar,

zindagi ki har mushkil mein tumhara saath zaroor dunga.  

Vo kehta hai ki zada to kuch nhi kar sakta main magar'

in keemti aankhon se ek moti bhi nhi girne dunga......

Vo kehta hai ki chaand tare nahi tod ke la sakta hoo main magar,

har raat ko ek meethi si lori suna ke apne seene mein quaabiz kar lunga tumhe....

Read more… 119 more words

AWESOME...

KOI MUJHSE PUCHE…

KOI MUJHSE PUCHE…

wo pata hai bahut hi bahut hi khubsurat hai…
kash koi meri ankhon se puche

wo kitna maasum hai…wo kitna sacha hai…kitna seedha hai…
kash koi mere dil se puche

wo mujhe kitna samjhata hai….wo mere sath hardam hai…
kash koi meri dosti se puche

uski jalan me jo pyar hai….jo wo sabse chupa k rakhta hai….
kash koi mere mann se puche

uski ankhon me jo umeed hai…uske hothon pe jo haya hai…
kash koi meri ankhon se puche

uske hath me jo mamta hai…uske seene me jo apnapan hai…
kash koi meri atma se puche

uske chehre me jo kashish hai…uske hathon me jo tapish hai…
kash koi meri rooh se puche

uski baton me jo bachpana hai…uski hansi me jo shararat hai…
kash koi meri khushi se puche

uske jhooth me jo sach hai….uski har ek naa me jo han hai…
kash koi mere zehen se puche

uski hansi me jo mere jeevan ki khushiyan hai…uski baton me jo meri sansein hai…
kash koi meri dhadkan se puche

uski maang me jo mera sapna hai…uski mehendi me jo apna hai…
kash koi mere jeevan se puche

uski sanson me jo thandhak hai….uske ansuon me jo namak hai…
kash koi meri sanson se puche

uske khoon me jo mere kann hai…uski uljhano me jo meri bechaini hai…
kash koi meri bebasi se puche

uske chehre pe jo masumiyat hai…uski mehek me jo kasak hai…
kash koi meri hansi se puche

uski nazdiki me jo duri hai….uski duri me jo nazdiki hai…
kash koi mere ansuon se puche

uski god me kitna sukun hai…uski mehek me kitna chain hai…
kash koi meri neend se puche

uske mathen ki rekhaon me jo mera kal hai…uski achayi me jo mera aaj hai…
kash koi meri burayi se puche

uske hathon me jo meri lakeerein hai….uski ragon jo mera khoon hai…
kash koi mere akelepan se puche

uske pairon me jo meri kismat hai….uski ek han me jo mere jeevan ka maksad hai…
kash koi meri ankhon se girte in ansuon se puche

uski ek naa me mere jeevan ka ant hai….uske ruth jane me jo meri maut hai…
kash koi meri ragon me behte uske nam k khoon se puche

uske hath me jo gulab hai…uska khat jo mere hath me hai…
kash koi meri laash se puche

uske ek akhiri bar mujhe chune me jo mera MOKSHA hai…KASH KOI MUJHSE PUCHE

MANAS “SAMEER” MUKUL

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota…

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota…

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To aap tak aake…apke sath chal pata,
Chahe ap kisi ke bhi sath hote…hamesha apka sath nibha pata.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To apke labon ko chukar…bina bataye…apko chum ke chala jata,
Sindur na hoke bhi…apke mathe pe chamak pata.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To apke aansuon me milkar…unhe pi leta,
apke rom-rom ko mehsus kar…apki rooh tak pahunch pata.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To apki khushbuon ko sari umar ke liye apne sath le jata,
Apke mathe ki shikan ko mita kar…apka sukun ban jata.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To us khubsurat chehre pe koshish karke…ek muskurahat la pata,
Apke itne kareeb aa jata…ki hume Khuda bhi chah ke juda na kar pata.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To khud mit kar bhi…apke zariye jee pata,
Apke dard ko apne ander kahi sama leta.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To chah ke bhi kabhi apne aansun na dikha pata,
Aur kabhi khud mitna chahta to…apke hi ander kahi sama jata.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To apki chai…apke pakode ka kaaran ban pata,
Sondhi si khushboo ban kar apki thakaan ko mita deta.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To dur reh kar bhi…apko hamesha dekh pata,
Apki palkon pe aakar, apki ankhon me khud ka aks dekh pata.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To apki jhulfon me ulajh kar…apki mehek ban pata,
Aur jab thak jata to apko bina bataye hi mar jata
aur ap chah ke bhi mujhe kabhi dhoondh na pate.

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota,
To sirf apko chune ki umeed me sari umar bita deta,
kam se kam apke nazdeek to aa sakta…apke hathon ko to chhu sakta…aur khamoshi se…apka sparsh leke zameen me kahi kho jata.
Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota…
To apke pas khud aakar…in shabdon ko suna pata…

Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota…
Kaash main wo baarish ki Boond hota…

Manas “Sameer” Mukul