Showing posts with label contest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contest. Show all posts

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Unborn




Before she died, she had one last look at the sky. She has been sleeping since then, only to keep waking in another dream.

Now she found herself on an island with no trees and three crystals. The crystals were the shiniest she had ever seen.

“Do you like them?” said a voice which came from nowhere.

The sparkles told her that she wasn’t in a dream. Nothing so pure can be untrue.

“They were sons of the same mother.” the voice continued.

“Sorry??” she mumbled, uncertainly.

“I’ll explain. What was Newton’s greatest accomplishment?”

“Calculus? Laws of motion?”

The voice smirked.

“No, child. Newton became ‘The Theory of Relativity’.”

“So, the dead turn into theories or crystals?”

“Yes, they do, into ideas, into events, into all things that are beyond the realms of meek, the living beings. Mona Lisa, the Ninth Symphony, Zero; each one of them came into existence after centuries of suffering of the dead. ”

“What about the beginning, when there was no one to die?”

“No creation is free of the guilt of destruction.”

“Then who died for Big Bang? Was it God?”

“A force more potent.”

“What was it?”

“Loneliness.”

Even the waves paused for a moment.

“Nothing else explodes with such magnificence.”

And then the voice disappeared. And the crystals melted into tears and were stolen by the momentary breeze before the sand could swallow them, leaving her alone on the island of melancholy, till the day she turns herself into lyrics, yet unsung.


(My entry to the contest here . 250 words-limit and the story must be based on the image above. The contest is still open July 28.)

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Eight Seconds




“Not much of a hobby mate.” Johnny whispered loudly through the bushes.

“Ummm?” said Pete distantly. His eyes fixed on the sky, as always.
Always.

“Bird watching. Not for our kind.” Johnny stepped back; now better hidden.

“Look, how she glides! Such grace! She would back-flip one day. I know.” Pete didn’t budge as the predator approached him. “It’s a kite.”

“And you are a rat; a fat one at that.” Johnny found his humor as the claws flew past Pete, leaving him untouched, unfazed.

Pete was indeed fat. He never had to run.
No one knew how old he was. They said he lost his death with his tail.

At times he would be on the farm road and trucks would pass over him, depriving him of the sky above for a moment or two.
The limping cat didn’t bother him anymore. Once, she stepped on burning wood while chasing him.
Some rats got their tails castrated. The kite tore them apart nonetheless. But not him.

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A day dawned. The kite picked him up and soared high. Pete looked down at the world below. No feelings. No thoughts. No glory.

Eight seconds later the kite dropped him. Too heavy for the claws, probably.

And then:
A truck turned menacingly.
A hungry cat limped ahead.
A kite did a back-flip.
A rat closed his eyes forever.
But the eyes closed before the kite flipped back.

The tombstone read:

HERE LIES A RAT WHO HAD NO TAIL

NO FEATHERS EITHER

PS : This is my entry to the contest held by Jason Evans here.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Her Diary

Everyday life for a female is never easy in a conservative society. Being a werewolf doesn’t help.

Waking up naked beneath the park benches, even if only twice a month, belongs firmly to the class of experiences better not had. Digging out the box of clothes and dressing up while lying down on the ground can’t be excluded from that category either.

It all began six months ago. On the first such full-moon night, I was lucky to have slept with door bolted. Rinku was too keen to get a second opinion on his guitar skills and mom-dad were out of town. In the morning, my bed-sheet and nightgown was shredded to threads, the door was scratched (a SRK poster hides the nail-marks now) and the room smelt of poop, which lay on the carpet. I cleaned all that up before parents returned.

“Didi, this is not fair. I played the guitar only until 11 and you howled throughout the night. But I’ll throw away the guitar if you teach me how to howl like a wolf as good as you did last night. It sounded so real, though you overdid it.” Rinku complained later.

Since then, on every full-moon night, I go to the park with a box (to keep my clothes), a couple of horse-tranquilizers, and no make-up. At around 11.30 PM, I get undressed beneath a park bench, put my clothes in the box and bury it in the ground before taking two shots of the tranquillizers. The tranquillizers keep the wolf-me drowsy and inactive; or so I think, because I can usually recollect only hazy memories of the night once I wake up in human form again.

Despite all the careful planning, at least one murder can be attributed to me; it was committed when in human form. Four months ago, when I woke up in the park, I found that the wolf-me had torn apart all my clothes during the night. There was no way I was coming out from below the bench, stark naked. Luckily for me, an early jogger came and sat on the bench. I pulled her leg and when she looked down, I hit her head with a stone with a force of magnitude that was more than necessary. I quickly changed into her clothes and jogged my way back home. There were reports later “Woman killed in park. Her torn clothes found nearby.”

Thereafter I bury the clothes in the box before having the shots to keep them out of harm’s way. Also, have changed the park after that incident.

Apart from such hazards, too many lies have to be told to keep this affair concealed. Firstly, I have to tell my friend Sheena to give me a missed call on certain nights so that I can tell my parents that office has called me for the night shift. Sheena has been told that I need her help to sneak out for my fictitious boyfriend Raj. So as not to let her observe any pattern, I ask her to call on normal nights too sometimes.

Another niggling problem is the increase in expenses on waxing. On normal nights, whenever I look at the moon, my body-hair grows at a faster rate. I have to keep visiting different beauty parlors to avoid suspicions. Don’t advise me “Permanent Hair Removal”; therapy. A skinned wolf would never make for a good sight.


Before I whine further about more troubles, you might be curious as to what caused this werewolf phenomenon. I say, ask who first. He (may be she) calls himself Dr. Why. I got to know about him only last month on the day of Rakshabandhan.

While having lunch on that day, Rinku began recounting a strange correspondence that started many months ago. He received a post from a certain Dr. Why. It contained two tablets wrapped in a five rupee currency note. On the note, it was written “Eat these”. Rinku threw the tablets away, but kept the note. A few days later, he received a letter asking him to return the five rupees since he hasn’t eaten them. Horrified at Dr. Why’s knowledge, he posted a five rupee note back to the address where the letter came from.

Two weeks later, another post came, with two tablets, but in a ten rupee note. This time Rinku flushed the tablets at midnight. Once again a letter followed, some days later, demanding the ten rupees back. Rinku obliged.

This continued with fifty, hundred and then a five hundred rupee note. Rinku never ate those tablets and kept returning the money. But every man has a price. Teenage boys have even lower. Rinku gave in when Dr. Why sent him the tablets in a thousand rupee note. He dropped a tablet in my tea (that was the only day in my life when he has brought me tea from kitchen).

No letter came for weeks after that. But four days after I had my first transformation in the park, Rinku received another thousand rupee note on which was written “This is even better”. Rinku never understood that Dr. Why must have seen his sister naked in animal and in human form. On the day of Rakshabandhan, when I tied him Rakhi, he gave me a thousand rupee note and the explanation of where it came from. Mom just slapped him on his head. “Naughty boy”, is all he got. Rinku says he doesn’t remember where the other tablet is.

I went to the address where the letter came from. No one was to be found.

I keep my ear open for any footsteps that might follow me on full-moon nights. Haven’t had any luck till now; but the day I find Dr. Why, he would be torn apart.

Meanwhile, the immediate concern is Karwa-chauth. Mom wants me to fast the entire day, which I can manage. But the looking at moon on a full-moon night might result in shortening of the life of the wives on terrace. I am yet to find a solution for this one.
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To be continued: (The intent is defintely there)

PS: This blog has been nominated in the “Best Personal Blog” category for 2008 by Indibloggies. Kindly vote for me (How shameless have I become!) here. You would find Brown Phantom in category 16, the last on the page. Thank you all :).

Saturday, October 3, 2009

The Chief Blogger of Royal Challengers Bangalore

Yes Guys. Click here for the announcement.

Met Anil Kumble. Got the "Letter of Appointment" in a press conference with cameras clicking all around. Those were my fifteen minutes of fame. Photos and name are published in some newspapers. I saw them in Deccan Chronicls, DNA & Deccan Herald. A friend tells me that he has seen it on TV9 & Times Now too.

I would be travelling with the RCB team from 8th October and keep the RCB fan-blog rolling till the Champions League ends on23 October.

This now dislodges my last boastful achievement of getting calls from the IIMs and not going for the interviews :). Yes, the humility has gone into hiding for a while :).

Below are some of the posts I wrote for the contests in last two days. The first one, which played a major role in winning it for me, was written on day one. The other 6 were written on the same day. It wasn't easy churning them out.

I would like to know your feedbacks on whether you would like to read such posts on cricket. It would be great to hear from not-so-die-hard fans of cricket whether they enjoyed reading it. I kept them in mind a lot while composing them. Come on guys, give the first post a shot and then see whether you can read through the others :).

1. The Agony and a parrot
2. The effects a shoe-sale can have over T20.
3. If I were a Ball ( Another way of describing the playing styles of RCB squad)
4. The Flying Fans
5. A Gem of a Game
6. Nature over nurture
7. A possible path for RCB to win the Champions League

Many thanks to my blog friends for voting and references which were pivotal to get me through to this level. Apologies for not responding as I have been too busy with the contest.

This is also my 50th post. Would elaborate further on it soon :).

Monday, September 28, 2009

In Top 9 For Chief Blogger RCB

Just saw the results here. and I am shortlisted in top 9 for the post of chief bloggers.

Extremely relieved and happy right now.

I must thank you all for the support, votes and references.

Have to rush to work. Would come back and update with details. The highlight is that I am gonna meet Anil Kumble this Saturday.

Thank you again friends :).

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Please Vote For Me

I need your votes for the 'Chief Blogger' Contest for Royal Challengers Bangalore. The 'Chief Blogger' gets to travel with the team and blog about the team during the forthcoming Champions League. Based on the quality of application, number of votes and references, 9 Bloggers would be shortlisted out of which one would be selected after interviews and other tasks.

You may help me by voting (Click here) . Feel free to add a refernece too which should highlight my writing and strategizing/analyzing skills. Come on people, lie a bit for a fellow human being.

I don't really have words to thank Preeti, who is helping me get more votes here.
Below is copied the 'About me' section of my application :

I have done B.Tech from IIT Kharagpur and am currently employed as a Team Leader in a software firm.

Cricket has molded my way of thinking. You would find me giving analogies with cricketing situations to explain almost any problem, even at workplace. I am the kind of person who is always playing shots with whatever he has in his hands, be it a pen, broom or a snake.
Until the 1991 world cup, my parents used to be concerned whether I would ever be able to wake up and see the Sun rise. Their fears were laid to rest when their sleeps were disturbed regularly at 3AM with cheers of fours and sixes.


The only worthwhile thing my left hand can do is to bowl leg-spin with Tennis-ball. It’s been observed that my happiness-index is ten percent higher whenever there is a cricket series in progress. Besides gorging on the display of skills, I enjoy munching on the statistics, graphs and analysis that follow a cricket match.


My blog
http://brownphantom.blogspot.com has more than 70 registered users. The content is comprised of short stories, observations and analysis.

Rest of the applcation can be read here at the same place where you can (should) vote for me.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Rage Against The Tags

I have been busy doing nothing for the entire week. As a result, the blog suffered blatant neglect. Time to make amends. First, a few important acknowledgements:

1. Thank you Preeti for the card here. Preeti is a lovely lady and a gifted author with a fantastic blog and book. I am overwhelmed with the praise she has bestowed in her post and in comments.

2. Thanks Jason for the wonderful contest. My entry squeezed into the Forties club. Quite relieved to be there since I was afraid of loosing too many points over a few technical flaws, especially due to the discontinuity in the flow of the write-up. I was pretty pleased with the idea though; plus the fact that my last name begins with D, pushed the entry into the club.

3. A big thanks to Choco , Nicky & Ekta for the tags, award and wonderful words of appreciations on your blogs. Readers, please do check out their super-cool blogs (click on their names for the links). They are a treasure to have as fellow-bloggers.

However, I am not a huge fan of “Tags” when it comes to me doing them. I must justify. Reasons follow.

This (and most of the blogs I read) is a personal blog with some novice fiction thrown in once in a while. Regular readers have already been awarded with the information that I have stayed in Dewas, Kharagpur, Gurgaon and Bangalore, and hence I refuse to explicitly answer “Four places you have lived?”.

Point is that I am not willing to let anyone have the voyeuristic pleasure at my expense so easily. Not that I am a secretive person. A keen observer of the blog wouldn’t fail to notice that I have already exposed my navel and nipples on more than one occasion. You gonna have to read the blog for knowing more facts about me like the sadistic tendencies towards insects in general.

One of the tags carry the question “Nice stomach or arms?”. Well, well, well. I don’t deny having a preference (marginal though), but wouldn’t you agree that I try real hard to be subtle in my writings? Besides, isn’t there a strong co-relation between the two anatomical features? I guess, one has to morph a photo of a beautiful person twice, once with ugly arms, once with a paunch, and then present it to the world to get an honest answer. [One isn’t an economist unless one says “Ceteris paribus” in every argument.]

I am never in favor of generalizations without scrutiny. Feminists, please don’t take me to the court for claiming this: “Tagging is a girly concept”. Look at the topics : favorite colors, number of children you aspire to have, burnt by love, last text message you received, last furry thing you touched, first thought when you looked at the mirror. Yes, such questions are theoretically applicable to males too, but I advise secretly taping male conversations to investigate their inclinations towards such matters.

Some questions are totally gender dependent and needn’t be there at all. Like “Would you kiss a stranger?” is mostly answered by females in negative. Some just say “depends”. All males would be slightly more eloquent here and say “depends on the gender”.

If tags were a male phenomenon, then first thing to disappear would be “Four things about you”. Four is a big number when it comes to talking about ourselves. See what Dphat had to resort to when asked about “Four places you would rather be”. Two is the most we can handle. Easy to tell two favorite sports, drinks (Beer & Whisky), cars, ..., you get the drift. Also, you would have to replace the choices like “Eyes or Lips” with relevant ones like “Bust or Bum”.

I rest my case against (me doing) tags now.

Forthcoming weeks shall see more activity on this blog. Increased quantity would lead to a temporary slump in quality of the posts from 10 paise per dozen to 5 paise per dozen, but that drop is essential to practice and reach to the level of 15 paise per dozen. This is what I like about writing: The more you write, the more ideas you get.

I was going to end the post on that positive note, but as these last words are being typed, the fan above, for the first time in three years of its existence, is making strange noises. Spooky night on a third floor in Bangalore.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Truth in Wine



A life’s work continues to conjure questions well past the funeral. Take Arthur’s case. His son was convinced that trash-can is the rightful place for his late father’s poetry while his wife didn’t see any harm in keeping the papers till the winter; the pile was large enough to keep the fire-grate burning for two nights.

Up in the sky, his afterlife trial began.

“My Lord, Arthur wrote too many lies. Take his poem ‘Post-Big-Bang Symphony’:

Eve had to eat the apple really soon
Adam was keen to sleep with the moon

Liar is a sinner. He belongs to Hell.”

“Romanticism needn’t be a sin. He was a kind fellow. Didn’t even pluck a flower after he turned ten. Let him be in Heaven please.”

Romantic souls were always hard to place. God adjourned the court for a break.

Post-break, God announced, “I’ve put Arthur’s words in that locker”.

The locker was labeled ‘Truth In Wine’ and carried five glasses of red wine atop it.

“To open, drink the glasses in a magical sequence. Else the wine gets refilled”.

No one, who managed to read his words, judged them lies.

Statistics reveal a 65% rise in romantic population in heaven after the T.I.W. constitutional amendment was established.

Back on earth, Arthur’s poetry was rescued before getting burnt. His grandson smuggled the stack to his school. That year, second-graders had paper boats whenever it rained, or as Arthur would have put it, whenever Juliet shed tears in heaven.
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PS : This is my entry to the Clarity Of Night Short-story contest(click here). 250-words limit was a challenge.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Short Story Contest and An Indecent Ending

Here’s an entirely useless piece of information for more than 6 billion humans and the entire Ostrich species. I am going home this weekend for a week. Yes, the economy would be spurred a little. But in the larger scheme of things, Milky-way shall continue approaching the Andromeda galaxy at the speed of 130 Km/s, leaving Bangalore Metro Corporation with just five more billion years to finish the work on CMH road.

Meanwhile, you guys still have time to read and write stories in the upcoming contest here. The contest opens on July 8th. You are supposed to write a story in 250 words inspired by the picture of a glass filled with red wine. Co-incidentally one of my posts (click here), written three months back, comes quite close to being an entry with minor editing. However, going by the level of stories in Jason’s contests, I would have to come up with something better.

His previous contest had a picture of escalator with a pair of legs riding it. My entry "Life is Beautiful” (click here) obviously didn’t win a place and I can see so many glaring gaps in it now. It did manage to be in Forties club which includes all the entries that scored more than 40 out of 45. The best part about the contest is the high quality of entries and super-kind comments you get there.

I would love to see fellow bloggers’ entries there. It is a rewarding experience. Get your creative juices flowing (rather unimaginative phrase, I know ).

If you are still here, join me in wishing my Vinnie a Happy B’day. She turns five today and is all mine now with the last installment being paid on first of this month. Here’s a humble picture of hers, two years ago. As is evident, the owner has never been a very colorful personality.



Below is the current-me after having gulped fifteen portions of dead chicken, goat and a fish. There’s a bottle of beer by the pool side. If one ignores the lingering finger and has noticed the thin half-naked me, one shouldn't have any doubts that my mom, as usual, is not going to like what she sees when I reach home.I've always been thin due to a high metabolic rate. Eight meals a day is the forecasted routine for the next week, without any consideration for the quest for a six-pack. Contrary to what one might infer about me from the content of this blog, I am a huge SRK fan. And if he can do it after forty, I am not going to die without a six-pack snap to show to my grandchildren. Like it or not, that snap shall be on display here too once I succeed. There are as many as nine bets running over it since the time Om Shanti Om was released.



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Wednesday, January 14, 2009

"Ascension" Short Fiction Contest

There's this cool short fiction contest going on here. You'll find some fantastic works there. None of the stories are more than 250 words; short flings you wouldn't mind indulging in.

Yes, there's an entry from BrownPhantom too here. He is the new kid on the block and it's his first attempt at writing. And it shows. I think the underlying idea is decent, but the composition is crude and technically weak when you compare them with some excellent contributions there. Still, have a look at it; you would have read a trashy post on this blog anyway.

It was an interesting experience with unique challenge of keeping within the word limit. I first wrote the piece and then counted the words to be 400. So I had to eliminate a few points and chop some of the sentences which sort of left me with the same feeling that girls have when they are smitten with that expensive dress near the window but settle for the one kept back in third row that lies within their budget.

I realized that I should have always kept the word-limit in mind and paced the piece accordingly. What happened was that I invited the whole group for a ride but the driver later on brought a smaller taxi; unwilling to deny any of them a place I requested each one of them to adjust which led to every one's discomfort and two of them left fuming.

All said and done, I enjoyed the experience and am already waiting for the next one. Also, couldn't stop reading the other stories. It's a great display of varying perspectives that human mind conjures from a same source. It is surreal. Thank to Jason Evans who is the creator of the blog and the contest.