3..2..1..boom.

"Waiter, could you bring us some wa.."


Bang.Bang Bang.Just like that.


At 9.18 p.m on the November 26Th, several areas of Mumbai experienced terror attacks including the Taj hotel, the Oberoi Trident,Nariman house and Chhatrapati Shivaji terminus. It seems almost surreal. Like something out of a movie or a particularly bad dream. But the reality of it is, is that all this is happening.More than a hundred innocent people have died in this incident and the numbers rose every hour. A number people were held hostage at the hotels not counting the guests locked up in their hotel rooms.I read the numbers,I saw the bomb blasts,I heard the gun shots.But nothing prepared me for this image: At about 5.30 p.m on the 27th of November, a man wearing a white shirt was waving and screaming for help from a window at the Oberoi Trident. This man, with no contact to the outside world, had been stuck in that room for almost twenty-four hours. 998 kilometers away, I shivered.
It was a unbelievable and horrifying sight. To even imagine the state of that person and the other hostages was too much to bear. And remember, we're nearly a thousand kilometers away.

Boom.Boom.Boom.

A group calling themselves the Deccan Mujahideen have taken responsibility for this attack. They entered these two grand landmarks of Mumbai and fired indiscriminately upon front office and kitchen staff as well as guests.
What reason could they possibly have to inflict such terror?And is any reason good enough?

Mary and John

John smoothed out whatever hair he had remaining with his slightly sweaty hand. He straightened his tie and rearranged the flowers in his hand. He might have been old and balding but he still knew how to impress a girl. Or at least he thought so.

John opened the door quietly in case Mary was asleep and stealthily, he walked into her apartment. Suddenly, John caught a whiff of a familiar yet unfamiliar odour. "What is that?",he thought to himself, "oregano?sage?basil?". He moved towards the kitchen, ready to envelope Mary in an enormous bear hug. Girls like that. Or at least he thought so. But there was no one there. "That's strange" said John aloud. He was about to pick up his cell phone to call Mary, when he heard a rhythmic creaking coming from the direction of Mary's bedroom. Someone was there. And it wasn't Mary. Or at least he thought so. Within a few seconds, the entire scene played out in his head. He was going to barge into the room, tackle the intruder, sweep Mary up in his arms and she would whisper softly into his ear "My hero". With a fleeting smile of overconfidence he did in fact barge into Mary's room. Unfortunately, John's dream sequence ended right there.

As the door swung open, an overpowering stench choked him. He gasped for breath as he tried to see though the pungent fog. The smoke slowly thinned out and only a few feet in front of him, he saw Mary and another man. They were moaning and giggling simultaneously. They were so preoccupied and clearly high that they did not even notice his sudden and unwanted presence in the room. John felt sick, partly from the smell and weed and partly from the sight before him. Fury surged through his body as he watched a strange hand explore the convex plane of Mary's back. He had an intense urge to pry them apart, knock out the intruder,take Mary in this arms and say "She's mine".

But he didn't. Instead, he went home, kissed his wife who was pleasantly surprised that he was home so early, changed into his pyjamas and went to bed.

Or at least that's what he should have done.

But John didn't go home that night. In fact, he didn't go home for a few nights after that as well. He was quite sure that he was going to use the gun he had just purchased to kill the other man. He even anticipated a few minor repercussions but he would settle that somehow.However, John did not anticipate how difficult it is to actually aim and fire a revolver. If you're not careful, you may even miss your target and hit something else. Or in John's case, someone else.

John's funeral was held the next day. The priest gave a beautiful sermon about how John needed to be closer to God, which is why he took his own life so tragically. "It is unfortunate that a young woman had to come in the way of John's calling," said the priest, "But we do not question the ways of the Lord". His poor wife Madge wept bitterly onto the shoulder of John's brother Frank, who held her close to him. He whispered softly into her ear and traced his hand down her back.

I'm going back to the start.

Greetings fellow bloggers and reader people!
I be the eccentric daydreaming loner with random observations,opinions and slightly stupid remarks!Woohoo!
Ok, there goes my quota of bubbliness for the day.
So here goes my first official blog entry.I shall try not to bore you too much!
Although I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm talking to myself.
Regardless, I hereby give my solemn vow not to:
a)Ramble
b)Be too descriptive
c)Write anything about Chetan Bhaghat (unless I'm trashing him)
d)Use expressions like "100 watt smile","ttyl" and "sexed-out".
e)Reveal my secret identity.*looks left.looks right*
That's it I guess.Hope you like my writing!