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This Is Not a Love Story – Part 11

Her father’s number was flashing on my screen… I didn’t want to take this call. I didn’t want to at all. What did he want from me now? Why call me when he knew I had left her? I knew why, of course. He would blame her leaving home on me and call me names.…

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This Is Not A Love Story – Part 10

“You’ll regret leaving me…”   She had left, Suhana, but her words and haggard face were still with me, seared in my brain, hanging on the tip of my tongue like a bitter pill that I had to swallow, that I must swallow if I was to move forward. And I did. I swallowed… I…

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This Is Not A Love Story – Part 7

Meet me at the Sunka Lake Hill at 7 tomorrow morning. I’ll be waiting for you. But I’ll wait only till 7.15… πŸ˜‰ The cracked note in my hand read….   I was sure it was you. It had to be! Who else would write to me like this? Normally, people don’t write notes like…

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This Is Not a Love Story – Part 6

That smile…   That coquettish, girlish, mischievous smile you gave me just before you left the store, was the highlight of that Sunday. I couldn’t stop thinking about it whenever my other worries were not around. I say this because I had a lot going on in my head that day. There was the chance…

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This Is Not A Love Story – Part 5

The tepid warmth from slatted sunbeams on my face woke me up. There is a sweet moment of disillusionment when one wakes up from deep sleep. The mind takes some time to recall, collect itself, wake up, even though the eyes have already woken up to the world. I was savouring that moment. For several…

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Bedtime inventions

Like I’ve mentioned in another post onΒ the lost art of storytelling, storytelling is one of my passions and I eagerly look for opportunities to regale (more like bore) an audience with my imaginative musings. Generally its the unsuspecting house-help, or the bored husband, the reticent parents and siblings or the school friend who reached out…

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