A huge digital counter has been installed near the television in the living room of Mr Sharma. The family members seated on a sofa stared at it with their hands joined in prayer. The expressions on their faces alternated between sorrow and joy depending on the rate at which the counter was increasing. A few other members of the family were busy attending calls from strangers expressing their support. Just another increment in the counter and the task would be completed. But it didn’t. The counter freezed at 99,99,999. Still hopeful of reaching the target, they started singings hymns in praise of the almighty while recollecting the circumstances in their subconscious mind that led to the current state of serious affairs.
Many things keep entering and leaving our lives but there is one small thing that stays throughout - Games. As a child, you might have played physical games in the playground or board games and puzzles in your house. Today, the scenario has changed and the move is towards games on desktops and mobile platforms. You can see even small children studying in first or second class being capable of operating mobile phones and play their favourite games for hours. Games on mobile platforms help people in many ways. While waiting for a bus or some person, they help you pass time. They act as a perfect companion when you are alone at home. They also help students in their studies by including objects of learning within the games.
Pittho’s world by Murtaza Razvi which was published posthumously has the story teller Sheiku narrating the story of his life to his lover Rani. As the blurb says, the story takes place in several countries like Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Bangladesh and India and spans over two centuries. Typically, every chapter begins with a short conversation between Sheiku and Rani, often involving sarcasm, followed by Sheiku taking on the role of the storyteller and ends with another conversation between the lovers with Rani sometimes praising the characters and sometimes criticizing them.
It was a cold December morning. Raghu was sleeping outside his hut on the bare land wrapped in a blanket. The hut was so small that it could accommodate only his ageing mother and his two children. He woke up to the clucking of the hen and took a bath in the river adjoining his hut. The water was ice cold. He then started his journey on foot to the polling booth to cast his vote, hoping for a better government.
Arjun was walking from one side of the corridor to the other in monotonous strides. His hands were clasped and he was praying to God. There was anxiety visible on his face and his lips moved constantly in silent prayer. His parents were seated on the metal chairs counting the beads of the rosary trying to suppress their emotions. Nurses in white dresses moved in and out of the caesarean section in haste, refusing to answer Arjun’s queries. On repeated enquiries, the nurse finally said that things turned a bit complicated and they were trying their best. The family’s faith in God helped them stay emotionally strong. Few hours passed and the shrill cry of the baby broke the silence. Hasini delivered a girl who would be named Siri.
It was the village which produced well known artists in every known field. Visit any house and you will be greeted with music, dance or drama. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that music, dance and drama are their life, without which they can’t live for even a second. But as is the case of the rotten tomatoes, there was one house in a corner of the village which was the odd one out. The family neither had an actor, a dancer or a musician. For generations, all the members of that family were looked down by the rest of the village.
‘Eureka!’, the scientist shouted and his heart stopped beating in excitement. A robot capable of thinking and taking decisions like humans has been introduced to the world. People started celebrating the success unaware of the future. Few days passed and the intelligence of the robots crossed people’s imagination.
It was the land of fairy tales - the land where characters from story books take life and move around, interacting with each other. It is the land which children look forward to visit atleast in their dreams. It is the land which children wish was a reality. It is the land where the weirdest and the most interesting things take place. It is the land of witches and fairies and the land that will soon welcome Tina and Tony as guests.
It was Shekar’s first day at college - the start of a new phase of his life when things take a U-turn with ease. Hoping to have a good time at college, he moved past the entrance - his gleaming eyes observing every minute detail. His eyes moved around leaving no detail untouched.
It strengthens the love between a wife and a husband. It is the moment when a living symbol of the marriage becomes a part of the billions of people on this Erath. It is the time when the couple start looking forward for new experiences on one hand and fear managing things the correct way on the other hand. The birth of a child is one event that sparks off celebrations which none other event in life can. Utmost care is taken in every aspect related to the child. The baby is showered with love. The best of products on the world are used. Signs of ill health send ripples of anxiety all over the house. The baby is looked after like a delicate piece of glass.
Everything was moving on smoothly. The day began at exactly six in the morning and ended at ten in the night. The roads led to nowhere but college and home. The bikes racing at full speed on the roads and the laughter of groups of young girls on the roads walking past me filled to garner my attention. The goal was clear - to become a doctor and be of help to those millions of pole who die of diseases, unable to afford treatment, among whom I grew up and one among whom I might become. Little steps in the direction of my goal were successful. The first step made me a topper in my class ten examinations and the second step gave me admission in a prestigious medical university. But the third and the remaining steps would no longer be as smooth as the initial steps and may not necessarily lead me to the goal along the path I thought that they would. The platinum moments of my life and love are yet to begin.
The people in our neighbourhood considered our family to be the most prosperous one given the number of mangoes our trees produced every year. While others had to knock every door asking if they would barter goods, our case was completely different. All that we used to do when we were in need of food grains or pulses was to whisper slowly in the ears of one our neighbours that we are ready to barter mangoes for the required item. Those who produced that item and required mangoes (in fact, there was none who didn't require mangoes) would gather as a crowd in front of our house and make their offer. We would choose the lucky one based on their offer and on how well they addressed us. The winning bidder’s house would then be a location for party that night.
The stage is all set. The characters enter in a line, one behind the other, in small strides ensuring a rhythmic pattern in their walk. They differ drastically from one another lacking even the simplest of resemblances yet they all are connected. Remove one of them and the stage shakes. The sound of footsteps resonates through the silence of the hall. It managed to get registered even in those men and women who consider all sounds to be noises lacking musical qualities.
The eyes need not always assist you in distinguishing between black and white. The ears need not tell you that those waves striking your ear drums are not that of music but of noise. Sweetness or bitterness does not matter- as long as your hunger sets satisfied. A bite from the mosquito need not be intimated to your brain - all that you lose in the absence of the sense of touch is a few drops of blood. But if the nose refuses to smell - wouldn't it be a catastrophe?