Tag Archives: Writer




*“So you like it huh?”

**“Like what?”

*“Leaving your stories unsolved, unended? It’s almost like you are having fun by tormenting your readers by not letting them know what happened at last.”

**“Why we always look for a conclusion, life goes on, so are my stories.”

*“But the incomplete ones, they leave a void in your reader’s heart.”

**“Every one of us have their own imagination, I like to test the imagination of my reader by giving him or her, a chance to finish the story as they would like to, in their mind.”

*“But some of us want it from you. We need you to finish what you have started, or else…”

**“Chuck that, it’s a beautiful night, it’s just feel magical sitting here on this seashore with you, sharing wine and staring at the full moon.”

*“I knew you’ll like it. What else you like about this night?”

**“Sitting next the beautiful lady of course, I wonder how you traced me here, no one else know I am having a vacation here. But I’m glad you find me, it was started to get lonely here.”

*“Are you trying to flirt with me?”

**“(Grinning )Well it would a crime not to, especially someone who turned at the door of my hotel, claimed she loves reading my stories, invited me for a wonderful nigh out here on the beach. What else were my choices are?”

*“(Smile) Well Mr. Writer, how’s the wine?”

**“Divine, but I guess I drank too much, my head started to get heavy, so are my eyelashes.”

*“Oh! It’s not the drink, but the sedative I mixed in it.”

**“(Blank look)

*“You know its full moon today. Time for tides. I chose this place cause lot of people get drawn into the sea with them at this time of the month. Especially tourists, who never knew the waves were coming for them.”

**“What did you do? What do you want?”

*“Well don’t be mad at me, I drank the wine too, and I am sleepy too. So we’ll lay here beside each other, wait for tides, and we might get pushed away further or pulled in with them. We may stay alive or we may die, or one of us might live and other one won’t. We will only know if we stay alive or we’ll never know if we die.”

**“(With fumbling lips) are you crazy?”

*“No Mr. Writer, you see it’s just like one of your stories, and the end is inconclusive.  Just the way you like it. (Giggling)”






The Perfect Murder Weapon



*“So you are Mr. Bankim Chatterjee? Famous private investigator.”

**“Yes sir, that’s me.”

*”Nice to have you here, but Mr. Chatterjee, to be frank there’s not much of a case here. You see my father passed away in his sleep. He had a massive heart attack. Our family doctor Dr. Mallik is here, if you want you can check with him.

**”But Mr. Ghosal, your elder brother is finding it very strange, of course your father had some mild heart condition but nothing to be this fatal.

*”Ahh! My brother is paranoid, he was actually very close to him, you could say he was his favorite son. Don’t mind Mr Chatterjee, I smell something fishy here. Is it an attempt to malign my image somehow? What he is trying to prove that dad’s death is an unnatural one?

**”I so hope not. But why are you even being so defensive? I have been appointed by your brother and let me investigate, as you said if there’s nothing fishy everyone will be off the hook.”

*”Well, I was just thinking that it all will end up in a wild goose chase, but anyway, it’s your wish. After all your fees will be paid from my brother’s pocket.


**”Inspector Sinha, what’s your say in this case.”

***”Pretty much an open and shut case Mr. Chatterjee, justice Subham Ghosal died in a cardiac arrest,  but well, as in all the stories and the media show that private investigators are smarter than police, I’m sure you would come up with something. (Smiling sarcastically).”

**“Hmm. If I’m not wrong justice Ghosal was an avid reader and a very learned man, even he had his own library, he was known for his literary skills, there’s hardly a classic he did not read.”

***”Indeed, every night he used to read for at least 2 to 3 hours before he used to go to sleep.”

**“Hmm, strange, at one look I find no trace of a book in this room, I guess it’s his bed room, such an reader must be having at least 2 to 3 books stacked on that table.”

***”(Puzzled) I haven’t noticed that. We have to ask his younger son Subir Ghosal, he was with him last night.”


*”Yes, his library was locked yesterday and one of the servant misplaced the key. So couldn’t unlock the door, today morning I was supposed to call a locksmith, but before that we found him in his bed…. Lifeless.”

**“Strange!! Did he always keep all his books in the library?”

*”Mr. Chatterjee, My dad always lived by his rules and was a creature of habit. He never liked his books to be scattered around in the house rather neatly kept in the library room, he used to pick one book at a night, read and sleep and once done with it, he would pick the next book. Unfortunately he just finished a book the night before and kept it in the library, last night as the key was misplaced he couldn’t get another one.

**”Had it ever happened before? He slept without reading?”

*”Maybe once or twice, I am not really sure, see Mr. Chatterjee, I don’t live here, my brother does, as he was out of station I came here to give dad a company.”

**”Thank you Mr. Subir Ghosal. Inspector if you don’t mind I would like to have few words with you in private.”


**”How could you do this to your own father Mr. Ghosal? He was after all your own father. Just to inherit his property you have killed him so brutally.”

*”I.. I don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s all an arrangement, between you and my brother. He wants to send me away and seize all dad’s property.”

**“Your brother doesn’t have millions of debt on his head Mr. Ghosal, nor he has the gambling addiction, your own house is also mortgaged, I have the papers here.”

*”Mr. Chatterjee, you are crossing your boundaries, my private life is none of your business. And my father died in a heart attack, if you can prove it otherwise fine, else you can’t keep me here in this police investigation room, not for another second.”

**” Of course your father died in heart attack, but it’s you who made that happen. It’s you who plotted the entire scheme.”

*” Mr. Chatterjee, I warn you.”

**”You knew your father is a creature of habit that he can’t sleep without reading for couple of hours before sleep. You also knew how your father hated and loathed bad writers and literatures. You hid his library key last night. He was restless, he needed a book to read, so you cleverly suggested him a book. A book with a bad plot, worse story and written by one of the worst writer of the country.

He started reading the book, he understood the mistake he had done, but like all the true readers he couldn’t stop in the middle and throw the book into a bin, so kept reading, his heartbeat started to rise, he got palpitation, his eyes turned red, he was drinking water continuously but was unable to even breathe. At last his heart gave up. I don’t blame him Mr. Ghosal, even a normal, healthy man would have meet the same end.”

*”(Sobbing heavily) I am sorry Mr. Chatterjee, I had no other choice, I am so deep in my debt that.. that I needed the money. (Broke out in tears)”

**”You don’t deserve mercy Mr. Ghosal, if I could, I would make you read that book over and over again. Though I’m not sure if you would be alive after reading the half of it. But honorable court won’t allow it.

***”We have found it under Subir Ghosal’s bed Mr. Chatterjee, here it is.”

Private investigator Bankim Chatterjee was holding the murder weapon in his hand, the perfect murder weapon. “HALF GIRLFRIEND BY CHETAN BHAGAT.” Bankim Chatterjee felt the chill running down through his spine, “What is awaited for the literature in future?”





It’s a new beginning, again. Another year passed and I am now in 2k16. What has changed? I guess nothing.

So how was my 2015? In a sentence, lost some, gain some. The year started with a bang. I had to leave the city I stayed in for long 15 years and travelled 300 kms away. I thought it will be a new beginning of my life, deputation to Bangalore from Chennai. But I was wrong.

As I moved to Bengaluru, I suffered huge personal, emotional and financial losses, I had change my lifestyle, my way of thinking about people around me, my health deteriorate because of the weather I couldn’t adapt, so on and so forth. At times I started hating this place, but slowly I came to terms.

To take away the positives, the biggest one is, I rediscovered my love for writing. I revived my old blog, started to write short stories about facts and fictions, started posting them in my office portal (knome), and found some wonderful and appreciative readers. They kept me going on, with their likes, comments and criticism. I’ll be forever in debt and be grateful to all my readers and audiences.

My resolution this year 2016:

  • Regain my lost health, eat healthy and minimize my alcohol consumption, hit the gym.
  • Find, convince and accept someone true to me and make her a part of my life.
  • I’ll try to be little more optimistic in my life, will fight for my lost hopes and battles
  • Be a better writer in coming years and make my ultimate dream come true.


I guess if I could do those 4 things up above, my year of 2016 will be a better one. So 2k16, please be nice to me, be good to me and make my life a exciting and joyful one this year








Director: So, tell me your story.

Writer: Sir, it’s about Plagiarism, involving two writers as the main protagonists.

Director: Pla… what?

Writer: Sir it’s Plagiarism, It means stealing another Author’s or writer’s work and posed it as his/her creation. Actually it is the story about two writers, one of them being a renowned one and the other is young but talented.

When the renowned writer steals a story of the later, he was challenged by actual young author in court. By his wealth and fame, the celebrated author proved that it is his piece of creation. In anger and despair the cheated younger author kills himself, but makes it look like he is murdered and thus get the famous author caught into the false charge of his murder.

Director: its sounds like good piece of work, keep the script on my table, I’ll have a look at it.


Director: So, what do you think of this farm house of mine.

Writer: Awesome, away from the city, so calm and quiet, but why did you call me here?

Director: I have a proposition for you, I am ready to make movie based on your story, and you’ll get a remuneration of 2.5 million.

Writer: Wow! I wasn’t even expecting the one fifth of it.

Director: Yes. But there is a condition.

Writer: Yes?

Director: See all these while I have directed many movies, but I always wanted to direct a movie of my own written script. Unfortunately I don’t have that talent that you have. Even though I would like to see my name as ‘Writer and Director’ in that big screen.

So I would like to buy your story as mine. And you’ll bag 2.5 million.

Writer: But…….

Director: Think about it. Either it’s your name in the credit scene and you get 500,000 or it’s mine and you get 2,500,000-/-.

Writer: (After a pause) Very well, I am ready.

Director: Good. This occasion calls for this 20 years old scotch bottle. Come join me.

(After drinking few pegs together)

Writer: The terrace of your villa, it’s so nice. I think you should not be leaning on that edge after those 4 pegs.


Producer: You must have heard about our Director.

Writer: Yes, very unfortunate. Such a talented mind met with such a horrible accident. I heard when he fell from the terrace of his farm house, he was actually drunk.

Producer: I heard that so, but who knows just rumors. However I have called you for a much more important thing.

Writer: Yes sir..

Producer: See as our Director is no more, I would like to offer you to direct your own movie.

Writer: Wow, It’s……….. It’s a dream come true for me.

Producer: Yes. But there is a condition.

Writer: Condition??

Producer: Yes, see I am a hardcore businessman, but my wife has an artistic side. She always wanted me to do something creative for her. I read your story, you truly are a gifted writer and I can’t write like you if I even want to. But I have money and you have needs.

I want to buy this piece of work of yours. You can be the director and I will pay in full 10 million in cash. But in the credits it’s should be my name as ‘Writer and Producer.” Deal?

Writer: Wha……..??

Producer: Think again, if you want, sleep on it. You will be a director overnight if you overlook the money also. All you want is to say yes to my proposal.

Writer: (After a long pause) Ok. Deal.


Lawyer: Sir, we have to stop the release of our upcoming movie.

Producer: What? Why?

Lawyer: Some anonymous person has brought charges of plagiarism on you. It says, the story you claimed is yours, is actually written by someone else. Court has issued a stay order on the release already.

Producer: What? No. I have spent all my fortune on this one; it has to come out in market. Else I will be bankrupt.

Lawyer: I’m sorry sir; I’ve done all I can. But at present we have to stop the release of this movie.


Writer: Oh hello inspector. Early morning?

Police Inspector: We have charges against you. I am here arrest you.

Writer: What? What charges?

Police inspector: the producer of your movie has committed suicide last night. He had a suicide note confessing how you and him conspired to steal the story written by the late director and killed him, a passed it as a suicide.

You have murder, blackmail and abetment of suicide charges, oh also you have the charge of plagiarism on you as well.

Writer: Wait, no, It’s my work, the other two tried to steal it, listen to me inspector, I am innocent….. (The voice gets fainted as the police inspector handcuffed him and dragged him near the police vehicle)



Writer’s block

(Writer’s block is a condition, primarily associated with writing, in which an author loses the ability to produce new work or experiences a creative slowdown. The condition ranges in difficulty from coming up with original ideas to being unable to produce a work for years: Wikipedia)


Sunday, 1:05 AM:

I was sitting in front of my laptop, my mind blank. Blank like clean white sheet of paper without a scratch of ink on it. My fingers on the keyboard aren’t running, they are stuck just like my mind.

Monday 2:30 AM:

There’s a plot dangling in my mind, from the morning. But I can’t seem to put it in words. It’s just not flowing out my mind to my fingers. And I am wide awake at this ungodly hour of night. My sleep eludes me, so is the plot in my mind.

Tuesday 1:45 AM:

I am writing few sentences and deleting them from 3 hours now. I am hardly pressing the enter button and frequently pressing the backspace button. Every sentence I am forming just not making the sense I want to make it to. I know I can’t sleep. Probably reading book will be a good idea. Moby-Dick should be an ideal one.

Wednesday 3:15 AM:

Another day, same old story. I am taking a walk on my lane at this lonely hour, dogs barking, and few other sounds making a very peculiar ambiance of this very silent night of September. I checked my mobile; it’s past 3 AM in the morning.

Thursday 2:00 AM

I guess I made some progress at last. I wrote half a page today. But I don’t like the characters in this. They are boring. They are so one dimensional. I am sure readers will find them the same way. May be they will think I am a ‘C’ grade writer, using the same characters in different plots, or is it other way around?

Friday 4:20 AM

I am lost again, and this time I am at sea. I have no clue how and where to go from here. I need a motivation, some driving power. I can’t sleep again; it’s been a week now. Time to watch some classics, I am thinking Godfather trilogy.

Saturday 2:35 AM

I checked my mobile again. There is no reply. It’s been a week and so I have asked her. She doesn’t say yes, she doesn’t say no, her eyes says yes, her lips says no





Me: So, I think you are avoiding me.

She: You know I can’t, even though I want to, I can’t.

Me: I thought of making you more beautiful, elegant.

She: I wish to be free, not beautiful, elegant or gorgeous or anything!

Me: What’s wrong in here? I can provide you all want. Anything you need, anything at all.

She: Stop saying that. And stop being a fool. Stop lying to yourself.

Me: But I love you. I do.

She: Even you know we can’t be together, you know we aren’t meant for each other.

Me: What am I suppose to do then?

She: I don’t know.


(In a get together on a Saturday evening)

Friends: So what’s up, what are you working on?

Me: I am writing a story where a writer gradually falls in love with his new creation. A female protagonist.

Friends: Wow! How it’s going to end?

Me: I haven’t thought about it, still working on it.


She: So I have to die?

Me: Yes. You have to commit suicide, by hanging yourself.

She: How could you be so cruel? Just because I couldn’t love you back……

Me: No Nikita, not because of that, because that’s what the story demands. You know me.


(Few months later on another get together)

Friend 1: Hey, so at last you finished the story. I must say the ending is kind of sad. The demise of the central character, I don’t know how the other readers will take it.

Me: Well, that’s what the story demands.

Friend 2: Hey, sorry to hear about Nikita, she was such a lovely girl. I heard you were fond of her, my condolences.

Me: Yeah, she was a lovely girl indeed, she was even my inspiration.