Mr. Rabbit: Episode 1

I entered a humid blue hallway, faded blue walls and half broken windows which brought in Mid-summer sunshine in the hall, I was told by my contact to wait for a while till he cleared the situation and asked me to proceed into the mansion.

It was an old mansion; probably colonial. It stood the tests of time quite well, It had seen good days and bad. It had seen sensuous kisses and tears through generations. Now it was owned by Kevin “The Rabbit” DeAndre. To the unwary he was just an old man who was the bartender at Apple Barrel, what most people didn’t know. He was a Voodoo King. That was the dirty little secret behind a charade of wrinkly smiling face and a weak black frame. Today, I had a job for him.

The air was smoky, even thought the home was in the middle of the town I didn’t hear anything, It was as if I was in some other era. I decided to check out the home, So I climbed the stairs near the hall to reach the library. It was well lit and the room was golden with the light from the chandelier. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. The library was massive. It appeared bigger then the mansion. I walked in to check out the books. “Need anything son?” An Old man standing nearby asked me.

“Yeah, Tell me about Kevin.”

“Kev is a really nice kid, he will join college next summer in Chicago, Did he do anything wrong Sir? I am his Uncle Asgrid.”

What? Is he joking. College?

I didn’t answer. I just ignored him and came downstairs to check if Russell finished the clearence.

It was different.

The Hall looked amazing. There were people dancing. People drinking Whiskey and Jazz tunes in the air. And It was night as I looked out of the window.

What is happening?

I rushed past all these people into the room where I was supposed to go.

Russell stood there with an Old Man, The Rabbit.

“You lost son?” The Rabbit asked me with a smile.

“What is wrong with your house? How is it night? Who was that old man in the library?” I asked.

“Now now Joe, You shouln’t go on sneaky peaky in someone’s home. Dincha’ Ma teach ya that? Mariline wasn’t it her name?” he said as he gulped down some whiskey from his glass as he sat on a satin covered couch.

I knew this man was a Voodoo King. I just wanted a simple love potion. That’s all.  That too on Julia’s pestering. He was not ordinary.

“I want Love Sir”

“Oh, Do ya now?” He smiled as he looked me with those dark eyes which had black circles and were sunk into his cheeks as if for centuries.


To be Continued.



I drown.

I sink in the paragraphs and lines of my own creation. I transcend into memories of yore; Of times of 5 Rupee Ice Golas and Street Side food. The times where I used to ride along on my Appa’s Hero Honda yelling at the top of my lungs “Appa, Faster.” Closed eyes and laughing; Showing all my teeth and a blue tongue.

But as I open my eyes, I see myself in another time. A time of neatly ironed uniforms, standing in a line and praying during assembly (But trying to open one eye and look at what my best friend was up to), A time of Amma’s cooking packed in dabbi; which probably will always be tastier than any “Fine-Dine” restaurant. A time of fighting with friends for silly reasons and naively believing that Undertaker came back from the dead 6 times (Or was it more?). A time of waking up on Sunday mornings to catch Shaktimaan on DD1 and Cat-Dog on Nickelodeon.

As I drowned further, I saw myself writing down formulas and diagrams. A time of hard work and running away from it to read Ender’s Game during chemistry Pre-boards. A time when I disappointed myself and my teachers with a marks on a piece of paper which perhaps would forever be my identity as 85.5%; No 95+ Halo. But two digits which gave me a frown from all but my Amma. The time I realised one can never have what one desires but at the same time could never truly make Lemonade from life’s lemons.

Then I tried to breathe. I was here again. Living in a city of Silicon; A place where bodies were sold on the streets and knowledge was sold in pretty classrooms in overpriced colleges. A time of placements, CV, Internships, Research and other words which were shoved down my throat, A time when I am given a pair of running shoes; Transformed into a rat, shown the track and told to keep on running and “keep on solving” .


Is this necessary?”

No replies as I stare at a faceless crowd which too runs. Runs for Money, Power, Ambition and Sex. “Do I want to do this?” I shake off such thoughts from my mind and keep on running till I reach The Promised Land.

Is it worth it?”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. I might never get to eat a gola and make my tongue blue in corporate cubicles. I might seldom or never have Amma’s uuta as I gobble down with etiquette some overpriced salad in some restaurant .

What can I do? I am a Drowner you see, I could never swim.

A part in me still longs for sunbaked happazha on a sunday lunch with family. To feel the sunrays on my face as I wake up at 10 AM. I want to feel the wind on my face and go back when I was a kid. I want to be free. I want to unbounded by these shackles and expectaions. To be just me. To lull my demons to sleep and sneak out into a world of simple faces with smiles.


But what can I do? I must drown. Drown again, into these sheets and numbers.




He stood in front of the mirror.

It was : 1:11 AM

His brown eyes, filled with anger and regret stared at a man who killed his family.

“She should have let me kill her, She should have moved.”

He wanted to wash the red off his palm.

His only daughter and wife lay dead in the bedroom.

“Is this fight worth fighting?”

“This is a fight which must be fought.”

Two non-believers lay dead in the bedroom.

He wanted to dispose the bodies and go to sleep.

“She died because it was destined. Nothing special about an infidel dying.”

His brown eyes, filled with serenity and hope stared at a hero who wiped two infidels.

It was 1:11 AM

He stood in front of the mirror.

The MeowNator: Part Une

Yes, I am blogging. Read. On.


It was a cold night in Bangalore. Parmeet McFluffy was a strong, independent cat who didn’t need anyone’s lewd comment about her or her lifestyle choices (She likes to eat from trash, It is her choice. Accept it). She was a left leaning liberal cat.

Parmeet was taking a walk near Pecos (She found it extremely noisy). This time of the night, large-creatures-that-provide-food-and-cuddle where walking into strange closed spaces and coming out smelly and loud.

She wanted to reach home and get some shut eye, her creature-that-provided-food-and-cuddle was perhaps home, as she was walking, she noticed a shadow.  Shadows in Bangalorepura following you at night are never a good thing, her mother cat Jaspreet Kaur McFluffy (née “Cutiepie”) had taught her such small life lessons (Sardine turned Tomcats on, never eat mice like flithy middle-class cats to name a few.) before running away with an unknown Tomcat to parts unknown. (The word in McFluffy khandan was that Jaspreet-ji eloped with someone went to Canada.)

She kept moving, she was hungry; as always. So she decided to go near Onesta which was around the block and nibble on some pizza before she went to sleep at home. It was about to rain, that’s something sad as well as exciting about Bengalurpura. The weather was unpredictable. She liked in comparison to Delhinagar. Yes, she used to live in Delhinagar. It had been 4 years (In cat-years) since they shifted to Bengalurpura. She missed Pinkie Floyd, Mikesh Fufa and the rest of the family that lived back home.

Suddenly, the lights disappeared and all her Meow-ing was useless.

She Meow-ed her last.



She woke up on a table “Woof.” (Roughly Translated as “Eh ki ho riya?”)

She had changed to something she never imagined in her wildest tuna induced stupor.

She, was a dog.