Johnny Kay on his way…

Meet Johnny Kay, the eccentric! First in the series of Johnny Kay has been out. Checkout below link.

What does Johnny Kay say.


P.S. – The character of Johnny Kay is purely fictional. Please do provide your feedback/views in the comments section 🙂 .


What does Johnny Kay say. (Part 1)

See the big picture, my friend. Everyday living is painful anyways.

Johnny Kay has always been the same. Johnny Kay. J-O-H-N-N-Y Kay. The grey shade in the life of his close ones. 70 year old soul trapped in a 20 year old body. That is Johnny Kay. Living for the love of music. And books. He could read Dante and Shakespeare at the same time and with same devoutness. 5 feet 5 inches tall Johnny Kay, falling 5 inches short of his parents expectations. Curly hairs. Always seen with those square-framed pitch black spectacles put on. The world would love him or hate him, but it could not deny his existence. Johnny Kay, or as his close ones called him, Yokay, a portmanteau of Yogi and Kay; Yogi because Johnny had started his walk on the path of enlightenment very early, though he could not go far since his parents wanted him to finish his graduation first.

‘Why are you always like this? Go out, meet people, make friends!’

‘How many friends did you make today, pal? Five? Ten? I tell you, books are the only friends that won’t betray. Be wary of people.’

‘Oh! I see. I see. Johnny Kay is afraid of betrayal. I thought, you weren’t afraid of anything in this goddamn world!’ , chuckles his friend.

‘Well, even robots are being trained nowadays to learn emotions, feel fear. I am definitely afraid of certain things. Like dog. Like darkness. But not betrayal; as Murphy’s Law says – If something can go wrong, it will, and it will in the worst possible way.’

‘Okay. And what does Murphy’s Law say about the distinctive eerie smell that has filled your room?’, said he while covering his noes with him palm.

Johnny Kay has lived the same way. His room smells as if he has housed a corpse in the net room for eagles to feast on. Except that it is not the corpse but a pile of unwashed clothes from the week before, and the week before, and the week before; like the clothes have been there since the universe came into existence.

‘I can see that you aren’t accustomed to the smell. Feel free to criticize. It’s a democracy anyways.’

‘Can’t you get this pile of shit cleaned?’

‘Just because you can do something does not mean you should. Like I can break your head with this tennis bat right now, but I won’t.’

‘And why would you not do that?’

‘Because your brain is like this pile of clothes. Full of shit. And I won’t want that my room starts smelling worse.’

‘You think that you have answer to everything, isn’t it?!’

‘Nope. You come up with so many questions. And none makes sense to me.’

‘Okay. So you discuss sensible stuff eh! So tell me. Why is there so much poverty in our country?’

‘Did you measure poverty?’

‘Nope. But people say so. And everybody is seeing it.’

‘And what are they doing about it?’

‘What can people do about it?’

‘Exactly my question to the people.’, smiles Johnny.


P.S. – The character of Johnny Kay is purely fictional. Please feel free to share your views in the comments section 🙂 . Nothing is of greater helpful for a writer than honest criticism 🙂 .

Let yours’ be someone’s source of inspiration…

I get inspired by small deeds of kindness. I believe such acts make one a good person, which in turn inspire me to do good!

Having lofty ambitions at one end while you are climbing the ladders of deceit and infidelity at the other won’t pay off. It is like digging your own grave for burying your fate. How can one remain lively in such a situation. His apprehensions will keep biting him!

Inspiration is a fodder for the soul. It gets our nerves racing.

Do share how you keep yourself inspired. What inspires you the most??

Bury the Hatchet. (a poem)

I wake up every day only to notice the newspapers citing heinous acts of crime.

weary eyes, wounded soul,
pit of flesh, writhing, falls,
hits the pearl of your eyes,
laughes thee as it drifts by,
pit of flesh, it is naught,
torn, melted, wrought
a gift of nature drifts by
when will I again fly?

The Best Camera.


It was two days back. An afternoon engulfed in humidity. I lifted my digicam off the shelf and headed out straight to the small garden in the terrace of my house. I do it often these days. Visiting the garden. What makes me curious is to think of various angles in which I can take a shot that would portray beauty in the purest way. By the way, I love macro photography and have recently started on it, accidentally though.

The tiny things compliment the colossal fragments of nature’s beauty. And it is only the limitations of a camera that can forestall one from capturing it! Well, what I usually do in the terrace is search for tiny flowers, uncurling leaves, withering stems. That day was giving me a disappointing feeling. The things I was accustomed with, as far as taking a photograph goes, weren’t there. No budding flowers. No nascent leaves. I looked above, towards the left sky. All barren. As I turned my head towards right, what I saw left me open-mouthed.

Bunch of thick clouds. Bright white. Floating in the sky. And giving the beauty a finishing touch was the clear bluish sky all around. Just that, in all exactness. Blue complementing the white. It was like patches of white on a blue canvas to mend something, maybe our sorrows. A smile came instantly on my face. I adjusted my camera, picked an angle, adjusted brightness, and finally clicked. When I saw the photo, I got a little disappointed. What my eyes were seeing, my camera wasn’t capturing.

As a matter of fact, my camera isn’t that great. A simple 12 MP camera with basic utilities and settings. I started wishing if I had a better camera, more professional one. Interestingly, my mind switches to ‘contemplation mode’ whenever I feel sad or disappointed. I then try figuring out what is actually causing this gloominess; whether it is not getting something that I am feeling sad about or it is my own thoughts making me feel so.

I started to think, standing in the middle of terrace, my eyes scanning the blue above. The cool breeze was slowly refreshing my rotten mood. I thought, what could be the best camera to capture such beauty other than our soul itself. I can, at some point of time in the future, buy a good camera; maybe even a DSLR. Surely, I will then be capturing better shots. But I now start seeing the real point here.

It is not about a better camera; or the best camera. It is about savoring the fragment of wonder before our eyes. It is about enjoying the present moment and not burdening oneself with  futile thoughts, because the good moments need to be captured for bad times.

Life just Happens! 🙂

The Magic Within

‘Life is like a withered leaf, that decays and reunites with the nature with renewed energy.

Life is big. Or rather, it should be. You know, it saddens me. The people. Now don’t you think I am averse to the mankind. I am a faction of it. And this fact saddens me more,’ said the old chap with gloom on his face.

It became his home. Or rather his second home. Everyday, he came here and spent hours doing nothing except staring in the dark. But it didn’t seem pointless. The big playground was offering him something. Or maybe it was the sole place offering him nothing, and he was happy for it. Only the twitching of his forehead might know the truth.

‘You know Peggy, the flowers you see there have a magic in them. They can make themselves disappear. But I wonder why they never reappear. Maybe they know only half the trick…haha! And they do it extremely well you see.’

The season of rainfall had started embracing the city. It began pouring all day. Like the raindrops were narrating a never-ending ballad.

‘Listen to the sound, Peggy. Just listen. The peace it carries. Do you find the voice of any human-like creature this melodious?? Well…I don’t. I didn’t find it yesterday. I didn’t find it today. I won’t find it tomorrow. People have lost that voice, or rather that tongue altogether! Or maybe the nature is speaking with that tongue through the mouth of these raindrops. Ohh nature is marvelous I told you..haha,’ happiness came on his face for a jiffy, and then returned to the cave of unknown.

‘People think I am mad, Peggy. That I blabber all the time. I have heard these. These talks. Life is beautiful only as long as the mankind knows its limits and doesn’t cross it. Mankind is plummeting from the lofty mountain of strayed advancement. I can very clearly see that. These people cannot. And they call me mad because I tell them reality, and I am not mad,’ he said raising his voice almost to the level of shout, his eyes wetting.

‘But no. I have learnt to be at peace. The playground has taught me the power of silence. Saying without speaking. Offering without expecting.’

The cold winds rushed through his cheeks.

p.s. – The simplest of things tend to baffle the human minds.

The Story Thing

When life gives you lemons, better squeeze it and savor the lemonade.

But squeezing those lemons is not everyone’s cup of tea. When people have the choice of facing the adverse, they give in to the pressure. But why exactly do they lose rays of hope!!

From my perspective, broadening the horizon of one wisdom and one’s realization of the worldly consciousness are weapons of great might. The more one is aware, the lesser he is scared of the unknown and impending danger. Only those who ride on the horses of wisdom possess the calmness of the seas and dare to tread miles in moments of adversity.

Reading, especially reading good has always helped me. Books have the power to change you. A good book can string that cord inside you which you are unaware of, and mold you into a new person altogether. The most productive thing as a result of reading is your ability to write good as well. It is like

‘You write what you are, and you are what you read.’

I have gained much because of my reading habit. The best thing is that I’ve started writing as well. This is the biggest change that has come in me. I’ve till now written some short stories like Through the growing Years, a mini-series of short story Cessation, and several poems like Down A Dreamer’s Lane and The Lone Companion.

And the proud part is that I continue to write till today.

Have a good day! 🙂

A Wish (short story)

‘Come here my child…come here!’, called the man to the 8 year old with open arms.

‘Oh! grandpa’, the kid rushed into his arms which remained even open to shower blessings and love.

‘Come come…sit by my side’, said the man while taking a deep breath. ‘I am so happy to see you son.’

‘You always are, grandpa!’, chuckled the kid.

‘Haha…indeed! But this is a special moment, you see. This is a crucial moment of my life, or rather your life; today, you will receive from me what I have until now kept safe in the coffers of my spirit.’ The man coughed aloud. He seemed fatigued.

‘Oh wow! You amaze me grandpa! Is it a treasure that you will be giving me, like the ones in those fairy tale books? You narrate so well grandpa’, the kid happily kissed him on his left cheek. Tears started brimming his eyes.

‘Oh boy! My boy…you enliven me’, said he while shedding off his tears. ‘Sit sit. I’ll tell you everything! Those fairy tales, you see, are just that…fairy tales. Nothing is more adventurous than the life itself, my boy!’

‘What do you mean grandpa! Fairy tales have all the magic, the fun. I haven’t seen that magic anywhere outside those books…’, frowned the kid and looked disgustingly away.

‘You see, that’s the beauty of life. Life reveals magic only when its possessor wants it to get revealed. Magic is within you, my child.’

‘Ohh…is it?’, gleamed the kid eyes and a little smile came on his face.

‘Haha…you see that! This smile of yours…this smile may become a hope for someone to live. Because it is more than a smile. And it always was. Your smile is the sum of all the goodness that you have.’

‘And you say that my smile is a treasure? But then how can you give it to me, because it has always been with me?’

‘Oh no no no…the treasure is still with me. You are so agile my boy, haha…but this old man no more is. Let him have his breath!’

The old man slid his one hand into the right pocket of his trousers. The kid was intently watching him. ‘Is the treasure there grandpa?’

‘Yes, sort of…’, the man said while pulling out his hand. It was curled into a fist. ‘Bring your both hands son.’

The man opened his fist into the kid’s hands to reveal what it held.

‘Grandpa! …Its empty!!’

‘No, my son. It is not. My wish is my treasure, and today I am giving you this seed of my wish.’

‘What is that wish, grandpa?’

‘My wish is to see you strongest in the winds of tide and bravest in the mire of fear. My wish is to support you in this vital phase of your life.’

‘You will always be there with grandpa, as my greatest support. Won’t you?’

‘My son. I cannot tell you how much I love you. And I would never want my support to become your weakness. The age has come when you’ll have to realize your inner strength and bring out the magic hidden deep in the chasms of your spirit. The time has come for you to fail in order to know the taste of success, to fall in order to know the joy of rising.’

The man started coughing rapidly. A man in white rushed towards him. ‘Call him immediately!’, he shouted.

‘Grandpa, be careful…I’m scared’, he started sobbing.

‘Hey hey…don’t cry my boy! Its the old age problems, you see. Oh of course you see. And you’ll understand it one day as well. I’ll be waiting for you, my son. Going for a minor treatment, you know.’, he kissed the kid lovingly on both cheeks and bid a goodbye.

The child came out of the ward, sobbing.

‘Poor child, you see. He has no one except his grandpa.’, told a nurse to another one while noticing the sobbing kid.

The child went outside and sat on a bench while the numerous patients of terminal diseases were entering.