LUCID INTUITIONS

Kapil had entered the age when opportunities seemed endless, restriction; playing safe and can’t do were mere words used by older generation or found in dictionaries. Life for him was a competitive adversary that threw obstacle after obstacle so that he was able to unravel the glorious prospects hidden in them. He like many of his age was lured away from home by the glittering city lights and the innate confidence that he would succeed. At first everything went according to plan; he implemented some of his ideas and worked according to his set notions. Life was looking up; the world was his canvas and he like a master made whatever strokes he wished. In his period of success Kapil forgot the one constant of life; change. Everything went downwards after that which resulted in negativity entering his conscious. Kapil admired at his reflection, “can look good if you want” he said. Looking dapper in a grey coloured suit he was ready for his friend’s marriage party. This was pre

“WTF,” Ronit said, as his leg accidently hit something. Usually street light filtered through the curtains which illuminated the room but today the room was in pitch- black. He extended his arm towards the left to switch on the light bulb. “What?” he said as he groped in the dark; failing to find the switch board or the switch. How come the inverter is down? Ronit thought; nevertheless knowing each and every nook and corner of his house he proceeded towards the kitchen for candles that would help in dissipating the shroud of darkness. “Ouch!” he said as his forehead hit the wall. Perplexed he tried to calm himself, “I am dreaming” he said. Ronit felt the lump with the tip of his fingers. Can a dream be this real? He thought. He pressed the lump a little harder, “shit” he whispered due to the pain. Ronit shook himself out of his slumber and alerted his brain; I am certainly not in my home, he deduced. Then came the root question; where the hell am I? Extending his arms

It was just an innocent smile , Manohar, a teacher by profession thought as he passed the meat shop in the main market with a blooded knife concealed under his clothing. The persistent fear of being spotted made him nervous as it was his town and he didn’t want to be caught in possession of the weapon so he walked towards his flat without attracting any undue attention. From the corner of eye Manohar saw a normally run market where buyers and sellers were involved in their perpetual battle; one in which the seller try to extract the maximum profit whereas the buyer try to negotiate the best deals. Manohar took a sign of relief as he entered the cobbler street and looked at three-story building whose top floor housed his flat, so far so good . The legend of the streets name brought a smile to his face as he noticed a cobbler sitting in the corner mending shoes.     It was said that here once lived a cobbler who was famous for his designer shoes.   The town’s who’s who

“She wanted you to have it” said the old lady thrusting the old rusty metal box in Ramesh’s hands. Patting his hand, “it will please her soul” the old lady added and left the dimly lit room. Ramesh went to the door and bolted it. Where am I going to keep all these useless stuff? Ramesh looked at the mountain of gifts wrapped in colourful shinny papers which the neighbors have been giving him ever since his arrival to this god forsaken place. A creaking sound coincided as he sat on the old worn out bed.   Ramesh threw the metal box among his clothes, what the hell . A thuk sound was heard from the fan indicating another power-cut; it’s the fourth since morning. All started on an eventful rainy day. Ramesh was running late for a client meeting due to the water logged roads caused by the continuous rainfall. The snail like traffic and his boss’s constant questioning, where have you reached? You should have known about the water logging, was getting on his nerves; so i