Story

STORY

(Pic courtesy: Kaveesh)

1. a narrative, either true or fictitious, in prose or verse, designed to interest, amuse, or instruct the hearer or reader; tale.
2. a fictitious tale, shorter and less elaborate than a novel.
3. such narratives or tales as a branch of literature: song and story.
4. the plot or succession of incidents of a novel, poem, drama, etc.: The characterizations were good, but the story was weak.
5. a narration of an incident or a series of events or an example of these that is or may be narrated, as an anecdote, joke, etc.
6. a narration of the events in the life of a person or the existence of a thing, or such events as a subject for narration: the story of medicine; the story of his life.

[ENTRIES CLOSED, VOTING OPEN]

Dok Saab (118)
"DokSaab, Rohan grinds his teeth while sleeping."
Four-year-old Rohan was anxiously fidgeting with the pen.
"He even wakes up in the night, frightened and shouting."
"Rajat, your child appears over stressed. He needs relaxation before going to sleep."
"Oh that he gets plenty, he watches cartoon channel the whole evening."
"Television aggravates the problem. I was taking about reading him a bedtime story."
"We both are working, DokSaab, too tired to tell him any story."
"Then ask your mother to tell some fairytales. She used to, when you were a child. DadiMa's stories have therapeutic effect."
"She doesn't live with us now, DokSaab. Our apartment is too small, so we have kept her in an old age home."
.
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Mickey (106)
Where were you?"
I asked Jane.
She was climbing down
From the thickest branch of our tree.
"Err, I was up there
reading a novel".
She looked tired, sleepy,
And strangely satisfied.
"But I saw Tarzan swinging away
From the tree few minutes back".
Her Shirt was torn, skirt crushed.
"Oh, He was going towards the town,
Just stopped to say hi to me".
Her hair was disheveled,
Face blushing,
Bite marks on the lips.

She was telling one story,
But every tear of her shirt,
Every wrinkle of her skirt,
Every strand of her hair,
Every scratch on her arms,
Was telling,
A different story.

.

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Nandini (117)
God: “Let me narrate your story to you” I stood there listening to my life story. There it flashed before me. I was the hero and not only had the onus of writing my own story but also the privilege of living it. Like a star I was treated. - serenaded by blessings when I acted good, held by Him when I turned weak .My actions coloured the story in many hues. God smiled and said “My child, based on your old story, here is your new plot. You are Nandini – go forth and write it. Me: “What if I suffer writer’s block” God: “Write it with the ink of faith and your story will move on”

Richa (120)
Machal gaya Munna us raat
Nahi suni fir usne kisi ki baat
Karne laga voh manmani
Aaj to sunke rahoonga mein koi kahani

Maa tum busy ho office mein har din
Mein karta weekend ka intezaar din gin gin
Aaj Saturday tumhe party mein hai jaana
Kabhi to sunao maa kahani, lori ya koi gana

Bhar aaya maa ka man sun Munne ki baat
Beta hum rahenge tumhare saath hi aaj raat
Aaj mein tumhe sunaoongi wohi kahani
Jo bachpan mein sunati thi mujhe meri nani

God mein lita ke maa papa ne kahani sunai
Munna ko itna khush dekh dono ki aankh bhar aayi
Lets make Saturday family time papa said
they hugged each other with arms wide spread

.

Genuine Fake (119)
Mrinal Shrivastav. CEO, Autosoft Systems; the visiting card read. As he glanced through the card, Mrinal looked at the plaque congratulating him on completion of 15 years of service. Vivid reminiscences of his first visiting card came back to him. Junior Engineer, Autosoft Systems. A small town man, a second class civil engineer, and a low self esteem were all that he needed to make it big. Life since then was all about oil, grease, engines, low performance reminders, strong disagreements and self-motivation. He had now become a man of envy.
Every man has a story, his father once said.
He smiled and looking up, winking at his father, he moved onto the conference room to celebrate his experience

.

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GSV (116)
“Fairy tales and fables have long been obsolete.Biographies are for History channel, Public prefers mimicry nowdays in the name of humour,Socially relevant issues are commercially flops and Beware to touch those mythological concepts, fundamentalist don't like anybody playing with their heroes. Love story musicals now demands foriegn locale and I have limited budget.Even tragedies are being disliked,people want 'happy endings' after spending thier money!".

"Now tell me, Can you draw a Story for my canvas?" asked Ghosh,prominent director.
"aaa..I would try..!" hesitantly Aakash replied.

"Ok now listen a good news, Natasha have agreed to do an 'Item Number', I would manage to recover my costs even if your Story fails!" chuckled Ghosh.
.

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Kaveesh (120)

STORY

"Why in the world should I allow you amid a class Mr.Sinha?" asked Ms.Dua with a gorgeously frowned face.

"How in the world do I explain? I too am a teacher like you. I was answering the question that first leaped out of the child's mouth. I was still teaching when I realized my slip-up. But then, I thought it's all for a noble cause." I quipped.

"Aaahh…You've always got some stories to make Mr.Sinha. Really fine that one was.", simpered Ms.Dua while I still tipped on the forceful door.
"Well…You can come in!"

I sneered and by her table muttered incorrigibly, "Thou shalt Not is soon forgotten... but Once upon a time lasts forever. I'd continue to weave".

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Sarang (56)

Everyone is a writer
Every life is a story
Of love, longing and losses
And sometimes of glory

Everyone is hero,
Who writes their own tale
Their own plot decides,
They write to loose or fail

Every life is a story
Written by the pen of deeds
Every scene is felt
Reaped as the sown seeds

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Santonu (117)

Let me tell you a story
Its not about a prince and princess
God and goddesses
Its also not about love and war,

I will tell you a story
of an insignificant life, a man or a woman
Story that never started or will never end
But a story that will ever remain..

Damp wall and falling roof built the story
Yelling and cries filled it in,
Starving kids and hungry eyes passed by the tale
through the blind alley
a story that flew every day

I will tell you a story
Which started without a hope and may end without it
It's a story of a day when she started dreaming,
A very special day….her birthday!
.

Willy Wingfoot (110)

I skipped the wall,
Quit the job.
Burnt the proof,
Of a "ME" who was!

Sick of the tyranny
Of routine and uniformity
Caught in the play
Of plugged, machined, daily living.

I fled,
From the sheep;evergrazing on wafers green.
From the shepard;just another sheep, fat and mean.

I ran, I ran, I ran...
To find a way to fly.
To shake aside the shadow of Black & White.

Walked among proud beasts,besides the sheep for once.
And swam against the tide.

I dreamt under my starry cousins.
And fought to live my dreams.

And so goes the story,
a myth, now a legend,
of a mole among YOU sheep!

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