Old friend (Ramanathan Vaidyanathan)

At the restaurant

I am sitting at a table in an Irani restaurant and I see Parasu entering. He looks tired and
old. He walks over to me and we shake hands.

I: It’s a long time.

Parasu: Yes. It is.

We are silent for some time. We look at each other as if to stoke our memories of the past.

Parasu: What are you doing now?

(continue.. on till the end - there's a twist coming!!)

I liked his attempt at an unforeseen twist to the meeting. Maybe more can be written on this.

Short Story - Intellectual Ransom (Mukund Moorthy)

Short Story - Intellectual Ransom (Mukund Moorthy)

I have a few suggestions about writing technique

a) Entire story narrated in third person can get monotonous sometimes. He said this, he did that, he went there, he got that, etc. Add commentary, monologue, dialogue, first and second person viewpoints to break up the monotony. Also details help to make facts come alive. You mention IIT in his background, adding an interesting detail about his days there would make it more readable.

b) Start with an interesting dialogue, or statement. If the few opening lines dont have any punch, the reader will not continue to read until he reaches the twist in the end.

c) Edit out all unnecessary background detail. You have to pick which details are necessary to the plot - for eg. John King is mentioned in 1st para, but does not appear in the story again. Unnecessary characters or details distract the reader, weaken the pace.

d) Keep each para focused on one topic. Split up paras that have multiple focus. Raj's work background, and his relationship with his father should be in separate paras. It make reading easier, by organizing thought flow.

e) Introducing a character in a story is like meeting a stranger at a party. You don't start by asking for his life history, you make small talk about common topics first. The reader really does not want to know the entire life history of a character in the first para, before the character has said or done something interesting, to make the reader become interested in him. James Bond movies start with Bond chasing/escaping from villains first, even before opening titles, so that we're interested in what happens to Bond after that.

f) Overall, the story had no feeling. It needs more human interest details - little things that make a person become more real to us, habits, thoughts, feelings towards others. Having interaction between characters helps. Other than Raj and his father, there is no other character here. A great plus would be to have their relationship recorded in more detail, and not in third person.

g) You have written a story with a twist at the end. But in order to reach the ending, the middle part has to keep the reader going - you may need to add more actions for that.


About the story...
To be honest, I didnt like the solution Raj comes up with. His logic is misguided.
He says he wants India to take concrete steps against terrorism, so I expected him to come up with some plan for India to help themselves. But no, all he wants to do is get US aid. This kind of thinking that we can do nothing without the West's help is out of touch with today's India, and its potential. Besides, money never solved any problem. Even the US with all its resources has not caught up with Bin Laden. I understand his father's dream, he defended his country's borders. But his son does the opposite.
Al Qaeda threatens using bombs and other physical attacks, Raj threatens using a virus. Both are terrorists, not patriots, using threats and terror to get what they want.
Terrorists begin at first with higher causes like patriotism, but eventually their use of terrorism defeats their own cause. If Raj can do it, so can any software maker. We have to remember - what we do to others, tomorrow others can do to us.

But that is just my reaction to that character, I'm sure there are people who like to think this way. I can relate to it in my own way, as a story of how people become terrorists, without meaning to.

Happiness, Loss and You (Addend)

Things shared: seasons, books and a piece of music.
The keys, the tea cups, the dishes, sheets and a bed.
A dowry – of words, of gestures – brought with, used, used up.
House rules followed. Said. Done. The hand given, always.

continue..

"I haven't lost you, I've lost the world". Happiness.
So expressive.
Aparna

The Gift (Vikram Karve)

The Gift (Vikram Karve)

Your narrative had punch. Absorbing story, and the inspector's emotions are well-drawn. The twist about the bribe came unexpected, and added to the ending.

Reference (poem) (Sandhya Menon-Koottunkal

Reference (poem) (Sandhya Menon-Koottunkal


Not sure why, but "quiet distances of my mind" and "sweetly stab my eyelids awake" sound very familiar to me. Is this something you've published?

Short but impactful
Aparna

poem read by Mohammad Ahsan at the lucknow read meet (Rehana Ali)

poem read by Mohammad Ahsan at the lucknow read meet (Rehana Ali)

Maybe this should be in prose. Have you noticed the sentences have a prose form, rather than verse form?

(I haven't changed any words below, just joined the sentences)

"One wondered where one was. Probably it was a big hall, where myriads colors and shades danced, or one wondered, were they really colors or human forms. They merged in each other and reemerged, some of them dancing in frenzy, others walking or just chit chatting with others. One moment they looked like colors, the other moment some human forms. Sometimes whole thing got blurred, they were just some undefined form and frame dancing as they do in a skating rink, or onlookers. "

etc...
Aparna
--------------------

Rains wash away everything (Rahul Pandita)

Rains wash away everything
Rancour. Vomit. Tear stains.
But they bring back in torrents
Memories. In one such rain
When my world is deluged
I make a boat of your memories
And set to sail amidst Passat winds
Braving hailstorms of my existence
And alligators of my past

continued..

"That is it. I take out a dagger from my back" had me laughing for some reason. I guess the dagger in the back is a metaphor for her leaving you.

With all the use of water and rain and boats and islands being so consistent, the dagger metaphor really stuck out (excuse the pun).

Did you intend a comic effect with that ? Maybe not, but if you did, I'm delighted to have found it.

"Gat-Wail-Soon, India" - The Yellowmail Scheme

Caferati link and comments

"Gat-Wail-Soon, India" - The Yellowmail Scheme
I recently happened to catch the latest Munnabhai movie (Lage Raho Munnabhai), and I have to say - The Get-Well-Soon card tactic of non-violent protest against corruption has an inherent appeal to all us Native Indians.

First, sending a get-well-soon card to a corrupt official is doable by even the most cowardly. Public cowardice is the reason so many get away with corruption. We call ourselves non-violent, but what we really mean is we shy away from confrontation. Sticking a stamp is much easier for us shy dissenters than shouting slogans.

This way, the mail flow increases, we end up boosting our antiquated Postal system. Maybe they'll even print specially colored Munnabhai cards just for this one purpose of drowning corruption. If this movie was from Disney, someone would have already thought of this, franchised it worldwide, and I'd find these cards being sold at the theater exits on my way out.

The cards have to have a distinct color, so as to stand out from your everyday mail. I would suggest black as the color, but owing to difficulties of writing on black paper, and legal interpretations of "blackmail", I pick a second color : Yellow. Yellow is the patron color of cowardice, and yellow is the "gat-out" card for soccer.

Simple Yellowmail statistics provided by the Post Office will keep our more corrupt law-givers and businessmen in the hot seat. You can hide your ill-gained bribes, cash and assorted 'wadding gifts', but how can you hide the bags and bags of Yellowmail arriving daily at your doorstep? All the neighbors and their maternal-cousin-from-Ludhiana will know your shame.

One day, I predict the Yellowmail system may reform our current electoral process. We replace our voting booths by Yellowmail, and we vote by mail . Its a knockout-round - the candidate that gets the least Yellowmail (and therefore the most honest fellow) wins!!

Just one thing we must remember - Yellowmail is not hate-mail. You can also send hate-mail in any other color, but Yellowmail must be reserved for protesting against corruption. It is our non-violent (sorry, non-confrontational) way of saying - "Yellow, Yellow, Dirty Fellow" to that junior bureaucrat who's holding our paperwork hostage for money.

Gat-Wail-Soon, Dear India. We wish you a speedy recovery.

A Double Life (Hiren Shah)

A Double Life (Hiren Shah)

This topic is of great interest to me.
I feel this is a personal decision, on which there can be no one-shoe-fits-all conclusions. So what I would expect from the article is not some kind of answer, but all the right questions that help us weigh options. You have raised quite a few here, such as which should be plan A or B (or C or D), whether success is more important than just having an outlet for passion, whether a life really dedicated to one goal can be called successful, etc. The one thing which didn't appear, as far as I remember, was the importance of Role models, which has often proven to be inspiration for a choice of profession.

Well done.
Aparna

One [Writing Exercise] - Switch it off, the globe is hot

Caferati link...(this was a writing exercise using only single syllabic words)

The ice will melt
The sea will rise
The globe will burn
and spare no one

Rain in Thar
Snows in spring
The clime change rate
Scares no one

Hell on earth
End of days
God in sleep
Hears no one

Aparna

Do You Have to Have Talent to Write Poetry? (Essay) (Adi)

Nope, none, nada. Talent is a crock. People with talent often waste it with procrastination, drinking, doubt, whatever. Persistence, patience, practice, and willingness to learn is the key to writing poetry. Everything else is icing.

continue...

More important to ask - do you really have something to say?
Maybe its a talent, stringing fine words into long pretty lines that say almost nothing.
I'd worry about what I am going to say first, and the talent for finding the right words to say it by, much later. The finest expressions cannot elevate an insipid thought.

Aparna

(Mar -4 )Well, Emily Dickson's a great poet, because she had something to say. Obviously she was not blathering on meaninglessly, even when she was not being published. Having something to say, is not about communicating to an audience. Its not a letter to the editor. Its not about getting published. Its about being clear in your own mind, knowing what you are saying, understanding where you are going. Being 'compelled' to write doesn't necessarily mean that the writing is any good. Writing well should be a goal of writing, a conscious act, not just an urge to record every random half-thought and unformed idea on paper. (Of course, if someone would rather write badly than not write, no one can stop them.) I hope you agree with the idea that writing badly serves no one.

Aparna

(Mar 5) I agree that form, esp, in poetry is very important, and a poem cannot be one without its form. (thank you, Mahendra, for pointing out the gist of my argument is about form and substance :-)). Good poetry needs both content and form.

What motivates a person to write is the need to express oneself, and next perhaps, to seek audience appreciation. We are all here in Caferati because we feel that need. But it doesn't mean we are all great poets. I think the urge to express is a natural human one, not limited to poets.

That urge also has to be disciplined towards excellence, to withhold what is not yet complete, to reject what is not good, to compare oneself with better writers to gain insight into what makes good poetry. Without this editorial process in place, we will write anything that comes to mind, concentrating on making it rhyme, or using the thesaurus to full effect.

(Good thought content without good form is rough, like crudely made unpolished table or chair with uneven legs. But a good form without substance is just five nicely polished and sanded pieces of wood joined randomly together. Its not even a table, at that point. Its a meaningless jumble of wood.)

ps This is good debate, even if we disagree. I hope there are others who will express their views as well.

Thoughts on a summer day (Ratna Rajaiah)

Thoughts on a summer day (Ratna Rajaiah) - on Caferati

The summer sky was inviting, but the thought 'I wonder why they made my bed up there ...' is never finished. The ending seemed abrupt.
Aparna

Balcony Re-visited (Amrita Neelakantan)

Balcony Re-visited (Amrita Neelakantan) - on Caferati

(excerpt)

Maybe it was my presence
Cigarette smoke…

I looked her way
And then at once
She shat right there
Embarrassed she left

Poor poise-less pigeon
Too afraid to shit on the wing?

-----------------------

:-) That was a delightful little twist in the end. Got a laugh from me.
The 3rd, 5th and last two lines read like prose, interrupting the poem. I would expand on the 'embarrassment' of the pigeon, instead of the question 'Too afraid to shit on the wing?'.

Aparna

A song de jour- Happy Holi All (Shankari)

A song de jour- Happy Holi All (on Caferati)

Happy Holi. That was a good effort. Very descriptive, very visual. I was almost there. The last para, though, is saying almost the same thing as the one before it, could be edited.
Cheerz, Aparna

[Essay/Diary] - Barbie, I and small town morality

I grew up in army cantonments in many small towns of India, imbibing an entire system of morality. I thought fourteen years of subsequent residence and education in avant garde Goa and then Mumbai washed off all those old notions. Not quite. Yesterday I was rearranging my shelves, to allow space for new books. Our childhood toys were kicked upstairs to the topmost shelf. Those old building blocks, board games, cars...I sighed. And then came the problem of my sister's Barbie dolls. She has two Barbies, a Skipper and a Ken.

continued..

This is a cute story. Perhaps why I didn't have a comment. Some places, too cute.

Clear Dreams (Short Fiction)

Caferati link

"Some men balk at miles, others at fences". The words full blown to me, and I could remember it perfectly for a long time. I thought about what it meant - some complain about how much they must do, and others about how little they are allowed to do.

It was a vast stone edifice, like a palace or museum with vaulted ceilings. I crossed a pillared hall to get to the apartments of Skip. I have written an exam before, and Skip was supposed to tell me how I fared. Also, I said to the girl who stayed outside, waiting, that I should say goodbye to Skip because I wouldn't see him again. We were obviously going away somewhere for good.

Skip received me with a smile. He said "Yours was a completely original paper, the only one that wasn't from a book." I felt pride rising like a warm liquid inside. I said I was glad. "But you didn't mumble, mumble", he said, and though I tried hard, I couldn't catch his last words. The air roared louder, and drowned out his voice.

It was raining heavily outside, the streets were puddling, and I walked mincingly across to the waiting girl. It seemed all the world was melting into liquidity. The rain fell hard from the gloomy sky, and hit the puddles and streams, making them bubble like a boiling cauldron of water.

I sat up, suddenly. In the dark, the radio was playing faintly in the background. It was 5:35, not yet time to get up. The dark kitchen feels asleep. As I started to make coffee, a faint odor of dust hangs over the place.

P'Yong is looking at my palms. Late in the evening, the sun is beginning to set in Nong Kai, at the border of Thailand and Laos, streaking the dusty sky.

He tells me I have really beautiful hands. "It will look beautiful when you do wai, like this" - he folds his hands in greeting.
He tells me he has never seen such hands before. Lotus hands, like the Buddha.

I wait for him to continue.

"What would you like to know?".
Nothing. I don't believe in his powers.

He says my career is already good, and will get better.
"But now you must do something for other people".
I've been out of work for five years. I don't have to tell him that.

He says I am deeply spiritual.
My mother is deeply spiritual. But I am an atheist. And I have not been deeply into anything, ever.

"How old are you?"
I don't want to tell.

"You have back pain."
I have never had back pain.

"You have sixth sense"
I can't recall any instance of extraordinary senses, but I want to believe it. Who doesn't want super powers?

"You must meditate -something good will happen if you meditate"

Meditate ... Does he mean concentrate ? Focus ? Think deeply about things ? Spend time introspecting ? Double-check my hypothesis? I've decided to look at his sayings as symbolic wrapper for a more practical action, not to be taken literally.

The last thing I remember him saying - "You have clear dreams".

I look up, as the coffee light clicks off. I am having trouble focusing. My hands shake slightly as I pick up the coffee.

If I passed the assignment, I will not need to think about money for the next two years. For two years, I will have a job on Skip's team, and maybe at the end of the contract, I shall get a chance to be permanently employed.
If not, I will have to consider Mandy's offer to go work for her parents in Florida. The money is far less, and there will be the question again in a year or two - what next?

As I went out the door, I hesitated for a bit. Then I picked up an umbrella.

A loony love poem (Ratna Rajaiah)

Read on Caferati

The poem read well. Sounded like internet relationships - one rushing ahead, wanting more, the other content not to grow, to stay where they were.
But why man and water? Why Geronimo and Kaveri? I'm missing some reference ?

[Transcreation] Punctuations (Vijay Nair)

Forced to turn even
the slightest of incoherent grunts
into questions,
perhaps annoyed,
the question mark
stoops and hangs its head

(read on..)