The story is only Half true

Updates: Nothing special happening in my life, nothing to write home about. Have been really busy coordinating the Placement activities in IIT-Bombay. All my interesting stories are from the placement cell, but I do not want to bore myself in the future when I read this blog:-D

There ‘WAS’ a creative writing competition in the insti today. I was really lazy to miss the deadline, but then the competition’s loss is my blog’s gain. The topic was what the blog topic reads.

I tried to dabble at some fiction in trying to write something that fits the topic. Everything that is under the heading ‘A’ is the half truth, things the world views in my hero’s life, and all that is under ‘B’ is the other half, hidden from the world.

If you think the story/situtation/lines are Plaigaraised, then don’t call it so, because I have Internalized

Hope you enjoy it…Criticism invited


“Well Mr.Sen, we have a prodigy. There is no other word with which to describe your son”, said Mr Agarwal, to Rohit’s father. It was the annual Parents-Teachers meeting at DAV school, and as was expected, Rohit had not only topped his class, but exceled in extra curricular activities also, by winning the inter-school singing competition…


“Give me two ‘English reader for 4th standard’ please”, asked Mrs Sen to the shop owner at Peoples book store. This has been the way the Sen’s have been operating for the past few years. While little Rohit goes to school, Mrs Sen reads her copy of the books, and makes notes and question answers to drill it into Rohit’s head when he
comes back from school. The Sen’s are paranoid about Rohit topping the class. TV, Cartoons, Games is controlled as strictly as the Chinese control the media. The only allowance, if it can be said so, is the music lessons he is allowed once a week…


The whole family went to the airport. It was perhaps the biggest moment for the Sen’s. Rohit had been selected from among hundreds of students in India, to attend the young scientist’s meeting in Munich. Grinning always, Mr Sen never forgot to
mention that at 14, Rohit was the youngest in the international conference. Rohit was enjoying every moment. He had worked hard, but science and math came naturally to him. When he submitted his model fuel cell for the competition, he started
learning a little german…


Mrs Sen was hysterical. Mr Sen had a stern look. Rohit knew the lecture coming. “It’s for your own good, son”, “Sometime, in the future, when you are a succesful engineer or doctor, you will appreciate our decision”…
But still, he asked his parents, with the hope that if not this year, the next year, he may be allowed to participate in the musical, organized by the renowed dramatics group’-‘Faces’. Renu, the ‘artistic brain’, director of several award winning plays
had spotted Rohit performing in a school play a year ago, and since then has been trying to convince the Sens to allow Rohit to perform with them…


“Statistics is my forte”, Rohit asserted, as the interviewer nodded appreciatively. He knew, he had the right person, although Rohit had no prior experience. He knew, that Rohit was winner throughout. An academic topper, a leader in college activites, a drive to succeed, young and energetic, Rohit fitted the requirements to the ‘T’…


He had given up trying to convince his parents. The rebel in him was not rebelious enough. He knew, he owed a lot to his parents who have sacrificed a lot to get him to this postion. Anyways, his plays are not good enough. There are better actors, and I love Statistics…


Rohit’s growth in the company surprised many pundits. It took him just 10 years to reach the upper management of the company. He immersed himself in work, lived out of his suitcase, globe trotting half the year.
As he exited of the CST airport, he could see two little kids jumping, trying to catch a glimpse of their father coming out of the terminal, happiness and expectation (of lots of gifts) in their eyes. He waved back, a trifle nonchalantly, to his wife, a budding laywer, who had retired really early from her practise to take care of the kids. He knew, the sacrifice she had made, so that he could devote more time for his overseas appointments…


As much as he hated it, his work was his only escape. Only escape from everything that seemed to go wrong in his life. Sometimes, he wondered, why was he so gifted in mathematics, why could he not be a duffer, who could just act brilliantly.

Guilt ate him. He knew that he had to appreciate Pooja’s efforts at trying to make the marriage work. If only he could love her as much as she loved him. Instead he knew, he was running away from all truth, flying away on overseas assignments, because he could avoid Ashwini, his ‘ex’, his parents, who could not stop admiring him, Pooja, who kept making him feel guilty.

A silent smile automatically came, as he thought, ‘I wanted to act in a play and live life, but now I am acting life and living plays’, watching a play in London…


Pooja was shattered, and wept bitterly. But she acknowledged that probably ‘divorce’ was the best thing. Rohit had agreed to a generous alimony and she had the children. Even though, she waived off the thought, she was happy for Rohit. He was going to
marry Ashwini finally. She knew that the marriage was on the rocks, but was happy for Rohit, happy that he will walk into a happier life after the divorce.
‘Finally, somethings going my way in life’, thought Rohit…

‘The honeymoon is over, now I wish I had never split’ muttered Rohit, after yet another fight with Ashwini. It was hardly three months to their marriage, and they acknowledge the mistake that it was. ‘College was so different, if only I knew that you were such a pain to live with’, shouted Ashwini back.

As he tried to catch some sleep, his only thought was ‘not another divorce’, will pooja accept me back or probably I am doomed’


‘The car inexplicably went out of control’ read the report. The post-mortem report showed no drugs, alcohol in Rohit’s blood. The Sen’s were inconsolable. Pratik and Priya, were shocked, reality had not sunk in. Pooja was repentent, ‘I could have done
things differently…’


A thousand thoughts floated in Rohit’s mind. “My parents, my kids,…, I can still do things differently. Hope is never to be lost”, but even as the thoughts floated, Rohits mind was clear, as he pushed the accelerator, took the hands of the wheel and closed his eyes…

  1. #1 by Moi on September 23, 2006 - 8:25 pm

    🙂 it made an intersting read tho’ the urban angst scares moi…….

  2. #2 by Bhavani on September 25, 2006 - 1:17 pm

    Hey!! nice blog… K, you should try your hand at fiction. U r amazing. By far the best author I have met personally (he! he!).

    And… I think I know where u ‘internalized’ the first 2 paragraphs from… reminds me of ‘Pop goes the weasel’! (Read carefully if u didnt get it). Lemme know if I am right. Ha! ha!

  3. #3 by Bhavani on September 25, 2006 - 1:23 pm

    Now write another blog….

  4. #4 by Anonymous on September 28, 2006 - 6:19 am

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