Thief in the Train is my 4th short story:

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Train journeys are exciting in its own ways. One gets to see varieties of people from different walks of life with their unique characters, attitude, dialect, views, occupation, slangs, age-group and experience. The entire world at a single place unfolding the stories of the moment saving the suspense for eternity. Everybody here has gotta story If you see them as in the view of a third-party narration.

To me long train journeys are like visiting a library; I’ll get to read multiple books simultaneously, fill my heart with content and mind with thoughts. This one story is taking a lot of time to unwind itself but I am on it, will nail it soon.


Birth of a writer in me!!


I started writing way back in 1995 when I was in my High school. It all started when I accidently giggled while one of my classmates recited her poem. My class teacher bombarded and humiliated me, rather she stripped me naked in front of all my other 70+ classmates (2 sections joined). I was terribly disturbed by this.

Later after few days in the middle of the class my best friend (I believe, who had felt equally insulted) announced that I have written a poem, in spite of my non-approval. I was hesitant coz I thought my poem is silly. Well, the class teacher read it aloud in the class I saw she raised her eyebrow in surprise. Of course, I am sure she would have thought ‘How the heck this nasty, tyrant student had got to write such a piece’. Well, I was also equally surprised!!!!

It so happened that after that day of humiliation, no doubt I was disturbed but I found myself in contemplation, aloof and always in thoughts. During this time one fine day at midnight a line stuck to my stream of thoughts, I woke up went to my desk and sat still as if waiting for the dictation. That day I wrote a poem on Goddess Saraswathi (Goddess of Knowledge), the same poem which made me a talking stalk in the whole of my school across all classes and also which was later published in our school’s annual magazine.



#WrongNumber is the title of my third short story.


A passage from #WrongNumber

“That is the power of ‘Life’, the melodrama of life unfolding, they as well felt little crazy about themselves. Life throws surprises now n then to rejuvenate us from our boring dull / routine lives….”

This story is between an old couple and a wrong number.

#PrimeMinisterNarendra, #Modi, #NaMo #ByeByeBlackMoney

Issued in public interest:


Civilians planning to travel abroad are hereby requested to postpone their travel plans as it is expected that the flights will be exclusively used by our politicians to travel abroad on account of their HEALTH ISSUES.

The International airports nationwide are expected to be filled with politicians with heart attacks and other severe health problems which could only be treated in countries like #Switzerland #Singapore #Malaysia, #Australia, #America, #UK….

Publics are warned to be away from International Airports till further instructions from #PrimeMinister Narendra #Modi, #NaMo.


#Peripety #ShortStory

#Peripety is the title of my short story completed a couple of week back.


A passage from #Peripety :

“……Raman stood still perplexed for a moment and turns back and walks out with his eyes fixed at an invisible object guiding him. In no time he is out of the hospital and standing in the street knowing nowhere to go, just takes the pavement to his left and starts walking briskly. He doesn’t know how far he has walked until he stopped in a sigh for his lungs demanded consideration as it could not cope with his emotions. In that moment he realizes the marathon he just had. He rests for a while in the bus stop shelter his eyes fixed on an invisible screen running his life as a melancholic cinema filling his heart with pain and scourge…..”

A story of human struggle with the belief system he had been domesticated with v/s the reality of life.

Please do wait for the story to be published.

Regards n Thnaks


ಗಾರುಡಿಗ – ತು೦ಬು ಚ೦ದಿರ

ಗಾರುಡಿಗ – ತು೦ಬು ಚ೦ದಿರ”

ನನ್ನ೦ಗಳದಿ ಬರುವನಿವನೊಬ್ಬ ಮುದ್ದು ಗುಮ್ಮ,

ಇವನಿಗಿಲ್ಲಾ ಯಾರೂ ಅಪ್ಪಾ-ಅಮ್ಮ.

ಕೂರುವ ದಿನವಿಡೀ ಮನೆಯ೦ಚಿನಲಿ ಕಾದು,

ಬಾ ಎ೦ದು ಕರೆದರೆ ಬಾರನಿವನು ಕದವ ತೆರೆದು.

ಮೆನೆಯೆಲ್ಲಾ ತು೦ಬಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವನಿವನ ಬಿ೦ಬದಲಿ,

ಉರೆಲ್ಲಾ ಕ೦ಗೊಳಿಸುವನಿವನ ಚೆಲುವಿನಲಿ.

ಪ್ರೇಮಿಗಳಿಗೆ-ವಿರಹಿಗಳಿಗೆ ಇವನೆ೦ದರೆ ಸ್ಪೂರ್ತಿ,

ಠಕ್ಕರಿಗೆ-ದರೊಡೆಕೊರರಿಗೆಲ್ಲಾ ಇವನೆ೦ದರೆ ಭೀತಿ.

ತಾರೆಗಳ ಮಧ್ಯದಿ ಇವನೊಬ್ಬನೇ ದೊರೆ,

ಬೆಳ್ಳಿ-ಮೊಡಗಳೇ ಇವನಿಗೀಗ ಐರಾವತ/ಕುದುರೆ.

ಸುಮ್ಮನಿರಿವನೇ ಇವ ದರ್ಬಾರು ನಡೆಸದೇ?,

ಇಡೀ ಆಕಾಶವೆಲ್ಲಾ ಈದಿನ ಸ್ವ೦ತ ಇವನದೇ.

ಪೂರ್ವದಿ೦ ಪಶ್ಚಿಮದವರೆಗೂ ವಹಿವಾಟಿವನದೇ,

ತಿ೦ಗಳಿಗೊಮ್ಮೆ ಬರುವನಿವ ಗಾರುಡಿಗ ತಪ್ಪದೆ.


“ಯುದ್ದಾಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನೇ ಯವ್ವಾ”

“ಯುದ್ದಾಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನೇ ಯವ್ವಾ”
ಯುದ್ದಾಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನೇ ಯವ್ವಾ ಯುದ್ದಾಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ
ಹರಸೆನ್ನ ಕಳಿಸಿಕೊಡೇ ನನ್ನ ಹಡೆದವ್ವಾ, ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ
ಗೆಲುಲ್ಲಾರ್ದ್ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ, ಸೊಲಕ್ಕುಡದ೦ತ್ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ
ಬದುಕಲಿಕ್ ಬಿಡವಲ್ದ್ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನೇ ಯವ್ವಾ ಸಾಯಲಿಕ್ ಗಡುವಿಲ್ಲದ್ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ
ಮಂದಿ ಕೇಳಕ್ ಒಲ್ದ್ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ, ನಿಂಗಾ ಹೇಳಕಾಗ್ವಲ್ದ್ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ
ನೀನಾ ಪ್ರಿತಿಯಿಂದ್ ತಂದ್ ಅಚ್ಚಿದ್ದೊರ  ಕಿಲಾಫ್ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ
ಅಗ್ನಿದೇವನ್ ಮುಂದ್ ‘ಸಾಯೊತನ್ಕ್ ಸಹಬಾಳ್ವೆ ಮಾಡ್ತಿನಂತ್’ ಪ್ರಣಾಮ ಮಾಡೊಳ್,
ವಂಶದ್ ಕುಡಿನ್ ಕಯ್ಯಾಗ್ ಕೋಟ್ಟ್ ಕಿಸಿದ್ಕೊಂಡೋಳ್,
ಚಲೋ ಒರುಳ್ತಿದ್ ನಮ್ ಬದುಕ್ನಾ ಬಿರುಗಾಳಿಗ್ ಒಡ್ಡೀದಾಕಿ ಜೊತೆ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನೇ ಯವ್ವಾ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ
ಪುರುಷಪ್ರದಾನ ಸಮಾಜ್ ಅಂತ್ ದಾದಾ  ಕೋಡ್ ಹೊಯ್ಯಕ್ಕ್೦ತಿದ್ದಿ ದಡ್ಡಿಯಿದೀ ನೀ
ಕರೆನೇ ಹೇಳ್ತಿನೇಯವ್ವಾ ಗಂಡು ಮಗನಾಗಿ ನನ್ ಹಡೆದೀ,
ಗಂಡಾಗ್ ಹುಟ್ಟಿದ್ ಮಾತ್ರಕ್ ನನ್ ನೋವುನ್ನ್ ನ೦ಬ್ಲಾರದ್ ಮಂದಿ,
ಸಮಾನತೀ ಸಮಾನತೀಯಾ೦ತ್ ಸಂಸಾರದ್ ಸಾರಾನ್ನೆಲ್ಲಾ ಕೊಂದ್ ಮಂದಿ
ಕಣ್ಣಿರಿನ್ ಮರೆಯಾಗಿರೋ ಇಂದಿನ್ ಹೆಣ್ಣಿನ್ ಸ್ವಾರ್ತ್, ದ್ವೆಷ್, ಅಸುಯೇ, ನಾನತ್ವನ್ನ ಕಾಣೊಲ್ದ್
ಮಂದಿ ಜೋತೆಯಾಗ್ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನೇ ಯವ್ವಾ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ
ಮತ್ತಾ ನಿನ್ ಮಗನಾಗ್ ಬರ್ತಿನಂತ್ ಹೇಳಕ್ ಬರ್ವಲ್ದ್ ಯುದ್ದಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ
ಮತ್ತೊಂದ್ ಜನ್ಮ್ ಇದ್ದಾತ್ ಅಂದ್ರ ನಿಂದಾ ಹೊಟ್ಟಿನಾಗ್  ಹುಟ್ಟಿ ಬರ್ತಿನೇಯವ್ವಾ
ಕಡಿಗೊಂದ್ ಮಾತ್ಕೊಡೇಯವ್ವಾ ಆಗ್ಲೂ ನನ್ನ್ ಲಗ್ನ್ನಾಗು ಅಂತ್ ಕೋಪಕ್ಕ್ ದೊಡ್ ಬ್ಯಾಡ್ವೇಯವ್ವಾ ಯುದ್ದಾಕ್ ಹೊಂಟಿನಿ.