Storywheel: The Best of 2011

As the year draws to a close, here is The Best of 2011 from Storywheel. This list is in order of my preference, so the first one is what I like the most (Sorry, David Letterman. This is my blog and I get to do my lists, my way!).

Siachen:
This is top of the list of stories for 2011 and deals with guilt. One of my personal favorites. I have a fascination for train stations and this story opens with a railway station scene.

Unfinished Business:
This is a fictionalized account of true events from twenty years ago... the part about Hindi movies.

Madras Chronicles — Billa and Ranga:
Nostalgia.

Madras Chronicles — Summer of '79:
More nostalgia.

The Crush:
Pure fiction. I loved writing this story and coming up with a totally twisted ending.

Happy reading. Enjoy!

Random Acts

The train was not crowded for a Tuesday morning. Velachery station was next and a few minutes away. I was sitting on a seat near the door and noticed the commotion behind me. A man had fainted and the passengers clamoured to make him lie down.

I moved towards him.

He was about thirty-five years old, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans.

“Please! Make way... I am a doctor. Let me take a look at him!” I said.

I checked his pulse. He was still conscious, breathing irregularly and looking dazed. Small beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“Do you feel any pain in your chest?”

“No,” he nodded.

“Have you ever fainted before?”

“No...”

“Did you eat this morning?”

“No,” he nodded again.

“Okay... Don't worry. This might just be a low sugar situation. Drink this...”

I handed him a bottle of Fanta I had with me.

“Your body needs sugar right now... You are very likely running low on blood sugar.”

The train was approaching the station. He sat up and had a few gulps of the Fanta. He seemed to feel better.

“Well... This is my stop. I will be getting down. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes...”

“Get something to eat, alright?”

The train stopped. I joined the other passengers who got down at that station. I would have just taken a few steps when I heard him calling me.

“I didn't get to thank you...”

It was him.

“That's alright... I am glad I could help!”

“I am taking your advice and getting some breakfast. Would you care to join me, if you don't mind?”

“No, I have an appointment...”

I hesitated, looking at my watch. I still had forty minutes before my meeting with my insurance agent.

“On second thoughts... Let's go. There is a restaurant right outside the station,” I said.

The man appeared visibly pleased that I agreed.

We reached the restaurant. He ordered a masala dosa and I had coffee. We talked about each other. He told me that he was looking for a job and hadn't found one in the last two months.

The waiter brought the bill. I reached for my wallet and was shocked to discover that it was missing.

“Are you looking for this?”

He placed my wallet in front of me.

“I am sorry! I won't steal... ever again!”

The Crush

I glanced at my watch. Coach Singh was still answering a question from a reporter from The Sydney Morning Herald. The press conference should be over in a few more minutes. I looked around the room full of sports reporters covering the London Olympics. I stopped when my eyes met hers. She looked familiar. Who was she?

“We are quite confident that our champion boxer Sibi will win the Olympic gold. He is fully prepared and in excellent form. That is all we have time for today!” The coach turned to me and I nodded in agreement.

“That's a wrap folks!”

We got up. The cameras clicked incessantly as we left the conference room.

I ran into Anwar Mubarak, the Egyptian I was going to face tomorrow in the finals. He was in great form too and a formidable opponent. I waved to him and smiled when I noticed the woman from the press meeting walking towards me.

“Excuse me. Can I talk to you for a few seconds?”

I recognized her now.

“I am...”

“Shoba! Right?”

I couldn't contain my surprise.

“Yes! I am glad that you remember me.”

“It's been, what... ten years? Since we last met...”

She nodded.

“I live here in London. I am a reporter with The Guardian.”

“Wow!”

“Oh! Believe me, I am not going to talk shop! I am just excited to see you after such a long time. Listen, do you have some time now? I would like to catch up with you.”

“Sure. I was heading back to my room and retire for the night. But, we can go to the bar and talk over a few drinks.”

“Great Sibi!”

I inhaled deeply. Here she was... the girl I had a crush on during high school. Beautiful as ever, maybe even more now than what I imagined her to be. The mild fragrance from her perfume hit my nostrils as she stood inches away from me. It brought back memories of how madly crazy I was about her back in the days.

We grabbed our drinks and settled down at a table at a relatively quiet corner of the bar. My phone rang. It was the coach.

“I am sorry. You'll have to excuse me. I have to take this call!”

I excused myself and stepped out to take the call. I returned a minute later.

“Sorry. Singh is super pumped about all this. I hope I win the Olympic Gold!”

“You didn't want to talk shop...” She reminded me.

“Yeah, sorry... Tell me about you. How have you been?”

“I am doing great. I've been in London the past couple of years...”

“Married?”

“No... Still looking for the right man.” She smiled.

“Oh, that's a shame...” I said sipping my drink and looking at her dark black eyes.

She was quiet. I felt that familiar feeling of butterflies in my stomach.

We talked for thirty minutes about everything except what I wanted to tell her. I couldn't muster the courage to tell her how much I loved her. We shook hands. She left.

I returned to my room. I closed the door behind me and banged my head lightly a couple of times and stood there cursing myself.

* * *

I stared at the Olympic Gold medal that was mine from yesterday's fight. I had knocked out Anwar in the third round to grab the gold. I couldn't believe it was being stripped away from me!

The morning newspapers lay in front of me. All of them carried the news about the doping scandal. They reported that high levels of the banned substance 4-hydroxytestosterone was found in my blood and urine samples taken before the fight.

The official letter from the Olympic Committee banning me from future fights lay on the table.

Coach Singh was furious.

“The damn bookies! They stoop to any level to influence the odds. That is why I called you yesterday after the press conference to warn you...”

I felt as if someone grabbed my heart inside my chest and crushed it into a million pieces when it dawned on me that the girl I loved from high school had spiked my drink.

Storywheel Turns Two

Dear Readers,
   Storywheel turns two today. I would like to thank all the regular readers for their support.

When I started posting my stories on Storywheel, I had taken on the goal of completing 100 short stories in one year. That goal is far from being complete. As of the second anniversary, I have written 47 stories. Still short of the half-way mark. Nothing captures this better than the last story that I posted titled Unfinished Business.

The last year has been quite eventful.

• I wrote a total of 9 new stories. The pace has definitely slowed down. I am hopeful that I can pick up the pace and finish a few more before 2011 ends.
• I did my first radio interview with Sanobar Sultana on Chennai Live, mostly about Storywheel.
• In July 2011, I published the first 40 stories as Storywheel Collection ebooks on Kindle.
• As of today, the Storywheel Blog's Facebook page has 184 fans/followers.
• One of my most popular short stories (by traffic), Genome is being translated into Bulgarian by a reader! It also got a raving review on BestScienceFictionStories.com
• I started a part fiction, part autobiography series titled Madras Chronicles

As always, thank you for your support. Spread the word.

Happy reading!

Giri

Unfinished Business

Sundaram sat in the backseat and looked outside his car window. The city had changed so much in the last twenty years. He had come to India on business for the first time in many years. He had a nostalgic feeling looking at some of the landmarks that still stood the test of time among the more modern coffee shops, retail stores and fast food joints.

The two elephant statues by the side of the stairs at Annanagar club reminded him of the day when his school bus had a minor accident with a truck right in front of it. You generally don't forget the moment when you learn your first swear word. The Tower park was another regular place where he spent countless hours with friends.

The car was now past the Annanagar Roundtana. Sundaram noticed the store and asked the driver to stop the car.

* * *

“Anbu, the farewell is just a week away. We need to get gifts for our school teachers,” said Sundaram.


“Yeah, I know. We are going to a movie this weekend. Are you coming?” asked Anbu.


“Which movie and who else is coming?”


“Ram, Kumar, Ashok and I are planning to see Kishen Kanhaiya!”

Sundaram thought about it for a second. He had seen the Shilpa Shirodkar's stills in Filmfare and wanted to go. Although the practical problem of convincing his mother to get money for the tickets remained, he said yes.

* * *

The gang walked out of the Melody theatre after watching Anil Kapoor's double-act in the movie. They got into a bus. Along the way they were cracking jokes about movie clichés and voluptuous Bollywood women among other things. They got down at the Gemini stop.

“Lets go to Landmark. Maybe we can get the cards there?”

“What is our budget?”


“Part of the money is going into decorations and other event arrangements. I think we have 200 rupees give or take for buying the Thank You cards.”


“Thank You cards are a good idea, but can we gift something useful? Like a pen or something...”


“That is a good suggestion.”

They spent the next one hour at Landmark looking for Thank You cards and didn't find anything that met their budgetary constraints. The pens were even more expensive and they finally walked out without buying anything from the store. The store assistants probably heaved a sigh of relief upon their departure as they were getting antsy about these punks ruffling through the display copies of Filmfare, Debonair, India Today and other magazines.

The job was now delegated to Ram and Sundaram as the friends split up on their way home.

* * *

It was a small stationery shop. There was a person at the counter and another man at the cash register. Books, pens, ink, cellophane tape, scissors, glue and other items adorned the shelves. Sundaram and Ram walked in.

“We are looking for pens...” said Ram.

The assistant at the counter showed regular fountain pens. Ram looked at Sundaram who was shaking his head in disagreement.

“Can we get something better? We need twenty five of them!” said Sundaram.

The man sitting at the cash register walked towards them.

“Why don't you get #210, #302 and the Parkers?” He directed the assistant.

He must be the owner of the store thought Sundaram.

The assistant climbed up on a stool and returned back with half a dozen boxes with different kinds of pens.

“These are seventeen rupees a piece. These are twenty...” The shopkeeper explained about the writing instruments.

Ram looked at Sundaram. They both did the math mentally. There was no way to fit any of that in their budget.

He looked at the shopkeeper with the corner of his eye without making eye contact to ensure that he wasn't looking at them. He then lifted the box of cheap fountain pens to check the price as he was too embarassed to ask. Luckily, another customer walked into the store and the assistant walked away to help them. The owner was still with them. Ram pushed the boxes away from him and looked up at the shopkeeper. That is when he noticed. The shopkeeper was blind.

Ram pulled Sundaram aside and whispered into his ear.

“The man is blind!”

Sundaram was shocked. He looked at the man. His eyes were transfixed on an imaginary point behind them. He was blind indeed.

“I don't think we can buy any of these pens. They are all outside our budget! Let us end this embarrassment right now and get out!” said Ram.

“Okay. Let me handle the exit strategy...” said Sundaram and turned to the shopkeeper.

“We need something nicer! None of this stuff impresses us. Do you have anything better?”

The man paused for a second. “No, this is all we have. I am sorry.”

“Alright, thanks. We don't need them!”

Sundaram and Ram walked out.

“God! That was embarrassing...”

* * *

The place looked very different. But Sundaram knew that he was at the right place. He got out of his car and walked in. The store looked much brighter and spacious now.

“Can I help you sir?” asked the shopkeeper.

“Yes. I would like to get twenty five pens please. The best ones you've got!” said Sundaram.

The Odds

Prakash looked at his watch. It has been more than forty minutes since the scheduled departure time for his flight. There was no sign of the aircraft leaving the departure gate. The cabin was getting warmer. The flight attendants were busy handing out water bottles to the passengers who were getting increasingly impatient.

The PA system came alive with the captain making an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for this morning's delay. Our ground staff have been attending to a technical snag trying to get this aircraft flying and have been unsuccessful. We have a standby aircraft and our staff will assist you in getting you boarded soon. Once again, we apologize for the inconvenience.”

The passengers got up murmuring and lined up to get off the plane.

Prakash was concerned about missing his connection flight to London from Mumbai. He was on his way to attend a due diligence meeting with a potential acquisition target that his company was considering.

* * * 

The flight touched down at Mumbai airport almost an hour and half delayed from what Prakash had planned. As soon as he got out, he headed towards the shuttle bus service to get to the international terminal. There was a small queue waiting there for the shuttle. Prakash was getting nervous about making his flight as he reckoned he would reach there less than thirty minutes prior to the departure of his London flight.

The agonizing wait was finally over as the passengers boarded the shuttle bus.

* * * 

Prakash got down from the shuttle at the international terminal and sprinted to the check-in counter. He was surprised that the check-in counters were all empty with no one at the desks except at one where a supervisor was finishing up her shift. He ran to that counter before she could get away.

“Hi, I am on the flight to London...”

“Sorry sir, boarding is closed! I can help you get on the next flight that leaves late tonight...”

“Look, my incoming flight from Chennai got delayed. It is very important that I get on that flight to London to attend a business meeting. There is still twenty-five minutes to departure. Can you do something?”

“No sir, I can't!”

Prakash was getting angry. But, he also realized that the only person in the entire world who could help him get on that plane was the lady in front of him.

“Please! Can you at least check if there is a possibility? I would be very grateful...”

The lady looked at him for a second of hesitation and then picked up the phone.

“I am going to check with the gate. If they have still not closed the gate, we can try...”

“Thank you!"

Prakash let a sigh of relief.

“Okay. The last few passengers are boarding the flight. I am going to upgrade your economy ticket to business class. You may have to run in order to make it before they close the door. Here's your boarding pass. Have a pleasant flight!”

“Thank you! You are a lifesaver...”

Prakash picked up his hand luggage and ran towards security. He thanked his stars for packing light without any check-in bags. The security lines were also empty. He breezed through it and ran towards the gate hoping to make it on time.

He finally reached the gate. The last three elderly passengers were boarding the plane.

‘Thank God for old people!’

Prakash finally was relieved. He stood at the end of the line wiping the sweat off his face.

A few minutes later, he was well settled in his seat smiling at the flight attendant who was serving him a welcome drink.

* * * 

The television channels were running the news about the crash non-stop. A red bulletin in the bottom of the screen announced a toll-free number that relatives could call to inquire status. The nation was shocked and sadness filled the air.

No one expected any survivors from the crash. So, it was indeed a miracle that one person out of the four hundred plus passengers on that fateful flight lived to tell the tale.

Escape

The alarm sounded signaling the end of the hour. The watch tower had a change of guard. Superintendent Jackson had tightened the security protocols after the riot that broke out two days ago. One guard had been killed in the violence. Some said Jackson was pissed at the thought of such an atrocious incident under his watch. There were others who had a conspiracy theory that Jackson staged the whole thing to get rid of the guy for reasons unknown without having to face a departmental inquiry from the Bureau.

Jackson was a short and stout man with his balding forehead. One would mistake him for a store-clerk or a restaurant waiter except that the nasty scar that ran down his right cheek was evidence of a much darker character. He cut his teeth as a gunnery sergeant in the wars and joined law enforcement after leaving active service. He specifically asked for a job within the Bureau of Prisons and was granted it without much difficulty thanks to his war credentials. Now, he runs the Lunar Penitentiary Colony where the worst offenders are shipped off from the Earth to lead life sentences. Jackson ran a tight ship and held an enviable record. No one has ever managed to escape from his prison, yet.

* * *

Jeff Rhodes a.k.a. Prisoner #3092 at the Lunar Penitentiary Colony, lay on his bed in his cell with palms locked behind his shaved head and looking up through the glass ceiling. Beyond that reinforced unbreakable glass ceiling were stars, distant galaxies and dark space that seemed to extend to eternity. Somewhere, definitely outside the small viewport that the ceiling in his confinement cell offered him, a beautiful blue marble called Planet Earth was spinning around. Jeff Rhodes dreamed about it all the time. If everything were to go as per his plan, he would be on his way to the Earth in less than twenty four hours only happy to leave this godforsaken place.

He turned to his side and caught a figure in the shadows, standing by the gate and staring at him. He could make out the unmistakable contours of Jackson in the darkness, standing there almost like a wax statute. Jeff closed his eyes and mentally started running through the sequence of his escape plan for the tenth time. He didn't know when the tiredness took over his body and when he fell asleep.

* * *

Blaring alarms. Flashing lights. Prisoners lining up for a roll-call. Jeff avoided eye contact with Jackson and the other guards. He sat alone during breakfast, looking up occasionally to count the number of guards on duty. He knew that one of the guards was on special leave and had left for Earth last week due to the untimely death of his wife. Jeff had taken care of killing another guard during the riots last week. The reinforcements sent by the Bureau were enroute and would take two more days to reach the moon base. Meanwhile, Jackson's short-staffed crew would make mistakes. Jeff was counting on it. He hoped that no one would notice him slipping away after breakfast when the prisoners are sent back to their cells.

* * *

The alarm went off and the prisoners got up from their seats and filed into two lines. One of the guards signaled them to move towards the cell block. The prisoners in their orange jumpsuits started walking. Jeff had carefully picked his breakfast table so that he would be towards the end of the line with just a couple of men behind him with the rear guards following them. The prisoners had to navigate two sharp turns and Jeff was planning to slip away between those two turns and hide in a wall recess he had identified. The challenge was to do it without the knowledge of the other prisoners and the rear guards.

The leading prisoners made the first turn to the right. Jeff coughed and stopped temporarily as the rear guards looked up. He avoided meeting them in the eye and let the two other prisoners who were behind him to pass and took the last position in the line. The guards didn't notice and seemed to be relaxed and engaged in trivial banter. He was now just a few steps away from the first turn himself.  Jeff made the turn and quickened his pace. Small beads of sweat formed on his head and ran down over the dragon tattooed on his neck. The rear guards were invisible and were at least ten steps behind him. Another four seconds... and he would reach the wall recess.

As soon as he got there, Jeff deftly moved sideways and cramped himself into the small space offered by the wall recess and hid in the darkness. He could hear the footsteps of guards. Jeff was acutely aware of all his senses and time seemed to slow down as he waited with bated breath. He could see the rear guards passing by. He waited there for a minute and then tiptoed his way to the transportation bay. He reached the door. There was not much time left. There will be a check done after all the prisoners get into their respective cells and his escape would be discovered. He had to be on his way before that.

He took out the key from his pocket... the key that he had taken from the dead guard during the riots. He opened the transportation bay door. He had almost made it. A few seconds away from freedom. He could sense it.

A steel casket ready for dispatch lay in the center of the dimly lit room. The casket held the dead body of the guard he had killed. It was destined to leave for the Earth in the next robotic cargo freighter out of the Lunar Penitentiary Colony. Jeff thanked the broadminded designers of the steel casket for making it large enough to fit two bodies. Of course, he didn't know or care that it was designed that way for saving costs.

He could see the cargo freighter's lights blinking a short distance away as it approached for docking. He quickly got into the casket, by the side of the embalmed corpse and closed it shut. Once the freighter undocks, he would be free to get out of the casket. Every casket had an unlock provision from the inside in case someone was accidentally shut in. He was willing to endure this minor ordeal with the corpse until the freighter was on its way. 

The pod bay doors opened and the freighter completed its docking maneuver. The casket moved into the freighter and the doors closed. A few seconds later the freighter undocked and glided away from the Lunar Penitentiary Colony. 

* * *

Superintendent Jackson finished typing his report on the strange happenings that week.

CASKET A314.

CONTENTS:
 - OFFICER MARK RICKMAN (38/MALE), LPC RIOT VICTIM.

 - PRISONER #3092 JEFF RHODES (29/MALE), LPC RIOT VICTIM.

CASKET A314 SENT TO EARTH.

CASKET A314 DISPOSED IN SPACE AS PER NEW DISPOSAL POLICY AND COST REDUCTION DIRECTIVE 37.

Homework

Selvam sat in his classroom looking out the widow. Two sparrows sitting on a branch of the mango tree in the playground were chirping playfully. The teacher was reading a passage from the Social Studies textbook. Nothing that happened around him interested Selvam. He was preoccupied with something that demanded his entire creative faculties. So, the sparrows and Social Studies had to wait.

The past two hours he had been thinking about what excuse he would give this time for not finishing his Tamil homework. Ms. Malini was a tough teacher and very adept at detecting lies. He remembered how Sudhakar goofed up a few days ago.

“Why didn't you finish your homework?” asked Ms. Malini.

“I was out of station this weekend,” said Sudhakar.

“Where did you go?”

“Bombay!”

“...and you returned over the weekend? In just one day?”

“Yes!”

“How did you go? Did you fly?”

“No. We went in my uncle's motorbike! It is a Bullet... very fast!”

Selvam hit his forehead with his palm. ‘The idiot doesn't even know how to lie... This is not going to be good!’

Ms. Malini rolled her eyes and grabbed Sudhakar by his ears. “So, you and your uncle made a trip to Bombay from Madras in his bike and returned in one day!”

The bell rang and Selvam came back to his senses.

‘There is not enough time. It is mathematics class now followed by recess and Ms. Malini will be here for the Tamil class! Think Selvam... think!’

‘Should I say that I lost my homework notebook? No, I have used that excuse already! She would only get mad that I am repeating the same stupid excuse... What if I say that I left my notebook at home? Selvam, come up with something original and believable... Some other idiot would give that excuse today! Should I say that my younger brother must have got my notebook mixed up with his by mistake? Nope... too dangerous! What if she asks me to go to his class and collect it? Oh the perils of having your sibling study in the same school...’

Ms. Jaya, the mathematics teacher was explaining mean, median, mode. Lies, damn lies and statistics!

Selvam's mind was grasping at straws helplessly as he drowned in the river of rejected ideas. I am doomed...

The vice-principal walked into the class and Ms. Jaya stopped her lesson. The two of them walked out of the classroom and discussed something softly. Ms. Jaya returned a minute later. She closed her textbook and asked all the children to gather their belongings and assemble in a single file, in the corridor outside the classroom.

“Children, we are closing the school now as we have received news that the Prime Minister Indira Gandhi had been shot dead by her bodyguards. Public transport in the city is stopped. No buses are plying. We will be taking you to your homes in groups...” She continued explaining the logistics.

Selvam was not paying attention to any of that. The sparrows were still there on the tree branch, chirping merrily.

Madras Chronicles — Summer of '79

Every kid grows up with a song that keeps repeating in his head. For me it was என்னடி மீனாட்சி, சொன்னது என்னாச்சு from the movie இளமை ஊஞ்சல் ஆடுகிறது directed by ஸ்ரீதர் that had memorable performances by Kamal Hasan, Rajnikanth, Sripriya and Jayachitra. The song performed by S.P. Balasubramaniam was quite popular in '78-'79 and whenever All India Radio played the song, I used to run towards the radio and start dancing. It was a favorite entertainment for all the aunts and uncles in the household. The fact that my maternal grandmother was named Meenakshi must have had something to do with it.

Identity

The Police had cordoned off the area at the corner of Sutton and Main streets.  The place looked like a warzone.  Curious onlookers stood behind the police roadblocks trying to get a glimpse of the disaster that had engulfed their community.  The red brick building which housed the Perfect Spirits liquor store in the ground floor was reduced to smoldering ruins from the fire.  The road was coated with soot and rivulets of black water flowed down the street into the drains.

Madras Chronicles — Billa and Ranga

My first memory of Madras is from the year 1979. I was 4 years old. I still vividly remember walking along with my maternal grandfather, mom and dad in a suburb of Madras at that time called Annanagar. The most popular landmark that everyone associated with Annanagar was the Visweswaraya Tower built in the early '70s after the 1968 World Trade Fair held in that area. Most people just call it the Annanagar Tower.

Storywheel meets iTunes

The Heist – A Ten Minute Play is now available on the Apple iTunes bookstore! This play is available for royalty-free performances worldwide.


Here is the link: http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id454545508?mt=11


Enjoy!

Genome (the comic)

The Heist – A Ten Minute Play now available on Smashwords.com

The Heist – A Ten Minute Play is now available from Smashwords.com!

The play is an adaptation from two short stories – The Heist and Transference – previously published on Storywheel. Regular readers of Storywheel may recall that a different adaptation directed by Hariher Balasubramaniam from Strayfactory was staged during The Great Indian Blogologues in October 2010.

This is the original version of the script available for royalty-free performances on stages worldwide.

Update - Aug 13, 2011: The ebook is available on smashwords.com at a discount of 50% until Sep 15, 2011. Use Coupon Code JX74N

Storywheel Collection - Now available for Kindle on Amazon.com

Dear readers,


You can now purchase Kindle eBooks of collections of stories from Storywheel at Amazon.com! For the convenience of readers, there are different collections available.

The Storywheel Collection - Vol I consists of the first 20 stories published on Storywheel: the short story blog.

The Storywheel Collection - Vol II is the second in the series and consists of another 20 stories previously published on Storywheel: the short story blog.

The Storywheel Collection - Combined Vol I & II is a bargain. Get all 40 stories in one neat package. This is the best deal and has all the stories published so far.











If you are a science fiction fan, the Storywheel Collection - Science Fiction is for you.












And coming soon... The Storywheel Collection - Suspense. For those who like a little mystery in their short stories.

I thank all readers for their continued support. Happy reading.

Enjoy!

Precious Cargo

Image Credit: extranoise via Flickr

R

aghavan walked to his desk dressed in a white bathrobe. He pressed a button and a monitor sprung up on his desk and lit up. It seemed to be a busy day ahead for the Minister of Transportation.

An instant message popped up from his daughter Manju in Cleveland. She had moved to the United States with her husband, an American citizen about a year ago. Raghavan opened the message—‘Please send a bottle of spicy mango pickles!’

Prayers and Solidarity

Dear Storywheel readers,
     Join me in expressing our prayers and hopes for the people of Japan who have been ravaged by the recent earthquake and tsunami and its aftermath.

Regards,
Giri

Siachen

Image Credit: Crevasse by Barrie Sutcliffe via Flickr

T

he train stopped at Jolarpettai station. Sundaram collected his bag and walked towards the exit. Porters scurried around looking for customers. It stopped raining a few minutes ago. The platform was drenched.

Sundaram got out of the station and looked for the cab driver who was supposed to pick him up. He found the driver holding a placard with his name.