Little roses in the Litter. #1

#I am coming…

‘Ouch… why is this bitch still bleeding? I think some piece of it is still stuck inside my foot. That’s why it’s paining every time I step. I have to pick it out or else I can’t pick trash quick this day. But I can’t do it in this dark. I should keep moving and get out of here before it’s too late, before light strikes this night.’

Sahul moved stealthy in between the wild weeds and damp drainage of the industry. Leeches in the bog sticking to his leg sucking his blood; mosquitoes are biting every possible part of his body.  The broken ends of the fence cut his right foot making it bleed. The red blood made its trace along the marsh behind him.

‘Oh my god, save me from these bitches bites. I’ll fuck you all mosquitoes, get out of my way’ he mumbled angrily. It felt hard for his 16 years thin figure to drag his wounded leg in the logged water. Weed leaves cutting his hands and face with their sharp blades. But still he is determined to move. He had to get out of the factory premises before the sunrise, so that security won’t notice him. However they’ll get to know that the fence had been cut and stolen.

‘He is such an asshole, Rahul I will kill you after I come out of this shit. He said it’s all easy and he will be there if anything goes wrong. And now he ran like a dog the moment he heard the siren, leaving me behind. He took all the metal we cut out of the fence; I won’t leave him alive if he cheats on my share on it. But surprisingly no once is coming after me. Are guards sleeping? Sleep well idiots don’t wake up till I am out.’

His pace became slower now. His wound bleeding continuously and the blood loss making him weak in every step he takes.

‘don’t faint sahi, don’t faint.’ He whispered to himself, ‘you have been through much fucked up scenes than this. This is nothing for you. you will do it sahi, just few more steps. Lets do it you fucker’

Sahi was raise in an orphanage till he’s 13. He don’t know who is parents are, but he knew his sister who is 4 years younger than him and was raise along with him in the orphanage. Strange is that he spent 5 years with his parents but now he don’t remember even how they look. After 13 years he was thrown out from orphanage along with his sister because of the orphanage ran out of money and cannot afford to raise children above 12 years. But sahi didn’t belived it, he once stole the lunch box of ammaji, the head of orphanage. He thought that is the reason why he is thrown out of the orphanage. He thought it’s better to be out of it, because he thought the food he gets here from the money he made by selling the trash is of better quality than the food the orphanage served. He says that the food is often stale and smells like shit. Sahi managed to secure a little place in the slum nearby the orphanage where he made the shelter by standing the asbestos sheets and wood logs he gathered from nearby apartment construction. Her sister is an asthma patient and is often suffered with breathing problems. So, mostly she stays at home. Sahi is the only active earner. He has no friends and to him the sole reason to stay alive is her sister, pragathi.

‘Where am I going? Is this the right way out, if it is then why it’s taking so long. I am not understanding these routes in this fucking darkness. I swear rahu I will kill you for pushing me into this trouble.’

Sahi fell down. His eyes half open body half in dirty water. He tried hard to get up but he only managed to sit leaning on to a rock behind.

‘pragathi, its paining, the wound. I wish you would be here so you’ll help me. No, no. this cold, the water and the mosquitoes it’s hell here, you will get another asthma attack if you were here. I don’t wish that. But I should have listened to you when you begged me not to go for this. We are able to afford a meal for day. That’s enough for me, I have no big dreams. But I am not doing this for just money. Your asthma got worse these days and in coming rainy season I know how the hell it feels to you. I thought maybe If I would make some extra money We can make it to buy that inhaler which soothes your asthma like a magic as it did to Ramesh, the guy in orphanage who also had this asthma and always uses inhaler and I have seen him recover quickly when he puts it in his mouth, sucking air from it. Once I am out of this hell, I will drag my share from that dog Rahul and I will buy that inhaler.’

He tried to get up and stood up, his body shivering. The moment he tried to take a step, his bleeding foot collapsed unable to bear his weight. He fell down again.

‘shit, it’s getting worse. The pain, oh god, it’s killing me. I have to do something to get up and walk, if I don’t I will die here’

He managed to turn upside down still lying flat on the bog. His back is resting in the stale water and his face somewhat above the water with his eyes looking into the infinite sky.  The night darkness is slowly vanishing with the first light that is creeping stealthily.

‘Why you left me mom? Why you don’t like me dad? I lied everyone that I don’t remember you. I still remember the night you took me to orphanage, left me and sis in front of its doors. You told me that you will comeback with my favorite ice cream in no time but you didn’t. after you left, it began rain dad. Sister is only a year old. She cried for when it thundered. All night I cuddled her in my arms and sat there soaking in rain. I thought you will come back for sue. Even in the morning when ‘ammaji’ came to me and told me to admit in the orphanage I said no. I said that you will come back to take us, that you love us so much and won’t leave us like this. I told her that when you come back you will panic if you don’t find us here, so I told her that I will stay here till you come back. Even after we are admitted into orphanage, everyday I used to come out and sit on the same steps where you left me, hoping that you will come for us. But you didn’t. I hate you dad. I hate you mom.’

The blood from his bleeding wound gathered floating around him making that part of the bog red in colour. His eyes partially open and slowly he is losing consciousness. The night sky has lit bright now with the first light of sunrise.

‘I have to get out of here, Pragathi can’t live alone. I am not going to die here. I won’t. I am coming pragathi’

He forced to open his eyes. But he can no long feel his feet. All his body made numb and he cant even move an inch. He tried a lot but its all wasted, he cant move any part of his body except his eyes. He’s paralyzed due to heavy blood loss.

‘Help… somebody help me. Please…’

He shouted loud though his voice is weak and frail he tried his best to make him audible to surroundings. But he is already a long away from the factory. Everything around was empty sewage logged outskirts. No one stays there except for factory employees, even they stay in factory not here.

‘some fucking bitch come and help me… I am dying here…’

Hi shouts disappeared into the silence. His eyes closed, his blood bled, his struggle ended. He’s not dead yet, but he lost all his senses. Still his mind working, reciting his sister name, pragathi.

Tears flooded out from his closed eyes. His last breath resonated her name, He died murmuring his last words, ‘I am coming pragathi’.

End Word: My inspiration to write this is a book named 'Behind the beautiful forevers' by 'Katherine Boo.

[To download this Ebook: http://www.bookrix.com/_ebook-majety-chakradhar-i-am-coming/]

_MCD.

The 'Art of Story Telling'

'Art of Story Telling'

The art of story telling is a very creative and a very very challenging one. Beginning from the stone engravings to the present day eBooks people made many writing works. I believe that there are no really new stories. You accept it or not, all the stories, consciously or subconsciously are the products of finely tailored pieces of stories you read, heard, seen and experienced. If that's true then we wouldn't be writing any new books anymore. Of-course what I said is true but the space for new writings is created by the day-by-day evolving literature in one hand and the 'Innovative Story Telling' in the other hand. Yes, the really boring story can be made interesting and the nail biting page turner can be made lacklustre by your story telling.

Story telling is an art. No two persons say the same thing same. So, it's your style of story telling that gives the unique identity to your story. There may be textbooks, courses and crash courses that say they'll teach you the interesting ways to tell the stories. But believe me, formal education sucks. Learn by yourself, learn from practice. Because that's the best way to learn.

But there's one thing you should know about before you begin to practice the art of story telling. The most anticipated mistake we all do trying to over convey our story to the reader is that we show the details what's happening in the scene and at the same time we directly say what's happening. 

The famous book cover page designer 'Chip Kidd' once said in his speech at 'Ted Talks':

"Chi Kidd"

"Now, the first day of my graphic design training at Penn State University, the teacher, Lanny Sommese, came into the room and he drew a picture of an apple on the blackboard, and wrote the word "Apple" underneath, and he said, "OK. Lesson one. Listen up." And he covered up the picture and he said, "You either say this," and then he covered up the word, "or you show this. But you don't do this." Because this is treating your audience like a moron. (Laughter) And they deserve better."

You either describe the scenario to help reader build it virtually in his mind and grasp what's happening or else if you feel it isn't that important to visualize it to the reader you better tell him directly what's happening. 

Do this:

He is tapping his finger repeatedly on the table,his heart beat raged, his eyebrows are pulled down together and his face turned red.

(Or this)

He's angry.

But don't do this:

He is tapping his finger repeatedly on the table,his heart beat raged, his eyebrows are pulled down together and his face turned red. He's angry.

It's so pointless in putting your verbal efforts to strain in showing the reader what's happening when you are also simply telling him with direct names.You either visualize it to the reader or tell it to him directly but don't do both at once. It kills the flow and dulls the narration. 

So friends keep  this in your mind when you are writing. We mostly do this mistake in the fear that our reader may not get the exact picture of the scene we are trying to make. He may not get the exact picture you made in your mind while you are writing it but believe me friend, he might get slightly a different picture than yours but he definitely get the same emotion you are trying to convey. So keep this fact in mind while you are writing your drafts of first book. Because once you practiced it in your first book, you will automatically do it in the later ones. 

Here are some of my tips to become an interesting and involving story teller.(they may sound a little difficult and inappropriate at first but as you do them regularly you will get to feel their power in building up your skills. They work in background, from your subconscious mind they'll build up your skill of story telling.All the best :) )

1. Observe the speakers around you.

You'll find an infinite number of story tellers in your daily life. Vegetable vendor, neighbor's child, co-passenger, and many other people to whom you meet in daily do have many stories and each of them have their unique story telling. Listen to them without interrupting them, if it felt boring to you, find the reasons why it is boring. If it felt interesting to you, observe the person to find out how he presented it interestingly. These guys are the human institutes who teach you more than any university can ever do.

2.Read Books.

Read all kinds of books and find your taste. explore, examine and extract the author's narrative styles.

3.Watch Movies.

Watch a different kind of movie, at-least one movie per week. Don't just watch it while eating popcorn, observe how the director portrayed the situation. I think it is the easiest way to study the art of narration.

4.Listen to speeches.

Speeches are so much powerful that they changed histories, ruled out administrations, conquered kingdoms.The best speeches are the easiest ways to learn the art of story telling. No, I am not saying you to write your story like a speech. But by studying the speeches and the way they convey them, you will understand the elements that make a subject interesting and powerful. Incorporate those elements in your narrative style and you will see miracles in every paragraph. ;)

5.Write the rough.

Simply write different situations and different plots. no, not for publishing, not for showing people or not even for re-reading it by yourself. Just experiment with words and narrative styles. Write rough, write crap. It refines your skills and increases your flow. It helps to discover and rediscover your own styles of writing.

As the legend says, 'there are no shortcuts to success', don't search for a ready made step wise points to learn anything. Go jump into the ocean of whatever art you want to practice, do mistakes, do crap and learn from them. Keep practicing till you evolve into the finest form in that art. I believe in this process, It brings that unique style of yours out of you.  

_MCD.

(pic credits: bnp paribas mix city website, wikipedia, Laughter Online University)