Our loved Short Stories....by eminent Author's and Writers

Good Afternoon dear Bookworms...when you read something which is a brilliant piece of work and makes you feel so good, positive. You are in the end inspired. Keeping this in mind we decided to bring to you works of author's, those stories which touches you. One such writer and author is Prity.S who has been  the contributing author of 25 strokes of kindness anthology recently published by Grapevine.

Prity Subramanyam is a loving wife to a loving husband, Director of Autonetic Software Technologies Pvt Ltd and a writer. She loves to read, write and eat. She finds solace in knitting epic tales and reading Indian Mythology. She aims to write till her heart’s content and give her readers something unique with every piece of her work.

Her thoughts on Being Bookworms

"Being Bookworms is a great place for readers and writers to share their common passion - books. It's all about that, isn't it? With Being Bookworms, readers can not only enjoy reading their favortite books, they'll also be able to get to know their Authors. I love what Sufia is doing here. India needs more such young enthusiasts to bring out the love for books and above all, words. Keep it up, Sufia." Prity.S, Author

                       
a talented Writer. We welcome you to Being Bookworms family.
Here is a short story by her not released before exclusively for you all.

One Honey Family- Prity.S

Sky must have been a mistake. The big brush never must have intended to paint the spectacular
blue. It had to be an accident indeed. Nobody could have otherwise envisioned the beauty of vivid
fusion of colours like blue, indigo, orange, red and pinks. Even the most proficient artist wouldn’t
dare to use such an elaborate stroke of bold colours. Even if they do, it might not lead to a picture
perfect scene every dawn and dusk. Is it masterpiece or a big faux pas?
An exquisite piece of art made out of mistake or is it that we were fashioned in a way to appreciate
the gaffe. It is after all our eyes that show us the grand picture. How else could anyone apprize the
splendor of the moon million miles away, which for that matter, isn't really anything else other
than a mass of hard land filled with holes and ugly rocks? Was moon a slice of array of blunders too?
To hide the ugliness, the alpha and gamma must have added the dazzle. The grandeur of the tiny
things in this world seems to have come out of sheer accident, if not, how anyone could explain me.
Me? I am Mohan, the biggest blunder the divine factory could have manufactured. Small or big, I am
no other than a mistake indeed.
No scientist, no engineer, I am simply a fool. The kind of guy who gets invited to a party by accident,
where someone knows someone and I get dragged in by someone else, just because I happen to be
there at the moment. That’s right; everything about me is either an accident or a mistake. I never
had any close friends, no social life whatsoever, and no girlfriends in my entire life of thirty eight.
Given the circumstances, friendship would have been a meaningless term in my life but then again it
hasn't. It has been a comforting as well as an agonizing object of my life. It reminds me of the only
person in the world who shows some affection towards me, other than my mother. Cyra.
Cyra, what can I say about her, she was no mistake. She had the qualities of a perfectionist.
Beautiful. Beauty like an angel. She had the most stunning eyes. Black, fish like, big, sparkling. Nose
that says I’ll pierce you, any and everyone’s dream nose job, and a face that would make you stare at
her incessantly. Pink. She was pink, especially on the cheeks like a fresh apple out from the
mountains. She had wavy hairs that highlighted her face. Smart. Not the topper type smart but the
one who understands the small things behind all processes. Bold. Like a ripper, cuts straight through
wild grass, sea of thorns, and almost anything. Gentle. Gentle like a rose and soft at heart. Wouldn't
hurt a fly even by chance. That’s Cyra. The love of my life. Sorry, Cyra my life.
Cyra physically lived beside my house for almost seventeen years and lived in my heart for almost…
infinity. My life never ceased before her. Honestly, I had no life at all. Well I still don’t but that’s
another story. I don’t remember a single exciting incident or any event for that matter before the
day she entered my life. It was as if I never existed. My life started the day I met her.
I still remember the day I saw Cyra for the first time. She was crying in front of my house and in
serious need of a tissue. Even though I didn't have one, I walked straight to her as if an invisible
thread was pulling me towards her unwittingly. I didn't have the courage to talk to her so I simply
stood by her, muted by my speech, with my shirt ripped out in my hands. She looked up at me and
smiled in return. I think of it as her way of acknowledging my help. She dried her tears and also blew
her nose. That moment was the turning point of my life. Actually, before then, I never noticed girls.
Besides, eight is not an age to fall in love. Conversely, that was the moment I fell in love with her.
Right there, seeing her blow her nose out was like magic. There and then began our golden
friendship that was about to last a lifetime and my fad for collecting prized possessions that
belonged to Cyra. I have a secret room full of Cyra’s stuff including that shirt, unwashed of course.
The biggest irony of my life is that I have secretly adored Cyra all my life but never considered myself
worthy of having her in it. She is too good for me. I have tried to picture myself beside her but never
dared to actually do so, even in my dreams. That’s probably why I never told her how I feel about
her. But I do know how she feels about me. A good friend. Maybe even a very good friend but
nothing more than that. I didn't even feel bad when she told me about her first crush, her first love
and her first kiss. I was in fact happy when she told me she was getting married. When I come to
think of it today, I think I was a chicken. Because I was afraid to lose her. And today I might have
grown out of it, but not enough to face the truth. I feel now’s too late for any kind of confession,
especially after buying gifts for her adorable little kids.
I don’t pity myself, but I do feel sorry, I could have died in peace, had I ever told her, that I love her.
I picked out the best suit from my closet. The one with the dark charcoal clothing with pine stripes in
it. The one I wear during my important client meetings. The one I wore when I was receiving the Best
Sales Manager of the month award. The same suit I wear for classy dinner parties. It’s one of my
lucky suits, actually my only lucky suit, because I don’t give others an opportunity to perform.
Anyway, I looked at the suit sprawled across my bed and wondered if it was good enough. I knew it
was not, nothing could ever be.
Even though I was now the Vice President of the company I was working with for the past ten years,
I knew I was not good enough for her, and no way could I stand in front of her, competing against
him. Him? Amit, Cyra’s life partner, love of her life, her sweetheart. She loved him to death and why
wouldn't she? He was an engineer at the best. He knew what he was doing. He worked for one of
the best software companies in the world. An NRI, tall, dark, handsome. A perfect marriage material.
There was no way I could defeat him. Sorry, there was no way I could even face him. I thought of
calling off the dinner. But then it was my only chance to meet Cyra after seven years. And she was
going back in a month’s time. I had to see her. But the thought of meeting her kids and her husband,
was killing me. Not because I would feel defeated and shattered but because I would be a laughing
stock for them. Why? It’s me! My name is Mohan Ramalingam and I am a fool. They might be
humble enough not to laugh on my face but after I would leave, they would fall on the floor
laughing, or is it rolling on the floor laughing. Something like that. I wouldn't want it. And Cyra would
be hurt if they did. She never liked it when somebody laughed at me. She always stood up for me.
I made up my mind, I had to go, and I had to see her, one last time. I was going to tell her that I love
her, no matter what.
She had the right to know. She moved someone; she was the world to someone; she mattered so
much to someone. She deserved it.
So did I. To feel so much for someone and not let it out. It was cruel. If the human welfare
association or any such organization knew of this act, I’d be behind bars by now. I have to tell her. So
she’d say it was too late or too much or too foolish. So she’d stop talking. So she’d cut all contact
with me. But that’d be fine. Living a life like this was like choking in my own breath.
It was the longest moment ever. Pressing the bell and waiting for someone to answer. I knew she’d
come to the door and greet me with her ever beautiful smile. But my stomach, apparently, had some
issues. It was fluttering like a caged butterfly. It wanted to fly out of my mouth. I shushed it down
and waited patiently till someone answered.
Cyra.
She was as beautiful as ever. Only her face looked sad. What was it? I wanted to ask immediately but
the kids sitting on the couch made me procrastinate. They were dull and watching TV as if they
didn’t have any other choice. They were never like this. Something had happened. I didn’t know
what.
“Are you okay?” I asked her slowly.
She smiled back but didn't reply. Amit. He wasn't there. Did they fight? Are they separated? I knew
how much she loved him. Being away from him would kill her. Whatever it was, I’ll help them patch
up. They will have to. They had kids. And who could not love Cyra. I’ll talk to Amit. I’ll make it work.
“Where is Amit?” I asked her aloud. The kids heard. Cyra looked at them and they rushed up the
stairs. It was something serious. It looked bad.
She dropped the china cup she held in her hands and walked toward me. I could see the tornado
building up inside her. I always did. I could see the pain in her eyes. The joy in her face and the anger
from her nose. She was like a reflection of me. It was as if I could see into her.
I moved towards her and before I could say something, she broke into my arms, bursting into tears.
My mind froze and my body paralyzed. I couldn't gather the strength to even console her. I felt like a
perv. It was so wrong to feel anything for her when she was like this. But my stupid heart didn't
know anything else. It loved her to death and her touch made it either run fast or stop altogether.
Right now, it was confused. I was confused. I didn't know what was happening to me or my heart.
Whatever it was, I had to get a grip and speak up. Find out what was happening with her.
“What happened?” I asked.
She was sobbing. Not the soft whimpers or moans, the heavy bawling kind. I gathered up some
courage and patted her back. “Tell my Cy, what happened?”
“Amit... he is ... he left us, Mohan.”
That bastard.
“He is no more...”
Oops. Never speak ill of the dead, I believed. Shiv Shiva. I cursed my foolish tongue and pulled Cyra
away. Her head still hung low and she was sobbing.
“What happened?” I asked again, hoping she’d say something that didn't involve Amit being dead.
“There was an accident about a month ago and he passed away on the way to the hospital.”
“You should have called me,” I said. I would have flown. Damn. Her husband died and the kids lost
their father. I would have swum the seas to be with her.
“What is the point?” she started to cry uncontrollably. “I have left everything. We have come back
here. I don’t have anyone, Mohan, other than you. I need your help. I can’t do this alone.”
She had lost everything. And here I was thinking – did I just win everything?
I pitched in to spend the night with her. I am not as disgusting as you think. I didn't want to take
advantage. I only want to support her and be with her when she needs me the most. And by her
looks, I know the time is now.
I made dinner. Rice and sambar. The best I can cook and the dish she loved the most. The kids didn't
touch it and they went up to their rooms. She was a mess. She practically ate nothing.
I gorged shamelessly while they starved. I did feel some guilt but something else was feeling me
strongly. Hunger. No matter what I did, I couldn't tame my hunger. I had to eat.
I washed my hands and moved the dishes to the sink. Cyra followed my timidly. She looked weak. I
tried to stop her but she forced the dishes out of my hands. Tears flowed as she scrubbed each dish
from its stain. I couldn't bear it. I grabbed her hands by one hand while wiped away her tears by the
other. I could see her legs weaken and her body fall frail. I held her collapsing body and leaned her
over my chest. The confusing feeling was now clear. It comforted me. It gave me peace. My heart
felt something it had never seen before. Happiness.
Was it possible? Could I be destined to some or even any happiness?
She slowly lifted her face and I saw her in a way I haven’t seen before. Soft, supple and sweet. Her
lips like petal, they were so close to mine. I couldn't do anything to stop myself. As if a thread pulled
me to her. Stop. Stop. I yelled but my heart wouldn't listen. I pulled her little closer and softly
touched my lips over hers. She yielded in to me as if her lips craved the same. My hands clutched her
body tightly and I pulled her even closer.
She instantly jolted out of it and pushed me away. Her soft eyes now looked different. Probably
confused like me. I don’t blame her. I have been a lifelong friend to her and this, honestly, she
mustn't have expected.
Out of nowhere, she whacked me a tight slap. My head rang and my spectacles flew a mile or
whatever that distance it was. I did deserve it. The woman just lost the father of her kids. What was I
thinking? Actually that was the problem. I wasn't thinking nor was my heart. I sometimes wonder if
my heart has a mind to think. Maybe my heart and mind are not connected. She stormed out.
Great. I wanted to tell her and I did. Atta boy. I was the least impressive person I had ever seen.
I didn't know what to do. I was well humiliated. So I drove back.
I cried like I never did. Like a girl. Happiness? To even think that I could have it. Ridiculous. I wipes
my tears and sucked my nose. I think I caught some cold. The last thing I needed.
I had one reason in my life, one ray to keep me going and I lost it. Just then a lightning struck with
thunder. Like some background score of a chick flick. Perfect.
I thought about Cyra and her soft face. The angel face. How could I dare touch her? I humiliated
herself and me. I was a curse on the mankind and on Cyra.
She just lost everything and came to me so I could help her and here I was trying to find advantage
for me. I had to make up. Killing myself was an answer but not a good one. Cyra would be all alone.
The other alternative was to find her a good companion and then disappear from her life forever.
Yes, I’d tell her that I was wrong and it was a mistake. I’d beg her to forget it and forgive me. I
grabbed my car keys and opened the front door.
It was raining heavily and she stood at the doorstep, completely drenched in water. Her head
dipped low, water dripping from her long open hair, I didn't know if she was crying.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Of course,” I replied and gave her way to come in.
“I’ll go get a towel,” I said and started toward my room when she grabbed my left hand. I turned
around and looked at her. She was sobbing, still stealing her glance away from mine.
“I always knew.”
I was shocked. What was she talking about?
“How you felt about me and I still chose to ignore.”
I thought I was worth an academy or a golden globe at the very least, but, apparently, I wasn’t. She
always knew.
“I am sorry.” She broke down. It was tormenting to see her like this.
“I am sorry,” I said, moving close to her, sitting on my knees, holding her hand tightly. “I was wrong
and indecent. If we could forget it and move...”
Before I could say more, she leaned close to me and touched my lips by hers. My head went blank
and my heart flapped its wings. Maybe wagged its tail. I don’t know, but I did feel happy.
She pulled herself away and said, “I don’t want to forget.”
Was life really beautiful and this universe perfect? If pieces could fall for me, then may be so. If a
messed up puzzle like mine could be solved, then the creator has to be a mastermind and this world
a masterpiece.

Hope you enjoyed it as much as we did.regards,
Being bookworms
P.S Expect more exciting interviews and updates in the future.