Tag Archives: love for reading

A Man With The Mask

Happy, ecstatic, joyous, exuberant, there is just no one word to define the feeling when someone special is going to take you out on a date.

And to make the occasion extra special I go to extreme terms and dress up just for him. With a little bit of lipstick, a red dress, and a pair of high heels I am ready right on time. Of course I’ll be ready on time, if I’d be preparing for hours. Restless, I check the windows for any sign of his car, the phone for any texts. And just a few minutes later a horn blows off, and I am pretty sure it’s him.

Hiding behind the curtains, I take a glimpse, confirming that it’s him. Then, composing myself I go to the door to welcome him. Out of habit, I look through the peep hole.

It is not him. There is no one.

The doorbell rings again, constantly.

It is definitely not him.

I look through it again. And I fall back a couple of steps, trying to hold onto something, to be stable. I have never seen such a creature in my life. There is a lean, bony man outside, looking right at me, right at that tiny hole, making his face larger. He is smiling at it, smiling cunningly. He has a dark complexion, with weird teeth, and ears too big for any human face. He is wearing a black mask. He is laughing; I can hear it through the sound proof door. And just when I gulp down the saliva from my mouth, he starts banging on the door, laughing, and screaming, ‘I am going to get you.”

I double lock the door, rush to the windows and lock them too. I run to my room, locking the balcony, bolting every possible door and window, increasing the claustrophobia within. The air grows thick; I am sweaty, unable to breathe, shivering with fear and rage. Doubt and apprehension fill my mind.

Where is he?

Who is this creature?

What is going on?

What am I supposed to do?

I rush to grab my phone, and somehow the battery is drained, wasn’t it charged about 80%, right before he was to come?

The landline is dead.

And then the power goes off.

The next thing I know is I am in my bed, hardly breathing, craving for some air, my mouth is dry, and the mascara from my eyes has spread beyond my pink cheeks. I lay quite, befriending silence, trying to listen to any sound.  I have one arm under the pillow, shivering, holding a small gun, when I hear footsteps.

It couldn’t be.

I locked everything.

The shadow neared.

And my terror augmented.

Any thought of the date, a someone special, was nowhere in my mind now.

And then that lean, dark and bony creature entered my room.

His laugh sent shivers down me, and all my mind could think of was “Why me?”

The mask was not my illusion; it was a confirmation, the only common link among all the recent rape cases in the town, of all the women who were raped and murdered. He was the same man, the man with the mask!

He was a serial killer.

In my house?

Our eyes met, and he bent to grab my legs.

I kicked and waved with all my might, tears stinging my eyes. I got up, grabbed the blanket and covered my body, and with the other hand, I held the gun, pointing right at him.

Only it was not a gun. Instead it was a bed side lamp.

Only, there was no serial killer in my room, there was no one.

Only, I had been dreaming, dreaming the plot of the book that I am currently reading.

All sweaty, and craving for some air, I put down the lamp silently, and yet hesitated to open the windows. My mouth went dry at the mere thought of the dream. Sure, it was just a dream but I had seen it too closely.

I gulped down a glass of water, splashing some onto my face and went back to bed not daring to go outside, not wanting to even take a peek outside, till the sun came up.

 

PS: Currently reading,  ‘A Thin Dark Line’ by Tami Hoag.

Advertisements

Diwali Preparation

As much as I love the festivities, I hate the preparations now, right after my hectic travelling and the burden of my work and studies. And yet, I could not have been avoiding it for long, so Diwali right around the corner, I had to get going with it latest by today. And the only part about the unwanted cleaning that I liked today was getting to go through my book collection and soft toys. As I do not have a proper place to keep my books, I have it stacked at my study table and every other place, but I love them all the same.

So here are some of my lovelies-

IMG_3205

IMG_3208

IMG_3206

IMG_3207

IMG_3209

IMG_3211

IMG_3210

PS: I have always loved Noddy 😉

My Sister’s Keeper

Warning: I might end up discussing the story of the book too.

I was reading, so that I could kill my time, I was reading so that I could have a Sunday on a Monday, I was reading so that I could find out what actually happens to Anna, what about Kate? Will she live? Will she die? How is the family going to take it? How will Sara react when she finds out that her own daughter files a case against her and her husband, Brian? What is wrong with Jesse, their oldest son? What kind of chemistry do Campbell and Julia share, and what exactly is Judge, the dog for?

My sister’s keeper by Jodi Picoult has all the answers to it, and I was on the verge of finding them. Hardly did I know that by then I will be left shattered, once again. I really have lost count how many times a simple book has done that to me by now.

Devouring the last few pages of the book, digging my nails into the covers of the book, I realised that I was almost crying, at least on the verge of. I was battling hard to even breathe by now.

I mean, what, how, when, why???

It is then, that I realised that we have absolutely no control of our lives, we may think, we have, but no, we do not have even a grasp over it. I felt like a mere puppet playing the so called game, life.

We think we can control our lives, but all we have is a most shallow form of control, a simple interpretation of life, when in reality it is far more intense with lot many twists and turns which we can never in our rarest dreams anticipate.

Kate was the one suffering with some sort of cancer, Anna was the once conceived to donate her organs to her sister, then how come this end to a story?

The book is simply about Anna fighting for herself, but in the end what happens is really what I did not expect.

I kept the book aside, pages fluttering with the air, the ceiling fan really creaking down on me, and there I slept with the small lamp switched on, for the lightest hope to cling on to.

 

Reading -A Refuge

To acquire the habit of reading is to construct for yourself a refuge from almost all the miseries of life.

-William Somerset Maugham

 

Mystery ruin

I miss something today. Somehow I landed up on this thought today and it has occupied my mind since, kept my face smiling, and my heart overwhelmed.

It goes back to my college days where I was surrounded by people with same interests as me. I wouldn’t say all of them were my ‘friends’ but it was good to have them around, discuss things; share matters and have healthy arguments sometimes. All I am talking about is literature, and mostly reading books.

An episode came to my mind today, where I was excitedly talking about a book to a classmate, and she was shushing me constantly, she did not want to hear a word, did not want to know what I thought, what the book was all about, only because she hadn’t read it. And all this while I was enjoying, trying to tell her what actually happens, how the plot unfolds, what exactly was the mystery. She did this to me too when she would read something before me. In fact all of us did this to each other, it was kind of fun, but honestly we would never tell what actually happens. Why ruin the suspense, right? But it was fun to have them around.

I just miss them today, now that I am no longer among such people, in an absolutely different world. It would be good to just try and ruin the suspense for a change.

Bookish Problem

So today’s problem is, stacking books!!!!!

I have a small room to myself which till date I have been sharing with my brother. He is now studying in a different city but most of his belongings are here, so again it leaves me with no extra space. The room has 2 small wardrobes, amid which there is a dresser with few chest of drawers and a study table big enough to cram the room.

Basically no shelf, rack, or a separate space to store books.

Over the time, I have filled my study table and all its drawers with my novels, after which the drawers below the dresser came. Can you believe it? Novels in the space where one would usually find accessories, lipsticks, nail paints and what not. And now, I am literally out of space!!

I don’t know where the following books would go. But I am pretty sure the books wouldn’t stop coming!

Occasionally I do threaten my brother to vacate his wardrobe so that I can cram books there, but in return I get to hear I can throw away all my clothes and replace it with books, if I am so desperate for space.

Does anyone relate to it? Any one of you face the same book problems, or is it only me who always runs out of space!

Always!

It happens with me always, I plan do something and end up doing something else completely. I will go shopping, intending to buy may be a denim and will return with a cute little floral dress which I might have loved hanging somewhere in some random shop.

Today, being a relaxed Sunday I was up to do some searches needed for my papers and nothing more. The google search started really well on the Romantic age but soon I digressed and ended up bumping into this short poem on the internet. I thought it made a simple but yet a lovely read.

Look for yourself-

always.jpg