The Title Does Not Fit This Space

[TITLE]Full Love - A strange kind of romantic adventure with a title longer than the story in which the hero of the story falls in love with a maid of the most queer kind or to tell the truth falls in love with a light bulb and ultimately takes his life for the sake of his lady love or in other words when the bulb burned out but leaves behind him the story of his most daring-do romantic tale culminating in an epic of sixteen hundred pages or in better words which can be called a suicide-note[\TITLE]

[STORY]The Title Does Not Permit[\Story]

Short Story - The Wishes Unfulfilled

December 25, 2008 | 10.20 AM | Version 1.0

Short Story - The Wishes Unfulfilled

Poor Moni, as was her nickname in the many households where she worked could not sleep peacefully today. Her children had gone to sleep crying for new clothes. This thought seemed to rend her heart the whole night and kept her awake. How poor and miserable she was, that she could not provide her children with new clothes for Id? Even she did not have anything nice for them to eat. She had some flour but no sugar and her husband returned at midnight with his hands being empty. She did not like to quarrel with him and kept quiet, but she knew that he had gambled the money he had earned.

The whole night she kept on thinking and thinking – why were they like this? Why could not her children have clothes and sweets like the rich ones? What was her fault? Perhaps, she had erred somewhere and God was punishing her but what was the fault of the innocent children? Did not God see the rags they wore? Did not God see their thin dusty bodies? Did not he say that all are his children? Then why was this that some of his children remained hungry while others had so much to eat that they even feed their dogs with costly food which they can’t even dream of purchasing?

And the fog that bordered the houses in this cold month of November slowly lifted her veil. The cars, all polished and clean began to speed past her house with well-adorned and plump children and with happy faces and jovial hearts. They were all going with their parents towards the prayer grounds. Her children also had risen from their sleep; they had forgotten about the clothes.

A few minutes later her son said to his small sister, “Hey, isn’t it Id today! Come, let’s play.”

And they were playing with a puddle of mud outside their small hut under the wide eyes of “God – The Great.”

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December 8, 2008 | 5.35 AM IST | Version 0.1

Short Story - The Wishes Unfulfilled

Poor Moni, as was her nickname in the many households where she worked could not sleep peacefully today. Her children had gone to sleep crying for new clothes. This thought seemed to rend her heart the whole night and kept her awake. How poor and miserable she was, that she could not provide her children with new clothes for Id? Even she did not have anything nice for them to eat. She had some flour but no sugar and her husband had come home at midnight with his hands being empty. She did not like to quarrel with him and kept quiet, but she knew that he had gambled the money he had earned.

The whole night she kept on thinking and thinking – why were they like this? Why could not her children have clothes and nice sweets like the rich ones? What was her fault? Perhaps, she had erred somewhere and God was punishing her but what was the fault of the innocent children? Did not God see the rags they wore? Did not God see their thin dusty bodies? Did not he say that all are his children? Then why was this that some of his children remained hungry while others had so much to eat that they even feed their dogs with costly food, which they can’t even dream of purchasing?

And the fog that bordered the houses in this cold month of November slowly lifted her veil. The cars, all polished and clean began to speed past her house with well-adorned and plump children and with happy faces and jovial hearts. They were all going with their parents towards the prayer grounds. Her children also had risen from their sleep; they had forgotten about the clothes.

A few minutes later her son said to his small sister, “Hey, isn’t it Id today, come let’s play.”

And they were playing in a puddle of mud outside their small hut under the wide eyes of “God – The Great.”

Short Story - The People Who Killed Him

He was writhing in pain. They were howling in happiness. He was taking his last breaths with great discomfort and with sorrow and with tears. They were enjoying his pain as was by nature built into them – enjoying the pain of others.

A large crowd was now around him and more were joining to gain a view of the pain.

His fault? The creeping creature’s fault was that while moving he got in front of their views. His fault was the wrath of the fault of nature – the blood seeking psyches of humans.

And there were frantic shouts. And they took into their hands whatever they could find – sticks and rods. And they thrashed him with delight.

And someone whispered that he was taking much time to die. He suggested that they burn this ugly one. And they splashed petrol on that poor soul and burnt him to death. They gave him an expeditious death.

Short story written by Parvez Ahmed on December 5, 2008.

Short Story - The Illusion of Love

A small girl told her mother that she wanted to eat sweets. The mother purchased some sweets for her. And the child said, “My mother loves me.”

A school-going boy asked his father for pocket money. The father gave him what he wished. And the boy said, “My father loves me.”

A wife was cajoling her husband to buy her some new clothes. The husband bought for her beautiful clothes. And the wife said, “My husband loves me so much.”

A beggar sitting on a road-corner was crying for alms from the people passing by. Some gave him a coin or two. And he said, “The people are so nice. They love me.”

A boy and a girl loved each other very much. Whenever the boy saw the girl, his penis would become as hard as a rock. Also, the girl, whenever she saw the boy she became aroused. And the boy and the girl said, “They loved each other.”

Short story written by Parvez Ahmed on November 22, 2008. 'Sleeping Venus' is a painting by Giorgione (1477/78-1510).

Short Story - She Pained Her Ankle

The Place was Mumbai. A place of vain lovers and vexing lies. In there lived a lady – a famous lady of the screen.

One day while she was taking a walk in the morning, she tumbled upon a stone on the road. She lost her balance and fell down. She was hurt, especially, for she was a soft fairy and, unlike those woman of the slums that lived a few miles away from her she was not used to falling and thrashing and the pains of life, for she was meant to delight the penises of the commons and the rich ones and the famous ones and, how could a soft fairy who delighted so many men’s penises be hard and differential to itches and bruises like that of the ragged and ugly and poor and dirty slum woman.

And it came to pass that a small-time politician saw the fall of the screen goddess. He without wasting a moment ran to the leader of his party and narrated the fall of the siren to him.

And the leader of his party immediately called the press. He told them that the present government was worthless and was unaware of the common man’s plight on the road. He also told them that if his party wins the coming elections he would make sure that roads are free of stones and ladies walk safely without any concern.

He finished his statement to the reporters by saying, ‘The Prime Minister is a man totally unaware of the stones on the road. Brothers and sisters of this, our great nation – I know you will this time want a man more capable - and I know you will vote for my party.’

The newspapers carried the incident and the opposition party’s narrative on their front pages and in bold headings.

The ruling party got wind of this and quickly issued a statement. This is what their spokesman said to the reporters, ‘This is a matter grave and serious. A lady – the most beautiful lady on earth is hurt. We have numerous proofs as to who committed the crime. We have strong evidence as to who placed the stone on the road. Brothers and sisters of this our so high nation – you know – you know it very clearly – the opposition is mad – they have become restless for power…’

As the news channels aired this news, the opposition party became furious. They held a meeting and declared that they would hold a protest rally.

The next day, a massive herd of humans processed towards the parliament of India led by the chairman of the opposition party.

And he was live on television, directly from the front of the citadel of power – the Indian parliament. The chairman of the opposition opened his mouth – ‘Shame!’ After that, he became silent for a few moments while nodding his head as if in despair. Again, he opened his mouth, ‘Shame on the Prime Minister, the cabinet ministers – ladies are being hurt by stones on the road and you sit quietly. Shame on you! Such a feeble government I have not seen in my whole life… We – our party demands a CBI inquiry into the matter and a special committee to be set up, so that no stones ail any ladies on the road.’

When the parliament sat that day, the whole opposition shouted vociferously demanding an explanation from the Prime Minister about the matter.

The Prime Minister of India being a very old man somehow managed to stand on his two feet. Two officers supported him from both his left and right side so that he did not fall down.

And he cleared his voice – waved his hands over his head as a gesture for the wild Indian herd inside the parliament to become silent. He then moved his lips with much effort and pain from his side for he was and old and ailing man.

A small extract from the Prime Minister’s speech –

‘Children small and strong – children able to hear my voice – children of this great nation – hear me – hear my voice. I, the Prime Minister of your country – I stand firmly in front of you – and I say that – no more stones on the road. I have setup a committee and the CBI shall give me the accurate numbers of stones on the road. Children – hear me – I – your Prime Minister – stand firmly in front of you – there shall be no more stones on the road.’

Short story written by Parvez Ahmed on November 27, 2008. The photo of the buffaloes is not to be confused with our great politicians.

Short Story - The Bodyguards of Big the Bull

Guards! And Big the Bull was a powerful bull. He was not like the numerous common bulls that roam the earth. He was a special bull – a bull made to rule – a bull to rule without a brain.

Big the Bull’s office was a majestic one. It was called the Armed Forces Headquarters. He adored his chair, for he knew that this was the tool that gave him the stick with which he ruled over the other bulls and frightened them and bowed them and sometimes killed them if they did not walk on the line his masters suggested.

And Big the Bull traveled not in one car but in a dozen armored cars. One day, some common bulls asked him the reason of his traveling with so many cars and bodyguards. He replied that he was doing this to protect them and their families and helping to stabilize carbon dioxide levels.

And what? Big the Bull was on a television channel – Cat News! Why? A letter came to his office threatening him for the protecting business he did.

And Big the Bull was ‘bodyguarded’. A thousand stout and dumb bulls were hurried to his office for protecting him. The bodyguard bulls were ordered to remain always with Big the Bull by another officer bull – the security officer in charge of Big the Bull.

And they followed Big the Bull wherever he went. They did not leave him alone even inside his bathroom when he peed. One was always behind his back, another in front, one stood on his left side, another on his right side, one on top of him, another below him (somehow crouching in the small space between Big the Bull’s polished boots), one on top of his right ear, another on top of his left ear, one stood above his back, another below his stomach, one somehow managed himself below his right nostril, another below his left nostril and the rest followed behind his back.

Cat News flashed this footage of Big the Bull with his bodyguards and praised him for his dexterity in eliminating crime from this world. And the common bulls praised him for his steadfast stand against crime.

Short Story - Grandpa Rabbit’s Treasured Carrot

Old grandpa rabbit had a carrot. It was much larger than the average carrot. And grandpa rabbit loved it very much. It was the jewel of his life. It seemed to be the inspiration of his life. It seemed that his whole life centered on that carrot. It was his life source and without it, he would perish.

Everyday he opened his old chest and held the carrot in his hands. When the carrot was in his hands, his eyes would twinkle as like the stars. And after a quick look he would deposit it back again in his chest and lock it lest his grand children snatch it from his hands and devour his precious carrot – his jewel – the sole reason of his life.

And years later when grandpa rabbit had died, his grand children decided to open his treasure chest. When they opened the chest, they found only a decayed carrot and it was of no use. They threw it away.

Short story written by Parvez Ahmed on November 19, 2008.

Short Story - The War between the Two Ant Kings

In a land vast and rich, lived two ant kings. They ruled over their own kingdoms, which were divided by a river. On one side of the river lay the kingdom of the white ants while on the other lay the kingdom of the black ants.

One day in the palace of the white king was confusion and chaos. Soldiers and servants, ministers and all the other king’s men ran from here to there inside the palace. All were shivering – no, not from cold but from fear. The king of the white ant had lost his golden comb that day. He was furious about his lost comb. They searched and searched but still the comb was nowhere to be found in the palace.

Drums were beaten and the news spread throughout the kingdom. A reward was announced for anyone who might get news about the comb or its whereabouts.

And the sword makers in the kingdom heard about the news. They held a meeting in secret and talked for long.

In the evening, they went to the palace of the king. The sentry at the palace gate stopped them but when they told him that they had come with the news of the lost comb, he ran to his officer and told him about them.

The officer of the palace guard informed the king about the sword makers. The king immediately granted them in.

And the sword makers emptied their words into the ears of the king. They told him that the black ant king stole the golden comb.

The king became mad with rage. He dismissed the sword makers after paying them their reward. Then he called his General and ordered him to prepare his army.

And the sword makers were very happy. Their swords were selling like sweets. All their old stocks vanished within a few hours.

Meanwhile, the news of the white ant king’s preparation reached the black ant king through a letter his spy sent him with the help of a trained pigeon. He also prepared himself for war after receiving the news.

And the sword makers of his kingdom were very happy. Their business also was extremely good.

And as the sun rose the next morning and its thorn livened up the earth, the white ant king marched against the black ant kingdom.

After marching for two days the two kings met each other on an open field. Swords clashed, pilums were hurled, lances pierced through chests, arrows ripped through the throats and the battle continued.

After a few hours, the whole battlefield was littered with the dead bodies of thousand and thousand of ants.

The war continued until the eventide when, none except the two kings were on the battlefield. Deep into the night they fought each other. Wounds, a hundred were on their bodies, and still they kept on fighting.

At last, when it was the time for the cocks to crow, not a single drop of blood remained in the bodies of both the kings. All had oozed out through their numerous wounds. They both fell down and were dead.

After the awful news reached both the kingdoms that nobody lived that war, people became as like mad. The womenfolk and children and relatives of the dead ants cried and cried, till at last, there were even no tears to complement their cries.

The sword makers, they were now rich and were with their wives.

Short story written by Parvez Ahmed on November 17, 2008.

Short Story - A Bottle of Water

A few years ago, somewhere on earth a drought occurred. Thousands of people, plants and animals perished. The land cried for water, its wails from its painful cracks rocked the heavens, as like the sounds of a thousand unheard thundering storms that take place in the oceans, far from human ears.

The villagers of one village stocked some of their drinking water in bottles and buckets and drums and all other vessels they could find during the arrival of the drought. It had served them well – at least they had drinking water though it was a little muddy.

After some days when only one bottle of water was left and except that nowhere on earth remained even the tiniest drop of water; a great quarrel erupted amongst the villagers over who should drink that water. Old and young all inserted their voice into the mighty struggle.

When the villagers were shouting at each other, one amongst them tried to run away with the bottle of water and this started a chain-reaction of the bottle being snatched by many hands. This continued for sometime until the bottle was crushed between the mighty might of their fingers and voices.

Short story written by Parvez Ahmed on November 10, 2008.

Short Story - The Journey of Three Youths

Three friends sat out on a long journey to visit another kingdom in a distant place. They had started out very early - before sunrise.

They kept on walking until it was midmorning and their stomachs urged them for food. And the three friends sat down under a tree and shared their food among themselves.

After having breakfast, they again started on their way. They had hardly walked for a few minutes when they came upon a tavern. Upon seeing the tavern, their mouths began to water. And they looked at each other for a decision. One of them gave a slight nod of his head and entered the tavern and the remaining followed behind his back.

And they ordered drinks for themselves along with fried pork meat. When they had taken about three glasses each, two of the lot stood up and said that it was enough and they should continue on their journey. However, the one, which first entered the tavern, did not like their idea. He scolded them and told them to go away. And he drank more wine until he was totally intoxicated and lay flat on the floor of the tavern.

The remaining two continued on their way.

Towards midday, they were on a path inside a deep jungle. And they came upon a very handsome maiden in that jungle. She called both of them with the wink of her angelic eyes. Again, one of the two friends parted from his fellow and went with the maiden. And the maiden took him into a very beautiful cave and sat beside him. When he tried to kiss her, she disappeared but again reappeared in another corner of the cave. After fruitlessly trying for hours to kiss her aphrodisiac body and lips he was dead tired and he fell asleep inside the cave.

And the last of the three friends continued his solitary journey – the one who had not heeded to the call of the maiden. He walked until it was evening when he came upon a hilltop wherein was a very big gun. The gun attracted him very much – he was captivated by it. He though about the power that the gun would bestow upon him – he would be the most powerful man in the whole kingdom. Therefore, he decided to carry back the gun with him. He pulled on the giant gun with all his might but it did not move even an inch from its place.

And today, after many decades are the pages of history, we still can find him on top of that hill, pulling the gun in hope of ineffectual power.

Short story written by Parvez Ahmed on November 10, 2008. 'The Lady in Red' is a painting by Jacqui Faye Michel.