Friday Journals 29.3.19

the terrorist

26.7.11

Sometimes ugliest faces hide sweetest souls, sometimes it’s not that way. Faces rarely tell the story of the heart hidden behind. A rare flicker of emotion may expose the soul but there are crafty minds that hide poisonous soul behind a calm, sometimes lovely face and behaviour.

He was an ugly man, with a very calm, poised manner; very educated and knew how to talk and present himself.

He mixed with dozens of people; mostly more, rarely less yet only hand-counted people knew that he was a hardcore terrorist.

A crooked mind, spewing with hatred was hidden behind all that intellectual gab. That gab was used for two purposes, conning and hiding. He used that slithery tongue to brainwash his recruits and fool others.

Such was his expertise with his tongue that none got a whiff of what is going on inside him.

He squeezed out money from fanatics using that gab, and used it to fool his root level workers. His organization was multilayered. The lowest rung was truly fanatic, do or die type. The higher they grew the viler they became.

He had to play this pretense because the money he squeezed out from fanatics was not that little, and that money helped him to build the rest of his ladder in initial stage and now it works as his defense mechanism. If he knew someone knows too much, he tracked him out, tricked his terrorist outfit to blow out his office building or shop as another “operation”- enemy gone! His terrorist outfit of-course took the blame.

Outside world knew he was a publisher; those who knew him from this side believed he had strong connections in the world of journalism and publishing. He was a very powerful man, it was smart not to displease him, forget about angering him.
.
This avatar was used to the utmost excellence.

He used it to crush and create “stars” and of course ordinary people.

If he tried to suck in someone in his trap it was better that he or she gave in; if they resisted that meant the end of their career.

He had a special division that kept excelling itself on spying techniques; name any gadget, software it was with them.
This division had its arms full; it tracked, spied on preys meant for absolution, destruction or character assassination.

If someone truly annoyed him he used to spy on that person using modern gadgets, and sometimes he did it for money, if someone irked some big honcho and that guy offered him money he used to do it for them.

Now, suppose an army officer freaked him out, he used to utilize his spying skills and publishing house to paint him as a traitor. If he did not found any weakness in him, he creates some; siphoned out information from his laptop, cell phone or computer and passed it on to unworthy hands.

If a budding writer freaked him out he used to steal his unpublished stories, works and ideas and give it to his own writers as a generous gesture. “Try this theme” or “Work on this piece, I was writing it but I could not finish it.”

His spiteful nature urged him to use his spying technique as spiteful technique, mocking his “enemies” in his works, works of his writers, of course the idea used to reach them through him directly or indirectly.

His enemy used to feel the sting but could not do anything; after all, he could not tell anyone that the employees of an entire newspaper (almost) were snooping in his personal computer.

His advantage was satiation of his malicious heart and it kept his newspaper from becoming monotonous, he stole these ideas and churned out pretty good stories by his writers with expertise in writing.

He had quite a handful of houses all over the country, houses bought in methodical way, clustered together. These houses were managed by members of his family.

“It keeps the secrets limited to one house.”

Then something happened, one of his best looking boys fell for a girl. A girl who was by no means a terrorist and there was no chance that she will join his murky world.

There was another problem too, his sister, who accidentally was a female version of him, by looks and every other means had her eyes on that boy for years. She was trying to manipulate him to her life.

So, she feigned to play the cupid, lured the boy to appoint the girl into one of his white-washed offices and gathered all her details.

In the short span of time the girl stayed with her she tried to black-wash her image to everyone in the gang and partially succeeded.

The boy got the whiff and absconded, she used his cell phone and email address to lure the girl into one of their housings, the housing which she managed.
“She knows too much! So we will have to screw her reputation so badly that no one believes her.” She cooed to her boys and girls and displayed fake evidences to convince them.

They unleashed all their murk on her.

He settled his and her score by almost ruining the organization.

Sharmishtha Basu
26.7.11

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Thursday Fun n Frolics 28.3.19

have a great day!
Love.

Sharmishtha Basu
https://shoptly.com/sharmishthabasu
https://paypal.me/sharmishthabasu
https://patreon.com/sharmishthabasu
https://www.amazon.com/author/sharmishthabasu

Friday Journals 22.3.19

the supreme beast

14.6.11

He was standing there. Watching the field; last night when he left it was filled up with green seedlings. Now, if someone looks at it he will think that witches have danced their all through the night.

“Damn those bison!” he cursed. “They will have to go!”

The village helped him in his ambition, for two reasons, they had their grudges and the meat was not very bad, the hide was fantastic.

Man was proved to be supreme again. The abundant creature became endangered. Only man had the right to choke the earth with their abundance.

Centuries have passed. Man’s best friends have become a nuisance in modern life. In the dark days, when street lights were not around, dacoits were aplenty man needed someone who could see in the darkness. In lieu of leftovers guard his properties; creature that will stay with him even after being treated with ruthless cruelty.

Now, man has become nocturnal, nights have become as well lit as dawns, his best friend (?) has become a big nuisance.

Sometimes he yaps at him when he is returning home at late night. Sometimes he becomes cranky and rabid when he is unable to cope with ill treatment and concrete jungle furnace.

He will have to go too.

Man is the supreme animal, only he will decide the future of other species. He will decide who will stay and who will go. The earth will have to obey him.

Earth has no other choice- man is the supreme beast!

Trishakti my second bilingual book in shoptly

Trishakti
https://shoptly.com/i/z7v

This is my second book of Bengali poetry book with English translation in shoptly. Have tried a few in Amazon but as I have shifted venue, from now on these too will show up here.

This book is dedicated to three Mother Goddesses we Indians, Bengalis hold very close to our hearts- Goddess Laxmi- the giver of wealth and prosperity, Goddess Kali- the ultimate destroyer of evil, and Mother Goddess Durga- the eternal mother.

There are Bengali poems, their rough English translation and of course illustrations. Hope this tiny colourful book will please you! Well, these poems are dedicated to these three divine powers, remember that before buying them, you may or may not enjoy them! But hopefully you will love the illustrations!

I will love to hear from you, compliments, suggestions anything will do!
You know all those nitty gritty things- that the contents of this book are copyrighted works of Sharmishtha Basu, you are welcome to display them in your social media sites as long as you link them to my site and clearly mention my name as creator. I will only be grateful to you for liking them!
(my blog: https://agnijashatadalam.wordpress.com)

Sharmishtha Basu
6.11.18

Saraswati my first bilingual book in shoptly

Saraswati, 17th July 2018
saraswati
https://shoptly.com/i/roq

This is my first bilingual book in bookstore in shoptly.com, I have published a set in Amazon but from now on they will be in shoptly. I plan to write a few more, Hindi/Bengali poems and their English translations with full illustrations. Hoping they will win some praises!

First one of course is for the Goddess who gave the power to create the book- Mother Goddess Saraswati.

Friday Journals 15.3.19

the skeleton
30.10.11

He stood there, musing. “Why did they build this room? It’s so small, useless, and ugly. Its walls say that it was without any decoration even in past.”

“Yes.” Mahim consented. An ugly little stuffy room attached to the Baron’s chamber.

Krishan entered the room, now the room was really packed, there was hardly any space left for movement. He looked at one of the corners of the room, “What is that?” he reached out his hand to touch a small statue jutting out of the wall. A deep moan escaped from the walls as it slowly, painfully slid to make a gap.

There was a flight of stairs descending. They exchanged a glance that showed that their puzzles were solved in a second.

They were three inseparable friends, after completing studies they started a business, they bought houses available at a reasonable rate, restored them and sold them. This house was sold at a very tempting price by the last member of an old, aristocratic family. He sold it and donated the price to charity before passing away.

“We will need flashlights and sticks, may be masks too. Heaven only knows since when it has been locked up.” Bankim remarked.

They returned equipped. The stair was covered with thick curtains of cobweb; they started their slow cautious descent. It appeared that the stairs were intact.

They reached a huge hall after countless steps; the hall was underground, because the descent was almost endless and there was no space in the palace that might have hidden this huge hall.

The place was musky and damp but in a surprisingly well condition.

“Apparently the room was well used and well made.” Mahim commented.

He turned when he did not hear any response and saw none was around, Krishan and Bankim were busy; in their private journey of explorations.

Apparently it was the king’s pleasure chamber, there were chandeliers and statues littered all over the place, that is placed properly but covered with cobwebs. As none has trespassed here but spiders and other insects they were right where they were left by the maids after last dusting.

A huge bed was placed at one corner of the room, bordered by the decayed curtains hanging from the beautiful hanger fixed high above.

Mahim reached there and stifled a cry; there was a skeleton on the bed, apparently male. In all these years of his exploration and restoration he has never come across a skeleton before. He was about to call out when something else happened. The room changed.

It was a gorgeous room, daylight was pouring in from a portion a little distance away from the bed, the roof was thick glass, beautifully designed by stained pieces.

The whole room was so well lit that it did not appeared that he was under the ground.

The floor was white, spotless, marbled. A satin bedspread was spread across the bed, velvet pillows and a gorgeous silk curtain said someone has decorated the room with taste and love.

There were books lined up against a distant wall, expensive and exquisite artifacts were placed all around the hall with artistic hands.

“So it was not as old as I thought it was.” He softly whispered as he sifted through the books, they were of the late seventeenth century. All of a sudden he noted that his arms were blanched white, like those of Europeans, and his voice had a strange accent which certainly was not of him.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection on the shining glass of the bookcase. A young man with golden hair, blue eyes stared back at him.

A shudder went down his spines and he pinched himself but to no avail. He tried to locate Bankim and Krishan, they were nowhere around. The room was empty.

Then he heard the footsteps on the stair, crisp sound of a pair of heels descending. Both his friends appeared one after the other. The only difference was they too have changed their nationalities like him. Krishan was thickly built, short-heighted sandy haired man with a wicked grin and Bankim was pale, brown eyed, with hay coloured hair. They smiled at him.

“She will be here.” Krishan smiled. His name was Daniel then.

He knew who he was talking about, his cousin, Miranda. Her portrait was on the table,
A beauty beyond description, he could see her in his mind’s eyes. A soft, fragile creature with ivory and rose skin, she knew how to live and love. She had her cousin’s hay hair but that had a golden tinge and volume. Her eyes were huge and deep blue, full of sweetness and love.

She was Henry, his brother’s fiancé; that is their marriage was fixed when they were babies; she went to France to live with her aunt. Henry received his education and grooming from London to become the next heir of their not so little Manor.

He met her when he was studying arts in Paris, he tried hard but he fell in love. He and Henry were really close, so he asked for his forgiveness and he gladly accepted his love for her and said he will see that the lovers meet in altar.

Then she came to visit them and everything changed. He could not guess it then. He guessed it on that very fateful night. Henry called him inside his private chamber, “She wants to see you for a while, as father is not aware of your relationship you should meet her in stealth for a while. Or else the scandal will be horrible.” He said with a sweet smile. His dark eyes expertly covered his intention.

“Follow me!” he entered a small room attached to his bedroom. There were paintings on its wall, he removed one of them, and pressed a small lever.

He saw another shadow, it was Daniel. “You robbed me off great fortune my friend. He laughed in a hushed tone. My sister was about to marry the Baron, and I was hoping a knighthood.”

“She lost her heart to a commoner. Ha! What a girl!” he winked. “Well, don’t look so sad, it does not matter to me at all, which of my dearest friends won my little sister’s heart.”

They descended the stairs one after the other. “This room is beautiful brother!”He could not resist his pleasant surprise.

“Thanks. You remember Ana Maria, my French tutor? She decorated this with her own hands.” There was a twinkle in Henry’s eyes.

“Would you mind if I enjoy the luxury of your room for a while?” He asked after noting the huge collection of books and artifacts.

“Go ahead. Miranda will be meeting you here after dinner.” They left after spending some time with him. He stayed back and requested Henry to make an excuse for his absence in dinner table. He was eagerly waiting for Miranda. It’s been months since he met her.

A young maid came down with his dinner. He took his dinner and stretched on the bed. Soon he was in deep slumber, he snapped out of it when he heard a commotion in the room. Miranda was standing on the stair, a candle was lying on the floor; its golden flame licking the marble floor; her sweet face was white with anguish and pain. She was staring at a place beside him; he turned and saw a young woman lying there; her bare shoulder visible from under the satin spread.

He tried to stop her but his mouth was dry; the girl woke up and quickly came out of the bed, grabbed a robe and bolted right on the heel of disappearing Miranda.

He tried to follow her but the door was closed. He banged on the wall, hoping Henry or Daniel will hear. Then he inhaled the sweet, intoxicating scent …. He lost his senses within a few minute.

He woke up after a while. His body was as fresh as new but he was feeling absolutely weightless, then he realized he was watching himself sprawling on the stairs. The door opened. Chris and Daniel entered.

“It worked perfectly fine. I told you a girl like Miranda will not tolerate infidelity; that too with a maid.” Daniel said. “After all, she gave up everything for him, the title, the money, luxury and what not.”

“Thanks brother. I will never forget this gesture.” Henry said.

They lifted the body and placed it on the bed. Then they left the room, he followed them. Henry removed the lever from its place and Daniel smoothly plastered the place.

They left the room. He snapped out of his daze. He was standing in the main room, facing the small room’s door. He entered the room and looked at the corner, where the lever was, there was nothing. A smooth wall was waiting for him.

He searched the room from top to bottom, there was nothing; he came downstairs, looking for Bankim and Krishan.

They could not be found anywhere. No one saw them leaving the manor, they just vanished from earth.

Sharmishtha Basu
30.10.11