Weaving of Arachne

What is passion? Is it an obsession with something? Is it total immersion in something that our heart yearns for? Maybe, the answer lies somewhere between them. I don't have the suitable words to capture the elusive passion in concrete terms. But, I watched a movie that touches upon this abstract concept of passion. First, let me give you the gist of the movie. The movie revolves around the life of a few high school boys studying in one of the prestigious schools of United States and their new English teacher John Keating. If you have watched the movie then you must have guessed the name by now. Well, I am talking about Dead Poets Society. It is one such movie that stays with you for many years. The plot is rather simple but its execution makes it a masterpiece. It is set at the conservative and aristocratic Welton Academy, a school that never fails boasts of its high credentials. The school takes pride in its alumni who went on to Ivy League and made it big in their lives. Th

I was too stunned to blink my eyes. I sat motionless at the desk of Inspector Raunak Chaudhary holding the letter in my hand. The words on the letter were spinning inside my head as I stared blankly at the ceiling of the room. The Inspector cleared his throat to draw my attention. It took me a while to focus my attention on him and to make any sense of what he was speaking. "..... hard for you. But there are a few more missing pieces in this puzzle that you need to know. The letter in your hand is a sort of confession letter of Ms Alice Leroy. Now you must be wondering how I got hold of it rather how I came into the picture?" To be honest, my brain was too fazed to think anything at all. Nevertheless, I kept quiet and let the Inspector continue his revelation. “As mentioned in the letter, Ms Leroy indeed worked as a governess for the Bansal family. She lived in a rented single room apartment nearby Bansal's residence; and had been regular to her work for over a decade

I was drenched in sweat, gasping for breath, nausea was overwhelming me. Sitting on a creaky chair in a dingy room, I kept tapping my feet on the floor to distract myself from the hideous gaze of the prisoners cramped inside the single lock-up of the police station. After I received the call from Inspector Raunak Choudhary , I hurried to the police station. I had no idea why I was required here, since all my life I had maintained a respectful distance from the guardians of law. The thought of being involved in matters of law freaked me out, but today destiny had dragged me to the threshold of dread. After I reached the police station, I was ordered by the constables to wait in the visitors' area near the entrance. I have been waiting for nearly an hour but nobody has taken any notice of me.  I mustered up my courage and approached a constable who was busy with his mobile, "Excuse me sir, I have been asked by Inspector Raunak Choudhary to reach the police station as soon as

Triiiiiiiing Triiiiiiiing Triiiiiiiing ........ I wanted to snooze my alarm and spent some more time embracing my warm, cosy blanket. But I did not have the luxury to steal away extra minutes of forbidden sleep. Unwillingly, I dragged myself out of bed. I did not have a moment to spare. I have to get read quickly, drop my son to his school and haul myself to office through the ocean of cars plying on potholed roads.  Before going to the bathroom, I glanced at the bed and was surprised to find my wife still lying on it as if she had all the time in the world. Embittered, I asked, "Have you forgotten that you have a son and you have to get him ready for school?" She seemed annoyed at my intrusion and she retorted with equal bitterness, "It seems that you have forgotten to consult the calendar. For your kind information, today is Sunday and schools remain closed on Sunday." I sighed and lamented the mechanization and isolation of my life. After the morning ablut

I was hunched over my phone. There was an incessant flow of Whatsapp group messages cascading on my phone's screen. Heated discussions were being held in college Whatsapp groups about a postponed test. I sighed and closed my eyes. The unending wait was suffocating me and some dark thoughts which were lurking around for a while overwhelmed me. I was seized by the terrifying thought of "What if she didn't turn up?" Just when I thought that I will pass out due to anxiety, I heard a mild coughing. What I saw when I opened my eyes would remain embedded in my heart forever. Stood before me, the most elegant lady I have ever laid my eyes on. She was probably in her mid-30s but none of her feature showed any signs of ageing. She was as fresh as a newly blossomed bud. Her face, with its soft, smooth, flawless skin and perfect features was simply cherubic. Her shiny, brown hair was twisted up in a perfect French Roll. She had the lithe figure of a ballerina and wore an exqui

Triiiiiiiing Triiiiiiiing Triiiiiiiing ........ I groped for my phone to snooze the annoying alarm and stole 15 minutes of extra sleep. Ah! these guilty pleasures make life worth living. But it seems that life wasn't much pleased with me. I got stuck in traffic, was late for my college and missed an important test. Just when I thought life couldn't get any worse, I saw the picture of my crush with her new boyfriend, captioned: " You are the cherry to my icing #couplegoals #soulmates ." Exhausted, I threw the phone on bed and slumped on the chair. Why can't my life be a little smoother? Is it too much to ask for? Nothing seems to be going right in my life, I can't even win a goddamned Instagram contest. It has been 5 days since I answered the questions of the_snob_foodie's lucky draw contest, the contest for which I waited so long to participate. I checked her account thousand times a day for any notification of the result, but all in vain. She might ha

A wise man once said, " There is no sincerer love than the love of food ." And I have found no reason to suggest otherwise. Shall I introduce myself? Well, I am an ordinary college going guy, and I am ordinary in every sense of the word. Neither do I have a dazzling personality nor any significant quality that would make me stand apart from the crowd. Nevertheless, I have some passions with which I strongly identify myself. The "About me" section of all my social media accounts look pretty much the same, which says, "Theatre artist and crazy food lover. Acting is my passion and food? Well, food is my life." I know this isn't much poetic or creative, unlike the millions of social media accounts which poetically and often elusively ponder on the meaning of life. But it never bothers me to sound mystic or poetic and thus I never take the trouble of Googling deep, philosophical quotes to update my "About me" section. I don't have