Behind the College Square swimming pool on Bankim Chatterjee street in the Indian city of joy, Kolkata, stood a dilapidated tiny two-storey building crowned with unwanted banyan saplings sprouting from the cracks in its outer walls. A forty-year-old weird man with a midget face and enormous arms lived in a small plaster pealed damp room of ten by eight feet on the ground floor of this very crumbling house. From a large window with vertical iron bars like an old jail cell, Kalidas Maity popped out his little head, observing everything on the busy street outside.
Mobile vendors sold an assortment of things, like authentic Calcuttan snacks, tinker toys, and helium-filled balloons. Squeezing his gargantuan arms through the vertical bars, the deformed man would buy some of these street goods. As he never came out of the house, the neighbouring shopkeeps, such as grocers and vegetable vendors, usually came to deliver their ware at his window. All anyone ever saw was his tiny head and his monstrous arms in the dark backdrop of his book-stacked pitch-black room, as he never came out of his house.
His mother had given him birth in that place, and his entire world was inside the four walls of the ten by eight feet room. He had no father, and one day many years back, his mother did not return from work. People said that the poor lady must have met with an accident somewhere. Books were Kalidas’s universe. In them, he found romance, met and became his heroes, visited places, and came to know about everything. Newspapers and magazines were his sources of daily news.
The downtown College Square neighbourhood around the numerous prestigious and old educational institutes like the Calcutta Medical College and the Presidency University was a boiling cauldron of academics. The nine-hundred-metre-long College Street on the western face of the swimming pool, opposite Bankim Chatterjee street, and its bylanes was a concrete jungle of education-related activities. Rows of cramped bookstalls sandwiched to each other occupied most of the footpaths on both sides of the street.
It was Asia’s largest book market and the world’s biggest secondhand book hub. Many big players in the Bengali publication world, like Ananda Publishers and Rupa & Co., originated from this neighbourhood. Kalidas Maity was a knowledge freak and bookworm too. The weird man’s dark little room was packed from floor to ceiling with columns of old and dusty books.
Students, teachers, professors, and individuals engaged in the business of education; thronged the locality like bees to a field of sunflowers. Many of these curious customers took much interest in interacting with Kalidas through his window. The weird man seemed to have a lot of knowledge in every possible subject and was always eager to share his wisdom with anyone having the patience to hear him out.
Among the many centres of intellectual activities that sprouted around this busy street, the Indian Coffee House established in 1876, originally called the Albert Hall, perhaps was the most iconic. For decades the historic cafe had been a favourite haunt for Bengal’s intellectuals, educationists, and revolutionaries. Unfortunately, those good old glory days of the Bengal renaissance and the Indian freedom movement were long gone. The coffee house and the swimming pool now even attracted criminals and addicts. Kalidas hated these miscreants, who he said was ruining the reputation of his beloved and culturally rich neighbourhood of the city.
Apart from intentionally bumping into the opposite sex wherever possible, touching, groping and pulling on them in the crowd, and bullying outside the colleges, these ruffians liked to spend their time around the cooling waters of the swimming pool during the after-hours, shooting up drugs, smoking weed, and gulping country hootch. Back in the nineteen nineties policing in the area was not that good, and these shady characters took the most advantage of this situation and made it to the best of their use.
Kalidas always said, “If I ever get hold of one of these goons, God help his soul.” The ruffians, however, knew that the disabled agoraphobic was no threat to them as he was too scared to come out of his refuge. They laughed at him and mocked him from a distance. They knew that the wired man with the tiny head and mammoth arms could never muster the courage to leave his house. They did all sorts of nonsense in front of his eyes in the street outside his window.
“Hey, weirdo, still not coming out of the house, are we,” chuckled the old man Bonomali as he passed by Kalidas’s room, heading towards Rajuda’s tea shop for his early morning tea? “Get lost, you good for nothing old clown. I don’t need to come out of the house. I know everything that’s going on in the neighbourhood,” answered back the mysterious man popping his little head through the two central vertical bars of his old window, while his enormous palms clasped the iron rods on both sides of his tiny skull.
“How long will you keep yourself locked up inside that tiny prison of yours. It is totally unhealthy and completely unnatural for a young man to stay cooped up in his room. Pray that God gives you the sense and guts to step out of the house,” said Bonomali and slowly walked away from the window.
“You know nothing, old man. My room is not a prison; it’s my universe, and Kalidas does not fold his hands to anyone or ask for favours, not even from God. The Almighty has made me strong enough to face my battles. I will not disturb him till we meet again. The day I pray to Him with clasped palms would be to thank him for my earthly existence and let Him know that I am ready to return to his eternal domain. It would be the last day of my life,” murmured the weird man with a retrospective look in his thoughtful eyes.
A few moments later, a teenage boy wearing a shabby cotton banyan with numerous unwanted holes and floppy khaki Bermuda shorts, swinging a suit-stained dented kettle and a wireframe with a wooden handle holding six little glasses came and stood in front of the large window. “Kali Da, Bono Dadu (grandpa) has sent a glass of tea for you,” giggled the tatty lad. “Stop grinning, you buffoon. Leave my glass on the windowsill and tell the old man Bonomali that Kalidas takes no one’s favour or money,” said the grumpy eccentric, flicking a two-rupee coin towards the dirty little chappie.
As the day progressed, many others, shopkeepers, neighbours, and strangers spoke with the man behind the window. While the gentler ones usually conversed about the neighbourhood and the news, the pranksters made it a point to ask annoying questions to infuriate him and light up his fuse. The unknown passersby usually sought directions, which he was more than happy to share with the minutest of details possible and the lengthiest of narrations.
Apart from occasionally retreating into the back of his room, perhaps to answer nature’s call, eat, sleep, or do personal chores, he would usually spend most of his time looking out and interacting with the world outside from his beloved window. Of course, he would be reading his books whenever possible. Everyone wondered what would make Kalidas come out of his solitary cubicle.
It was a cold December night in 1998. The waters of the College Square swimming pool lay still like a frozen lake without a single ripple or a speck of bubble. Even the nocturnal stray dogs had retreated into the nooks and crannies to escape from the icy winds of the chilly night. While the busy street that had been bustling during the daytime lay desolate like an abandoned town from an old western classic, a shabby curtain occasionally swayed behind the vertical bars of the open window, gently dancing in the beam of an incandescent streetlight.
At about one o’clock at night, the cry of a young girl emanated from the southern side of the swimming pool. There was a noise of screeching tyres coming to a halt, and then the sounds of running footsteps and the desperate scream for help became louder and louder. Banging doors and closed shutters, one after the other, a fear-stricken college girl landed in front of the open window. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she screamed through the vertical bars calling for help. She was too exhausted and could not run anymore.
Four well-known local goons caught up with her at the window. They grabbed her and tried pulling her. The frightened girl screamed for mercy, pressing her face between the iron bars and clenching it with every ounce of strength in her sinew. “No one will save you tonight, little missy. You are barking at the wrong window,” chuckled one of the four. Unable to pull her away, they huddled up to her. They squeezed and shoved her, with their heads clustered around hers, pressing on the vertical bars of the open window.
At that moment, two gigantic arms bolted through the iron bars and clutched the heads of the four. A vice-like grip of two massive forearms tightened on their throats. They let go of the girl bringing up their hands, trying to escape the embracing choke. Too shocked and disoriented, the girl ran away to save herself without even looking back at the window. Deathly silence once again took over the neighbourhood as an excruciating squeeze on their throats did not even allow the goons to utter a sound.
Old Bonomali was the first to come in the morning, followed by Raju’da and the tatty lad from the tea shop. Gradually a crowd gathered, and everyone was shocked at what they saw. Two gigantic arms with ten monstrous fingers interlocked as if praying to God, embracing the vertical bars of the window from inside. Four lifeless heads with tongues hanging out of their mouths pressed in-between the bars and the massive arms with their still bodies dangling from the window. Inside the room behind the iron bars, the known face of Kalidas spotted a still and lifeless smile with a knife pierced through his throat.
Later in the day, when the police came and broke into the ten by eight feet room, they were shocked to find that Kalidas had no torso from the waist below. He must have been born like that with half a body. Having no legs meant using his arms extensively, making them herculean.
The horrific episode created an uncanny fear in the hearts of every criminal who ever visited the neighbourhood. After that chilling night in December of 1998, their kind avoided Bankim Chatterjee Street during the night, especially the open window. No one ever rented that room again, and it remains vacant. People say that even today, especially at night, sometimes one can see two enormous palms clasping the iron bars, with a tiny little head popping through the two central vertical bars of the old window.
Copyright © 2022 TRISHIKH DASGUPTA
This work of fiction, written by Trishikh Dasgupta is the author’s sole intellectual property. Some characters, incidents, places, and facts may be real while some fictitious. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author at trishikh@gmail.com or get in touch with Trishikh on the CONTACT page of this website.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trishikh Dasgupta
Adventurer, philosopher, writer, painter, photographer, craftsman, innovator, or just a momentary speck in the universe flickering to leave behind a footprint on the sands of time... READ MORE
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
Remarkable writing Trishikh! The main character Kalidas is so well developed in your story that it drew me into the life of the character and the richness of the environment in the story. An enjoyable read. A powerful message on perspective and perception/
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Dear Suzette, I am so thankful to you for this overwhelming comment. You have so eloquently appreciated this story, that it really makes my day. So glad that you like the characterisation and environment description. Thank you dear friend.
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My sincere pleasure, Trishikh! Happy creating!
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The pleasure is equally mine Suzette.
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Thank you.
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Is great sir beautiful sir
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Thank you so much Sumaira.
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Welcome
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🙏
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Trishikh thanks so much
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Hi Trishikh,
“Kalidas is an intellectual, clever, and knowledgeable man. He also helps the people.
He has all the abilities which a person need to live a fulfilling life.
People were not aware of his two powerful arms.
He used the arms, to save the college girl, from the goons. Excellently.
I respect Kalidas because he is a true man. He did what he had committed.”
Again, in this story, you did an amazing, by introducing us to a new character from the streets of the Kolkata city.
I have seen similar individuals, who live in the tiny little rooms, full of books, in the Varanasi.
That maybe the reason of the Kolkata, the Varanasi, and other cities’ rich intellectual and civilised culture.
I feel amazed — “how a normal person can live in those tiny little rooms (libraries)?”
My learnings from this short story —
1. You are never too weak to fight back at serious dangers. But you need to prepare in advance.
2. Read more books. And do not hesitate to share your knowledge with the people.
3. Live an honest and true life.
It is a great story.
And should be told to the book sellers, readers, publishers and every else.
Thank you. 😊
It has been quite enough time since you published your previous story.
Keep writing. Keep researching.✍️
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Dear Lokesh, as always I am amazed at how you have grown your analytical power over the last one and a half year of our interaction. You analysis is bang on. Reading your comment gives me so much joy that I cannot express it in words. Thank you dear friend. You are bound for greatness, and you have already achieved the first step towards greatness by being a good and appreciative human being, which many fail to do. Have a great day and many best wishes.
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Have a great day, friend.
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I am relieved to learn that you missed a few weeks because I thought there was some disconnect on my part, and I have, indeed, missed your stories in their absence. (No pressure, Trishikh; you’re entitled to have a life!)
Such an interesting hero you’ve created: I agree with the Hunchback reference. I love the concept of his powerful overdeveloped arms—and I appreciated reading the real-life source for that inspiration.
I disagree that you overdid it by having him kill all four hoodlums. A morality tale can have metaphorical force that allows us to suspend disbelief.
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Dear Annie, thank you so much. Everyday I could not write, I felt bad about it, but know that these spells are bound to happen in a writer’s journey. I hate the gaps, but deal with them well, no issues on that.
Yes, I too believe that it was possible for Kalidas to have superhuman strength in his arms. Thanks for reaffirming my imagination.
Have a great day. With kind regards.
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Yes, it’s understandable, people can be so cruel. I just wish people were more accepting of those who are different. From his vast knowledge, I wouldn’t have minded talking to him to learn from someone with so much wisdom… 🙂
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You are right, that could have been a possibility. Or rather should have been, then human beings are creatures of unexpected emotions. We many a times do unexpected things.
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He did a heroic things in the end. A girl got a chance to live.
I find that when people do evil, their emotions are not so much unexpected, but cold and calculated. The unexpectedness was when he chocked them to death. The criminals didn’t see that one coming.
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You are right, they certainly did not see that coming. Very true, evil people are more cold and calculated. Good people are guided by divine instincts.
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Different story..ufff your creativity goes in various ways…you knew which descriptions to be long and which to make it short…they sound scary but always lead to a right ending…Kalidas should have lived ..that would have been different…but with only this ending can people get to know the real truth…
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That is a million dollar question that I leave to my readers. Yes, I too wanted Kalidas to live, but then life and reality has its own mind. Thank you so much for reading, liking, and commenting on my story. I am so happy that you like my various creative styles and descriptions.
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☺️☺️ hmm okay..each one have their own way of life and reality… understand…and you are welcome..anytime 😊👍
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Comments such as your, makes writing these stories worthwhile. I am ever grateful for your appreciation.
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👍👍
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Dear Ned, thank you so much for promoting this story of mine. Can’t thank you enough for your constant support in upholding my writing efforts.
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I was waiting for your stories.
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That’s a big honour for me dear friend. So happy that you look forward to my stories.
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I wish he had a wheel chair to have gotten around.
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Yes very true, but he may have had the fear to face the normal world with his hidden disability. Differently abled people many a times are scared to take take the first step to a normal life amidst the so called normal people. Society is a big barrier to them.
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Interesting story.. you bring much life to your stories.. thank you.. Fiona 🌻
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Dear Fiona, thank you so much for liking my story. I am so happy that you find my tales full of life. There is no greater joy than a word of appreciation for a writer.
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Thank you so much for promoting my story in your blog. Really appreciate the thoughtful gesture.
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Thank you so much for promoting my story. Much appreciate the support.
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So good to have another of your stories to read, Trishikh! I like how your main character shows that exterior disfigurement does not necessarily mean spiritual or intellectual failure. He is a hero, like Quasimodo.
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You are very right Rebecca, Kalidas is very much like the Hunchback. Yes, it was high time that I came out with a story. Missed a few weeks in-between. Thank you so much for your lovely comment. I always look forward to them. They are a great source of encouragement for me.
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This is brilliant writing! 👍🏼
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Thank you so much Aaysid. It’s a pleasure to have been able to write this story.
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as always, the story promises to be interesting, I will read it soon, best regards
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Thank you so much Alic. I really appreciate this. Look forward to you reading the story and giving me your valuable feedback.
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I’ll do it tonight because next week I’m disappearing because I’m going to America for a long time.
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No issues Alic, do it whenever you are free, no matter how long it takes. You can come back from America, and read at your ease. Or any other time. I am just thankful for our friendship.
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I’m happy too, it’s very nice🌺
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Thank you so much for promoting my story in your website. Really appreciate the thoughtful initiative.
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another brilliant story friend, very enjoyable..
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Thank you so much William. So glad that you enjoyed the story. Words of appreciation such as yours works miracle to my writing efforts.
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There are so many people who gaze through their window (eyes). So glad that there are some who refuse to be a bystander. Differently able or not the weirdo had a beating heart!
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Wow! Harshi, so aptly said. You are right, not many of us are ready to act.
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Thank you for sharing another powerful and engaging story. Full of depth and the character building is so real and natural.
Great story telling. My best wishes and happy weekend.
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Dear Chitrangada, reading your comment at the start of the day gives me great joy. I am so happy that you find my story, engaging and strong, real, and natural in characterisation. Always a pleasure to receive your appreciation. A great weekend to you too.
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Another wonderful story Trishikh! Your writing is so detailed that I could see this man, his interactions, the neighborhood. I love how you inform us of the cities and various situations and those who live there via a story that draws us in as readers.
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Dear Katelon, your thoughtful and appreciative comment gives me immense joy. Yes, I try my best to enlighten my reader about place, people, and history through my stories.
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I always feel when I start reading your new story, that I have stepped through a portal. When I reach the end, I step back into my world – but I am changed. The characters are so compelling. I salute Kalidas!
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Dear Patrick, it is a great honour for me, that I am able to teleport you to a different place and time through my stories. Further it gives me the greatest joy to know that I am able to light a little lamp of enlightenment too. Reall appreciate your constant love and appreciation for my stories. It means a lot to me.
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Beautiful fictional story and well description of old Kolkata ! And now the house is may be ghost house. Everything was perfect But for .handicapped Kalidas killing four person alone I think little bit tough! But at the end excellent story 🙂.
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Dear Priti, I always look forward to your comments, they give me great joy. Glad that you liked my description of old Kolkata neighborhood. Yes, it is unbelievable to comprehend that a disabled person could have such strength to chole 4 human beings to death at a single time, but then unbelievable things do happen.
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I know it’s a story so everything can happen but the person who never stood up on his feet it’s unbelievable.
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Ya, firstly he was born with no body from waist down, this made him naturally over-exercise his arms, so the unnatural strength. His disability was from waist down, he was unbelievably strong from waist up. I have a friend, who lost the use of his legs in childhood due to polio, he is not that well built, but no one can defeat him in arm wrestling. Years of using the crutch and moving about only with the help of his hands, has given him unbelievable strength in his arms. This is a true example I am giving you.
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It’s okay.😊
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You are very right though, it is really unbelievable.
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I think so ! If he killed one or two it will be perfect 👌
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You are right, I have overdone it a little bit. 😁
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Yeah 😁😁😁
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With the current high level of crime on the streets of Europe, there would be some Kalidas on every street in every second tenement house. I really like your detailed descriptions of the place of action or the location of the object. Literary, sophisticated and unique. Bravo! I read it with pleasure. Now I can go to America – best regards
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Dear Alic, so glad that you read my story before going to America, this shows your passionate desire for my stories, and I take it as an ultimate compliment. You are right, that with the growing crime rate in many cities all over the world, people tend to remain locked in their appartments.
Best wishes for your journey to America. May your travels bring you countless joys. May you see and enjoy a lot of new things and gain newfound experiences. Bo voyage dear friend.
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I meant these attacks on young girls by the Asylum seekers, thank you very much, yes it will be a wonderful holiday, best regards and I wish you a beautiful summer too ☀️
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Thank you Alic.
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An amazing story as always!! 👌🏻☺️
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Thank you so much Arpita, you have always been such a constant source of support to my story writing efforts. I can’t ever thank you enough.
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It is always a joy to read your story. Thanks for sharing.
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I must thank you Arnab’da for your beautiful words of encouragement. They give me great joy. So happy that you enjoy my stories.
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The characterisation of Kalidas Maity is excellent. Despite his shortcomings, he didn’t find any handicap in himself. That’s a great point. The way he used his skill to kill goons to save the poor girl is brilliant. But I couldn’t get what was his main source of income. Have I missed it?
Coming to college street, it was my favourite place for a stroll for around 3 months. I had then purchased a number of second-hand books from there. My lodge was then located in C R Avenue. Anyway thanks a lot for one more interesting story and look forward to see many more.
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Dear KK, thank for this lovely comment. Reading every word gives me immense joy. You are right about his the ambiguity in his source of income, I have not mentioned it. I should have written a line or two about the income. I had thought about it but did not mention it to keep the story short. I leave it to the readers imagination. Perhaps, he used to sell and buy old books through the window. Perhaps he had money left behind by his mother. Perhaps someone used to give him money, I frankly do not have the answer to this very pertinent question.
It is great to know that you visited college street and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the place. It is really magical with all the chaos and everything.
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You’re more than welcome. It’s always a pleasure to read your work.
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Thank you once again KK. I treasure our interactions. A great day to you.
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When I begin to read your stories, my mind tends to build up a certain expectation of how the outcome will take form. However, whatever I had assumed the end would be, those ideas never materialise. Brilliant!
As for the narrative, the composition around a human being with such contradictive characteristics is a feast of imagination.
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Dear friend, reading your comment gives joys beyond comprehension. I am so glad that I have been able to narrate the unexpected. My imagination only finds fruition in appreciation such as yours. Many best wishes to you and have a great day.
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do you think about Kalidas In fact, his advantage of defending the weaker fell under the pressure of anger, and here the murderer’s demon won. A lot of murderers wake up this way.
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You are right Alic, that is another deep thought about this story.
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Another great story!
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Thank you so much. Your appreciation makes me so happy.
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My fellow readers did not leave me much to comment, did they? 🙂 A brilliant story again, Trishikh, very enjoyable, interesting reading.
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Thank you so much Stella. I really look forward to your comments and appreciation, for this constant support.
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This words, Trishikh, show me that Kalidas was not only knowledgable but had also very strong moral values: Leave my glass on the windowsill and tell the old man Bonomali that Kalidas takes no one’s favour or money! Many thanks for this very touching story.
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Dear Martina, you have identified a very story morally emotional sentence in my story, which I thought about a lot. To create and portray Kalidas’ strong character, I wrote this sentence. So glad that you could spot this out in the story.
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:):)
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Always an honour to read your stories Trishikh
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Your dedicated readership is also a matter of big honour for me.
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Welcome
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So awesome as the previous ones!
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Thank you so much Kally. Appreciation always works like wonder for my writing efforts. So glad that you liked the story. Treasure your constant support.
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A delightful story with lots of impressive details!
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Thank you so much Dawn. Your appreciation always brings great joy. So happy that you liked this story of mine.
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Dear Trishikh,
That was a great read, again. As a piece of literature, and all your stories are great pieces oft literature, it reminds me strongly of the marvellous horror stories of the late Victiorian period, say, of Stevenson‘s. Like these, your text is full of hidden hints and meaning. First of all, it clearly is a shocking parable of human life in itself, reminding me also of Plato‘s ‚allegory of the cave‘ (in fact, that was the first association that came to my mind). We are all bound to our little cell, formed and informed by place time birth. We cannot really leave this place, but there is a window, and there is even room between the bars, and life seeps in, books come in, bringing news bringing knowledge. Sooner or later, our tiny cell is full of knowledge, and we desperately try to communicate what we have learnt, sometimes people from the outside world will come and listen.
There is that great outdoors, we know that, and we persist in communicating as good as we can. There are people we know, there are even people who try to be friendly to us. Nevertheless, we cannot leave our tiny cell, we are not able to do so. We are bound to our beloved and hated cell from birth, and outside, there is that familiar little street, and beyond, there are the vast realms of that great outdoors, known mainly from books and hearsay and journals, and there are the faces of the people we know, and strange faces we do not know, hostile faces sometimes. There are female bodies outside, degraded sometimes, made objects. There is a world full of threats outside, there is evil outside. And we are in our tiny cell. And then, one day, comes our moment of truth. It must not necessarily be the last moment of our life, but it is the crown of our life, the peak, the revelation. It is the moment someone in utter despair seeks shelter in front of the iron bars of our tiny cell. That‘s the innermost moment of our existence. And we come to our truth. Will we fulfil our duty, Will we fulfil the sense of our whole existence? Your hero does. With a huge and final effort, he reaches beyond the bars of his cell, as far as he can, and helps and rescues and punishes. He cannot save the whole world, no one can do that. But what he can do, he does: save that single life that is within his reach, so fulfilling his destiny.
“The Almighty has made me strong enough to face my battles.“ That‘s the sentence, that‘s the point. Any person, bound to his or her tiny cell, is born “strong enough to face my battles“, and one day, there comes the moment of decision, and that‘s the moment of the one fine final moral effort, and the thing is done.
Dear Trishikh, I never can do enough to express my admiration and gratitude for your literary art. As usual, time and place of your story are wonderfully concrete, brimming with life and color, and behind, there is that overwhelming certitude that any life has its destiny and its sense. Any life, enclosed in its tiny little cell with the iron bars towards the outside, may think itself crippled and bound and reduced to its time and place. But comes the moment, the moment of truth, we all find: “The Almighty has made me strong enough to face my battles.“ And, as is the hero of your story, we should be prepared to face our battle.
That‘s a great text, dear Trishikh, and a great message, thank you so much.
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Dear Peter,
As always your thoughtful and detailed comment gives me so much to think. So much beyond my original thought process. When I wrote the story, believe me, I did not think so much in depth, though the thoughts were there, but now your comment gives so much clarity and analysis to my own thoughts that I am mesmerised.
You have so rightly said about the glorious moment in our lives, when we get a chance to make our existence shine – The moment someone arrives outside the window of our tiny cell and looks up to us for intervention. Fortunate and blessed are those who are able to sum up the courage to act on such opportunities.
Thank you cear friend for adding so rich a value and analysis to my story. I am ever indebted to you for this.
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Dear Trishikh, so glad that you appreciate my thoughts. It’s a good thing that you are wholly concentrated upon your story when you write it, not so much upon its meaning. When the story is good, the meaning enfolds itself in the mind of the reader. You know those elaborate Japanese paper flowers? Seemingly, they are nothing but a tiny pack of paper, densely folded. Throw it into water, and the flower enfolds. That’s the artistry of your work. A densely packed and tightly construed story, brought into the readers’ conscience – and it enfolds, and flowers. I am really grateful to be one of those readers.
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Dear Peter, your allegory of comparing my stories to the densely folded Japanese flowers is so aptly vivid that it brings unfathomable joy to me. I am also grateful to have found such an deeply thinking, analytical, and appreciative reader such as you. I really treasure this friendship and look forward to you reading some of my older stories that you might have missed. I recommend the story “Midnight Swimmers” https://storynookonline.com/2020/09/12/midnight-swimmers/ I think it will appeal to you. No hurries, read whenever, and whichever story of mine you can. I am already neck-deep in your debt of appreciation.
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It’s on my list, promised. Have a good time.
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I look forward to your comment. A great day to you too Peter.
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Hey, and thanks so much for your kind words!
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It’s my pleasure Peter.
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A chilling end to what I thought was a simple neighbourhood story. Loved the line “You know nothing, old man. My room is not a prison; it’s my universe.”
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Such a pleasure to read your appreciative comment at the start of the day. It gives me so much joy. So happy that your liked the unexpected ending. Do visit again and read some more of my stories, I am sure you would love many of them.
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Hello.
I’m Biden Morgan I got your profile today, you look so handsome, i am looking for a trustworthy honest and caring someone write to me ( bidenmorgan201gmail.com ) for more introduction and my pictures.
Best regard!
Biden.
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Dear Biden, nice to meet you. My interest in this blog is purely literally and nothing more. If you are interested in stories, literature, history, geography, philosophy, India etc., I would be more than happy to communicate.
With kind regards,
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It’s a great story. Liked it very much.
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Thank you so much Alev. Appreciation really makes my day. So happy that you liked my story.
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I love India, its people, life, culture, history, and such beautiful stories.
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Dear Alev, it gives me great joy to meet you, someone who appreciates India and its life and culture. Indeed there is a story in every breadth in this country, as there are in other countries as well. Am glad to have come to know you. So happy that you like my stories.
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Sevgili Trishikh; Değerli yorumunuz beni mutlu etti. Hindistan vatanımdan sonra en sevdiğim ülkedir. Ben de seninle tanıştığıma çok memnun oldum. Ayrıca fotoğraflarınız çok güzel. selam ve sevgiler..
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Thank you so much Alex. I am glad for your friendship too.
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Reblogged this on Write and Create (from Creative Writing Course) and commented:
Thanks for all the likes and happy writing, Trishikh
Don’t worry about the world ending today
it’s already tomorrow in scenic and tranquil ‘little’ New Zealand
PPS
Best wishes from the First City to see the light
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Dear Craig, thank you so much for reblogging my story in your website. Much appreciate the kind gesture to promote my stories.
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Thanks for all the likes and happy writing, Trishikh
Don’t worry about the world ending today
it’s already tomorrow in scenic and tranquil ‘little’ New Zealand
PPS
Best wishes from the First City to see the light
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Dear Craig, you are most welcome. It’s my pleasure to read and like. You are very right about the world clock. A great day to you too.
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Oh my!! Such a story and told so masterfully.. I was carried away by your words to the very end. Bravo!!
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Dear Karima, thank you so much for your beautiful words of appreciation. They give me lot of encouragement to continue with my stories. Do visit again and read some of my other stories whenever you feel like. I am sure you would love them.
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I appreciate your continual likes on my articles. I must say that I am always encouraged by the detailed work that you use for your writings.
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Thank you so much for appreciating the detailed work in my stories. It’s an honour and pleasure for me to go through your writings too. The likes are a small way to show my appreciation.
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I always appreciate your likes; I know that they are from your heart.
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It is my pleasure to like your posts. They give me great joy.
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Thank you. Your words bless me.
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You are most welcome.
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Your amazing work never ceases to amaze me.
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I am just a humble servant of God, trying to leave his footprints on the sands of time.
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You are doing well.
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Ya, I am doing good. Just have been very busy with work. Have not been concentrate on writing my stories for a while now, but am sure that I will get back to the habit.
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We all need to take breaks from writing.
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Very true, very true, but I actually want to write, but have become a bit lazy to get up at 4:00 AM everyday to pray, exercise, meditate, and write. This is partly due to work pressure and partly due to personal laziness. I have to get back my routine.
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You will. I have been through all that you are describing.
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Ya, I am confident too.
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but it’s so hard (at times),Trishikh!
https://craigsbooks.wordpress.com/2022/04/18/if-the-lord-makes-you-successful-ill-keep-you-humble-3/
https://craigsbooks.wordpress.com/2019/08/18/if-the-lord-makes-you-successful-ill-keep-you-humble/
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Thank you so much Craig for reblogging my story in your website. Really appreciate your support.
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You wrote very well , will follow dedicatedly all your writings😀🙌🏻🌸
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It is my honour for you to follow my stories. I am sure that you would love many of them, as nearly all of them have deep philosophical and psychological sides to it.
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Great 😀✊
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Such a great use of imagery , it was all pictures and scenes running in my mind ,while I was reading this beautifuly written post 🌸🌟🙌🏻
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Thank you so much for your beautiful words of appreciation. So happy that you liked my imagery and the story.
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*beautifully
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I treasure your appreciation.
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You should get your stories published
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It is a long-standing dream to get my stories published one day, as a collection of short stories. Hopefully one day this dream will come true. I have not worked towards connecting with publication houses till now though. Perhaps I would self publish one day. So many factors to decide on publishing. Lets see, some day I an sure it will happen.
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Sure enough
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Short well knitted crisp masterpiece ….
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Thank you so much for liking this little tale of mine. Appreciation works miracle for my writing engine.
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You have mastered the art of storytelling!!! Your pieces remind me of Dostoevsky…a personal favorite of mine. I look forward to your stories!!
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Dotoevsky was a genius, it is a big honour for me to even have little bits and pieces of his style and art in my stories. You are too kind to find resemblance between our work, but it gives me joy beyond comprehension. I treasure your compliment and hold it close to my heart. Thank you so much for always loving my stories and for encouraging me.constantly.
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You are very welcome. I took Russian literature my sophomore year in high school. Every single one of your stories could have been in my beloved text book. I look forward to your stories every weekend. I go back and read older ones when I have time.
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There can be no bigger honour for me. I look forward to you completing reading all of my stories someday. I want to leave behind a legacy of short stories in my lifetime. It is my gift to humanity. Let’s see, how many of these I can write in my lifetime.
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Cheers to that! Happy writing!!😊
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All amazing stories.🙏
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Thank you so much Laleh. Means a lot coming from an amazing writer like you. I am still to read your novel, Soroosh, which I have saved and kept. When I read it, I want to read it with full concentration. I hope to do it someday and share a review. It is very much on my radar. I read your short stories now and then, they do give me much joy.
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Appreciate your kind words dear Trishikh.🧤🙏
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My pleasure Laleh.
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🌷🌷🌷
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You are such a successful blogger and writer, my friend. I have never seen such high numbers as your posts contain (in “Likes” and comments).
Well, I have seen this before, but it is rare. Any secrets? Of course, then they wouldn’t be secrets, anymore. 😃
You are the Blogger-Whisperer. ♥️
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According to me the biggest secret is hardwork and quality. Not quantity.
My original and desired deadline is 1 story every week, but then I have had bad spells, when due to unavoidable circumstances I have been unable to write a story. This month I have not been able to write a single story, that obviously has a negative impact on the numbers. Till now I have just written 64 stories (so just 65 posts).
I think when that your content should be something you are just crazy about and too passionate, then your blog will automatically be a success.
This blog of mine is dedicated only to short stories written by me, mostly based on India. Ofcourse I have my unique style, blend history, geography, and fiction. Above all The blog has no other distractions. No ads no nothing
I think my readers, who really love to read a good short story (around 2,000 words) find it worthwhile to return.
Saying that, all my growth has been organic. I do a bit of sharing on social media, but visitors who come from social media platforms are not always hardcore bloggers, and many a times are unable to like, comment, and follow.
I do visit a lot of other blogs, which certainly helps in registering a presence in the blogsphere.
Hope my experience helps you. This is ofcourse a vast topic, and can be discussed much more.
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Thank you for taking the time to write such a thorough reply to my question. I really appreciate it! I understand about “passion for the subject about which we write”. 💥
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Glad to share my views. You are a brilliant writer too. I wish you all the best. You will succeed more as time passes.
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Awe, you are so kind and thoughtful.
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My pleasure.
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Gripping. Work of fiction or a true character (Kalidas)?
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It’s a work of fiction. A figment of my imagination. The place and the situation is very real though. Thank you so much for liking.
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Very good read, and Kalidasa the handicapped man proved as a strong moral person.
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Thank you so much Suni for appreciating the story. Really glad that you liked this little tale of mine. Yes, many times those we underestimate have more values in them.
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