In the 980th year of the 2nd millennium of the Anno Domini, the 80th year of the 20th century, the leap year of our Lord 1980, a frail and strange-looking tiny boy was born to a mentally unstable beggar lady in a flimsy cloth shanty beside the Belur Math Kali Temple on the banks of the river Hooghly in India’s Kolkata city. At that very moment, some eight thousand kilometres away, a healthy and handsome boy was also born to a Punjabi lady in the United Kingdom’s port city of Liverpool on the banks of river Mersey.
The sudden strike of a matchlight on the deck of a sixteen-footer diesel steamer on the still waters in the dead of a moonless night revealed a scarred and pocked face of a scary-looking man. He lit a thin mini cigar of tobacco flakes wrapped in a Diospyros melanoxylon leaf tied with a blue string, his favourite brand of beedi.
There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and the muscles under his sunburnt skin hugged his bones to the precision of Michelangelo’s David. Scars all over his bare upper torso were a testament to the many conflicts that he had survived. With a skullcap on his nog, he stood barefoot, wearing a pair of rugged jeans. The butt of a 9mm Glock 43 peeped out of the rim of his jeans on his backside. He oozed with an aura of a stone-cold soul that had weathered unspeakable hardships.
Haji had carved a name for himself smuggling goods up and down the river Hooghly and the waterways around the Sundarbans, Bangladesh, and Kolkata city. That night was very crucial for him. He was about to execute his last job as a river smuggler. Back on the land earlier that day, he had promised his sweetheart Jamini that he would give up this way of life forever after that night. The devout Hindu girl had tied a red string bearing the blessing of the Goddess Kali around the wrist of her Muslim lover for the success of his last nocturnal river enterprise.
“Jamini, you need to understand that what I am about to do is not easy for me. It is not that I have led a pious life. You know me better than anyone. You know that I have painted my life in blood, yet this is something that I shudder from,” spoke up Haji in a stern and cold voice with an underlying tone of a saddened heart. “Do not think too deeply about it or trouble your soul. You have to do this for the greater good of our love,” said Jamini and gently kissed her lover.
As the sixteen-footer left the waters of the Hooghly and entered the Bay of Bengal, the waves became choppier. Being an experienced captain, Haji exactly knew how to manoeuvre the bobbing tides. Reaching the shores of Jambu Island, he released the anchor and waited for his British counterpart to deliver the package that would hopefully be the last smuggling deal of his life.
Fifty nautical miles from Haji’s anchored steamer, a three-hundred container freighter feeder ship cut across the waters of the Bay of Bengal. It was heading toward the Haldia dock, which Haji had passed a few hours back during his nocturnal river ride. On the roof of the bridge of the cargo ship stood a handsome and well-built turban-clad Sardar or Sikh man in his late thirties wearing a weathered leather jacket and a pair of old breeches. The outline of a curved dagger bulged subtly under his clothes on his left flank.
Like Haji’s mother, Harry’s mama also passed away, bringing him into the world. He grew up in the arms of neighbours and strangers in the port of Liverpool while his father drank and made merry living the vilest of life possible. Though he was not religious, he hung on to his father’s Sikh religion for some reason. He wore the five k’s of Kesh (uncut hair), Kara (a steel bracelet), Kanga (a wooden comb), Kaccha (cotton loincloth) and Kirpan (a steel dagger).
From a very early age, Harry had to fight for his survival. Soon he picked up the ways of the wicked world, and by the age of twenty, he had carved out a reputation of terror. There was no stopping him after that. Over the next twenty years, he mastered the art of smuggling across international waters.
Just like Haji, for Harry also, it was a decisive night. There was, however, a slight difference. Unlike the motherless Indian Muslim’s desire to quit the dark trade, the motherless British Sikh wanted to destroy the business. Both of them perhaps desired the same but in slightly different ways. Just like Haji, harry had also fallen in love back in Britain. His sweetheart Cecilia had made him promise to end this smuggling racket forever. Though he was a criminal, Harry had always followed a set of values, and what he needed to do that night was a violation of his moral code of conduct.
Harry embarked on a small motorised lifeboat from the freighter feeder, which carried on its sluggish voyage towards the Haldia dock. Carrying the precious smuggled load in a wooden carton, he headed towards Haji’s steamer, following its location on his mobile, wading through the waters.
As Harry spotted the glow from a lighted beedi on the deck of a solitary sixteen-footer, he knew it was his Indian counterpart. Approaching the steamer, he threw a line, and Haji secured the swaying motorboat to the stabler rivercraft.
Haji and Harry’s business was highly profitable, yet somehow both of them did not have peace of mind. Deep within their troubled and tortured souls, somewhere, a seed of righteousness constantly knocked on their conscience, asking them to stop. The narcotics and weapons they smuggled only brought sorrow and misery to others. Now both of their lovers had nearly convinced them to give up this life. So, on that moonless night, while one wished to quit for good, the other wanted to end the business forever. Both respected and admired one another. Each knew that this business was not possible without the other.
Both the men waved at each other and then shook hands. Masks on their faces protected their identities. Together they had developed a foolproof smuggling route and operating system, establishing a solid smuggling racket between India and Great Britain but had never seen each other’s faces in the past decade of their criminal enterprise.
There was a short conversation and a quick exchange of a wooden crate filled with automatic weapons from Great Britain and a briefcase full of blood diamonds from Gujarat. Then something happened that had never occurred between them.
“Haji, my brother, let us embrace and close the deal tonight,” spoke up Harry in a very awkward manner. None of the men had ever said something like that to each other. It was just something very non-professional.
To Harry’s surprise, the Indian Muslim stepped forward and embraced the British Sardar. At that very moment, a bang and a flash of light appeared between the smugglers. A 9mm slug from a Glock 43 tore through Harry’s bosom as a steel Kripan dagger plunged into Haji’s back, piercing his heart.
For a moment, both the men thought they had succeeded in their plans for the night. One thought he had finally quitted this trade by terminating his British counterpart, and the other assumed that he had killed his Indian coequal to end this business forever.
The next day, a coast guard Advanced Off Shore Patrol Vessel found the sixteen-footer anchored close to the shore of the Jambu Island on the Bay of Bengal. Looking at the box of guns, a suitcase full of diamonds, and the two lifeless bodies, they instantly deduced that it was a smuggling deal gone amok. What they could not understand after removing the masks on the faces of the two dead men was how on earth could a British Sardar and an Indian Muslim have identical faces like a doppelganger.
On that same night, an old and shabby Sardar brooded over a tall glass of Whiskey in a pub in Liverpool. He reflected on how worthless his life had been. He regretted all the follies of his youth. He regretted not loving his wife with all the affection that she deserved. He thought, perhaps that was the reason why God had taken her away at childbirth. He regretted not raising his only legitimate son with proper love and care. Perhaps, the lad would not have turned out to be a criminal if only he had shown a bit of affection.
He regretted all the false affairs he had as a sailor, and above all, he regretted having raped a mentally unstable lady on the banks of the river Hooghly in India; many years back. He felt ashamed even to think – that on the very same night, he had returned to the hotel and made love to his wife. The next day they had boarded a ship for England to start anew but had miserably failed to change his life.
In the 20th year of the 3rd millennium of the Anno Domini in the 21st century, the leap year of our Lord 2020, a Hindu girl anxiously waited for her Muslim lover’s boat to return to the banks of the river Hooghly beside the Belur Math Kali Temple in India’s Kolkata city. At that very moment, some eight thousand kilometres away, a Christian lassy eagerly anticipated receiving a call from her Sardar sweetheart in the United Kingdom’s port city of Liverpool on the banks of river Mersey. While a drunk old Sardar wobbled on an English cobbled street, two lifeless bodies of identical brothers with different mothers lay beside each other on the deck of a sixteen-footer on the bobbing waters of the Bay of Bengal.
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 
Good Sunday read my friend. I always wait for the stories on your page. The talent of story telling is amazing and looking forward for the next one. Cheers.
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Your comment greatly encourage me. It is such an honour to have such words of appreciation. I cannot thank you enough for your beautiful encouragement dear friend. So glad that you liked my story. I too look forward to my next one. Cheers to you too.
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Always welcome. Happy Sunday 🙏
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Thank you so much. A great Sunday to you too.
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✨🌷🌹💐
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I hope that in the next Kolkata book fare your book will be published
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I too dream of publishing some day. However I am always in a dilema to go for a publishing house or self publish. Let’s hope for the best. It’s a very complicated path though, I think that I have to do a lot of research and legwork before I can get it published.
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Start with self publishing. Then let the publishers come to you.It is hectic but worthy. I can see your book is being published
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You are right. Let’s hope for the best. I am sure that one day I will be able to publish.
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Absolutely
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Wonderful, great story and such lucid flow!!..
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Thank you so much. Appreciation always works like miracle for my writing engine.
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An amazing one as always
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Thanks Arpita. Your comment and appreciation always brings much joy.
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An excellent article – so well written, that it made me very sad.
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Thank you so much. My intention was not to make you sad, but am glad that my story was able to stir emotions.
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Thank you so much for promoting my story in your blog. Really appreciate the kind gesture.
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Thank you so much Ned. It is always such a great pleasure for me to see one of my stories showcased in your blog. It is such an honour. Always appreciate your constant love and appreciation for my stories.
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An absolutely brilliant and well narrated tale! The twist in the end wrung my heart as well as gave so much depth to this story!
May the ink of your pen never run dry, Trishikh!
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Dear Harshi, your comment always brings so much joy, that I am unable to express my appreciation in words. So glad that you liked the ending. Somehow it just came through and made sense.
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The plot of the story is very descriptive and vivid. The biggest surprise gets revealed at the end is how one person is responsible for two similar people born on the same day and separated by 3500 miles. The DNA from Dad was influential as both kids got into the same kind of work. The end of Haji and Harry was timed just like their birth but death got them closer.
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You are very right. This plot is very supernatural and practical at the same point of time. Thank you so much for this lovely comment. Reading it 1sts thing in the morning gives me great joy.
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Very sad story indeed. And….as always, so intriguing and well written!
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Dear Katelon, thank you so much for liking this story. Yes! This came out a bit sad, though I usually prefer happier endings, however, life is not always the way we want it to be. Once again, I am so happy that you liked the story. Your constant support and encouragement always brings much joy.
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Another great story.. thank you.. sad the brothers killed each other.. 💛🌻💛
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Yes it’s a bit sad in the end, but then sometimes life is such.
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Amazing as always,
found this one a bit heavy 🙂
Richa
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Thank you so much. Really glad that you liked it. Yes this story is a bit on the heav side.
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great read!👍🏼 i love the intertwined fates of the protagonists, & the way you zoom in & out with the timeline to set a mythic perspective.🙏🏼 the end felt poignant, yet quite karmically appropriate somehow❤️ thank you🙏🏼😊
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You are very right in your perspective of my story. I am so glad that you liked the panning of the timeline and its mythical perspective. Yes the ending is very dramatic and possible too. Thank you for your lovely comment. Really appreciate it.
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🙏🏼🕉🙏🏼
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🙂🙏
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This story will take me awhile to process because of the interwoven tragedies. But it is truly very well told and I want to ponder the sadness and irony. I wish I could have convinced Haji and Harry to walk away. Now I just can’t wait for the next story.
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Dear Patrick, I always keenly await your comment. They give me much to think about my own story. This story is indeed very different from anything I have written before, but then I always try to write different, of-course my recognisable style is present across most of my stories. This story is just like a road accident, which could have been very easily avoided, but simply happened due to a bad split-second decision. I am yet to write the next story. Have been travelling today, hence have not been able to start writing. Hopefully will start on the story tomorrow and finish by the next weekend.
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Are you still following me? I am cleaning up my Follower list…
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Oh, yes. I am very much following you. Keep me in your list.
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Though the story has a tragi ending, it kept me captivated throughout. The coincidences do happen, but raping a lady beggar, that too when spouse was waiting in hotel is beyond imagination, but man is a strange creature. Thank you for one more interesting story, Trishikh, but I’m little confused with “blood diamonds from Gujarat”. In fact Gujarat manufactures and exports cut and polished diamonds. Blood or conflict diamonds are raw diamonds that are mined in areas controlled by rebel or terrorist groups to fund military operations against their legitimate governments.
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Dear KK as always, I really look forward to your comment. They have always taught me a lot about my own stories. To answer a few hidden confusions in the story (just my interpretation, which can always be challenged) – The old sardar had rapped a mentally unstable lady. Maybe she was not a beggar at the time of the rape. Maybe she was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and the drunk Sardar took advantage of that. Or maybe he really raped a beggar. As you rightly say – mam is a strange creature, one never knows what he can be capable of doing.
According to the Gems and Jewellery Export Promotion Council (GJEPC), Blood Diamonds do not exist in the world, certainly not in India, but then we know blood dimond do exist. Well my story is a work of fiction, so it might be true or might not, who knows. Perhaps this is something that can be researched further by readers who have a doubt about it. I can say something, that if there is a commodity, if there are criminals, and if there is poverty, no illigal activity is impossible.
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Thank you, Trishikh for your detailed explanation. I agree with you, there may be a number of possibilities that we may or may not decipher. As regards GJEPC, they have to deny, because they can’t deal in illegally traded raw diamonds. In fact they have to give an undertaking to this effect. Diamond mines are mostly located in Africa, and Sierra Leone, Congo etc were known for blood diamond mining to fund their civil wars. So leave it aside, Trishikh, your story is beautifully written, as always, and is truly thought provoking. So keep it up and keep your readers spellbound with stories week after week. All the best, my friend 💖💐
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You are absolutely right about the Blood Diamonds, I cannot disagree with you. This is just a fictional reference. I always treasure and appreciate your comments. They teach me a lot, and I am ever grateful for that.
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You’re welcome, Trishikh! I also learn a lot from your stories. We all are learners here and should remain so till the end.
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Absolutely right, learning, the quest for knowledge, and sharing are very important to me too. You are a great friend, I am thankful to God for that. 🙂
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It’s mutual, my friend 😊💐
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Thank you so much for reblogging this story of mine. Really appreciate your kind gesture and support for my stories.
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Reblogged this on Write and Create (from Creative Writing Course).
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Thank you so much Craig for reblogging my story in your blog.
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A very, very well-told tale!
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Thank you so much Annie for always being so supportive of my stories.
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Wow..very well written..the plot is also good..can be made into a full length novel..
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Oh, you are absolutely right. Many of my stories can be made into a full-length novel or even a movie. Thank you so much for your beautiful words of appreciation. Really treasure it.
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This was a beautiful story. I reblogged it on with the comment: ‘great story, a must-read.’
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Thank you so much for your appreciation. I am really honoured to have my story showcased in your blog. Now more people would be able to read it.
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Reblogged this on Daily poetry and commented:
This is a great story, definitely a must-read!
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Thank you so much for reblogging my story in your blog. It is such an honour and privilege to receive this.
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A brilliant story!
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Thank you so much. I always look forward to appreciation, it really works miracle for my writing engine.
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What an exciting story full of irony and sadness!
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Thank you so much Dawn. So happy that you liked the story. Yes, it is a bit sad.
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You have a strong gift for story telling!
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Thank you so much Jennifer for your kind words of appreciation. They really give me a lot of joy.
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Another absorbing story, though a bit sad. But, life is like that—A combination of all shades.
Well narrated and good read. Thank you for sharing. My best wishes to you.
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Dear Chitrangada, so nice to receive your comment. So happy that you found the story absorbing. Yes, it is a bit sad, and you rightly say that life is a combination of various shades.
Thank you so much for appreciating. Best wishes to you too on your writings.
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Along with money, peace of mind is also necessary in life👍🏻
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You are very right. I think people can still live without money, like a sage in a forest, tribals in remote villages, but without peace of mind no one can live a healthy and prosperous like anywhere for long.
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👍🏻 Along with money peace and happiness is also mandatory 🙂
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Could not agree more with you. Happiness is just so important. It can even cure diseases.
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reading for late tonight, I hope it’s not a horror movie😹😹
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Dear Alic, I look forward to you reading my story. No there are no ghosts involved.
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You offer a continuation of high-quality storytelling and versatility of subject matter. Most of us aim for a path of steady predictability and risk avoidance and react surprised towards a reality that is unpredictable and full of risk. Every one of your stories is giving witness to that simple truth.
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That is such a beautiful thing to say. This appreciation brings tears of joy to my eyes. Yes I try my best to always surprise my readers. Through blessings of God and best wishes from friends like you, I am sure that I would write many more stories in the days to come.
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-mchapus- maybe it is not exactly like that, I will say yes, history likes to repeat itself, finds many imitations even after several hundred years, we subconsciously make many situations similar to others, although for others they are not the same😀
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Well history certainly repeats itself, if not exactly in the same way, certainly in a very similar manner, there is no doubt in that.
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Well done tragic tale.
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Thank you so much Rebecca for appreciating. Yes, it is a bit tragic.
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I am thankful for you visiting my blog, but I am afraid I have read your last story, and will have to wait for your next ones.
Good stories, keep the good work.
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It is such an honour to for me. I am so glad that you have finished reading all 61 of my stories till now. Though I have become a bit irregular, but will write more of these stories in the days to come. Hopefully I will be able to bring more discipline in my life and get back to publishing one story every weekend.
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great story.. sad but good to see some remorse by the characters. 💖 well crafted.
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Thank you so much Cindy. Your comments always gives me much joy. So glad that you liked the story. Yes, it is a bit sad though.
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you’re so welcome and I’m happy to hear that. I did! 💖
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Articolo molto interessante.
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Thank you so much Felice. Glad that you find my story interesting.
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Trishikh, you are a superb storyteller. My main interest is poetry. Although I don’t take time to read many stories on the blog, yours are a spellbinding exception!
This story has an exquisitely-constructed plot and is eloquently told. I appreciate the irony and the well-developed main characters. It is also a cautionary tale warning us that acting on the ill-advised impulses of a moment can have negative effects on ourselves and others far into the future.
Thank you for this story, a beautiful beginning to my day. ❤
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Dear Cheryl, reading your comment at the end of an exhaustive working day gives me immense joy. It proves that my writing these stories brings joy to many. It is a great encouragement for me to keep on writing. Your analysis of my story is so true. You have given words to the thought process behind writing this story. So glad that you took the time to read it. Do visit again if you even again feel like reading a short story from India, I am sure you would my other tales as well.
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We humans feel emotions, explore the world (maybe ‘purpose’), develop relations, setup our personal rules of conduct, after joining interested groups to participate in similar activities;
and turn into a “rebel” when things starts taking shape against us. They ‘threaten our existence’.
A. Summary
Haji (a Muslim) and Harry (a Sikh) are two brothers from the same father but different mothers.
They are connected through the smuggling business of English weapons in the exchange of Gujarati diamonds. Haji is the receiver of English weapons.
They both have mutual respect and understanding but never talk directly. They stay MASKED in front of eachother.
Haji loves to Jamini, and Harry to Cecilia. It shows they want to live a fair – peaceful – family life.
Of course, you can’t get fulfilment from materialistic things and mere appreciation.
Till here, the story goes well…
Haji and Harry both decides to quit their smuggling profession. They want to get out of the muddy pool.
But their reactions, and the ways to take actions were different —
1. Harry want to end the smuggling business.
2. Haji want to quit smuggling from his side.
It’s a SUDDEN action, they killed eachother by their arms in “the final meet”.
Maybe their profession ‘taught them’ to act in such ways. I think, they should have talked properly.
How people reacted to their death?
The officials were formal, the father was guilty about his “only” son.
I think, the father has played the role of “not so good father” here.
Their lovers must felt bad for them. But Cecilia and Jamini have to find new ways.
This story has the sad ending.
1. Background – I’m amazed how you connected two thousand miles away separate cultures together.
Harry is a Liverpool born Sikh. Despite being morden he follows the five main K’s of Silk religion. He has values.
Haji is an indian muslim. He’s also equal to his counterpart.
You introduced their birth place and parents to tell one interconnected story.
2. Using words effectively – Since the beginning of the story, I have noticed something interesting.
You were playing with the words;
trying to use them in various faces and forms — to run the story, to make the story impactful.
For example – using 1980 – “In the 980th year of the 2nd millennium of the Anno Domini, the 80th year of the 20th century, the leap year of our Lord 1980”.
3. Details – You have defined the terms, provided details. So that readers do not have any confusion when you’re not physically present with them to clarify their doubts.
For example, the five Ks, shipping and ship route details etc.
4. Characters – Your short stories are much dependent on the characters you introduce.
In other words, “Your characters empowers your short stories”.
Each character is unique, capable and skillful, lovely, and human friendly.
I’m thanking you for this story.
I was a bit stressful, sad and quite.
Your stories maintains a level of flow of life.
Writing this comment gave me chance to express myself.
Take care. Stay happy.
My best wishes to you. ✨
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Dear Lokesh, everytime you comment on one of my stories, I get so much to learn from the analysis. Your comment is like a story in itself. You are completely right in your analysis and the thought process. Yes, the story is stressful, sad, and quite.
At the end I am realy happy that you liked the story, and your words have gives me infinite encouragement to continue writing these stories.
Many more good ones to come.
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Apart from writing the summary of the short story, I’ll try to explore possible angles and meanings. This should be done under the moral line you draws for your stories.
It’s a wonderful reading. Not just for me but the readers in this comment section.
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You are absolutely right Lokesh, your comments or for that matter anyone’s thoughtful comments provide great inputs to my serious readers.
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There was a lot of history about sailors and their women. However, the most popular is of course this one: In each port, a different woman, different children, a different life. This time it was like a story taken from real life. Who would count such cases in the world, but you have still inexhaustible ideas.👏😁
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Dear Alic, as always your comment gives me tremendous joy. You are right many sailors, especially in the past had different lives in different ports. So glad that you liked this story. Your comments always brings much encouragement.
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Thank you so much for reblogging this story of mine in your blog. Really appreciate your kind gesture.
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Another great story.
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Thank you so much Alev. Appreciation always works like miracle for my writing engine. Really appreciate you taking the time to read, like, and comment on my story.
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As you say, life does not always turn out as expected. But your stories always turn out well crafted.
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Dear Geoff, thank you for this lovely comment of encouragement. It gives me great joy to receive your appreciation.
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Bravo and encore!!! You mix words like some of the best I have ever read. I mean NO disrespect when I say that you took a simple story line of your own and embellished it into a magnificent tale that I will ponder on all day! You are a master storyteller.
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Thank you so much. Your words of appreciation brings tears of joy to my eyes. Appreciation is my greatest reward in writing these stories, I have to financial angle to it. I write so that others can read, enjoy, laugh, cry, feel angry, and relate to tales from India. You are right, sometimes I like to write about a very simple plot or things. I use a lot of history, imagery, and characterization. Do visit again and read some of my other stories, I am sure that you would love many of them.
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👍👍
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🙏 Thank you so much 🙏
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My pleasure 😄
Have an awesome day!!🤠✨️
Butterfly 🦋
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An awesome day to you too. 🙂
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Thanks a lot Trishikh!✌️
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Loved your story, thank you for sharing 🎐
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It is my great joy that you loved my story. Thank you so much. Nothing gives me more joy than application.
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It’s always wonderful to see one of your stories. I love the moral lesson behind them. Thanks for sharing them.
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You are most welcome. So nice to hear from you. I always look forward to your comments. Your words give me much encouragement.
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I am glad to see you still writing these astonishing stories. 🙂
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Yes, am continuing. I have a dream of leaving behind a big.collection of short stories. This was my 62nd. Many more to write… 😁
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I hope you do. There’s a lot to be learned about your country, its history and life in general from your stories. 🙂
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May your words come true. I am just happy to share and learn myself in the process. I think stories are the most ancient way to share.
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I hope they come true too. 🙂
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Thanks for such an ornamented read.. U just made my day.. Looking forward for many more
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Dear Michael, thank you so much for appreciating my story. Believe me nothing gives me more joy than a little bit of appreciation. Do visit my blog again, there are many more stories here, that you would love to read.
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What a beautifully told and poignant tale this is. Really enjoyed your storytelling. I keep seeing your name Trishikh among many others that like the same blogs as I do. I am so pleased I visited your site. I am currently working on some short story and poetry ideas for a writing competition in my home town. This will be my fourth year, maybe I will get lucky in 2022!
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Dear Kianga, it is a delight to make your acquaintance. Making new friends always gives me great joy. I am so glad that you found my blog and loved my story.
My best wishes for your writing competition. The moment you decided to write, you already won, no matter what the outcome of the competition. When we write there is always someone who will read and appreciate, and that is a big reward in itself.
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Your words mean so much Trishikh! I am starting a new job next week as a casual journalist back where I worked 25 years ago. Funny how our life goes in circles! You are right we are our biggest critics. Lynn
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Dear Lynn, my best wishes for your new job at the old place. Life does many a times fo in circle, and we are certainly our biggest critics.
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Many thanks Trishikh!
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I am with Geoff Stamper: “As you say, life does not always turn out as expected. But your stories always turn out well crafted.” And well told as well.
In a way the story is quite realistic, as many terrible things happen because of lack of communication and lack of trust.
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Dear Stell, reading your comment gives me great joy. It gives me a sence of achievement and satisfaction in writing the story. Yes this story is derived from bits and pieces of real life incidents.
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I could see this so vividly… it could be a movie !!! I am a new reader of your work… I will slowing for through your writings one by one… and thank you for liking my poetry & art too 💗 I wish you much success !!!!🙏🙏🙏
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Thank you so much. It is a big honour for me when someone appreciates. Do take you time, visit again and read my stories, I am sure that you would love them.
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🙏🙏🙏
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An unexpected ending . Two bad guys dead yet evil remains to spread more sadness and destruction.
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Dear Usfman, yes, it is indeed sad that the two died, however, I would like to believe that their smuggling route ended with them, unless some other players come in the picture over time. Then you might also be right, that they might others working with them who perhaps would try to take this shady business forward.
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BUONA GIORNATA
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A very good day to you too.
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GRAZIE
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You are most welcome.
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GRAZIE, GENTILISSIMO
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Reblogged this on The Corrigan Encore and commented:
I hope this story gives you the same chills that it gave me. I’ve said it before and I will say it again, there is much talent on Word Press. I love this!
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Dear John, thank you so much for promoting my story in your blog. My appreciate your kind gesture. Now so many more people would be able to read my story.
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