Sample copy. Not For Distribution.Our first Latin angel arrived wearing blue salwar kameez with a...
Transcript of Sample copy. Not For Distribution.Our first Latin angel arrived wearing blue salwar kameez with a...
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Website: www.educreation.in __________________________________________________
© Copyright, 2018, Shubham Tripathi
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No, Not Again Love. Friendship. Confusion
Shubham Tripathi
EDUCREATION PUBLISHING (Since 2011)
www.educreation.in
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Prologue
18th March 2015
The coffee with hand in hand was in history now,
that was now scripted in the deleted past. A woman
was lying on the ground restricted to just primitive
movements of muscles that differentiated her to
being alive with another dead object almost with the
same orientation. Rohit’s books were all over the
places, the place had more books than people.
The woman was still in a world not known to us,
thick red eyes and no lateral movements, she hardly
seemed alive. I tried but could not evoke courage to
speak. I wanted to see my brother one last time but
emotions were tough to contain, the inner core
hated me, the only question that loaded me with
guilt was, why did he call me?? Why was he so
desperate to talk to me one last time before meeting
the almighty??
Why Alisha wanted to talk to me but now she hates
me?? Why did she say you can’t be his friend, he
was a nice person?? I was helpless. I had so many
questions to answer, the guilt within me was not
allowing me to face Rohit’s dead body.
His father spotted me, he walked up to me, his lips
were fluttering to speak yet he couldn’t, he just
hugged me hiding his emotions. Perhaps the hug
had such intensity that my eyes couldn’t resist, I
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broke into tears. He tapped my back trying to
console him more than me but emotions drove me to
a more obnoxious state. His mother was still
sleeping with her son, I wonder if his body although
dead realized his presence to her. However, when
my mind finally limited my emotions with all it had,
uncle signaled me to follow him. I followed.
While I moved with him, something that caught my
attention and felt strange was the scratches made
on the wall, that were possibly made with the
human hand with some loud intensity. However the
circumstances were not as supportive to get an
answer to such curiosity.
“Take this home, it came yesterday”. All he could
manage to say in his stammering voice. Two
packets from Amazon with a gift-wrap, Rohit and
online shopping were never even close but those
packets………….
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Acknowledgment
I was never scripting this, never wanted to if you
ask me. He was boring, damn boring. Scripting his
life was like describing a broken stone yet here I am
writing the acknowledgment of his biopic. Friends
are mean and so was he. He wanted to go down in
history and I wanted that too but not like this.
I wrote a different story altogether, the one never
published, now probably lost somewhere in my shelf
but this one is different, the one you are holding in
your hand is either destiny or something I would
have never agreed to If I had an option.
Thought of promoting my novel with you but only a
nightmare as it turns out to be that I end up paying
you a tribute. Not happy though yet elated, I know
that contradicts, so as my feelings. I will never be
able to imagine the sphere of life you imagined
never the dimension of thought you evoked but yet I
will portray the life you lived, the love you
fraternized at least will try to if not exactly.
Whoever the hell I am today, it’s just because you
made me who I am. From a mediocre student to
now being at least respectable to every one other
than you, is just your priceless effort that I wonder I
could ever repay, helpless though yet I ponder at
times. I knew you would be in IIT Bombay by the
time I will finish my novel. I even made my
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promotional schedule but you had different plans,
plans not known by anyone other than the Almighty
himself. Rohit was my friend-cum-brother who very,
unfortunately, died on 18th March 2015 and
reasons are due to be known some day.
Rohit, I know you would be proud to know that
every bit of penny this book is gonna make is going
to be shared with your family. In the following story
to follow I introduce myself as Rohit. All that’s
being written in the upcoming pages depicts the real
story of half an IITian, give him that tag, he badly
wanted it. I am the narrator of the story, so I am
basically Rohit who is telling you the story and I
will sneak into my original identity only when Rohit
departs in the following story.
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Shubham Tripathi
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The crazy crush
Life isn’t gloomy all the time but what about people
who find ways to make it that way. I certainly
belonged to that category. Electricity in Jharkhand
was like porn in a temple, never even close.
Power cut in India helps you admire the beauty the
country has. It’s not just limited to tradition and
nature but women are also an integral part of it.
Sitting under a banyan tree is not a bad option
when the sun comes out all guns blazing and
exhales at 40+ knots. Exactly the state we were in. I
was sitting in the shade on the rocky curvature
facing the road and Manu adjusted his bum to my
right with his flowing legs on full swing to and fro.
We were having probably the time of our lives even
at that burning temperature busy doing something
we were not supposed to do at such a tender age.
You guessed it sooner than expected but spot on!!
We were rating girls. Hardly a soul-bearing
testosterone doesn't do that, right??
Our first Latin angel arrived wearing blue salwar
kameez with a maroon dupatta, I know the
combination was strange but women have
fundamental rights to dress the way they want but
not so with men. It’s rather a nice way of saying
that men are always short of clothes.
"How much??" Manu said glaring like hell.
"Eight on ten.” I responded glaring even harder.
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No, Not Again
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"Two on ten, she is not eligible for my eight.'' Manu
said and of course, the reason was his over
assessment of himself, he had a huge
misunderstanding of rating himself only after
Salman Khan in terms of looks and grandeur while
the entire world believed vice versa including me.
I wonder if men start to find a profession in rating
women than nobody at least in India will remain
jobless. Hold on, if being jobless makes men rate
women or rating women all day makes them
jobless??
The second one was veiled in a black and blue
printed denim along with white T-shirt quoted "I
love my life".
“Is that jeans??” I said with a pathetic expression.
I guess two or more people were required to apply
force and patience in order to get that out of her
body and redress her for the next time, did she paint
her legs like that?? I thought.
Stupid!! Right?? But that's the case with girls you
will always find their clothes a size less than what
they should eventually wear probably to prove it to
themselves that they have not gained any weight
lately.
“Nine on ten.” Manu shouted with a lot of
adjectives and abuses, abuses were indeed
adjectives too. Men have a different method of
completing everything, an abuse is not always an
abuse rather its meaning is pretty much dependent
on the emotion it is said with. Come on, I know you
understand.
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Shubham Tripathi
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“What rubbish? Nine?? The last one was better,
why don't you rate them by their face??” Right!! I
was a man of substance, pure and holly. I was
saying that but I sounded hollow.
“I know!! Don’t tell me!! I have seen you rate them
by their face. For your kind information, we don’t
call it face, the face contains eyes and nose.” He
was right, I only saw the face when I was satisfied.
“You just rate them by U and D.” Manu wasn’t an
ordinary human being, whenever someone caught a
flaw in him, he was ready to give that person a taste
of his own medicine.
In case you don't know what's U and D then it's the
first chapter of physics in class 11th, 'Units and
dimensions'.
“Five on ten.” I wanted to rate her marginally more
but with the kind of mahatma dialogues I made, it
was tough. She was not dying to get my rating
either.
“You went to Allahabad??”Manu asked waiting.
The commotion of his legs was exceptionally
irritating.
“Ha, I forgot to tell you!!”I said folding my legs
and straightening my back for the proper vision of
our next she.
”What??”.
He was a great admirer of art. As I said that, he
straight away knew that I was in love again and that
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