The Log

Haven for good posts

Category: Stories

  • The Sweat Summer Teaboy No one knows why they called it that way, but I guess it was just meant to be called anyway. The Moon Rock Apartments, an old three -storied millennial structure, which had housed countless bachelors (most notoriously known for Sam Valappil John for weed consumption), had seen several Indian summers come…

  • 1 Bruce could not sleep. He had just woken up, hearing a weeping sound. His mom had been weeping often. She did that in her sleep. Bruce did not dare disturb her, for whatever reasons she’d wept. ‘I see bad dreams,’ she’d told Dad the next day. ‘Maybe the pakoras you ate last evening could…

  • One more day ends. One more evening passes with the changing pallor of the sky, from grey to black, where the stars twinkle so bright as if giving the onlooker a tiny flame of hope, reminding the refuge of the dusk that a new day awaits next. I too seek a refuge. Not as the…

  • 1 There is a difference listening to Cherry Valley and Sombr, sung by the same singer, when the singer was at two phases of his life, and conveying different attitudes towards life. Bruce of Al Nahda, Sharjah, never understood that (he still wears his underwear backward-front until mom notices that he did wear one). Bruce…

  • Mind over matter

    When mind blooms, we are Happy. So, what makes us Happy? Is it mere fortune, that calorie count or a recreation in a resort? In this materialistic life, we hold these standards in high regard, a traction for chaleur humaine, often thinking less about the fact that you would barely recognize the same people, if…

  • 1 The last time Bruce felt the dizziness was when he had done the Valsalva maneuver. He had pooped hard stools. It did not stay in his memory for long, but, when he did remember, he instantly knew that his poop was black. It is a tad funny what the brain can hold on to,…

  • 1 When Jonathan woke up that morning, he was in a room that he instantly felt a dislike for. The room looked the same, freshly whitewashed as if inviting someone, and the same white fan circled over his head. There was a window. But it was not the same through which he looked into something…

  • Nobody told Vicky that he should not do that. He should not try which mimics fascination. Even if someone lectured, Bruce wouldn’t listen. He was deaf. Deafness didn’t come due to a handicap; he merely believed that it worked for him. I mean, his fascination. His belief. Hence, he was deaf. Vikrant or Vicky was…

  • Amol was scared. He wanted to go home. But he was not alone. The God had entered his body. His realm was consumed. There was this God who was giving him the strength of something, which he did not want at this moment. Because, he was scared. 1 It was 3 a.m. He sat on…

  • I love silence. It allows me to think. It is not the chaos that makes me think. I attended numerous meditation classes, had even read online articles on this subject. And, they all say the same thing – We dwell in our past and worry about our future. That is true. We are all living…