" I prefer freedom" a short poem

"I prefer freedom"
Give me the richest riches,
Ooffer me the food of emperors;
Ggive me a thousand cushions to sleep on,
Oor the best room to live in.
Bbut you keep me bound,
Wwalls and fences all around;
I will prefer fFreedom instead, o Ssir,
I will prefer fFreedom instead

Indian comic titles

written by Tadam

So, as promised, i am back with some more itty-pitty information about Indian comics publishers- both established and independent. but first, let me clearify what Independent publisher actually refers to, as i guess some of you may not be aware of this word.
   Independent publishers are usually run by a single man or two basically. If it is run by a single man, then he is the sole owner of the company who looks after and arranges everything from stories to artworks to colors to printing to distribution. If thy are two men, then the other one is usually someone who supports the main owner both financially and in other works like to arrange for artists or script writing etc. These publishers are none other than those avid readers who dream to make their own comics and characters (almost every comic geek's dream ;) ). They come up with innovative ideas paired with jaw-dropping artworks and quality.
   In the last few years, there has seen a massive growth in Independent publishers. Companies are sprouting out like never before, fully armed with compelling storytelling and artworks which are just impossible to be ignored by the readers. Its only because of their Numero uno quality they are surviving and seeing growth in readers. These Independent publishers are also helping those talented artists who were unkwon to us because Established publishers were too filled by highly skilled professionals.
   Many owners of such indie companies left their high paying jobs just to pursue their passion of creating new age-original comic contents. While some are still duelling with their day jobs to make money to cover the expenses.
   Now that i think you have knwon enough anout these indie publishers, let us come to the main topic that is the flagship series of these publishers. The titles of such series are following-
Aghori (holy cow entertainment)
V.R.I.C.A (chariot comics)
Parshu (Orange radius
Kaal (Aayumi productions)
TNT -Taranath tantrik (Speechbubble entertainment)
The legends of aveon 9 (Rovolt)
Mahatma (Gravity comics)
All the names above are highly successful titles which have taken the companies to new heights and brought a huge fan following for them. But other than these,there are some companies which publish graphic novels - a hybrid novel of illustrations and stories which usually dont go further than one tale.
  Some of the titlaes of graphic novels are following-
The Caravan, bloodwar, Devi chodhurani (Yali dream creations)
Were house, The Skull rosary (Holy cow entertainment)
The Train of thoughts, Wreck age (Crimzon studios)
   Graphic Novels (GNs) are the best option to someone who want to read comics but like them to end in one book. Graphic novels usually dont have sequels but occasionally they do, as the srory demands. Graphic Novels are also generating a massive wave of readers to get into comics reading.
   Something other than Comics and graphic Novels is also making a silent space in comics medium, that is - Comics Anthology. These books have several stories in a single book, all in different styles. They are ideal for those who want to have mixed fun, several stories in one go(sounds like airtel DTH recharge plans doesnt it :P ). Anthologies are something that have seen very less dissappointment. As per i know, Every anthology title was a huge success.
   Below are some names of such anthologies-
Comics Jump (i think the first Indian comics anthology- if we dont take tinkle as anthology- published by Level Ten comics)
Ground Zero (Highly successfull. Published by meta desi comics)
Blind spot (One of the masterpieaces by Orange radius arts.)
Were house (This is an anthology as well as GN. published byholy cow entertainment)

   All of the above mentioned titles are unique in its kind and every compnay publuhing them are with different dreams but their goal is the same- To bring back the Golden Age of Indian comics. And if we see their products, which they are churning out in such opposite situations, then its not hard to believe that they can compete with International Heavyweights like Marvel, DC and Dark horse once they get the full suppost of readers.

[In the next post, i will try to tell you the hardworks and brainstomrings creators need to do before a full comics is made ]
ps- If some publishers are missed then i duely apologise. I tried my best not to miss any existing active publisher.
Thanks for reading. :)

Parshu - an Indian superhero.

Parshu is an Indian superhero character published by Orange radius arts pvt. Ltd.
Its a fan art by me (pencils) and my fb buddy Ajay thapa (colors).

Indian comics- scenario and publishers

Indian Comics - publishers( part one)
author- Tadam
Comic books have been a great medium of entertainment for numerous decades.
Comics is the way where one can tell his stories in the best way with less investment.
one thing that makes comic books unique are its two factors,which are words and pictures unlike the movies and novels, which have only one factor each.
The comics were popular in western countries around half a century ago. But They are popularand could be found in almost every part of the world because of its immense power of attractive graphics and mesmerizing stories. India is one of such countried where comics books could be found.
India is home to many establisheded and independent publishers who are bringing out the best books possible. India now even has its own comic con which is organisedfour times in four different places every year( Delhi, Bangalore, Hyderabad and Mumbai).
And every year the number of comics publishers is increasing by one or two new comers.  There are plans being made of a movie to be produced on popular comics character of Industry giant RAJ COMICS which will be directed by Hatke filmmaker Anurag kashyap. this is the present scenario of Indian comics.
Now let us go back to a few years back in the past-
The 90's are considered to be the golden age of Indiancomics by readers when publishers like Raj, ACK, Manoj,Tulsi, Nutan and many others were ruling the indian comic market. They used to sell around 50,000 - 100000 copies in a month.
and every new issue seemed to be a masterpiece to be collected by the fans.
but as the decade came to an end, new ways of entertainment, which were technologically advanced knocked the lives of young ones who were not as keen as their elders to read comics. They were too lazy to work their mind on reading.
they would rather watch cartoon shows on tv and play video games or listen to music.
the situations changed drastically and about all the major and minor publishing houses lost their readers immediately. They could not make new readers and old one were not sufficient to keep them running. Thus, this resulted in a sudden closedown of 90% of the publishers among which were popular names like Manoj comics and tulsi comics.
Only Raj comics and Amar chitra katha and a few more survived those years somehow
Raj comics and AMAR CHITRA KATHA found their own ways out to survive in this age of technology. Amar chitra katha converted their comics and E format first. Then it brought out DVDs of its popular mythological characters.
Raj comics brought out issues which were masterpieces. They gave best stories and artwork of those days in India. They even produced a three episode serial on their Flagship character Nagraj and made an animated movie on him.
Later they launched their own website and E-store which allowed fans to connect with the creatives thus re-uniting the readers also. they started selling their books online and they have shown a great development in their services thus increasing their readership.
In the past few years, social media such as facebook and twitter had played a very crucial role in promotions of comic books. fans now connect and help each other through facebook. they even gift each other on their birthdays.
When Raj and other survivors were reviving slowly, Indiancomics industry sawmany new independent publishers sprouting out with new age content. They had experimentak stories, mostly based on indian mythology and they got a very impressive respinse from readers.
VIMANIKA COMICS, HOLY COW ENTERTAINMENT, ORANGE RADIUS, CHARIOT COMICS, YALI DREAM CREATIONS, AAYUMI PRODUCTIONS, ARKIN COMICS, ROVOLT ENTERTAINMENT, META DESI COMICS, FENIL COMICS, SPEECHBUBBLE ENTERTAINMENT, LEVEL TEN COMICS and GRAVITY COMICS are the names of publishers which came up with most exciting and ppromising contents.
Most of them have found a huge base of readers and are now stepping towards huge success in and across India.
COMICS CON INDIA is giving a boost to independent publishers, where they can showcase their books and make humongous sales. Its likely that indian comics market will touch the heights of its past very soon.
(will come up with the next past soon where i will tell about the popular characters and series of comics which have made a huge fan base in short time)

Two Friends (short story)

TWO FRIENDS
A Short Story by Tadam
“Komu!”
“Komu! Komu! Where are you? Come baby,
come!”
Little Yaji called out to her pet—her best friend.
She wanted to go for
their regular evening walk a little earlier than
usual that day.
“Come soon, baby! We’re going to have lots of
fun today!”
Komu heard Yaji and came rushing out of the
house. He looked as excited as
Yaji was. He ran towards her and began licking
her outstretched hands, like
a child licks his favorite ice-cream. Yaji patted
him on his head and
scratched his neck—dogs love that, she knew.
Then, the two friends set off
down the road into the jungle.
*
Yaji was the only daughter of the headman of the
village. Tapin—that was
the name of the village—was nestled in a narrow
valley surrounded by
thickly-forested hills. It was a beautiful little
village, with lots of
greenery around and a river flowing nearby. Big
banana trees grew in the
fields that surrounded the village—that was what
Tapin was specially known
for.
Yaji thought Tapin was the best place in this
world.
*
Yaji was as sweet as the bananas of Tapin. Yet—
or maybe because of that—she
didn’t have many friends. The other village
children were just too busy
hunting dragonflies and climbing trees, looking for
eggs in mynahs’ nests
to eat (which she found horribly cruel), to bother
about her—and thankfully
so. Yaji would spend hours sitting by the river or
deep in the forest,
spellbound by the beauty of the nature around
her. The other kids found
that a waste of time, and so left her alone.
*
One day, while Yaji was ambling through the
forest collecting wild berries,
she befriended a dog, which followed her home.
Almost at once, she and Komu
accepted each other as best friends. From that
day on, they did almost
everything together. Every evening, they went
together into the jungle for
a walk, the highpoint of their day.
*
It had been three months since Komu had arrived
in Yaji’s life.
That day, Yaji was very excited. Her father had
bought her a new,
peacock-blue frock. She wanted to celebrate the
occasion with Komu, having
fun.
It was amazing how many fruits grew in the
forest! In just a short while,
Yaji’s little basket was overflowing with the fat,
red-hued berries that
she loved. Komu loved them, too.
“Komu, Komu! Papa’s so kind!” chuckled Yaji as
she popped a berry into her
mouth. “He bought me this wonderful frock today!
I always wanted one like
this but never asked him. So kind of him, na? I’m
so happy!”
“Here, have another berry,” she chirped as she
tossed a berry into Komu’s
mouth, which he quickly gobbled up.
As Yaji walked ahead, she flung berries high into
the air while Komu leapt
up and caught them, without missing a single
one!
You should have seen the two friends that day.
How very happy they were!
*
“Let’s rest for a while under that cotton tree,
Komu,” Yaji said after a
while. She was tired. “We better return soon.
Papa always tells me that we
should not go too far into the jungle.”
The two friends squatted in the generous shade
of the giant tree. Komu
jumped into Yaji’s lap and curled up into a ball—
he loved doing that. Yaji
looked on lovingly at this magnificent creature of
God, so full of love.
“Thank you Lord for giving me such a loving
friend,” she whispered.
*
The early evening sun was slipping down the sky,
spreading its magnificent
orange rays. A gentle breeze broke the stillness of
the forest, patiently
caressing the two friends as they lay hugging
each other, completely
oblivious to the world around them. The soft
whistle of the breeze as it
made its way through the trees sounded as if it
was humming a ballad in
celebration of their love.
It didn’t take long for Yaji to fall asleep. She
woke up—it was more than
an hour later—only when she heard Komu
frantically yelping. She couldn’t
believe her eyes as she quickly scampered to her
feet. In front of her were
three burly men, struggling to tie Komu up with a
thick iron chain. Komu
was screeching desperately, calling out to Yaji to
rescue him.
“Stop that! Stop that at once! Who on earth are
you?” Yaji screamed. “Don’t
do that to Komu!”
One of the men turned towards Yaji and barked.
“Ey girl, watch your words.
He isn’t yours. He belongs to us. We’re taking
him back come with us.”
“But he wants to be with me. Ask him and he’ll
tell you,” Yaji protested
innocently as she lunged forward to help her
friend. “What proof do you
have that you aren’t lying?”
“We don’t need to answer you, girl,” the man
snapped back, “but just to
satisfy your curiosity, you see that collar around
his neck with the number
1003 written on it? ...Well, that’s his ID number
that shows he belongs to
us. All our dogs have a number. This one escaped
three months ago and we’ve
been searching for him since then.”
Yaji didn’t doubt what the man said, but, still, she
just could not allow
Komu to be torn apart from her, especially not by
these gruff men. Goodness
knows how they would treat him! It must be
terrible living with them, or
else Komu would not have ever fled from them,
she thought.
Just then, Yaji thought of her father, the village
headman. Surely, he
wouldn’t allow the men to drag Komu off like
that. And so, she suddenly
bounced on her little feet and began racing
through the forest towards her
village. Seeing her, Komu gave one fierce jerk and
managed to loosen
himself from the grip of the man who was
holding him with the iron chain.
He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, till he
caught up with Yaji.
In a short while, they rushed into their home.
*
Taji, Yaji’s father, was sitting on the floor of the
verandah, weaving a
bamboo basket when the two friends darted
inside the compound.
“Ey child, what’s the matter!’ he cried out. “What
happened?”
“Papa! Papa! Help! Papa” Yaji wailed.
“Those...men...they are trying to
take poor Komu away!”
Yaji managed to regain her breath and explained
to her father what had
happened.
“Relax, relax my dear,” said Taji as he handed her
a glass of water to
drink. “We’ll handle the matter when the men
come.”
No sooner had Taji said this than the men
appeared at the entrance of the
compound, looking fierce and angry.
Taji had no idea how he was going to handle the
situation. On the one hand,
the dog ‘belonged’, as it were, to these men. But
he just couldn’t bear
letting Komu go with them. He had already grown
fond of Komu, but, more
than that, he knew Yaji would be devastated if
the men made off with him.
The men hollered at Taji. “Give back our dog, if
you know what’s good for
you.”
Taji thought it best not to antagonize them. He
knew what they were capable
of doing.
“My dear,” he turned to Yaji and said, “Remember
I told you a tale once,
that those who come to this world must one day
leave? I know you love Komu,
but he isn’t ours to keep. He belongs to those
people. And so we must
return him to them. He has to spend his rest of
his life with them. That’s
his fate. You are my sweetest dear, na? You’ll
listen to me, na? Return
Komu to them, dear, won’t you?”
Hearing her father speak like this, little Yaji burst
out crying, burying
her head in Komu’s neck, as if trying to take him
into her body.
The sight was so pathetic that Taji, who prided
himself on being a tough
man, was moved to tears.
“Papa,” Yaji managed to say between her sobs
after a while, “don’t you keep
reminding me that we all are children of the God
and that all of God’s
creatures have the right to live the life they like?
Komu doesn’t like
their company. Why don’t you understand that?
That’s why he escaped from
them. If he liked being with them, he wouldn’t
have come here. He doesn't
like to live with them. Please, I beg you, let him
be with us. Tell these
men off. Please, please, please!”
“I understand all that my dear,” Taji replied, “but
there is little we can
do. We must return him to them. And you won’t
deny my words, will you,
dear? You are such a lovely child.”
Yaji slowly lifted up her tear-soaked head.
“No, father, I won’t deny your words,” she
mumbled as she faced the
prospect of her best friend being torn apart from
her forever. She knew she
her father could not dare to antagonize the men.
She turned to Komu and kissed him on the
forehead.
“I shall love you till I die,” she whispered.
*
Taji lifted Komu in his arms and walked towards
the entrance of the
compound, where the men were waiting.
“I am sorry, sirs,” he said as he approached
them. “My daughter loves
animals very much and so she kept your dog,
unaware that it belongs to you.
Please take him. Here....”
Taji passed Komu to one of the men.
The man stretched his hands to take Komu. But
then, at that moment, his
eyes fell on Yaji, who was sitting a short distance
away. And, all at once,
his heart melted. It was such a heart-rending
sight, that little innocent
child and her tear-stained face.
“No uncle,” the man stuttered. ‘I just can’t! This
dog belongs to your
daughter now!”
Then, taking Komu in his arms, he marched
towards Yaji and placed him in
her lap.
“You both belong to each other,” he said, a
generous smile spreading across
his face as he patted Komu on her head. “I’ve
never seen such love before.
A fine lesson you have taught us today!”
THE END

TWO FRIENDS

A Short Story by Tadam

“Komu!”

“Komu! Komu! Where are you? Come baby, come!”

Little Yaji called out to her pet—her best friend. She wanted to go for their regular evening walk a little earlier than usual that day.  

“Come soon, baby! We’re going to have lots of fun today!”

Komu heard Yaji and came rushing out of the house. He looked as excited as Yaji was. He ran towards her and began licking her outstretched hands, like a child licks his favorite ice-cream. Yaji patted him on his head and scratched his neck—dogs love that, she knew. Then, the two friends set off down the road into the jungle.

                                                                          *

Yaji was the only daughter of the headman of the village. Tapin—that was the name of the village—was nestled in a narrow valley surrounded by thickly-forested hills. It was a beautiful little village, with lots of greenery around and a river flowing nearby. Big banana trees grew in the fields surrounding the village—that was what Tapin was specially known for.

Yaji thought Tapin was the best place in this world.

                                                                             *

Yaji was as sweet as the bananas of Tapin. Yet—or maybe because of that—she didn’t have many friends. The other village children were just too busy hunting dragonflies and climbing trees, searching for eggs in mynahs’ nests to steal and eat (which she found horribly cruel), to bother about her—and thankfully so. Yaji would spend hours sitting by the river or deep in the forest, spellbound by the beauty of the nature around her. The other kids found that a waste of time, and so left her alone.

                                                                             *

One day, while Yaji was ambling through the forest collecting wild berries, she befriended a dog, which followed her home. Almost at once, she and Komu accepted each other as best friends. From that day on, they did almost everything together. Every evening, they went together into the jungle for a walk, which became the highpoint of their day.

                                                                             *

It had been three months since Komu had arrived in Yaji’s life.

That day, Yaji was very excited. Her father had bought her a new, peacock-blue frock. She wanted to celebrate the occasion with Komu, having fun in the forest.

It was amazing how many fruits grew in the forest! In just a short while, Yaji’s little basket was overflowing with the fat, red-hued berries that she loved. Komu loved them, too.

“Komu, Komu!  Papa’s so kind!” chuckled Yaji as she popped a berry into her mouth. “He bought me this wonderful frock today! I always wanted one like this but never asked him. So kind of him, na? I’m so happy!”

“Here, have another berry,” she chirped as she tossed a berry into Komu’s mouth, which he quickly gobbled up.

As Yaji walked ahead, she flung berries high into the air and Komu leapt up and caught them, without missing a single one!

You should have seen the two friends that day. How very happy they were!

                                                                                                *

“Let’s rest for a while under that cotton tree, Komu,” Yaji said after a while. She was tired. “We better return soon. Papa always tells me that we should not go too far into the jungle.”

The two friends squatted in the generous shade of the giant tree. Komu jumped into Yaji’s lap and curled up into a ball—he loved doing that. Yaji looked on lovingly at this magnificent creature of God, so full of love.

“Thank you Lord for giving me such a loving friend,” she whispered.

                                                                                      *

The early evening sun was slipping down the sky, spreading its magnificent orange rays. A gentle breeze broke the stillness of the forest, patiently caressing the two friends as they lay hugging each other, completely oblivious to the world around them. The soft whistle of the breeze as it made its way through the trees sounded as if it was humming a ballad in celebration of their love.

It didn’t take long for Yaji to fall asleep. She woke up—it was more than an hour later—only when she heard Komu frantically yelping. She couldn’t believe her eyes as she quickly scampered to her feet. In front of her were three burly men who were struggling to tie Komu up with a thick iron chain. Komu was screeching desperately, calling out to Yaji to rescue him.

“Stop that! Stop that at once! Who on earth are you?” Yaji screamed. “Don’t do that to Komu!”

One of the men turned towards Yaji and barked. “Ey girl, watch your words. He isn’t yours. He belongs to us. We’re taking him back with us.”

“But he wants to be with me. Ask him and he’ll tell you that,” Yaji protested innocently as she lunged forward to help her friend. “What proof do you have that you aren’t lying?”

“We don’t need to answer you, girl,” the man snapped back, “but just to satisfy your curiosity, you see that collar around his neck with the number 1003 written on it? ...Well, that’s his ID number that shows he belongs to us. All our dogs have a number. This one escaped three months ago and we’ve been searching for him since then.”

Yaji didn’t doubt what the man said, but, still, she just could not allow Komu to be torn apart from her, especially not by these gruff men. Goodness knows how they would treat him. It must be terrible living with them or else Komu would not have ever fled from them.

Just then, Yaji thought of her father, the village headman. Surely, he wouldn’t allow the men to drag Komu off like that. And so, she suddenly bounced on her little feet and began racing through the forest towards her village. Seeing her, Komu gave one fierce jerk and managed to loosen himself from the grip of the man who was holding him with the iron chain. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him till he caught up with Yaji.

In a short while, they rushed into their home.

                                                                                                *

Taji, Yaji’s father, was sitting on the floor of the verandah, weaving a bamboo basket when the two friends darted inside the compound.

“Ey child, what’s the matter!’ he cried out. “What happened?”

“Papa! Papa! Help! Papa!” Yaji wailed. “Those...men...they are trying to take poor Komu away!”

Yaji managed to regain her breath and explained to her father what had happened.

“Relax, relax my dear,” said Taji as he handed her a glass of water to drink. “We’ll handle the matter when the men come.”

No sooner had Taji said this than the men appeared at the entrance of the compound, looking very angry.

Taji had no idea how he was going to handle the situation. On the one hand, the dog ‘belonged’, as it were, to these men. But he just couldn’t bear to let Komu go with them. He had already grown fond of Komu, but, more than that, he knew Yaji would be devastated if the men made off with him.

The men hollered at Taji. “Give back our dog, if you know what’s good for you.”

Taji thought it best not to antagonize them. He knew what they were capable of doing.

“My dear,” he turned to Yaji and said, “Remember I told you a tale once, that those who come to this world must one day leave it? I know you love Komu, but he isn’t ours to keep. He belongs to those people. And so we must return him to them. He has to spend his rest of his life with them. That’s his fate. You are my sweetest dear, na? You’ll listen to me, na? Return Komu to them, dear, won’t you?”

Hearing her father speak like this, little Yaji burst out crying, burying her head in Komu’s neck, as if trying to take him into her body.

The sight was so pathetic that Taji, who prided himself on being a tough man, was moved to tears.

“Papa,” Yaji managed to say between her sobs after a while, “don’t you keep reminding me that we all are children of the God and that all of God’s creatures have the right to live the life they like? Komu just doesn’t like their company. Why don’t you understand that? That’s why he escaped from them. If he liked being with them, he wouldn’t have come here. Please, I beg you, let him be with us. Tell these men off. Please, please, please!”

“I understand all that my dear,” Taji replied, “but there is little we can do. We must return him to them. And you won’t deny my words, will you, dear? You are such a lovely child.”

Yaji kept silent for a while and then slowly lifted up her tear-soaked head.

“No, father, I won’t deny your words,” she mumbled as she faced the prospect of her best friend being torn apart from her forever. She knew she her father could not dare to antagonize the men.

She turned to Komu and kissed him on the forehead.

“I shall love you till I die,” she whispered.

                                                                                      *

Taji lifted Komu in his arms and walked towards the entrance of the compound, where the men were waiting.

“I am sorry, sirs,” he said as he approached the men. “My daughter loves animals very much and so she kept your dog, unaware that it belongs to you. Please take him. Here....”

Taji passed Komu to one of the men.

The man stretched his hands to take Komu. But then, at that moment, his eyes fell on Yaji, who was sitting a short distance away. And, all at once, his heart melted. It was such a heart-rending sight, that little innocent child with her tear-stained face and disheveled hair.

“No uncle,” the man stuttered. ‘I just can’t! This dog belongs to your daughter now!”  

Then, taking Komu in his arms, he marched towards Yaji and placed him in her lap.

“You both belong to each other,” he said, a generous smile spreading across his face as he patted Komu on her head. “I’ve never seen such love before. A fine lesson you have taught us today!”

                         THE END

Rebirth

REBIRTH
A short story by Tadam
Everything around me was rapidly fading. I could
feel air blowing in slow
motion, as if it were mourning for something. I
felt a cold liquid rushing
down my neck.
Was it blood?
Yes, I was bleeding.
My senses were getting ever frailer with every
passing second.
Soon, my entire body was bathed in blood. I had
been stabbed, boxed, kicked
and hit all over—the way a stray rabid dog might
be beaten. I couldn’t get
my jaws to open, not even to let out a squeak. I
couldn’t even move a
finger. It seemed as if I could no longer breathe
as well.
Yet, I felt beautifully calm. All of a sudden, I felt
tremendously light,
like a weightless feather. At that moment, I might
have been the happiest
person in the world.
Was this what they call ‘death’? Was I dying?
Yes ! It was death. And yes, I was dead.
At long last!
As I stepped out of the body that I had inhabited
when I was in the world
of men for 40 years, I looked back at it lying
sprawled out on the
street—dirty, bathed in blood and badly bruised.
Its face was like a
monster’s in a horror movie. Looking at it, I was
extra sure I was dead.
What a relief!
*
But it wasn't always like that. My human body
was once like yours. Healthy,
good looking and complete. No bruises. No cuts.
No wounds. I was alive
then. I was a supari killer. I’d hire myself out to
kill people for a
living. I killed I can’t remember how many men
and women. And if my death
hasn't affected my memory, I think I killed a few
children too.
I earned lakhs that way. Fifty thousand rupees
was my normal fee for a
killing, but sometimes I used to run discount
schemes and would go down to
twenty or thirty thousand per person.
Did I tell you that my name was Tinku Rao, better
known as Trigger Thokeya
Bhai? I was well-known among the mafia and
political big-wigs of my city. I
was rolling in money. I had no cause for
complaint. I didn’t want for
anything. Life went on routinely—one killing after
another—until one day,
when a politician came to my home. We had a
meeting. He wanted me to kill
someone’s 13 year-old daughter. That man—a
social activist—was posing a lot
of problems for the politician, or so he said. As
long as he was around, it
wasn’t possible for him to win an election. He
told me that he had even
offered the man ten lakh rupees to stop speaking
against him but that he
had refused.
‘He’s too honest for his own good,’ the politician
explained.
Not only had the activist not taken the money he
had offered, he had even
stepped up his campaign against him, he said.
And so, to bring the activist to his knees, the
politician wanted me to
bump his daughter off. That was his way of
taking revenge for his defiance.
‘It will teach him the lesson he deserves for
daring to say no to me,’ he
said.
I took up the contract. And I set to work.
I gathered the information I needed about the
activist and his daughter. He
was an employee in a printing press, where he
worked till evening. After
that, he would meet with ‘common’ people in an
open space just behind his
home. He would speak to them about their rights
and would also tell them
about the wily politician and how he had made
millions in their name. These
meetings would go on for hours. During this part
of the evening, his
daughter used to be alone in their little two-
roomed house.
That was, I thought, the best time to do the job.
*
The day for the job to be done arrived. I stuck my
revolver and a sharp
knife in my pocket and set out to the activist’s
house. I got there in a
while and tiptoed to around the backyard. I could
see the man sitting in a
patch of grass behind the house, surrounded by a
large crowd of people.
Ah! So that was him!
I slowly crossed the fence, trying my best not to
make any sound. I reached
an open window at the back of the house and
peeped inside. In the kitchen
ahead I could see a figure moving. It was the girl.
She was stirring a pot
on the fire. I could hear her hum a tune as she
went about her work.
I felt a strange quiver run through my body. There
was something throbbing
deep inside my heart. I had never felt anything
like that before. I didn’t
let myself to think about it any longer, through,
as I jumped through the
window and landed inside the drawing room
noiselessly.
Just as I was getting to my feet, the girl entered
the room. She seemed to
have known that I had been outside all that while
because she came straight
up to me laughing—a very endearing laugh.
‘You must be tired listening to Papa and his
political discussions, Uncle,’
she said. ‘You could have come in through the
front door, though. It would
have been easier, although perhaps less fun, than
jumping in through the
kitchen window!’
She had taken me to be a political activist, one of
her father’s fellow
comrades.
I struggled to open my mouth but I found my
jaws jammed, awe-struck as I
was at her innocent face and large, black, eyes.
‘Oh child! Child!....I am
just....just...ah....looking.....for something to
eat !’ I somehow managed to blurt out. I knew I
sounded ridiculous. A
killer looking for food! How absurd! At that
moment, it struck me that I
could easily have slit her throat if I wished to
right then, but an unknown
force stopped me. As I looked into her pure,
trusting eyes, I completely
forgot what I had come there for.
I had killed a lot of people—I couldn’t remember
how many. I had killed
them so brutally that even the strongest of hearts
world shrink out of fear
on hearing the stories I could tell. I had ripped
their throats and stabbed
them till their bodies had been perforated like
sieves. I even burnt some
alive. But not once had I had never looked into
the eyes of any of my
victims.
But now, I was doing that—and for the very first
time.
I couldn’t get my eyes off the girl’s eyes: such
innocence, such utter
angelic purity!
The girl walked back into the kitchen to fetch me
something to eat. ‘Oh ho!
You must be very hungry na ?’ she called out
from the kitchen. ‘Wait, just
a few seconds, Uncle! I’m bringing you some
kheer. I made it myself—this
morning!
Such beauty, such innocence in that voice!
Again I felt a strange a quiver run through my
body, and found my heart
pounding furiously.
In a short while she came out of the kitchen,
bearing a bowl in her hands.
She looked up to me and said, ‘Uncle! I’m sure
you’ll love it!’
A delicious fragrance of nuts and saffron filled the
room.
‘Had she been your daughter, how lucky you
would have been!’ I heard myself
thinking.
‘My Babuji says I make kheer very well. I’m sure
you’ll say the same after
you taste it!’ she laughed as she placed the bowl
on the table.
I lifted the bowl and put a spoonful of the kheer
into my mouth. It was
delicious! I had never tasted anything like it
before. At that moment I
felt like I needed nothing more in life and that I
could not ask for
anything else.
She stood beside me, smiling, twisting her hands
about her excitedly and
waiting for me to tell her how tasty the kheer
was.
I devoured the kheer. She saw that I was really
hungry. She offered to
refill the bowl.
‘Give me the bowl, Uncle. I’ll get some more,’ she
said as she took the
bowl from my hands.
‘Ah..ah...child! Wait!’ I managed to mumble. ‘I
came into your house
without your notice. You don’t know me. Yet, you
treated me like your uncle
and gave me such wonderful kheer. May I know
why? I am a stranger to you,
right?’
‘No, no, Uncle, you aren’t a stranger. My Babuji
says that no one in this
world is a stranger. All of us are human beings,
fellow creatures of God,
he says. He keeps telling me that loving service of
humanity is service to
God.’
Love? Service? Humanity? God? I had no ideas
what these words meant. I knew
only that one paid money for the things one
wanted. Nothing came for free,
not even poison. I had never heard anyone speak
like this in all my 40
years. What a noble soul, this little girl! And what
a great person her
father, who had taught her all this, must be!
My heart was filled with awe and trembling. How
could I ever have offered
to kill this child? How could I have ever have
agreed to hurt her saintly
father? You won’t imagine how I hated myself at
that moment.
Just then, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket.
It was the politician
who had hired me for that evening.
‘Work done?’ he asked matter-of-factly, not even
bothering to say ‘hello’.
‘No’, I snapped. ‘And I won’t do your work.’
‘What the heck ! How dare you? Why won’t you
do the work ? You ate up my
money, didn’t you?’
‘You wanted me to kill someone who is God in
the guise of a human. You can
take your money back. I don’t ever want to have
anything to do with you and
your ilk again,’ I shot back and shut the phone
off.
*
I had made up my mind now. I would never kill
anyone again. I would make
amends for all my horrendous crimes, beginning
with begging pardon from God.
I had just put the phone back into my pocket
when I saw an angry mob charge
into the house. They were some twenty men and
a few women, who had been
sitting outside, listening to the social activist
speak. One of them must
have seen me in the house and recognized me.
After all, posters bearing my
photograph had been pasted on walls all across
the city by the police.
‘Wanted: Deadly Murdered’, the posters
announced. It didn’t take much time
for the person who recognized me to know that I
was in the activist’s house
to kill him or his daughter.
They didn’t waste a second. They pounced on me
and hurled me to the floor,
kicking and punching me. Some of them hit me
with sticks. Then, they
dragged me outside on the road, even as I
helplessly shrieked and threw my
hands and legs about like a hen being
slaughtered. I knew my end was
coming.
I saw the activist rushing to the scene. I heard
him tell the people to
stop. ‘Have you lost your minds? Have pity on
him!’ I heard him cry. But
the mob didn’t pay him any attention. They
pushed him aside and kept
kicking and beating me.
I could see a sea of black engulfing my eyes. I
knew my vision was
collapsing. I could feel my heart come to a
complete stop. I knew my time
was up. I knew I deserved a gory death for all the
gory deaths I had
caused. Evil never goes unpaid for.
The last thing I remember was seeing the girl
clinging onto her father and
shrieking. I looked into her terror-stricken eyes.
Death was just a fraction of a moment away.
Just before I left the body, my lips parted into a
hint of a smile.
‘Thank you for teaching me love. Thank you for
making this brute a human,’
I said in my mind as my eyes bore deep into hers.
And then my soul escaped from its miserable
cage.
The end.
Thanks

Diary of a mad man

‘We should not do anything without
knowing proper planning,’ a mad man
in Tezpur Mental Hospital was loudly
repeating to himself.
Ravi, a journalist with Arunachal Times ,
noticed the man and later asked the
doctor about him. The doctor said, ‘I
pity this man, but who can change his
fate?’
‘I can’t understand you, Doctor,’ said
Ravi.
The doctor handed Ravi a diary and
said, ‘Here, read this. This is his
personal diary. He doesn’t usually give
it to anyone, but when I asked him for
it, he gave it to me.’
Ravi didn’t ask any more questions, and
silently returned home with the diary in
his hands. That night, he started
reading the diary. This is what the mad
man had written:
“I used to work in a courier firm. I had
a colleague called Prashant, who was a
good friend. I didn’t take much interest
in my work. Sometimes, I misplaced the
packages that our customers sent for
delivery or damaged them. I would
deliver someone’s letter to someone
else. Prashant would advise me to
concentrate on my work, but I ignored
him.
“One day, a packet of medicines
addressed to me and sent by my mother
arrived in our office. The medicines
were for the brain tumor that I was
suffering from. I kept the packet on my
table in the office, and went out to
deliver the letters that had arrived that
morning. I was in such a hurry to finish
my work that I forgot about my
medicines. I remembered about them
only when I got home, but it was
already evening and the office was
closed and so I couldn’t return to the
office to pick them up.
“The next day, I went to the office and
searched for the medicines but they
were nowhere to be seen. I was in a
panic! I knew that if I didn’t take my
medicines on time I would die at any
moment.
“After this incident, I realized the
importance of concentrating on my
work, and so I began working properly.
I worked as best as I could, but my
health began to deteriorate as I wasn’t
taking medicines for my brain tumor
since I had lost the medicines that my
mother had sent me and couldn’t get the
same medicines in the place where I
lived. I even fought off a robber who
was trying to run away with a package
that had arrived for delivery at our
office. He stabbed me in my stomach as
I was grappling with him.
When Prashant saw me badly injured,
he exclaimed, ‘Durgesh! Have you gone
mad? You fought with that man for a
small packet! You could have died!’
“‘Let me die, Prashant! Let me die!’ I
said. ‘My brain tumor will in any case
kill me. It is better to die saving a
precious packet meant for someone
than because of brain tumor. Oh God!
Why did I leave my medicines in the
office that day? Because of this, my
health has gone from bad to worse. It
was my fault, only mine.’
“Prashant exclaimed, ‘What! Were those
medicines that were lying on your table
that day meant for you? I never knew! I
have them with me! Here, take them,
Durgesh!’ Saying this, he took out a
packet from his drawer.
“I was shocked that Prashant had taken
my medicines. I shouted in anger,
‘What! They were with you and you
didn’t bother to tell me? Do you know
that I died a hundred deaths because I
was so tense about losing my
medicines?’
“Saying this, I lost all consciousness. The
pain from my wounds from being
stabbed was too much to bear.
“The next day, I woke up to find myself
in hospital. When I opened my eyes I
saw the manager of our company
standing near my bed. Noticing that I
was awake, he said, ‘Durgesh, your
friend Prashant is….’
“‘Let him die! I don’t want to hear his
name!’ I growled angrily.
“‘Yes,’ said the manager, ‘He is dead. He
was very hurt by your behavior
yesterday, and after meeting you he was
walking on the road and then a car….’
“The manager burst out crying.
“‘Why am I telling you all this?’ he said,
wiping his eyes. ‘You are an awfully
selfish man. May God punish you!’
Then, he put his hand in his pocket and
took out a plastic bag. ‘Here, take your
medicines,’ he said. ‘It was Prashant’s
last wish that you should recover from
your brain tumor.’
“I don’t know how to tell you how
shocked I was at the news, and how
ashamed I felt of myself. I desperately
wanted to ask Prashant for forgiveness,
but now it was too late.
“The tension was simply too much for
me to bear. Suddenly, the tumor in my
brain burst. Sadly, I didn’t die, although
my mind spun totally out of control. I
went mad, and was taken to the Tezpur
Mental Hospital, where I have been
living for the last four years. Maybe this
is God’s way of punishing me.”
*
Ravi finished reading the diary. He
heaved a heavy sigh, switched off the
light and went to bed. All through that
night he couldn’t get a single wink of
sleep.

Baali

An upcoming superhero character in Indian comics universe from a forthcoming publisher Aryan's creations whose i am a part as an artist.
I did this pinup art for them. Colors are matched up by talented Suresh Kumar, who has also worked with Industry heavyweights like Rajcomics. He is currently the senior colorist of the team.
The creators of this character Deven pandey (who also wrote the story) and Ashish khare.
I hope you people like it.
I am waiting for the feedback- negative or positive.
Thanks.

Ravana from Holy cow entertainment.

Friends,
I did this artwork for a contest being organised by a leading Indian comics publishing house named "HOLY COW ENTERTAINMENT".

Funny! Isn't it ?

Funny! Is Isn’t It?

(Short story by Tadam)

I was sitting in "Ramesh Restaurant", a small eatery in our little town. I rarely go there actually. In fact, I rarely visit any restaurant in our town. That day, I went there after a gap of around four months.

The day was hot, as usually days are in summer. I went inside with the intention to have a chilled Coke. Now, some of you might ask, why do I write "chilled"? Everyone drinks Coke chilled only, isn’t it? You’ll say it’s senseless to add the word ‘chilled’ here. It’s true, and you aren’t entirely wrong. But it’s also true that we don't have regular electricity in our little town, and so the chances of getting a chilled Coke there are, at best, 50-50. Most people in our town don't care if whatever they get to drink is cool or hot. They drink it as they get it. Funny, isn't it? But well, that’s what happens in our town. And, I guess, in other remote places, too.

Okay, now let me come back to the story I was telling you—about my visit to “Ramesh Restaurant”. I went inside and sat down in one of the chairs that were scattered about. I was sweating heavily. People say I sweat too much. And I realised that they are right. I was totally drenched! I felt my throat going dry. I was really very thirsty.

I requested the man sitting at the counter for a Coke. There were no waiters there. Or, if the eatery employed waiters, perhaps they were in the kitchen. That’s why I asked the man at the counter for the Coke.

Waiting for my Coke, I looked up at the ceiling and suddenly realised that there was no electricity. The fans were all still. Now, how was I going to get the really chilled Coke that I was eagerly awaiting? I hoped there were some cold bottles left in the fridge!

Around five minutes after I gave my order, a bottle of Sprite was brought to my table. I was sitting with my eyes closed. I was trying to relax. Suddenly, I heard a meek voice saying, "Bhaiya, yeh aapka Sprite! (‘Elder brother, your Sprite!’)." I opened my eyes and was surprised to see a little boy—he must have been about 8 years old—wearing a T-shirt that stretched down till his knees and a half pant which seemed like a big dirty diaper, standing in front of me. He held a tray with a bottle of Sprite and an empty glass on it.

So, he was the waiter.

I watched the boy’s face for some moments till I realised that I had a Sprite to be drunk.

I touched the bottle. It was not cold. I requested the boy to take it back and bring a dozen bananas instead. I wondered as I saw his back receding into the kitchen, “How is this little child passing his days here? An oversized-T shirt and a dirty, over-small pair of shorts—that’s his uniform in his workplace. He’s just too young to slog like this! As a waiter, you have to be awake till the restaurant is open—which might be midnight! Imagine working like that at this age!”

I was studying in higher secondary school that year and had started to think about life, family, career and the conditions of the globe. That little kid had opened a new window of life's cruelty to me. I had parents who supported me, I had a life with no worries—except for my studies. I didn't have to think about earning money or about how to arrange for the next meal for my family and even for myself. But all of this that little boy probably had to think about. He had to earn money slogging away at what was probably a heavily underpaid job. If he didn't have parents, he had much more to worry about. He had many problems to fight with. His loneliness alone would be unbearable, I thought.

I put myself in the boy’s place and tried look into his world. My heart was suddenly filled with great respect for that thin, dark-skinned child.

I was so drowned in my thoughts that I didn't realise he had already come back—with the bananas I had requested for. "Bhaiya, kya yeh keley bhi thande chahiye? (‘Elder brother, do you want these bananas chilled, too?),  Ha! Ha! Ha!" he joked.

I was startled. He can giggle after all, despite having to slog like a serf! With all these problems he has to confront every day, he is brave enough to laugh! I don’t think I could have done that if I were in his place.

I took the bananas and gazed into his bright eyes with a smile. I asked him to sit with me. He didn't hesitate. He sat in the chair in front of me.

"Kya naam hai apka? (‘What is your name?’)” I asked.

"Rafiq Murtaza Hussain," he answered confidently.

I offered him six bananas. His face lit up even more.

"Why do you work here? Don't you go to school?" I questioned him, trying to sound as gentle as I could.

"I work here to earn, of course,” he answered. "My parents are too poor to send me to school."

His eyes lowered.

I guessed he must be sad that his parents couldn’t send him to school.

I asked him a few more, rather general, questions.

“How is life?” I asked. “Of course, I’m sure it isn’t easy. But is it very hard?”

Working as a waiter was tough work, he replied. Customers often came drunk and scolded him without any reason. Sometimes, they even spanked him. But he said the cook was very good and kind. He called him ‘Hariya Chacha’ (‘Uncle Hariya’).

My heart went out to the child. I wanted to help him. And so, I gave him a hundred rupees as a gift. I didn't have much more or else I would have given him a bigger sum.

He thanked me and said I was very nice. Then, he went to take care of the two customers who had just entered.

As I said, I felt really sad for the child. I really wished I could have done more for him. But I wasn’t that big a man who could build him a future. I was just a high school student.

I looked down. I saw that my share of the bananas was still on the table. I slowly ate the bananas. My eyes were still seeing Rafiq’s smiling face even though he had gone into the kitchen.

It took me nearly ten minutes to finish the bananas. Then, I stood up, paid the bill and started walking towards my home. It was getting dark. On the way, Rafiq was still on my mind.

Suddenly, I heard some voices from behind a tree.

"Eh, merey ko bhi ek kash marne dena! (Hey! Let me also have a puff!)”

"Abey! Ruk. Paisa kiska tha ? (Hey! Stop! Whose money was it?)"

"Abey! Pehley woh beer ki bottle khol! (Hey! First open that bottle of beer!)"

Funnily, the voices seemed like kids’! Kids talking like drunken adult men! I was driven by curiosity and went towards the tree to see who they were. I stood behind another tree, which was big enough to hide me. I looked towards where the voices were coming from. And oh!! To my shock, I saw Rafiq and three other boys, like him around 7-10 years of age, smoking and drinking! Rafiq was holding a beer bottle in his hand and sucking at a cigarette, letting out a long plume of smoke!

It was like being hit by a 1000-volt shock from a naked electric wire!

I stood transfixed, unable, for a while, to fathom what was happening. Then, in just a few seconds, all my tender thoughts about him and my respect for him vanished into thin air. And I secretly laughed to myself: "Funny, isn't it ?"

POEMS and PENCILS

POEMS and PENCILS

Scribblings by Tadam

Death

When it comes

No one knows.

It’s like Nature,

Unpredictable

But certain.

One who fears it

Doesn't know

That this isn't the end of life,

But the beginning of a new life,

Full of freshness.

‘Death gives us eternal peace’

The Greats say.

‘Death gives us great pain’

The common men say.

But what really death gives us is

A new chance

To regret the things we have

Done wrong.

And feel privileged for the good deeds

We have done.

To feel grateful to the Almighty

That He gave us a chance to live

As a human being.

Death is not contradictory to life.

It’s a new beginning

Of a new you and I and us.

Let's not fear it.

Enjoy it

As the final kindness of Life to us.

And that is certain.

I will be I

Someone says I think too much.

Someone says I talk too little.

Someone says I walk too slow.

Someone says I am useless.

I don't mind them saying that,

Because that’s how I am.

No matter, to change it how much I try,

I will be I.

Nature is unchangeable,

We are born to act as Nature wants.

That's why chalk is white

And fires give light.

Sayers will say,

Whisperers will whisper.

Teachers will teach

And flyers will fly,

And I?

I will be I.

Mirror Mystery

Mirror- mirror

Tell the truth,

Left is right and

Right is left

In you.

Why?

Do you show the truth

Or not?

Do you show the same

Or you do show the opposite?

The things you show are

So similar,

Yet fully contradict the real.

Are you truthful

Or do you display an illusion?