Saturday, December 6, 2014

My Wish List for Christmas

Well, well, well.

It's Christmas time and right now, I'm in Europe. So my travel itinerary and the dream-stay wishlist comprises of the places where I'd like to spend my Christmas.

This is my wishlist:

Here's the exhaustive list, my wish-trip begins a week before Christmas.

1. Good things start from Paris. 18-20 December. This BNB next to Eiffel Tower is the place where I wish to begin my week before Christmas. Red wine with Paris in the view and Champs-Elysses market in the night.
Photo Courtesy: My wishlist at airbnb

2. Five hours away from Paris, Brussels will be my next stop. 20-22 December. Its hot wine, frites, Belgian beer and sumptuous waffles next to City Palais make Christmas celebration a sweet and momorable affair.
Photo Courtesy: My wishlist at airbnb

3. 23rd December. Not too far from Brussels, a bus ride away, I wish to reach London for a day and stay in this small but cute house in South London. London for its fish and chips, for its British accent and for the London Eye. I wish to spend 1 complete day here.

Photo Courtesy: My wishlist at airbnb

4. Flying back from London to a small town on France-Germany border, Strasbourg. 24th-26th Dec. Why? Because it's the best place to be in Christmas. With its glowing Christmas markets, thousands of people on the road with Christmas trees, one cannot afford to miss this heaven.
Photo Courtesy: My wishlist at airbnb

5. After the nice zest at Strasbourg, a rejuvenating and quiet stay at the beautiful Berlin in this apartment with balcony. I plan to visit museums, the Berlin wall for its graffiti and just talk quiet walks.

Photo Courtesy: My wishlist at airbnb

So what's left? It's for you to join me in my endeavour and make my wish come true. Join here, this is my referral link:

Because there's a brilliant OFFER: Every reader who uses my unique referral link will get Airbnb credit worth INR 1,544 ($25)!

Friday, November 28, 2014

Ganga Needs a Snan

(This short-story is written for Indiblogger's contest #AbMontuBolega for Strepsils. You can follow them on Facebook and Twitter. Through a satirical short-story, I bring out the attention that the river Ganga deserves because, as Montu says, bin bole ab nahin chalega.)
It was in Badrinath that Shuklaji met a hermit who'd asked him to bathe in Ganga to get rid of his misery. Ramesh Shukla, a religious businessman from Darbhanga, Bihar, had been running a successful saree shop for over twenty years, but last year, after his shop caught fire, he had lost his entire fortune. Even after one year of tireless efforts, he had not been able to reinstate his business back to affluence. He cursed his luck for not having insured his shop, despite having planned life insurances for every member of his family.
One month ago, when he visited Jagannath Temple at Puri to pray for his goodwill, he received a life-changing advice to take a Ganga-snan to bring his fortune back. The chief pundit at Puri, after plundering his remaining wealth, enlightened him that everything had been conspired by the will of Ganga-maiyya to remind her son, who had been neglecting her for long, to meet her. Shuklaji took the hermit's clairvoyant words by heart and decided that he would go back into the tender lap of the holy mother Ganga as soon as possible and pray to transform the fate of his family, which consisted of his wife and two daughters of marriageable age.
Shuklaji remembered his childhood that was spent alongside Ganga-maiyya. When Ramesh Shukla was not Shuklaji but just Ramu, he often visited his grandfather's sprawling bungalow at Patna that was surrounded by peepul and mango trees on three sides and Ganga-maiyya on the rear side. His entire childhood was spent jumping in the cradle of the holy river. He owed a lot of things to river - his ability to swim that has kept him fit over the years, his risk-appetite that made him swim through the river from ghats to ghats, his disease-free childhood because the holy water strengthened his immunity. But with time, the pressure to earn and sustain his family had cut his ties with the holy mother.
From Puri, Shuklaji boarded a direct train to Patna instead of his hometown Darbhanga, and when he got down, he straightaway hired an auto to take him to Mahendru Ghat. He stripped himself to his undergarments and jumped into the holy river, without thinking twice. As he completed his first dubki, he realized the sea change that the river of his childhood had seen over the years. The water now reeked of filth, it had assumed a dark brown colour that resembled Jhaji's evening tea and it didn't even taste sweet, instead bitter. Nevertheless, in sheer belief of transforming his fate, he spent forty-five minutes in the holy river, even quenched his thirst with it, and came out only when his fingertips and toes got pruned.
Feeling accomplished and nostalgic, Shuklaji bowed in reverence to Ganga-maiyya before leaving for Darbhanga. No miracle happened for the next two days and he, along with his family, kept waiting. Three days later he sensed a severe stomach-ache and kept dismissing it, until he couldn't tolerate it. He was rushed to the hospital, where he succumbed to his pain in seven hours straight. Police feared a conspiracy and asked for a postmortem report. One day later, the newspaper report read, 'Businessman in loss dies by accidentally consuming poison.'
As promised, Ganga-snan relieved him of his misery and his wife received fourteen lac rupees from LIC the next month, with which she married both the daughters in the following year.

The brown Ganga water at Patna's Mahendru Ghat (clicked by me)

There are places that need cleaning, people who deserve your attention & authorities who need to hear your opinions! Don’t be a silent spectator. Raise your voice and make a difference. We know that raising our voices against all that is dirty in our country is a power that we all have. Let’s exercise the power of our voice & work towards a Swach Bharat. This is what the Strepsil's AbMontuBolega campaign is all about. Kyuki Bin Bole Ab Nahi Chalega!

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Will you die for me?

They are a happy couple. Just married - three years ago. Both of them were supposed to have an arranged marriage, but each of them - on the day of their marriage fell in love. With each other. Their arranged marriage turned into a love marriage without anyone having gotten to know about it. 

He is logical; she prefers thinking with her heart. She is an ardent believer of God; he, an atheist, rather an agnostic, if logic could prove God's existence, he'd believe. 

One Fine Sunday
It was 9.30 am and he walked into his wife, cold and silent, cutting vegetables in the kitchen. He took out a packet of peas from the fridge and stood next to his wife, peeling them. She didn't reciprocate. Her vexation showed. Last week, she had urged him to take some time out for her, but deadlines after deadlines stole his days and weariness shadowed his nights. Having peeled a quarter of the lot, he tried to figure how to initiate a conversation that could bring back the lost touch. Unable to think he hurled a few of those peas into his mouth; they were bland.

"Will you die for me?" he asked out of nowhere, as if blandness of the peas provoked such an alarming question. The sharp knife in her hand came to a stand-still. Her eyes were questioning his question, as if it were repugnant. She could not think with her heart this time, rather she did not want to.

"I'll certainly kill you if you talk about 'death'." She pointed the knife towards him making him comforted that his death was imminent.

"Honey, I am not kidding. Please answer. Will you die for me?"
"What kind of question is this? I'm already quite annoyed. Don't annoy me more."
"Please don't get irritated. I want an answer, I have something in my mind."
"You and your mind. A helluva combination. You already know the answer! I'll certainly," she said.
"Was that what you wanted to assure? Satisfied?"
"Not yet. One more question. A difficult one this time." He said.
"Ah! Another headache approaching. Shoot, I've no options left."
"That's like a good wife. So here is my question - If you had been given a choice between these two things - Me dying for you or you dying for me, what would you've chosen?"
"You're sick. What is the matter with you? Why these sudden talks about death?"
"No questions. First answer my question." He dominated.
"You're never gonna mend - will always remain weird. By the way, the question was not so difficult. In fact, not at all. I wonder you even have to ask. I will let you live honey and a thousand times over. I will do it without any second thought."

"Gotcha! This is where my BIG question comes. Don't you think that you are acting selfish by letting me live because when you will be gone, you'll stay in peace. While, I will be tortured not to find you anymore for my entire life, with nothing but your memories burning my heart every moment. You are choosing the easy path buddy. This way you want me to face more misery, don't you?" He struck the bull's eye.

"But your parents will need you. My parents will miss me but my brother will look after them." She tried to think with her mind.
"Suppose there are no obligations at all. Then what will you choose?" He was much better at thinking with his mind.
"Still I'll let you live because in this way, I'll have some peace in the other world until you come and join me." She taunted. She forwent the option of thinking with her mind.
"Come on. Answer me seriously! Will you let me live and die everyday missing you more and more than ever?"
"Hmmmmmmmmmm. You have thought it out very well."
"This is a paradox." He said with pride, as if he would be awarded the Nobel Prize for this brilliant discovery. Noble Prize for love. Alas, there is no such category, otherwise she would be a recipient of a thousand of them.

She was lost - in thinking - this time with her heart. Suddenly, she said, "No, it isn't."

"What? You've an answer to this! what's the catch?" His pride was transformed into the curiosity for the reply that was to come.
"Well, the catch is my love does not need my presence. It is in fact your strength, not your weakness." Her heart gave sound defeat to his logic. He however was not convinced.
"I did not understand"

"I know you are dumb. Listen carefully this time - in my absence you will miss me but you'll realize in some time that I never want you to miss me in a way that hurts you but in a way that inspires you to make a meaningful life, fulfill all those dreams and do all those things that I couldn't do. Love is not for fretting over, rather it is to help you feel alive forever." Her words left him spell-bound.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asked.
"No, but many other guys did tell me that - actually, too many times!"

"Naughty." He exclaimed naughtily and tried to catch her, she ran away and they played Chor-Police in their drawing room for a while, until the chor caught the police. The chor hugged the police, the most endearing embrace ever.

"You're bad, but I still love you." He said with his voice full of emotions while the hug was still on.
"Promise me that you'll always love me like this."
"Always, I promise. And you promise me you'll miss me in a way that'll inspire you to make a meaningful life, fulfill all those dreams and do all those things that I couldn't do."

She was stunned. She didn't make the promise. Why would she? She didn't find his last line pleasing at all.

"What? What do you mean by that?" She said being a bit horrified.
"Honey, I have been diagnosed with final-stage pancreatic cancer. I've got just two months to live."

Her tongue parched, her feet stiffened, her eyes turned wet, her hug became tightened holding him tauter than ever before. She was standing there in a fix. She did not know what to say, what to do or what to hope for. Her heart sank - sank deep within her heart. She could not locate it, nor did she try. She just held him close to her sunken heart, trying to make him rediscover it within her. The wet eyes, the heavy breath and the emotional setback brought more tears and she cried raining her trapped emotions into his ears - as loud as possible.

"Duffer. You screamed directly into my ears. You fool, I was just kidding that time. What do you think, I would leave you so soon? I have a whole lifetime to pester you again and again." He laughed extravagantly.

"I hate you! I hate you jerk!" She struck his toes hardly with her feet. He jumped in pain of that ping, but nevertheless relished it. Her embrace became the tightest ever.

"I love you. Your jerk has found another jerk for himself."

Her sunken heart found a saviour in him, and she was delighted, primarily because the saviour was he - himself. The tears of heartbreak turned into tears of immense joy, and started flowing more and more.

Her heart was throbbing in joy - so loud - that even he could hear it. She was happy as never before and he was happy as never after. He tossed some peas into his mouth once again. They tasted sweet.

Written for indiblogger's Happy Hours for Parachute Advansed Body Lotion. You can view their 'touching' video here:

Saturday, August 2, 2014

New Age Banking is Here: It's time for Jifi

I was amazed when I first heard that I could be paid for liking a post! Not only that, there was a promise of receiving points while paying bills and to top it all: getting any information related to banking through just a tweet. It was all because one little innovation: Jifi, a new product launched by Kotak Mahindra Bank.

Kotak JIFI
Kotak's pathbreaking social banking product JIFI
Kotak Mahindra Bank has launched Jifi, a fully-integrated social bank account with youth as the target segment. Jifi transcends digital banking by seamlessly incorporating social networking platforms such as Twitter and Facebook with mainstream banking. Jifi is a zero-interest current account with no minimum balance conditions, and can be opened with an initial payment of Rs 5,000. All balances over Rs 25,000 automatically move into term deposits at applicable interest rates. Currently active in most metros i.e. Bangalore (Bengaluru), Chennai, Coimbatore, Delhi, Hyderabad, Jaipur, Kolkata, Lucknow, Mumbai and Pune, Jifi will be launched to other cities in some time.
Kotak Mahindra invited Indibloggers to experience Jifi firsthand at the live launch party across Mumbai, Delhi and Bangalore. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it but I made sure I followed Jifi thereafter, since new developments in banking that could help a self-employed author like me is always useful. I was dazzled by the features offered by Kotak's new JiFi, which I have listed below. To know more about this account I recommend visiting the link or Kotak's corporate website. Here go the features that are smart and easy:
  • Use twitter to request a cheque book, transaction history, account balance and lots more with just a tweet to @KotakJifi
  • Zero minimum balance, after all you start from scratch!
  • If your account balance exceeds 25,000; Jifi creates a term deposit of your spare cash so that you earn interest!
  • Get points (which you can convert to money) when you like, comment on Facebook. Social media addicts, you get paid for what you like to do.
  • Similarly, get points when you pay your bills online or rather perform any online transaction and earn points
  • Numerous benefits for sign ups:
    JIFI Benefits
    JIFI Benefits
  • Transferring your points: You can transfer your points to your friends, helping them in times of need.
  • Redeeming your points: Redeem your points on online shopping sites or dining destinations!
JIFI Loyalty Club
  • Mobile apps: Manage your Jifi on your Smartphone; you don't require a PC. Perfect for professionals who travel.
  • A Personal Financial Tracker
  • Kotak Moneywatch: Connect your multiple bank accounts and analyze your expenses at one go. Calculate tax, forward e-statements, categorize credit card transactions and mroe.
  • A Smart Platinum Debit Card: Jifi Debit Card comes with a host of premium benefits according to your requirements. It not only gives you a higher withdrawal limit at ATMs, but also looks good.JIFI Platinum Debit Card
To open a Jifi Account, all you need is an active Facebook id! In case, you do not have an active Facebook account, there’s an option to get an invite through email. It's as social as it can get. Here’s a link to the Jifi's website:

Let's do it now: 

1.      Let’s go to the website:

2.      Log in via Facebook/email

3.      To see how exactly does Jifi work?

4.     Detailed breakup of points

6.      If you have some questions, check ther FAQ’s

JiFI is the new age banking and I am already a part of it. Are you?

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Transformers are here!

A decade ago, I didn't know my life would be as centered around gadgets as it is now. Now I run with headphones and iPod on, read on Kindle, watch movies on the smartphone and only writing is something that's still far off reach. All the tablets that are available in the present markets are good to use, but when it comes to serving the purpose of writers like, they fail miserable. I tried Blackberry playbook, iPad, HCL Me tablet and others, but none gave me the pleasure of typing on a keyboard while on a move. It was not until indiblogger launched this contest for Asus T100 that I figured that finally I had a device made just for me.

Every day I have to travel by metro to work for around 3-4 hours. I always craved for having a laptop or a tablet which made it easy to utilize that time for writing. The keyboard of T100 is such an essential feature that I found missing in most of the tablets of the current  generation. It's one thing that is going to keep me hooked when I'm on the move. Now with T100, I shall be able to write for 4 hours everyday. Those four hours devoted for six months would allow me to have two books in a year.

Written for indiblogger's contest "Time to Transform"

Saturday, February 22, 2014

The Seductress in Disguise

There are parties to celebrate and then there are parties to showcase. The party in which our Carol was invited was of the latter kind and she fancied this fact. Well, for a good-looking almost-single kind of girl in her thirties like Carol, such parties are nothing but an opportunity to find yet-another-Mr.Perfect-for-the-time-being until the next such party.

Dressed up in a ravishing red one-piece, with her white-as-milk spotless back divulging itself out of the 'V' that her red apparel created and the most endearing 'fake' smile being plastered on her face underlined by a stunning diamond necklace, she stepped in the Villa, The Garden Restaurant - the grand venue for the awaited party. The eyes turned towards her. A pair, then two, three, twenty, more and many more. There were too many eyes to count. She was more than pleased to gather all the attention towards herself. A debonair walk, a perfect smile - no matter how much bogus it was and a tempting back that followed made sure that every second gentleman present in the party would lose his gentleness for sometime.

After giving every man present in the party a perfect hormonal drive, she merged into the group of exhibitionists, who were the most opulent, if you trust them, in the magnificent party. A party to showcase. A party to flaunt. Such parties are always a delight to watch, since here the number of faux smiles always outnumber the number of teeth, the phonies try to be as charming as they could be to the other person, their action seems like that they had found their lost lover or brother in the other person, the riches fight their best to show to the world that they are as good a person inside as they look outside. One needs to be a player to survive in this kind of world. Player of materialism, player of hypocrisy and player of lies.

Not to our surprise, our dear Carol was one of the best players of this world. I told you she fancied these kind of parties. It is said that with age comes experience and with experience comes expertise - so was the case with her. She was quite adept in getting the maximum from the party. Seducing a rich, handsome and stupid guy, who would fall for her spotless skin as readily as a dog snaffling a bone, and later, would repay her service by showering his fortune buying priceless gifts for her, was her divine talent. She was way too fond of gifts - the costlier, the better. Her last beau turned out to be the best catch ever and he repaid her delightful service by gifting her a dearly-won diamond necklace, which was embellishing her already scintillating neck.

‘Oh wow, are those real diamonds?’ Asked Melissa, one of the pretty phonies, who was a bit on the heavier side though, whose jewelries and make-up constituted half of her weight.

‘Oh yes! Worth twenty thousand dollars!’

‘God! That’s so damn beautiful!’ Melissa exclaimed in a shockingly delighted tone, twenty thousand dollars being the prime reason for the necklace to be so damn beautiful.

‘Well, I’ve many admirers. Seduction is an art after all.’ Carol smirked and her charm climbed the ladder of self-obsession.

Her eyes wandered around as and when she said the word ‘admirers’. It was the day, when she needed to find her next catch, her next prize of the day, her next sumptuous admirer, a bon vivant. She detached herself from the group of dissemblers and began her rich-guy hunt.

The eyeballs first went left to the extreme point it could get until her neck, which held the pricey necklace, came to her use and she turned further left. Her eyes filtered through faces on the left but she could not find anyone appealing there. Her vision drifted rightwards and swayed a quarter of a circle, when it got stuck at a point. Her eyes couldn't move beyond. He was the one - a suave, unrealistically handsome man suited in an exquisite suede suit, embellished with a seemingly expensive watch on his right hand and a gold bracelet on his left.

She noticed him for some more time. He was wandering all-alone, carrying himself with utmost elegance and sophistication, his face underlined with seriousness made it look all the more dashing. He didn't speak to anyone and kept to himself. Finally, he went towards the food-stall, filled his dinner plate and moved towards an unoccupied table at the far end, away from the commotion.

She kept staring at him. She just wished that their visions to cross. Just once.

‘Hey Maria!’ She shouted gazing across his table, just to provoke his attention, since in reality, there was no Maria.

Her mission was accomplished because finally their eyes met. Not once, but twice. He even stared at her for around five odd seconds. She savored those moments. She suddenly knew that it was time to act. Leaving the show-offs at bay, she moved towards the table, where he sat with a plate full of Chinese dishes and a glass of red-wine, all alone. Ten steps away from the table, she stood in a fix adhering to her conscience which said,‘Don’t look desperate! You should better join him with your dinner,’ and she decided to go to the Chinese food-counter and get her food first.

She knew that if she could involve a guy in a delightful conversation, it would not be too difficult for her to woo him to bed. Men are always ready, her experience said so.

Two minutes later, with exactly the same set of dishes and a glass of red-wine, Carol came over to the serious-man’s table and sat down right across him. Without wasting any moment, she passed a seductive smile at him, only to find out that his eyes were fixed elsewhere. He didn’t pay heed to her presence. Alarmed, she immediately checked her face on the mirror fixed on the flap of her purse. There was nothing wrong with her face. She returned to the present with a relieved smile. Smile is always the best starter to a delightful conversation, her experience said so. She called it the stage one of the flirting cycle. But still, the Adonis was unaffected.

She was a bit stupefied. Having nothing extraordinary to do, she started taking note of what he possessed and what not. A fair skin, good hair, a good physique, a sparkling gold bracelet and a diamond-engraved Rolex on his right hand. It brought her a wider smile. A smile of satisfaction and anticipation. It was the first real smile of the evening. She was already taking him for granted, to be hers.

Having tasted defeat in the stage one, she went on to stage two. Her only motive was to involve him into a conversation. So, she coughed to seek his attention. But there was no change. He didn’t respond; willingly or unwillingly, she didn't know. She coughed again, this time loudly. His concentration spell was broken. He twisted his bottom on the chair, looked here and there but didn’t let his eyes cross the seductress in disguise. She was dumbstruck. She didn’t like it. She was not used to lack of attention.

She needed a better way to initiate a conversation for sure. She went on to the next stage - the implementation of some attention seeking tactics.

‘Wow, nice food,’ she said to herself, trying to carry on the Stage Three of plan-woo-a-guy.  For a change, this time the serious man looked directly at her face, with a gaping mouth as if he was about to say something. But instead, he started eating again.

‘What a bloody wimp, he can’t even start a conversation with a pretty girl! I think I’ll have to initiate. Oh my God, I hate this. I don’t want to portray myself as a nymphomaniac.’

Stage 4.

‘Hi.’ Carol said, in a whisper. She whispered so as to not sound too flirtatious.

He didn’t respond. He was playing pinball with his chopsticks and manchurian globes. She didn’t try to say anything more.

Stage 4 failed. This was too much for her.

She could not concentrate on anything other than her food, so she began ingesting the Chinese dishes which otherwise she wasn't very fond of, thinking about a new way to approach this problem. Just as she was struggling with suckling three long strands of noodles, she realized that it was time. Time to move from act-of-flirting to the act-of-seduction. She decided to do something so wild that would tempt the hell out of him. I told you with age comes experience and with experience comes expertise.

Seduction began.

She moved her hands behind her neck and partly unlocked her diamond necklace, so that a slight twitch could make it fall of her neck. Her bosom tightened, eyes sensual. His eyes, which were glued to his dinner plate decoding the chemical composition of the Chinese dishes, glanced sharply at her for a while.

Done with loosening the screws of her necklace, she went back to her food for sometime, knowing that at last this strategy worked for the serious man had been looking at her from time to time. Then she bristled abruptly, giving her neck a full-throttle jerk. It worked. As she hoped, her necklace slid down her body along the red carpet created by her one-piece. Bisecting her bosoms, kissing her navel and licking her skirt almost to the knees, it jumped straight on to the grassy ground.

‘Oops!’ She said and bent her perfect torso down to pick up the priced necklace.

The handsome eyes that were avoiding the seductress for the past ten minutes were enraptured in the beguiling picture that was unfolded in front of them. Carol remained sure that she would give him the best view she could, for the maximum time possible so that the Mr. Rolex would have no options left other than being cleaved by her cleavage, being besmirched in the beauty of the diva.

She picked up the necklace and put it in her purse. She didn’t want to waste any time trying to put them on again since now her exhibitionist nature was overpowered with a desire to abduct the rich sonovabitch into the shackles of lust. She looked into his eyes salaciously, trying her best to score. His eyes wandered up and down - to his noodles, to her bosoms, to her lips and to her eyes.

‘Hi,’ she said, this time a bit loudly, expecting a reply. He looked towards left, swung his vision around for a while, and then moved his right hand - the hand with the Rolex - down his right pocket to pull out his cell-phone. At the same time, his left hand extricated a white paper and a seemingly vintage gold-plated pen from the inner pocket of his suit. A moment later, he stuck his cellphone on his ears.

She looked at him, feeling dejected, as if she had been cheated, as if somebody had taken undue advantage of her, while he was busy looking up at the sky with his phone glued to his right ear, and his left hand, which held the golden pen, seemed to scribble something on the crumpled paper, in deep contemplation. It seemed like he was meditating about something deep, something profound, something of great social or spiritual value, something that was far more important than her.

She felt pissed. Extremely pissed. She started abusing him, in her mind though, to let go of her anger. The classy pen did seem to soothe her heart to try once more.

He started talking over the phone and his taciturnity painted the surroundings thereafter, since even on the phone he didn’t speak more than a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, and all the while, his scribbling was on. Carol was intrigued. He really was bizarre. But nevertheless, he was rich. Come on, he had a diamond-engraved Rolex, a stylish gold bracelet and a swish vintage pen and his being handsome was just an icing on the cake.

She was not one of those who would give up so early. After all, she was an expert, you already know, don't you? She had never failed earlier. Wooing a guy had been a cakewalk for her. Smile leads to conversation which leads to sex, where she rocks the hell out of the guy, and thereafter there comes a flood - a flood of gifts. After three unsuccessful stages of flirting and an outrageous attempt to seduce, her precious experience from the past came out with the last but powerful idea to make him initiate a conversation.

'If I leave my purse on the table and casually walk away, then of course, Mr. Rolex would have to speak. He won’t have any options left. There is no-one nearby other than him who would have to take the initiative. And if he leaves and I have to pick it up myself, then he is the biggest loser alive on this planet, for sure. Mr. Rolex, you just can’t avoid me. I am not anyone, I am the one, I am the seductress!'

The moment Mr. Rolex’s call got over, our lady in red stood up and left the table silently, intentionally leaving her purse on the table. She trudged away from the table at a caterpillar’s pace, her ears dying to hear Mr.Rolex’s voice calling her and her neck was ready to turn around - towards him. For half a minute, she waited with her pale but bright 'V' shaped back facing expectantly towards the table she had left, to hear just a voice. The wait remained a wait. Carol’s feet didn’t move further and out of sheer disappointment, she turned back to see what that suave and handsome Mr. Rolex was up to.

Her eyes became big and then bigger, until it was almost ready to jump out of its place, her white skin turned orange, breaths became erratic and feet started trembling. The sight that beheld her eyes brought her multiple tornadoes in a single moment, since Mr. Rolex was gone. And so was her purse. There was just a piece of paper left on the table.

With furrowed eyebrows and a oh-my-God-this-can't-happen look on her face, Carol rushed back to the table, and this was what she read -

It was very nice meeting you.
Thanks a lot for your diamond necklace.
Hope you had a nice time at the party.

P.S. Please thank Mr. Richards for his Rolex,
Mr. Dawson for his amazing bracelet and, 

Mr. Gunther for the pen, on my behalf

Our seductress in disguise met a thief in disguise. And this is where our story ends, with her expertise been given a blow but her experience been given a rise.

(Written for indiblogger's contest #ConditionSeriousHai by Cadbury 5 Star.)