Freekick

Humour column at Yentha.com.

Freekick: Let them Eat Cake

toffee

(‘Let them eat cake,’ said Queen Marie Antoinette (allegedly) when she learned that her peasants had no bread. For the last 6 months my wife has also been uttering the same thing whenever she learns that we are hungry). “Fried rice!!!” My daughter whispered. “No, Pulao!” I whispered back. “It is halwa, acha!” “No, it is pudding, mole!” “Milkshake, I think!” “It can also be curd rice, dear.” “My latest cake. Vanilla lava cake, Belgian style,” my wife put an … Continue reading

Freekick: The Day The Earth Stood Still: Part 2

angry-woman

(Read from the first part by clicking here) Beep beep! Listen! It beeped again. She checked her watch. It said 2:30am. The room was washed with the dim glow from her husband’s mobile. A message at this time! She looked at her husband. If innocence has a face, it could be his! Her fingers sleepwalked towards the mobile lying on the window sill; her eyes were half-closed. A message from a Sheeja? She pressed a button. “Oh!” A gasp escaped … Continue reading

Freekick: The Day The Earth Stood Still: Part 1

sus

Only the bare outline of this story forms the actual incident. The thoughts and actions of people in crisis in this story are imagined. What else can I do? I have no other way to depict them because I was in deep sleep when everything happened. All I remember is waking up to my wife’s noisy breathing, and her face blazing in the darkness with anger as she announced to me that I’d become a father. And she was not … Continue reading

FREEKICK: The Apple that I Ate

the-smoking-effect-l

The doctor tore a piece of paper from his notepad, squeezed it tightly into a ball, and gave it to me. “Eat it!” “!!!” “Eat it!” “Eat what!” I mumbled. “Eat it!” “This!!!” “Eat it!” I collected the ball from his hand. How could one eat paper! Just then the doctor’s wife called him from inside. “I’ll be back in a minute Manu.” He vanished into his home through a small door that opened at the far end of the … Continue reading