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The gigantic fan blade thrust a cold breeze on the Swiss Alps.

Her dark mascara cloaked the scar from the night before.

The trap had to be tighter, else she would lose out on the deal.

Voyeur eyes made sure she was never alone.

The flash bulb shed light on her deepest fears.

That’s what she saw…behind the curtains.

He sailed with her hair waving like a storm pounding the shore.

He ventured to the dark side of the moon with her mascara.

His mind freely unstrapped the big shapely breasts.

He floated with the veins of her body…

He touched her everywhere mentally,

That’s what he saw…on the screen.

Gyanban Thoughts - someone's pain and humiliation is someone else's fantasy and entertainment.But that's the circle of life isn't it...specially for folks in the show business.We only get to see the glamor part, rarely we stop to think what went into making that shot ? Also,if you note,this is a double 55 of sorts.!

image courtesy -


  1. interesting. though you'll see only what is visible from where u're looking. the other side can only be imagined and fleetingly so. :)

  2. Well written and Well said... One man's loss is the other's gain...

    And you can call this Fiction 110 if you want to...
    waise bhi all over blogsville are inventing new stuff anyways... 77s, 88s, 99s, etc

  3. Completely agree :). Some ones's sorrow is some one's gain and happiness :).

  4. the men and the women of the modeling and cinema world are victims of exploitation...but we love beauty in a skewed way...everything perfect is not beautiful!

  5. Very well thought out and very differently portrayed.
    Just goes to show that all the glitters has a dark core.
    Nice blog :)

  6. that was very deep... beautifully written... indeed the life on the other side of curtain is very much different...

  7. Wow, that is the most I have heard said in few words...classic Gyanban!

    She need be on the screen...she can be anywhere and the same would happen...its in the eyes, they say eyes never lie :(

    However, as a wise man once told me...Its all in the mind :)

  8. Loved the message behind this short fiction piece.
    Why worry classifying by the number of words, let it be called a short story :)

    Keep up the good work!!

  9. Thanks Chatterbox - well I used the number simply because someone thought it to be poetry. !

  10. thanks Dagny.

    You mean she need not be on screen right?

    Yes ,whoever told you it was all in the mind was spot on.!

  11. Thanks Rajlakshmi. that's what most people don't realise when the acting bug bites you.

  12. Welcome to Scrambled Egg CG.
    Am glad you liked the story...and Scrambled Egg.

  13. There is an element of poetry even in your comment Nalini.
    -everything perfect is not beautiful...and i'd say everything beautiful is not perfect either.!

  14. Yes Harini, the journey to stardom is filled with emotional imbalances.

  15. Thanks SP. Yes, this just could be a real story for someone..who knows?

  16. Yes Nikita, agree. We will never factually know,as most news is doctored.
    But hey,there are true stories which need to be heard.!

  17. yes... its amazing how people can be so cruel and apathetic at times. Sigh.

  18. Hey Gyanban ..great writing !! It made me sad,an instant connection was made...i call it power of words.

  19. One pays a very high price for the fame and power, but does it stop the others from following..

    The glare of the arclights blinds the followers to the ugly realities lurking in the shadows..

  20. That was intense...felt the pain. Lovely writing.

    BTW, There's something awaiting you in my blog. Pls do share my happiness and festive spirit...


  21. Well I am so glad you connected myroom. Welcome to scrambled egg.!!

  22. Yes couldn't agree more. ...behind one success story there are scores of tragic failures.

  23. Well thankyou Deepa Gopal - and thank you for the award - you re most kind.I think you write quite well.


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It's 5AM and the clock is late,
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but the wrinkle is annoying the mane,
and the greys are flaying the vein,
I carry the mirror in mind,
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The train is packed with eyes,
I stand under the strain of lights
the dark skin is brighter,
maybe they'll like me better,
their shampoos leave no clue,
only the fan comes to my rescue.

Waiting for the elevator,
a minty breath drifts over the shoulder,
the noose around my neck chokes
gasps for breath and the heart pokes
the lights are incandescent inside
empty faces on the outside.

The tube-light and the guard flickers
People wearing strange monikers
floating close to the floor
a door opens, the stupor
he sashays along leaving them behind,
my eyes lose him and hope to find.

Clocks go by and the hours shiver
the cardigan shrugs off and the  lips quiver
a sudden surge of reason, cold air ,
aimlessly slides off my ruffled hair
witness  to the porcelain teapot stare,
bits an…