Skip to main content

The Final Shot.

‘What kind of a name is that, Vidyutparna Godbole?’asked the producer frowning.
‘Its just a name’she said.
‘Change it – else no one is going to give you a lead role with that name.Audience likes to hear names like Katrina Kaif, Deepika Padukone ,Priyanka Chopra ,Kareena Kapoor.’
‘They too,are just names’she said.

‘Well lady, you don’t have a job,you don’t look too hot,you won’t sleep for the role,and you are not ready to expose. So essentially you are here to waste my time.’

‘No sir there is talent,I can act’ she said lowering her head.

The producer looked and smiled ‘the door is on your left,and talent is pouring outside your highness’.

Vidyutparna knew walking out of that door would mean many more doors would close on her face.The producer was a well known man and had many hits under his belt.

‘I will do anything to get this role,and if that means I ve got to kill you so be it’she shot back at the producer.

For a moment it was believable.

‘Nice try,it doesn’t shock me. These stunts have been attempted by hundreds of women before’he chuckled.

She stood in front of his desk looking right into his eyes.
‘Like I said, the door is waiting for you’he gestured.
She pulled out a gun and shot him in the middle of his face. 
Just one shot, perfect.

She said looking around ‘Cut it. That was the final shot – pack up for today everyone.’

Gyanban Thoughts : A short story which leaves you thinking about the multiple options,possibilities the story could ve evolved and I'm thinking about it too...


Popular posts from this blog


‘I need some rest, else I’ll be late for school.’ she said blurring.
‘The doctors are on their way’ he said. She stood motionless, staring blankly at the cameras, Volcanic debris had trapped her legs.Hidden below the ground, gangrene ate into her calves, as she faded.13 year old Omayra’s death was captured live.

Gyanban Thoughts - Nevado Del Ruiz volcano erupted on November 13,1985 which killed nearly 25,000 people in Armero, Columbia. Omayra could have escaped, but stopped to save her sibling from the oncoming volcanic lava. Her legs got trapped in the deris of her own home.When rescue teams arrived they realized that she could not be extracted without amputating her legs. She died with gangrene and hypothermia.She began hallucinating in her last moments. World news covered this they say saw Omayra die a slow painful death.For 3 days her pain and agony was captured by television crews but one photograph went on to capture the imagination of the world. Frank Fournier captu…


Hunger and shelter kill people.

Finding a place in the prime Borough is like finding a diamond in a coal mine. Mum used to say, learn to adjust, and you will find what you want. After all, these little adjustments, are a part of the fucking parcel of life. Huh. 

It would be exactly nine months on the first of April since I moved into the plush Toccata penthouse. It had soft caramel undertones on the walls and the Renoir’s, one on each side, caught my gaze on the first day. Instinctively, I knew, it was the house I wanted. As the landlady walked ahead of me, notes of coffee, pink pepper, cedar, and cinnamon oozed from her swaying hips, sucking me into a deep hallucinogenic state. Fuck me. 

I couldn’t bungle this one up, unlike the previous eight houses. Terrible, they were. “No late-night partying or substances, pills, injections, powders, got it?” She said breaking my gaze. Yes, she had the vocabulary. I am the shy type, so I lowered my head and nodded gently but my head was still spinni…


It's 5AM and the clock is late,
the rush to dress up and change my fate,
but the wrinkle is annoying the mane,
and the greys are flaying the vein,
I carry the mirror in mind,
leave the resigned sigh behind.

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…