The Adventures of O (Chapters 1-3)

Posted: May 16, 2010 in Humor, life, Love, Novel, The Adventures of O, Uncategorized, Writing
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Writer’s  comments:

Sorry for being too happy to write, for such a long time 🙂

This is the draft of a sci-fi (comedy, thrill & romance thrown in too) novel i wrote in two wonderful days! It’s unpolished, it’s too linear, sometimes boring, sometimes perhaps amusing and brilliant. According to my initital plan i was going to rework on this and polish it further and elaborate more, from the mere dialogues, make this into a movie script or something 🙂 I dream big 🙂

But now i have given up the idea of working on this anymore. But thought of sharing this with a few who love me and my weird “Bloems”. I have broken up the novel in chapters, and each post will have three chapters. Hope it is not confusing…

Happy reading!!!

Chapter 1:


The red Volvo bus came, even in that pouring rain, on time. I got on it. I could see two empty seats facing each other, at the entrance. I took one of them & hoped that the really hot girl behind me would take the other seat. She didn’t. “An hour of boring travel”, I sighed. That’s when she got on the bus. She looked at me & the empty seat, & took it.

She was wearing black figure hugging wet clothes, a black monkey cap, a red shawl & a stupid smile. She removed her wet monkey cap & repeatedly disturbed her hair till I was able to smell her shampoo’s flowery fragrance. From her wet hair, a drop of water had broken free & was grazing through her dimpled cheek, oh so slowly, to her neck & beyond. As I was enchanted by the hot scenic path of that cool, beautiful dew-like drop, I thought I heard her say, softly, “Kiss me!”

Wait, that couldn’t be right. “Snap out of it!” I thought & broke free from her charm- back to reality.

“Excuse me” she said.

“Oh! So that was what she said!” I thought sighing.

“Excuse me, I think you have dropped your hand kerchief, Miss Priya” she said with a naughty smile. On the hand kerchief was embroidered in red, the name of my idiotic sister, Priya.

“Priya… it’s Priya’s… ” I stammered, with a nervous smile. “She’s my sister” I said hiding the hand kerchief from her view.

I guess it sounded fishy to her. She didn’t believe me.

“Oh? & I am wearing pink jeans & a yellow tank top which says “I’m Gay!”!” she said laughing softly.

“Huh? Oh! That’s a good one!” I laughed. She had told an obvious lie & a funny joke. “I can play that game too!” I thought & said “I too am wearing a pink jeans & a yellow tee which says “But, I’m NOT!”!”

We both laughed heartily. The game was on!

“I’m Basanthi! I’m a talkative jolly girl & I have a short term memory!” she said. She really did look like Basanthi from the movie Sholay, only if you looked at her with a tilted head & closed eyes!

“Ba-sa-nn-thi! I’m Gabbar Singh, the most feared bandit, Huahahahaha!” I said, with a Gabbar-like look on me. I think I was drooling! I did look like Gabbar!

“Really? I love the name Gabbar Singh!” she said with a clap.

“I know! You married me- for my name. Not for love, not for my money, not for my brute strength, not for the fame too” I laughed, “You married me just because you loved my name!”

“Come on!” she exclaimed, “Are you sure you didn’t marry Dhanno, my horse?”

I laughed. “No I’m sure. You have forgotten because of your short term memory,” I explained, “Actually, you have married me six times already!”

She giggled. “Talk about History repeating itself! I must remember not to repeat my past mistakes!” she teased.

“It isn’t that bad being married to me!” I said, “You particularly liked the way we used to handshake.”

“Handshake?” she asked, “Was there a special way we shook our hands?”

“Yes & no.” I said mysteriously, “We used to shake our legs, literally. Instead of hands, we shook legs!”

“Now that’s really… something!” she giggled, “Even an insect with a short term memory can’t forget something that!”

“Not to mention our 7 daughters,” I continued, “You absolutely love them!”

“I have 7 daughters? I gave birth to 7 children? Wow!” she said looking at herself, “For a woman who gave birth to 7 children, I have a well maintained figure! Impressive, don’t you think?”

“Well I can’t complain!” I teased, “You were always worried that you’ll become fat after the next child, but I always knew that you’ll be prettier than any woman there ever was, or ever will be!”

She glowed even more radiantly. “Well, I love kids!” she said, “What are their names?”

“Kaalia”, I said, “All of them are named Kaalia

She laughed hysterically. “You named all our kids, Kaalia? Why?” she asked trying to maintain her composure.

“I just love that name!” I said, “Nobody can blame me for loving one name, especially you. You even gifted me a mobile phone with a phonebook that had everybody’s name as Kaalia! I still have it…”

“Did I now? That was very sweet of me” she smiled, “Can I see it?”

“Why don’t you dial my number- 9844******, & see for yourself” I said.

“Is it a mental hospital’s help desk number?” she asked with a grin, & dialed that number from her mobile. My mobile phone rang. She looked surprised.

“You lost!” she said in a delighted tone, “You told a truth!”

“Well, I lost technically”, I replied with a mysterious smile.

“Technically?” she asked sounding puzzled.

“I lost this game” I said, “But I won your phone number!” I smiled like a lunatic. I felt like I was the smartest man in the world. & I knew- I might as well become the happiest man in the universe, soon!

“And I have to get down here!” I said, standing up. The bus had reached Town Hall.

She blushed for a few seconds. She was all smiles as she shook her head. She offered her hand to shake. I felt more like kissing it. But I took what I was offered.

“This time we are shaking hands,” I said shaking her hand, “but next time, hopefully we’ll be shaking legs. And if you are shy, we can do that under the dinner table!” I laughed naughtily. I was too happy to think about what I was saying.

“Thanks for the warning!” she said in a professional manner, “I will be wearing iron sandals for both defense & offense!” Once again, she burst into her soft merry laughter. As I got down, she decorated her face with her sweet soothing dimpled smile, which remains etched in my heart, for forever…

Chapter 2:


Universe. The Big bang. God. These are some of the words that have been in my mind for a while now. As i waited for the next 8 long Earth hours to be over, i began to think about the time that these three words first came slowly in my life, and laid their anchors in my thoughts.

I have been discussing with VIRUS, and she agrees, that it was the dinner party for the Prime Minister that had inadvertently led me here, across the barrier, fighting a losing battle for my life. And now, when i think that I actually might die, strange thoughts have begun to creep into my brain.

Like evolution- if you really think about it, you’d observe that Life really doesn’t care about any single individual. When there’s a struggle for existence only the most able and adaptive of the species survive and weaker species, no matter how noble or great they actually are, individually or collectively, they have to die. Survival of the fittest is true only if your definition of fittest doesn’t include caring, honest or funny.

So life chooses the stronger life-forms to live on. Over the millions of years, life-forms have learnt to live as single celled life-from a humble perfect planet like Earth, where the environment is so conducive for Life, and evolve into a life-form that can even dare to change the environment so drastically, even to the extent of re-arranging galaxies, just to live on…

Life has come a long way…

It’s not like i have given up, like I had done when i stared into the ugly face of humanity wiping out itself on that dark day on Earth. Of all the ways men predicted the end of the human race, nobody could have predicted, even remotely, what my mind’s eye saw that day- every man killing a woman or two and a few children. And when I saw this coming- I had given up. What a callous way to get wiped out… What a coward heartless heart to have given up…

But that was a long time ago, when i was 18. I have grown up now and I still like to think that I don’t give up anymore… But in my nightmares, I go back to that same Doom’s day and give up on Life all over again and wake up breathless, wishing, no, praying- that I always find the courage and never give up in my life ever again.

I’m not a philosopher, as you’ll find out when “you” read my story. I don’t know who “you” are really. I don’t know if all these monologues or to be more precise, these memoirs of mine, told to my dear program, VIRUS, will find its way across the barrier and to the good people at USC.

As I said, I am not a deep thinker, so not many people would like to read what I have got to write, what my insights into Life are and so on. I am a Scientist though but this is not a paper about any of my experiments. But I think it’s an obligation- that I have an autobiography of sorts. I am the first and the only dictator of the whole Earth after all- I mean, I was.

It probably was the first time a Scientist ever became a dictator. There was a soldier who became a dictator- I think a farmer, also political thinkers became dictators. But never a Scientist. Well India did have a Scientist who became a President, who did an admirable job. Hope I have done the same too.

So I shall narrate a few important incidents of my life to VIRUS and she’ll write them down for me and maybe even transmit this narrative across the barrier to the people at USC, who might be amused to read some ramblings of a fool, totally useless for the current task at hand, but they are good natured enough to record what I have to say and maybe even archive it in a library or something.

So with this hope, I venture out to unchartered territories- writing. I have been many things- son, student, friend, boy-friend, scientist, dictator, lover, loser- but writer? Never. Well, I guess it’s not a bad idea to reminisce about the good old days to ease the nerves a bit. I have never read fiction, so i don’t know how to begin. Well I have read one fiction- of course- Sherlock Holmes, but which, later in 2014, was proved that Sherlock Holmes was a real Human Being. Just Kidding. Not to say that people didn’t try, but they found no clues. they believed that the lack of any strong clues proved beyond any doubt that Sherlock Holmes had hid his identity and his proofs of existence so carefully, and because he was one of the sharpest minds of 19th century, he was sure to be able to hide his whereabouts. To the people, or the weird hardcore fans, the lack of proofs was in itself a proof for his existence.

This was also true about my dad in the 21st century, he probably is or was (i really don’t know) the sharpest mind of 21st century and nobody knows where he vanished.

And it is true for God as well, I guess. Let me talk about my dad and God a bit later…

E always said that a story should at least have a little romance. You might be thinking what a weird name- E! Yes, I called her E. But her birth name is Pushpa. Pushpa! Wow! Parents can be really cruel sometimes while naming their kids. She never loved her name and I can relate to her pain. My parents named me O. Just O. Yes, my full name is O. My dad, a scientist, had a way with names, like all other scientists and wanted the whole world to save energy while calling me or something; he wanted me to take less number of bytes when I used my name for records like, school records, university and so on. I saved ink if I wrote my name anywhere. I spent less energy when I said my name. People took less time to remember my name and there could never be wrong pronunciation of my name- like it used to happen for my dad. My dad was being a good humanitarian and a scientist while naming me, and he ended up being the biggest villain of my school and college years. Kids used to make fun of me, or rather my name- if you are even a tiny bit creative, you could make a joke about my name in 10.8 seconds. And unfortunately in my schools and colleges, the kids were as good as Shakespeare at creativity.

Go ahead. Take a few minutes out of your life and think of a joke, or two, about my name and get it over with. Get it out of your system. But soon you’ll associate O with greatness because I am going to tell you a wonderful story- my story. And probably you will name your son or your daughter or your mol, as O. Because really, you have to agree, the name O is not gender specific. And your kid would love his/her/huf unique name. You can thank me in your prayers.

A good beginning of a love story almost always is a good way to start any story, even sci-fi’s, this is what E used to say whenever anybody asked us about us and she’d tell the story of how we met. So I had started off with the same story or rather, incident. Over the years E’s version of story kept on getting more romantic and surprisingly better- but I sticked to the original. Because I’m a scientist, I like facts; I like it better than any fantastic fiction…

As I was saying, that I have been discussing with VIRUS,  that it was the dinner party for the Prime Minister that had inadvertently led me here, across the barrier. Let me tell you about the party…

Chapter 3:


“Dude, the next world war is here, did you know that?” asked S.

“Everybody knows that”               said I, getting irritated.

“We should do something!”

“We are doing something! Remember? At the dinner party tonight?”

“I mean… like poems!”

“No!!!” The next war was better than his poems. Than any poems, I felt.

“Yes! My poems will bring peace to the troubled heart in a wretched time…”

“Who reads poems anyways? And who writes poems these days!!!”

“Me and Me!!!”

“You’re not going to let it go and let me concentrate for the plans for the dinner party for the Prime Minister?”


“How many?”


“Three poems? I don’t have time for three poems!”

“Then you are going to listen to them in installments…”


“Don’t be cruel now, one poem at a time… you owe me that much for all the things I have done for you. These poems are going to make me famous with the girls…”

“If they ever read! And if they do read- it’ll make you notorious!”

“You think so? WOW!!!”

“Get it over with… tell…”

“S is telling a poem?” interrupted E, as she entered my room. She had come to help me get dressed for the party. As if I couldn’t dress myself up to look good in front of the Prime Minister.

“Yes! And look, O is going to wear Jeans!” babbled S.

“What! Jeans are for scavengers and rag-pickers you monkey” she yelled, kicking my left leg, “You are wearing the tux I gave you yesterday”

“Jeans are a symbol of freedom, you know!” said I getting defensive, “You know I can stop this war with free Jeans and free T-shirts and a good plan?”

“Really now, O” she teased me. She was making that face at me- her eyes had lit up suddenly with 1000W curiosity and amusement. And her lips assumed the shape of a crooked Crescent. She’s beautiful. What is she doing with an idiot like me?


She pulled my collars, making me move towards her. I like her the best when she’s in her playful mood, like in the Volvo. If she’s not playful, she reminds me of my 3rd grade school teacher.

“You look dangerous when you are serious… your eyes…” she said.

“Guys! I’m right here,” interrupted S, the forever Fat Bone in our Kebab, “and you are supposed to listen to my poem…”

“Really? Do we really have to?” I groaned.

“Sit down sweetie”, said E softly, pushing me into a chair.

“Which one? The one about a beggar or a dumped lover?” he said getting excited.

The dumped lover sounded a lot personal to me. And hence more painful. The beggar sounded good.

“The beggar!” I said.

“The dumped Lover!” shouted E simultaneously with me.

“Great, I’ll tell both then!”

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  1. […] The Adventures of O (Chapters 1-3) […]

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  9. sandhya says:

    Hey ur second official fan !!!! will be ready with the pen for autograph 🙂 🙂

  10. prasad says:

    fan++; /*Code in comments section 😉 hehe*/
    Good writing suri.
    Keep em coming :).

    • surysingh says:

      Width_of_Smile_on_my_Face++; /* This is not a bug 😉 */

      Thanks! Hope you like the rest of the story 🙂 Happy reading!

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