Did they get you to trade?

When Bharti was twelve, she fell in love. Not the kind of love that would leavel,  you weak in the knees, but precisely the kind that would make you feel the joints, somewhat. Maybe feel a little woozy sometimes. She didn’t even think it was love, actually. But since that is what she thought girls her age did, she called it love. She didn’t really feel much about it too.

Because she had seen in movies and such that love usually led to much sneaking around at night, that is what she started doing. But wait, this isn’t her story. Look, see, there she goes , sneaking out of her house. Now, in one corner, you see that guy standing there, him, the one with the red glasses, yes.

He kind of just buzzed into the picture. Glasses crimson red through and through, noticing her as she went out of her house.

Let us follow him for a while now. 

The Tell tale Market

I write too, sometimes. When there are stories swarming in my head, when the words just scream to be heard,. I write. I write when there is so much to say that it tells itself. To think of it, I don’t write. The words write themselves.

What is it you said…Oh.. What do I write ?

Ah!, Well, now that is a tough one. I write stories, you see. Stories, tales, yarns…. Different kinds. I wrote this one once that I liked- about a story that escapes from the world of stories into the world of men. Or would you rather prefer the one about the city that was so lonely that it dreamed its inhabitants into existence. Tales.. all around.. Do you want me to tell you one about the man who won the 12^th of october in a poker game- but lost the 5^th of august?

I sell these tales in tell tale markets. Tell tale markets, what are they, you ask? Well, why don’t I show you. Why don’t you come with me to one !

Right now

Yes

Right now

Ah, ah.. This will be so much fun.. Come on.. Don’t be afraid now . The world will still be here when we get back, I promise

So, ready? Here, take my hand, close your eyes and just- breathe

A TALE OF THE TELL TALE MARKET

All aboard. No, wait. You, yes.. YOU! Get behind me. Now.. everybody.. close your eyes and breathe. Think of someone close to you… someone you see – daily. Your son, your husband. Now, this is the tricky part.. (I would advise you to ignore the screams behind you.. That’s just the wind whispering in our ears- I think)

Imagine watching them through a mirror … can you feel it…then.. staring at their own reflection.. except they are not staring at their reflection.. they are staring at you, and you see them as they truly are, or will be, for eternity. Old and worm ridden and diseased …

Ignore the scream in your ears, it’s probably only the wind…Probably

Now.. Now you see the light streaming out from behind them.. the angels hovering over their heads.. excellent.. Now turn around, keep your eyes closed and walk exactly 5 steps, till you can see the scent of faded shadows mixed with the spices of lost opportunities.. because that, dear friends, is how a story is made. The zone covered by mist of “could have beens” and “might have beens” – Mixed with the past

Now

                                Open

                                                                Your

                                                                                                Eyes

The tell tale market is here!

Do you smell it, now.. ha ha.. Yes! It is the smell of the Market, the scent of stories, hopes, dreams and fears.. all lost from the depths of time…

What is it you ask, how does one trade in the tell tale Market… Well, it’s quite simple really. You tell a story…

Or better Still.. tell a story about a story. I had this one once, see.. About this Love story, which was born as the son (or maybe Daughter, I don’t remember which) of an adventure story and a war story. The adventure story and the war story met once.. on the pages of a book..