write a story while sitting in a room you listened a strange voice
Answers
Explanation:
A shattering sound. Shrill voices. The sound of clinking laughter. I became curious and followed the direction of the sound...
I stretched my arms after a long journey and looked around. It'd been a long time-too long for me to remember the lanes and by-lanes of this small village. In a remote corner was my ancestral house. My childhood memories were attached with it.
Far away in the foreign land, I had been gripped with nostalgia. India calling! Oh! How desperately I wanted to get in touch with my roots, my village, my home.
A motley of buildings had com up changing the landscape. I could see a factory of some sort at a distance. I asked a group of youngsters for 'Manuhaar Haveli". They silently pointed beyond the chimney of the factory. The fear on their faces perturbed me. It was a bit of a walk but I was thrilled to see the silhouette of the palatial house I was heading for. As I stopped to admire the picturesque view, a voice from behind startled me. An old lady asked me, in her crackling voice. "Beta, where are you going." I pointed at my house. All of a sudden, her expression changed. "That house?
That accursed one? Don't go there beta, you'll land in trouble."
I nodded in confusion but continued my trek. I walked around the house and saw the back door ajar. I discreetly peeped inside and saw a group of youngsters smoking and joking with half filled glasses in their hands. Lots of wooden cases were put as though they were going to be dispatched. Some equipments for distillation were also visible at the far end. Two country - made pistols were lying on a stool. Then I heard a burly fellow with a deep scar on his face saying 'What a lark to find this house as our hide out. No one, not even the police, will suspect us'. It was quite frightening. "Grandfather Uday Nath Singh must be turning in his grave What about his son and the grandson? If they land here some day?", a young voice asked. "Oh! They are busy with their life. The son is bedridden and the grandson, he's in the US. He won't be interested in this Godforsaken place", the other voice replied.
To my horror, I realized that my dear house has been transformed into a 'adda' for making spurious liquor. My blood boiled. I made a bee line towards the nearest police station. When I showed my credentials, the police were convinced of my identity. We rushed back in the police vehicle. By the time we reached, most of the gang were in drunken stupor. The less inoxicated ones made their escape. The remaining ones were nabbed and hurdled into the van.
I heaved a sigh of relief. I went in front of the huge portrait of my grandfather and took an oath- "Never, never I will leave this house uncared for. Sorry Grandpa, for what happened but your grandson will now put the things right. Promise!" Did I see a smile on the lips of the portrait? I wonder.
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Explanation:
A shattering sound. Shrill voices. The sound of clinking laughter. I became curious and followed the direction of the sound...
I stretched my arms after a long journey and looked around. It'd been a long time-too long for me to remember the lanes and by-lanes of this small village. In a remote corner was my ancestral house. My childhood memories were attached with it.
Far away in the foreign land, I had been gripped with nostalgia. India calling! Oh! How desperately I wanted to get in touch with my roots, my village, my home.
A motley of buildings had com up changing the landscape. I could see a factory of some sort at a distance. I asked a group of youngsters for 'Manuhaar Haveli". They silently pointed beyond the chimney of the factory. The fear on their faces perturbed me. It was a bit of a walk but I was thrilled to see the silhouette of the palatial house I was heading for. As I stopped to admire the picturesque view, a voice from behind startled me. An old lady asked me, in her crackling voice. "Beta, where are you going." I pointed at my house. All of a sudden, her expression changed. "That house?
That accursed one? Don't go there beta, you'll land in trouble."
I nodded in confusion but continued my trek. I walked around the house and saw the back door ajar. I discreetly peeped inside and saw a group of youngsters smoking and joking with half filled glasses in their hands. Lots of wooden cases were put as though they were going to be dispatched. Some equipments for distillation were also visible at the far end. Two country - made pistols were lying on a stool. Then I heard a burly fellow with a deep scar on his face saying 'What a lark to find this house as our hide out. No one, not even the police, will suspect us'. It was quite frightening. "Grandfather Uday Nath Singh must be turning in his grave What about his son and the grandson? If they land here some day?", a young voice asked. "Oh! They are busy with their life. The son is bedridden and the grandson, he's in the US. He won't be interested in this Godforsaken place", the other voice replied.
To my horror, I realized that my dear house has been transformed into a 'adda' for making spurious liquor. My blood boiled. I made a bee line towards the nearest police station. When I showed my credentials, the police were convinced of my identity. We rushed back in the police vehicle. By the time we reached, most of the gang were in drunken stupor. The less inoxicated ones made their escape. The remaining ones were nabbed and hurdled into the van.
I heaved a sigh of relief. I went in front of the huge portrait of my grandfather and took an oath- "Never, never I will leave this house uncared for. Sorry Grandpa, for what happened but your grandson will now put the things right. Promise!" Did I see a smile on the lips of the portrait? I wonder.