Coffee at 12 noon - Comic Script

This is my first Comic Script, and I am attaching the first page of the story. I have send the story to Tinkle, so the rest is up to them.


PAGE ONE

1. Caption: It seems like a regular day in Ram Vilas Hotel, but today things are going to be slightly different.
An inside view of the Ram Vilas Hotel is shown. The view shows a lady, around her 30’s, taking a sip of her coffee, while reading a big novel. In a really traditional looking hotel, there are very few customers apart from this lady. And at the end of the hotel, close to the door, stands the waiter, near the cashier, both of them staring at the lady.
Waiter: I just don’t understand! It is the third coffee she’s having and it’s 12 in the noon! Doesn’t she want anything to eat?
Cashier: Does it even matter? Maybe she doesn’t have enough money for it.

We can also see two people having a heated discussion a bit far away from the table of the lady. Both are elegantly dressed, as can be said from the far view.

2. A CU of the two men, and the lady sipping her coffee can be seen a bit far away from their table. The oldest among them is wearing a spectacle, and donning a mysterious smile on his face. The other is elegantly suited, and has bit tension on his face.
Young Man: So you’re not going to lower the price?
Old Man: I got many eligible students out there, and I am giving this seat to you at a price. I am just quoting it. It is up to you now.

3. The backside of the old man’s head is on the CU, and over the shoulder the young man can be seen, trying to negotiate with the old man.
Young Man: But 50 lakhs is too big a sum!
Old Man: Hey, do you want a seat for your son or not?
Young man: But if I pay that, what is the guarantee that he will be out as a doctor?

4. Side view of the old man, right side to be precise. At this view, the lady drinking her coffee can be seen. The young man is not in view.
Old Man: I am the Dean of the college. I can make people win and lose by simply penning it down. You leave the money in my account and the boy with me, and he will be a doctor,  no matter what.

5. Side view of the young man, left side to be precise. At this view, the lady can be seen at the same posture as the earlier scene. This strip is the other half of the earlier strip. So here the old man is not in view.
Young man: And what about the merit student? Won’t he try to claim his so called rights for education?
Old Man: You can leave all that to me. It is my headache, and I will handle it. Five years from now your son will be a doctor in your hospital.

6. Half size view of the young man, with his hand on his chin. A light grin on his face. The tension is gone.
Young Man: So 50 lakhs every year, and I get the results?

7. Half size view of the old man, with a wide grin.
Old Man: My word can be taken for it. So is it a deal?

8. Two hands are shown shaking over the table, and at a far sight we can see the lady having her sip of coffee. 
Young Man: It is a deal I will not regret.

THE CHILD -Short Film Screenplay

An excerpt from my latest short film screenplay. It is quite creepy though.

SCENE 1: Unknown room, unknown time

As the light is lit in the room, we have the CU of a kid, boy-cut hair, and nicely dressed. It looks at the camera and smiles, and the camera starts moving backwards. We hear a young child’s voice (gender unclear).

Narration

I had a childhood.

The camera moves further backwards.

Narration (Continues)

And I enjoyed every bit of it.

The camera pans further backwards to reveal three bodies soaked in blood. One is of a man around his 40’s, one of a lady around her 30’s and finally one of a boy around 15-16 years old. The child remains in its position, unaltered.

The scene abruptly breaks to darkness, to reveal the name THE CHILD. 

My Friend Named Death

An excerpt from my latest short story. If you want to read the whole story, please let me know.

He walks down the street, all tired and weary. He looks around for a shelter, a shelter from the burning sun, a shelter from hunger. He is tired. He is weary. He looks for solace. He always knew money wouldn't be of any worth if they found no purpose. With no restaurants around, he is realizing the bitter truth yet again.

He continues to walk, and suddenly stops. Across the road, he sees a hotel. Nice. Elegant. Not rich. Precisely the kind of place he would like to spend and eat. After a tiring day, a smile finally appears on Thomas’s face.

He knows the rules. First left, then right, and again left. He follows the suit, and then starts crossing the road. When he reaches the middle of the road, he halts, for more vehicles are taking the road to the east, than the ones to the west. On the other side of the road, he sees many trying to cross the road as well.

He waits till the traffic goes low, and starts crossing again. The people opposite to him also start crossing the road. Among them is a beautiful girl, young, charming and extremely pretty. He smiles at her as she brushes past him, and walks ahead to reach his destination.

He is about to step in the hotel, when he stops and looks to his side. To his side he sees the girl he noticed earlier in the crowd. She is scared, her head is split into two, there is blood all over her, and her brains are missing. She looks at him and weeps.

Terror rises in his eyes. He turns back and looks at the road, to see the crowd crossing the road. All of a sudden, a car on that road loses its brakes and rushes forward. Everyone gets to move, but not the girl he noticed earlier. The car suddenly runs over her, and there is chaos on the road.

He runs to the spot, to see the girl. But he already knew there was no use. It has happened. For every act that is happening now has already happened in a fixed time phase. So whatever is going to happen has already happened. The girl is dead, for her brains are already out of her head.
Thomas looks back to the restaurant. The ghastly image he saw earlier is now missing. The soul has been devoured. There is an act he is not supposed to remember. He is not gifted. He is cursed.  His appetite dead, he walks away, to a different destination.

What I Want

-  I want to live in a country where when I kill a person, regardless of my caste, power or status, I be hanged for taking up a life.
- I want to live in a country where people get over because they are more efficient and talented than me, not because they have quotas.
- I want to live in a country where my daughter come late in the night and say, "Oh, dad! Come on! No body is gonna eat me.", and she is true about it.
- I want to live in a country where my son gets what he wants through his efforts, not through bribing.
- I want to live in a country where my parents can get proper rest, not run around tensed.
- I want to live in a country where my sister gets what she deserves because she is talented, not because she is a girl.
- I want to live in a country where everyone are the same.
- I want to live in a country where our leaders work hard for the development of the nation using the tax we pay them.
- I want to live in a country where education is set to realize the dream of an individual.
- I want to live in a country where everyone has got equal rights.
- I want to live in a country where justice is served.
- I want to live in a country that is for the people.
- I want to live in a country that doesn't exist anywhere anymore.

So what do I do?

I shall replace the word WANT with the words SHALL WORK.

I am an Indian. The best I should do is stop complaining, and work out what I can do from my side.

The Battle of M

The idea has been shelved, and I got so pissed, that I am gonna delete the word document. But I think I have done a good job here, so I am posting my latest screenplay for a two minute short film here.

From the darkness, the scene is revealed.

P.O.V shots

1.         We see the board the The company hanging on the building, to where we are going to get in. The camera looks down to see a gate. The word turns red. A soft, white hand raises and opens the gate slowly. And we hear the voice of a lady.

M

The first time I got in this world, I was petrified. It was new, and it wasn’t easy. I was not the alien in here, but this place was alien to me.

The camera moves forward to show car, beside which sits the two dogs. They both look at the camera, and we see the evil faces appear on them. They are the evil guards.

M

I was greeted by the guards, only, they weren’t just guards.

2.         The camera reveals the stairs towards the office. The camera moves up through the stairs, to the door, which she opens slowly.

M

The journey was not easy. There were hardships, pain, sorrows. But every journey is for a cause. Mine was for a purpose, mine was to meet my destiny. Mine was to fight.

3.         The camera reveals the door to the office, which the hand slowly opens. Inside we see the employees of The company. Each person’s face is revealed to be a devil’s face. A close-up shot of everyone with the evil face.

M

And inside, I met my foes, the perfect opponents. They were waiting for the untainted soul, and I was there for them. They wanted me so bad. The fresh meat, the hot blood. They were looking for all of it.

Everyone stands up and joins as a group with an evil grin on everyone’s face. The main person among them stands forward and raises both his hand with the widest grin ever. He is welcoming her.

M

They wouldn’t let go of me. They wanted my soul. What they didn’t know was one simple thing.

The camera turns around to reveal M, our girl, smiling. A bright light shines around her. She is shown holding a sword. She smiles.

M

That I came prepared.

The scene abruptly jumps to darkness.

M

And it was only the beginning.

Credits

The End

My Grandfather

Hey everyone! This is my new short story, which I have written for Tinkle Digest. This is just an excerpt, and carries a theme of motivation. Please share your views here:

“I don’t know what I always felt about my grandfather, because I never saw him in my life. He had been a freedom fighter in his youths, who stood by Subash Chandra Bose during his early teens, and then joined Gandhi in his fight using the weapon of ahimsa. After the country won its independence, he stayed with the Mahathama, until he got shot and killed.

“Later, he joined the army and served the nation during many important crises, such as the Sino-Indian War of 1962, and later against Pakistan in years 1965, 1971 and finally the famous Kargil war in 1999. In course of time he won numerous ranks and medals, but the first and last time I ever saw him was when he was in a casket, buried with all the pride and love from the countrymen who he tried to protect.

“I still remember when my father was asked to receive the folded Indian flag and a golden medal, the famous Paramveer Chakara for his services. My father held it with pride, while his heart was burning with loss. He didn’t dare to look into the casket again.

“I was asked to burn his body, and I did. Being his only grandson, I was given the right to do the last rites for him. But what I never understood was the whole purpose behind the act. I could never understand why he had to fight for 50 crore people, and why he died for them. There was no purpose.

“As I grew up, I started to learn more about my country. Nothing made sense. People were born, people die. In between they live for no purpose. It made no sense to me. The way I saw it, I was the charioteer of my own ride.

“Things were not meant to be simple. Let me describe my locality. I live in a colony with a group of other families. We have a drainage running in front of everyone’s house, which had be stagnated for years. The municipality would always promise about coming over to clean up the mess and make the drainage run smoothly, but those were false calls from them. I mean, who would enter the sewage to clean someone else’s waste?

“Next to our colony is the busy slum of Mumbai, which is also the living place for many people. Everyday when I walk to school I see kids beg for alms, people working for the least of wages and women trying all sorts of things to feed their babies. It was not a chaotic situation. It was just a typical India, where people can never make a move for themselves and expects someone else to do it for them. I pitied them, I always did.
“Questions about my grandfather giving up his life for nothing, and the living styles of thousands of people around me always confused me. I just wanted to escape this country. And so it was decided that after graduation I would leave for London for an elegant life. My parents could not make think otherwise.”

Are we free yet?

Are we living in a free country? What is freedom? Today I came across a variety of incidents, which weren't new to me, and won’t be for you either. But they still make me wonder, are we free yet?

MORNING:
I had taken an early train to Thrissur, and it wasn't an easy one, especially since I was working late in my office. (No, it wasn't a hectic night; I was working on my own works). I didn't have anything to read, and the magazine I bought carried all the stories I have read earlier (except for Alicia Souza's Fact File).

I had a seat right from the start, because it was Independence Day, and I was at the first bogey, in which were very few men, and not a single lady (expedition shattered big time). And why weren't there much people? I realized it only after the train started. All of those men were drunk. They had a good reason to do so too. It was Independence Day, some of them may have got their bonus, and some of them might have saved up some money. Anyways...all of them were drunk.

They still had bottles in their hands. No matter how much the price rise for any other useful stuff such as vegetables and rice, they wouldn't raise a protest or think about making more money. But when it come s to liquor, no one can be a better conservative than a typical Malayalee.

One person even puked right in front of me. So as the train reach the Edapilly station, I got off to get into a better berth, where there were many families. I sat in one of the vacant seats, and silently continued to read my book, with my thoughts wandering around the first compartment I got in. Drinks and money makes men wicked, not forget a thirsty penis as well. And yet, there are no rules against it. Interesting country we all live in.

NOON:
I finished my session with Muthachchan by around 1:30 and started back to the station. It was a long walk to the station, which I decided to take. It may sound a foolish decision, but when it comes to walking and taking a bus, I mostly prefer to walk. For the same reason, you wouldn't find me carrying more than a hundred bucks at a time. The mere thought of spending it will stop me from taking a bus, and it will usually help me go ahead.

Coming back to that noon, I had a long walk to take, and of the many buildings I had to pass, one was a textile showroom which had put up signs of Onam discounts and such. The big textile showroom clearly didn't have much of a parking space, but the worst part was that all the vehicles were being gathered right on the road, creating at least a minute long chaos in every three minutes.

I didn't have to ask anyone why there was such chaos. The police were there to control the mob. But the clear violation of rules was silently suppressed by the people visiting the showroom and the law enforcers standing there. And why shouldn't they? Laws are meant to be broken, not to mend anything broken. I didn't have anything to say there, so I just walked further to the station.

AFTERNOON:
By the time I reached the station, I was tired. I purchased a ticket to Ernakulam and walked towards the bridge that could take me to platform No. 1. Now here is a funny part about me. I like long walks, but when it comes to climbing stairs, I am worse than a sloth.

On the stairs I saw a young lady, a nomad, crying in broken Hindi to a guy next to her, who was clearly drunk. I am not good with Hindi, though I do understand what people speak. Ad with my understanding, I gathered out that she was crying because she was hungry. She had hundred rupees saved for herself, which the guy next to her, probably her husband, took for his daily drinks. The guy was smirking silently, and the woman was crying badly.

Now, I am not a hero, and I only had 70 bucks left. So I walked ahead, as did the hundreds before and after me, except for one. A girl perhaps, or a woman, I am not sure. She was really angry, and said, "All you men can do is stare, pity and then walk away. Couldn't you do anything about this woman?"

People were now looking at her, and so did I. I smiled as she opened her purse and took a hundred rupee note. I knew what was going to happen next. As she handed the note to the lady, the man next to her grabbed the money and walked away nicely. The woman was stunned, and the young lady cried more. All the men laughed, and I clearly heard one person say in Malayalam, "We don't give money to drunkards."

Clearly the woman didn't know what she should do next, so she too looked at the lady pathetically and walked away, and the lady was still crying. I remembered about the packet of biscuits I had bought that morning. I wasn't particularly feeling hungry, so I knew what I had to do.

I gave the lady the packet of biscuits, which she opened up quickly. I expected her to eat first, but what followed stunned me. What none of us noticed earlier was a little kid lying on her lap all along, into which's mouth she put those biscuits. At times she too would eat, but she made sure the child was eating well.

I was standing at a railway platform, with people, who all see this and walk away. I am no different from them. Even I do not taken necessary actions, and if I didn't have a set of spare biscuits, I wouldn't do that either. The question shot back in me.....are we free yet?

EVENING:
I boarded my train, and in the next two hours I reached Ernakulam. Life was normal, life was stupid.

CONCLUSION:
I am no good man, and I no evil. I am just a common man, who watches others and take no steps. And later on, come back to Facebook and complain about it. I, like the other billion Indians, am nothing but an attention seeker. But sometimes it is necessary to speak out the truth.

The question I need to ask you people is...are we free yet? What is freedom? If people are to starve, if people are to follow injustice, if people are to be abusive and drunk all their lives, if people are to be unproductive by all means, if the true potential of the country is meant to be hidden under the lust of sex, money and drugs, where is freedom? What was it that our ancestors fought for? What are we doing?

I don't know what you should do; it is something you should decide. I know what I should do, and I will do it. Gandhi has done his part, Bhagat Singh, Azad, Nehru, Mangal Pandey...they all have done their part. Every individual are to do their part. What are you doing? The least one should ask to the self is....are we free yet?

Image Courtesy: Subin (https://www.facebook.com/ArtistSubinkalarickal)