Chords of Serendipity

By Jatin Lekh Raj

A collection of three stories, the book takes you on a kaleidoscopic journey of emotions never felt before. The stories revolve around relationships and the deep desire to be unchastened. All the stories present before you the different flavours of life, where the protagonist emerges as a winner in the game of life. Motivating and inspiring is what the reader feels, while reading the book.

The stories to which a common man can relate, the hardships, turmoil, confusions, joy in small things, unconditional love, passion will keep you engrossed. Giving importance to the role women play in each of our lives, the author attempts to emphasise on the respect, liberation, love and affection they deserve in the male chauvinistic world. Enriched with incidents inspired from real life situations, the book is very close to the author as he dedicates it to his late father

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Aug 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781482836028

Jatin Lekh Raj

Jatin did his schooling in New Delhi. He did his graduation in B.Com(hons) from Sri Venkateswara College, Delhi University. He is presently running his fashion footwear business in Mumbai. Besides working or writing, he wants to join the Hindi film industry as an Actor/Director and aspires to work with Anurag Kashyap and Karan Johar

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Jatin Lekh Raj.

ISBN:           Hardcover           978-1-4828-3603-5

                     Softcover             978-1-4828-3604-2

                    eBook                  978-1-4828-3602-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Partridge India

000 800 10062 62

www.partridgepublishing.com/india

Contents

Acknowledgments

My Mother, My friend

The Great Revelation

Destiny

New Beginnings

Play Your Own Music

2005

The Plan

Robbery Day

A Comprehension

The Message

In memory of my father,

Mr. Lekh Raj,

the man who has inspired me through the years. Without his lessons, I would not have survived. I will be happy to be known by his name. My real life hero.

Acknowledgments

To my wonderful mother, Kiran, and my handsome brother, Viren, who encouraged me to pursue this dream of writing, thank you.

Among my friends, I would like to thank Raghav Kumra, Pranav Kaul, Urvashi Kaul, Manoj Trehan, Abhinav Lohan, Rachit Jaggi, Eshan Saluja, Meghna Bal, Aashna Maakkar, Ankita Tiwana, Aditi Naval, and Monik Chaudhry, who motivated me and made me believe that I can do it. I thank them for being there with me in my times of need. All of you are my family now.

My sincere thanks to my grandparents and my maternal uncles Vijay and Praveen for supporting my family in every possible way.

At the business end of publication, I would like to thank the entire publishing team at the Partridge Publishers for making my dream of writing a book come true.

I won’t forget my editors, Shruti Badyal and Arti Thakur, for giving their 100 percent in editing my book. Thank you.

And finally, I thank the universe for letting things happen the way I wanted them to.

My Mother, My friend

Edited by Shruti Badyal

Death has a way of ripping life apart. For some, the damage lasts forever. Hues of spring, pictures that tell a thousand stories, words left unsaid, promises of love waiting to be lived, memories that warm the heart, and unsaid good-byes—that’s my mother’s story in a few words. The woman whose world came crumbling down when she lost my father in a plane crash refuses to live for herself. With eighteen-month-old me, a broken heart with shattered dreams, and a father-in-law whose orthodox ways and love for taunts added to the misery, she rebuilt her whole world around us, not leaving a minute to heal the wounds. But that’s not how her story is going to end!

Sad as it may sound, the plight of a woman in our country who, when she loses her husband, has nothing more to look up to is an appalling reality. Forget about seeking emotional support in a man—even thinking about it is a sin! Well, and our women have it so well imbibed in their emotional system, they actually shun the idea of seeking another match in the name of moral values. Oh well, what I find the most amusing is the exaggerated reaction from the in-laws! "Our bahu [daughter-in-law] cannot do this! And the children too would say, My mother is my mother!" And we thought the Mughal era was long gone. Phew!

So that pretty much sums it up. The next thing to do is … finding a perfect match for the woman I love the most, my mom—a woman who was never disheartened by the darkness in her dreams for she was too busy being my guiding light.

A fledgling in this dating scenario, I’ve got a plan sorted here. Let’s begin with the very basic. How about a crisp introduction of the date-to-be? Neeta is the five-foot-seven-inch, brown-eyed beauty who was forced to marry at eighteen, soon after she finished school. Charming, intelligent, witty, dominating, enthusiastic, strong, and optimistic are some of the adjectives that describe her best. You throw a snowball at her and she’ll flip it around. Give her a challenging task and she’ll win it! She yells every now and then. Let’s give it to her for being mommy. The cutest laugh, twinkling eyes, and a heart that has kept many promises, that’s Neeta for you (that’s what I call her).

The task wouldn’t have been so tricky had I known her cronies and colleagues well. Although she held everything together brilliantly well after my dad’s demise, she never really crossed those forbidden lines when it came to her social life. Many mistook her for being this snoot when it came to mingling with the local aunties, but she’s the coolest mom! When she thought I was getting all groggy and phased out in life, she took the plunge to introduce me to a girl last year, Nainika, who is my girlfriend now.

Another lousy morning when I refuse to move my lazy self out of the bed! And who cares about the smiling sun when you have an always-irritated grandpa at home? So here’s another interesting character to my mom’s story. My granddad is orthodox, lousy, boring, and everything you don’t want in any family member. I wake up to another altercation between him and Neeta. The fight is new, but the topic remains the same: Why were you late from work the other night? That’s my granddad for you. He loves picking on my mom every now and then. It sometimes feels like he has a word limit to hit every day. In his failing attempt at earning some respect in my eyes, me not being the bread earner like my mom, but yes, the ultimate superstar in Indian families, the beta (son)!

I try hard to take another nap for a few good minutes before Neeta starts ranting. As I flip my arms out of the covers to check my phone, Breakfast ready, reads a text from her. Her emergency calls amuse me sometimes. So if you have three missed calls from her, you’re in deep trouble. Just as I struggle to get out of bed and get myself all dressed to meet Nainika, I can hear Mom stomping toward my door. Already a couple of hours late, the dreadful knock on the door by Neeta only adds to more panic.

Get up, Yash! It’s twelve noon. How can you be so lazy? Breakfast is ready. I will wait for you downstairs, she yelps and leaves.

Why do you always exaggerate the number of hours when it’s about waking me up? It’s eleven. I am coming in fifteen minutes, I blurt.

At the breakfast table I ask what’s for breakfast, and she gives me the same boring cornflakes-and-milk option. Hell no! I’m not having those today.

I told you, Neeta, I don’t like cornflakes. I want a cheese sandwich, and you should not forget my school is over. I am not a grumpy little kid anymore. Please make me a sandwich. Finishing the monologue, I hug a warm good-bye and leave with my meal.

See you at dinner!

With each step I take to reach Nainika, who’s waiting for me at a café, thoughts of how to get a perfect guy for Mom thump harder. Getting to that place from my house in Colaba should easily take some thirty minutes. I wouldn’t waste time anymore. There isn’t any. I scan through my phone and quickly scan through some social networks to initiate this project of finding Mom her perfect man. With God’s grace, I’m looking forward to finding a perfect match. And he better be nothing but perfect, for it’s about Neeta.

Try as I might, my desperate attempts at being on time keep failing. I smile at Nainika, who walks toward me in what I would call a more-shocked-than-surprised reaction.

You are on time, Yash. Is everything okay?

Regardless of the jerk I am, Nainika has always put up with me. Through thick and thin, good weather or bad, she’s one friend who’s always there. Sometimes I wonder why she