Tips On -INTERNET WRITING or WEB WRITING or WRITING FOR THE INTERNET or CONTENT WRITING

A Few "Tips On WEB WRITING:"

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Please note that these tips are for Writing On The Web or Writing On The Internet, and are useful for Content Writers, too. If you are planning to write for the web or the internet, or you are planning to become a content writer, this is a good place to get started.

When you are writing for the web it's nice if you could keep a few pointers in mind:

Imgine yourself as a "web surfer" or an "internet surfer." Do you have that much time to actually read all the pages that you find on the web? The same way that you would read a book? The answer is "No!" After all where is the time? We actually SCAN pages on the Web or the Internet. So the main point that we need to keep in mind is the factor of SCANABILITY when we are designing content for the web or the internet.

What is SCANABILITY?

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SCANABILITY comprises a number of factors.

• Is your web page broken up into small chunks of mformation? That is break up the contents of your web page or blog into short paragaphs. Ideally, a paragraph should not contain more than five to six sentences. (However, this depends on the nature of your content).
• Are the pictures or photographs on your Web Page or Blog laid out in a USER FRIENDLY format?
• Is your WEB PAGE or BLOG easy to NAVIGATE? Are there are unnecessary links that that are not relevant?
• Is there RELEVANT INFORMATION on your WEB PAGE? That is, are you providing the information that you have claimed that you are providing?

Remeber, ALL these are crucial elements . To make your web page scanable, it's a good idea to make wise use of Bullets And Headings.

Bullets And Headings

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• A Heading should give the reader/surfer the idea of the contents of the paragraph, or a particular section of your web page or blog.
• Using Bullets when you are providing lists gives your Web Page a "clean" and "ordered" look.

Some More About Web Writing (This is similar to Content Writing).

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Writing on the Web or Web Writing is different from what we are taught in educational institutions (schools or colleges).

Our teachers had taught us that the introduction should gradually build up to our main topic. The stucture is like that of a pyramid. The main points/contents are actually towards the end (imagine the shape of a pyramid/trianlge). Note: This is what you should AVOID when you are writing for the web.

We follow the INVERTED PYRAMID or FRONT LOADING TECHNIQUE when are writing for the internet.

• Inverted Pyramid

When we speak of the inverted pyramid we refer to that technique where the web writer provides the main information towards the beginning of the write-up. Imgaine a triangle/pyramid turned on its head. The contents of a web page or a blog are designed in such a way that the main topic is dealt with right from the start. That is, you begin by going straight to the point. The reader or surfer does not waste any time "searching" for information on your web page or blog.

• Frontloading Technique In Web Writing

No we are not talking of washing machines, here :)! The "Frontloading Technique in Web Writing" is related to the "Inverted Pyramid." It refers to the practice of providing whatever inforamtion you have right at the beginning. You do not hold back the information that you are providing till the end. On the contrary, as a good web writer you ensure that you have provided RELEVANT INFORMATION right from the beginning.

A Few Good Practices About Web Writing

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• Please make sure that the information that you are providing is AUTHENTIC.
• Writing for the web or the internet, involves great responsibility. The web gives you the power to express yourself, but with power comes responsibility. It's up to you to ensure "A GOOD USER EXPERIENCE."
• Please use English (American English or British English) that is simple and easy to understand. Using figures of speech may not go well with those readers for whom English is a foreign language, or a second language. However, your write-up should not be "babyish." Mastering this is an art.
• Using correct English Grammar is a "must."
• Try to stick to the "simple" tense. For example, Simple past, and simple present.
• Using the "active voice" gives a "crisp" feel to your write-ups. Use the passive voice sparingly.
• Use abbreviations and acronyms sparingly. In case you use them, please give the full form at least once in your writeup.
• Use keywords in your write-ups. Keywords are the "search terms" that users or web surfers use when they search on search engines like Google. Try to think what you would search for when you want your web page to come up. Use such terms in your blog or web page.
• Learn about RSS Feeds. They are the "in."
• Visit other sites or blogs to get an idea of the "look and feel" of web pages or blogs.
• Update your blog or web page on a regular basis.
• Encourage reader/visitor feedback in the form of emails, posts, comments.
• Never use "foul" language or "abusive" language, if you want others to take your blog or web page seriously. The same applies to the use of inappropriate pictures and photographs.
• Avoid colloquial expressions.
• Remember, with time and practice you will learn how to draw traffic (visitors) to your web page or intersite.
• Monitor the performance of your web page or blog, on a regular basis.
• Make it a point to surf the internet, and read up sites on web writing.

Get Help From GOOGLE. How can Google help you?

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• You may also opt for "Google Analytics," to monitor the performance of your web pages, or blogs. This is a free service that is offered by Google.
• Using free Google tools like the AdWords Keyword Tool ot the Traffic Estimator Tool, may be helpful when you are deciding on keywords.
• Using Google's AdWords Help Center to learn more about "Landing Page Quality," may be really helpful.
• Using Google products like Google Picasa may be a good idea to store your photographs on the internet ot the web. You can connect your blog to your web album. Save photographs or pictures that you would like to share, on a public web album.
• Google believes in doing no evil, and believe me most of these great Google products and services are offered FREE!
• If you are a member of Google Orkut, you may link your blog to your Orkut.
• You may choose to become a Google AdSense publisher, and earn by means of the Google AdWords ads that appear on your blog.
• You may sign up for Google AdWords and create ads that would drive traffic to your blog or web page.

These were just a few pointers on internet writing or web writing. Hope you liked "scanning" this blog. You may add your own tips. Remember, practice will help you perfect the art of writing content for the web.

Enjoy!

Why I Wrote This- While working as a content writer, I felt that there might be a few things that all potential web writers or content writers need. That is why I came up with this brief writeup on web writing.

Google And Blogger.Com

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As far as the reference to Google is concerned, I made special mention as quite a few people are still unaware of the vast range of Google products and services (this includes me :)). By the way, Blooger.Com is one of Google's partners, too! You can simply use your Google Account to create an account with Blogger.Com (if you haven't got one, already).

There are other sites that offer similar guidelines in detail, and it certainly helps to do your "homework," before you join the "www" (wide wide world :) ) of the internet, as a web writer and not as an internet surfer.

Songs of ... =================== Piya looked at the murky expanse...the river stretched endlessly...she had left Fort William behind her and she was walking along the river...towards the crowded bus depot...a long walk...by her standards...and a lonely one...cars sped by..on the Hooghly...she could see the buoys bobbing up and down...the launches ferrying passengers...it all seemed so unreal...long time..years back....she had been on one of those with her 'Dadu'...she always felt as if her Grandparents...her 'Dadu-Dida'... were still alive...'Pishi...Dadu..Dida'...one after the other...she could rush back to them....anytime...today....she felt it more than ever....the cold breeze..hit her like a slap...her eyes were stinging....

The bus ride back to Dhakuria....was just as uneventful as ever...or eventful...if one liked observing one's fellow passengers...Piya couldn't care less....she sat by the window...looking outside...vacantly....seeing nothing....feeling nothing....the faulty radio on the Route 218 bus was playing some song...Piya straightened...'ey saala..'....'roobaroo'...Piya closed her eyes...gripping her mobile tighter..as if that would give her strength...THIS was the song that HE used to sing...in the stillness of the office...in that far off city....humming to Himself...as He worked...singing snatches of the song..with His headphones on...the next song was 'hey shona...'...Piya got off the bus...couldn't take it anymore...why did life have to haunt her like this...'WHY?'...may be she would die with this 'WHY?' on her lips....her 'Shiv Ji' never answered her question...

The jostling Dharamtolla crossing..was as dirty as ever...the sun was scorching the quaint city that seemed thoroughly confused between tradition, and modernity....as if it mattered....that vacant feeling...of..being mocked at by life..by the Gods themselves...a chessboard...and she a pawn...the taxi driver was asking irritably....'Kothai jaben, didi?!!'...she somehow managed to recall her address...haltingly...

It was nearly three months since she had come down to Calcutta, from the laid back North Indian town...she had been unable to take it anymore....only to realise it a little too late...that you cannot....you simply cannot run away from yourself....coming down had made her family happy...at least they were happy...the taxi was moving slowly...the funeral procession...a little ahead of them was moving towards ...Keoratolla...or Neemtolla...burning ghats...bodies burning on the banks of the Yamuna...how lucky they were...Piya envied them....why couln't we simply stop thinking...erase the past...live only in the present....block it all out...

The traffic jam stretched endlessly, it was Calcutta's life blood....almost....stretching on to ...Infinity....Piya looked to her left...Park Hotel..she still remembered that night...it was HIS first visit to the city...to her city...she had made excuses, left the movie midway....just to talk to Him....He was here...she looked away....trying to...trying desperately to focus on..something, anything....

The young couple on the bike...just beside the taxi...Piya realised that she was staring at them only when the woman also returned her stare....them speeding down the highway on His bike...overtaking...in spite of herself...Piya smiled...it was her first and last 'date'....the other realisation had been equally devastating...it was love, hopeless...despairingly hopeless love on her side....decency and good-naturedness on His...but...then why did He have to humour her...He was too goodnatured...shouldn't have been...Piya shut her eyes...the tears simply wouldn't stop...she didn't care if the taxi driver gave her odd stares...if the whole world gave her odd stares....what did it matter...what did anything matter....it was all one sad, sick...what might have been....

The taxi stopped in front of the pandal....the small gathering, there, seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief....

The white and red tussar benarasi saree gleamed and glistened in the bright light and shadow of the flames...the gold jewellery seemed to burn with the fire...the blood-red sindoor smeared on her parting seemed to glow even redder in the light of the fire...Sumedh had accidentally smeared more than he had intended to...the benarasi, too, flared up in the glow of the fire.... fold by fold...

Piya shut her eyes...her tears would be taken as 'normal' now...the only face that came up in front of her was His...if only....she had taken that last, final step...the Hooghly had been waiting...it still was...

The strains of 'Tum hi merey har pal mein...Tum aaj mein...Tum kal mein...'...filtered in from the reception hall...SUMEDH enveloped her in his arms...as Piya looked into HIS eyes...it dawned on her that her ShivJi had answered her prayers...in his own way...the Hooghly was waiting but certainly not for her...the song had taken on a different... a far more beautiful meaning for Her...the past dissolved into oblivion as she felt her PRESENT taking shape...God, ShivJi whatever you choose to call HIM...had never turned away from her...

It Happened One Night...

The branches waved in the silent moonlight...the golden moon provided the backdrop...a fullmoon night in autumn..somehow since he was a child....Animesh...was fascinated by the same sight..his elder brother Neelesh used to joke that Animesh would be a poet...he couldn't have been farther from the truth...his kid brother became an accountant.... Animesh couldn't really connect why these thoughts came flooding back...all these years back...he continued down the path in silence....one year back he had traversed down the same path...things were different then....his paternal grandparents were there to welcome him...then one missing fishplate was all it took....to wipe out one entire generation.... The gate gave way with a squeal of protest...he was in front of the front door..even before he realised it...."Saab....?" He almost jumped out of his skin...the rasping voice....almost reminded him of sandpaper scrubbing over wood...his grandfather...was an expert craftsman....he turned..... He had turned to face a skeleton....almost...the eyes were buried in their deep sockets....the wide dome like forehead cast a shadow over the glowing orbs..."Tiger, Tiger..." where had he heard or read it before? A hundred different thoughts, a hundred different impressions.....the high cheekbones, the tobacco corroded teeth hardly did much to add to the aesthetics of this creation... "Uhhh...I'm Animesh...Sen..from Kolkata..."....he managed limply...his mouth was dry..he swallowed hard..trying to push back all the ghost stories that he relished since childhood....he didn't really relish them now....almost felt sorry for all the times he had scared his younger sister....."Err..didn't you receive the telegram?" "Sen...???" the figure repeated slowly..as if trying to remember.....some distant memory....."No...no telegram.....no letter....nothing.....are you ..are you Ashim Babu's son?..." "Yes!!"Animesh managed with a gulp of relief...."Where is Shyam?....the caretaker...I mean....He lives....." "Shyam left a couple of days back.....didn't your father tell you...Ashim Babu.....oohhh Ani-mesh Babu?....the figure replied slowly....Animeash was getting used to the voice....."I ....I am his cousin ...Ramu...Ramavatar....Babu...."and then he smiled......only his sense of dignity prevented Animesh from picking up his strolley, and making a beeline or the derelict bus stop. The cobwebs, the dust....made him miss Shyam like anything....the house looked as if It hadn't been cleaned for eaons....most of the lights did not work...why most? The two lights that bore witness to the fact that the house had electricity were the ones in the kitchen, and near the main door...they gave out a dying 'radiance'.....Animesh almost grinned at his thoughts...'uhhh....the wannabe writer'....Neelesh would have joked...after all Neel was a renowned criminal lawyer..somehow poetry had no place in his life....... "Babu..I'll make arrangements....proper arrangements..first thing tomorrow morning...please put up with this for tonight...I'll light a candle in the corner room,...it's clean..err...somewhat ...you see..nobody comes..so...I'll fix you something for dinner..." Animesh felt a little alive at the mention of the word...'dinner'...something positive at last! The thought of steamed rice, and freshly fried fish...he hoped..he was the true, blue 'Bong'....life without fish!!! Impossible!!!....'Sure!' he managed...his voice sounded cheerful for the first time, in ages....in eons....it seemed... They had reached the door..the clock gave up with a shriek...it almost sounded like a banshee screaming in a haunted mansion...'The House Of Ushers'....or something wasn't it....Poe had been one of his eternal favourites. The musty smell hit him...a wave of distaste...is this is clean..WHAT is dirty...his disapproval must have showed...."Babu...I'll open the windows..tomorrow morning...." Animesh, hastily managed to have his bath...he almost felt like Arjuna...finishing his tasks in pitch darkness....the dinner was equally disappointing.....forget about "freshly fried fish"....the lavish affair consisted of a couple of rotis...which could have doubled for papads, and a few slices of fried brinjals....or some new type of vegetable that resembled the afore-mentioned vegetable....he almost felt like tracing the geneology of his 'dinner items'.... Anyway Animesh decided to take an evening, more correctly, a night walk...the room was too depressing....the garden, or rather what had once been a garden....cheered him up.....it was overgrown with weeds, a sweet-smelling lower of some sort...Animesh was the typical...nature-blind 'shehriya'....nature never really interested him...his grandma...was an avid 'gardner'...her hobby....'gardening'....he didn't want to think about them...not any more....it was too painful..... The air was fresh....but the mosquitoes...they were, certainly, glad to have him.....very welcoming in fact....he decided to go back.... Sleep came with its own hassles....returning to his 'suite' was painful enough...finding a comfortable position on that fossilised mattress....was almost like practising yoga with your hands and feet tied.... Then...it happened.... He did not remenber how or why he had woken up...it took some time for his eyes to get adjusted to the ink darkness..."darkness has depth".....were his waking thoughts...then...that sensation...thaaat sensation of someone leaning over, and staring at his face, intently,....the sensation of having a face...a head inside the mosquito net..tangible....yet somehow intangible.... Sweat-soaked Animesh clambered out from under the mosquito net..reaching out for a glass of water....that wasn't there...his bottle...where...WHERE...was it???..why had he decided to come down here..WHY???..panic...that sharp, cold, prickly feeling down his spine....stay calm....STAY CALM...this house was so different, when Shyam was around..... The 'khut' sound....sliced the veil of silence that was gradually, systematically smothering him...a lighter shade of blackness, of darkness, ....'shades have shades/ all the way to Hades....'....was he going crazy..why such odd thoughts now!....realisation dawned that the windows had closed...probably a strong gust of wind..but then shouldn't he have woken up... The lighter shade...he realised....was the door...it had no latch...he had been compelled to leave it open....a silhouette....framed against the lighter shade was a darker shade....a human... Paralysed, petrified...Animesh heard "Who..w-h-o is it?" The sound was unfamiliar, it resembled nothing human...nothing from this world at least.....Animesh felt his mouth drying up...it was HIS voice.... Answer, he received...none....a rasping voive answered him.."Saab....how are you....feeeling alright..I hope?" The chuckle that followed seemed to come from somewhere near him..yet the shadow hadn't moved...it was still there....I came to warn you..Saab...Saab? You are listening, na?...Ramavatar..that bastard...he...he...murdered me....right here....in my bed...in your bed....I'm Shyam....don't you recognise me?....He plans to do the same..now.....can't you hear him comin?".... The sound of silently approaching footsteps...was all too clear...."Run Saab....run....I have served your family for so long....can't let this happen to you....that window...behind you..." Animesh turned back....when he turned towards the door...the figure was missing..he felt someone's breath on his shoulder....a cold touch..."Saaaaab???" almost like the hissing of a snake..... The next thing that he remembered was the 'chai' stall at the bus-stop....the anxious faces...."Babu?..Shhhh.....don't you see he is coming around...ah ha....how else will we know where he has come from?...from your 'sasural....haaanh!'....differnt comments...different voices...the strong tea..revived him..with a lot of difficulty he managed to be coherent...his experiences..of the night before..were too terrifying...even to think of...the onlookers were silent...the faces had one expression...'deadpan'..... Then Badshah, the tea stall owner..swallowed hard....the others looked away..... As the bus move away..Animesh tried to make himself invisible....in the backseat...Badshah had put in a word for him..the conductor, keeping in mind the numerous 'khuris' of free tea...would charge him, nothing.... Shyam had gone on a pilgrimage..leaving a friend's son to guard the property....the man in question was, Akhtar...a ventriloquist...he was, also, a member of a local 'jatra' group...and a rogue by profession . Akhtar had made full use of his 'talents' ...and had reaped the fruits in the form of Animesh's wallet, camera, mobile phone....Animesh closed his eyes...trying to control the shudder....he had been too ahamed to even report the matter to the police...in any case the nearest police 'chowki' was a good ten kilometes away...Neelesh...'O God...'...the laughter of the villagers...continued to ring in his ears.... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Adultress...'

The waves...the wavelets...rather, enveloped the ashes...the blackish- grey powder was slowly enveloped in their folds...in the waters of the Yamuna...Anant gradually let go of the पीतल कलश ...slowly it floated away in the murky waters of the sacred river...he had refused to put the ashes in the earthen one..he looked up at the ताज ...shining silently, sadly in the melancholic moonlight...just as it had done for the past hundreds of years...indifferent...to the life that went by...after all it was a mausoleum...how could he forget? The fact that a woman somewhere from a far-off, unfamiliar city had loved it...and all that it was supposed to symbolise made no difference to it... He felt nothing...sadness, relief, joy...it was as if he had lost the capacity to feel...he rose to walk silently up the steps of the ghat...this was his Ma's last wish...somewhere closeby in this strange, ancient city lived...he swallowed hard..the man...THE MAN...his Ma had loved to her dying moment...THE ONE he had been named after... Manisha cradled the baby in her arms...her expression was not of joy but of pain...of anger...the feeling that life had cheated her....may be her महादेव had mocked her in the worst way... possible..she was holding her baby for the first time..she felt nothing...."My son should have been HIS..." ...was the ONLY thought that came to her mind.... She looked up at Somesh..the proud father...."We will call him Anant...." the finality of the 'announcement' ...struck everyone ...her parents, her in-laws....the former barely manged to stop their gasps...it was HIS name..."Mr.Ghosh...may I have a word with you?"....Dr.Chandra's entry kind of 'switched off' the electric atmosphere in the room.... Manisha looked at the crumpled pages of her diary...written in Hindi and English...grammatically incorrect Hindi...but still she always loved the National Language....lovingly called it Rashtriya Bhasha...all these years..her diary was the only place where she could pour out her feelings....her thoughts...Anant had finally completed his MBA ....just as she had wanted...frankly her son had turned out to be the oasis in the desert that she called 'her life'...he had graduated, with flying colours, from IIM Allahabad...he would be successful... Manisha had continued working after her 'marriage'...she hated the term..She had continued to work for the multinational....one of the thousands of outsourced operations....that had mushroomed in a place like Gurgaon...

Kolkata (she preferred 'Calcutta'...)-Bangalore-Gurgaon...she had travelled a long way...for HIM...she had fallen in love...HE was from a different community, a different religion...and younger than her...nothing mattered to her...frankly...these are nothing...may be, excuses for rejection...as far as love is concerned...all you need is to be loved back...may be not even that...Manisha understood...HE was THE ONE... who had given her the 'ehsaas' of being a woman...had made her feel 'complete'...as a woman...she had understood the beauty of a man-woman relationship...ONLY for HIM...theirs was a relationship that was not to be...HE did not want it...but still she cherished it....loved HIM, respected HIM...as her husband...it was a crazy situation...HE had been too decent to take advantage of her...she was all HIS'...HE felt sympathy for her...may be empathy...but was clear...theirs' was a relationship that was not to be...her...why..had remained unanswered by ... GOD....by her महादेव...

The worst insult that Manisha faced...the cruellest mockery...was when people complimented her on her jovial, happy go lucky, even reckless nature and said that she was "the happiest person around...always happy....always laughing...always smiling...."...only she knew knew...the hurt, the pain, the feeeling of having lost out on life, the total hopelessness, and meaninglessness of it all.... that consumed her each passing moment...it was claustrophobic....the 'ghutan' she felt...only she knew....may be HE...understood...but...then...if only..... It was always THE ONLY relationship she had ever had...she had ensured that she never fell in love with Somesh...to her marriage was the 'adultery' she had committed...she had given herself up to HIM ...minus shame, minus hesitation, minus humiliation....at heart...she was HIS'...platonic relationships are laughed at...but she knew better...it was...may be...she had worshipped HIM as her husband... till her last moment...and even now....thought Anant...he held the diary in his hand a well as the letter....he turned back...down the steps....

There was no mourning at the Ghosh family residence...the quiet alley, in an obscure lane in Dhakuria...was silent as usual..there was not even the customary white pandal..the sign of the 'shradhh' ceremony...Somesh Ghosh..all of 57 years, was a shattered man...Manisha's death had reduced his quiet, middle-class existence to ashes....it was as if...he too had been consigned to the flames with his wife...wife?...the repugnance that whelmed him at the very thought of the word...was too much to bear.... Somesh's favourite joke with his friends had been, " Arrey bhai...my wife ...'emotionally challenged' hain...par us se kam....kaam... chala leta hoon...functional hain!!"...he felt really 'cool'...'in'...after all that woman did have something in her...he was her lord and master...but....she had refused to leave Gurgaon...but..more than made up for it...on her frequent visits to Kolkata....she had insisted on doing the same...even after Anant was born...their son had been brought up in Gurgaon...the Ghosh family was not pleased....but no one actually protested...Somesh was amused at his 'marital status'....but then she never questioned him...just ensured that she never listened to him... Somesh sat on their bed...it was the same one...on which their 'marriage' had been 'consummated'...he closed his eyes....pain? loss? sorrow? ....he felt hate ....welling up inside him....his 'functional' wife had died...leaving him feeling like the greatest fool on earth...she loyal?devoted?...the *****...that was what she was.... Anant's phone call..."Baba...I'm calling from the hospital...Ma... has been declared dead..."...Anant had broken down....mother and son had shared a deep bonding....she had brought up their son really well...Somesh had taken the earliest flight... The discovery of the diaries and the letter...changed everything...the letter was for Anant....it was Anant who had found both...may be...she had intended it that way...the scheming bitch...Anant knew about the diary...the letter was a surprise... Frankly...Somesh felt like going for a paternity test...if only..."I would rather be HIS *******...than be someone else's wife..." Manisha had written....the shameless woman...the letter never reached the police...it was a matter of family shame...Anant refused to burn it, though, he was stubborn like his mother...Manisha had committed suicide...the letter was her explanation... to her son...he would be on his own...she had fulfilled her duty....she had earned her release...so she said...she loved him...but...she had committed him to her महादेव...she had requested him to take care of her parents..his 'Dadu-Dida'....not even a passing mention of Somesh....and her plea that her ashes be...somehow Anant had taken it really well...very maturely..he was all of 23 years...the fact that his Ma had loved someone else...all her life...did not really surprise or shock him... Somesh had refused to perform her last rites...Anant had simply asked his father to leave...he would join him in Kolkata later...Kolkata was his Baba's city while Delhi-Gurgaon was his Ma's....somehow Somesh did not really want Anant to come down to Kolkata...he felt so cheated...why? what had he done to deserve this? his parents were no longer there....he hadn't contacted his in-laws...neither had they...Anant had called them up...had told them everything...they knew..they had known all along...and all this...right in front of him...like mother, like son...Somesh got up...the bed..should be burnt....like that *****... Manisha had been smart enough..they had no clue who that man was....who 'HE' was...he wished he had spat on the bitch's face before they cremated her...the sindoor, his jokes about his wife...haunted him, mocked him...without realising...tears welled up in his eyes...he had loved her...really loved her...in his way....always let her have her way...anger, betrayal, hopelessness...he tried to stifle his sobs a his knees gave away..he could never tell anyone...and Anant...knew everything...why...Manisha..why...

The waters of the Yamuna lapped at his feet....Anant gazed at the murky waters..this was THE CITY....the city where his Ma's 'HE' came from ...she had never referred to 'HIM' as anything else...Anant almost smiled...the shredded remains of the diary and the letter fluttered on to the water....the waves...enfolded them...almost hungrily..as if they had been waiting....all these years....he had always doubted if his Ma really loved his Baba..now he knew....he would print her obituary in all the leading dailies of the region...if HE was still alive...HE would...probably, hopefully... know..if at all HE, still, cared.... Anant bit his lips...no wonder his Ma loved the monument...he remembered his Ma for her jokes....for her laughter..for her guidance....for her support....her encouragement...for her understanding nature...her broadmindedness...she was liberal..."never judge others....Anant...you never know...what you will face someday..."....he understood, now...when his friends were begging for bikes..his Ma had actually bought him the latest one...he hardly knew Bengali...he had grown up learning a different language he realised that Ma had brought him up in the manner she had imagined HIS son to be...NOT his Baba's son...it was all so confusing... without realising it...he was smiling...imagine having an imaginary father!!!...he had inherited his Ma's sense of humour...horrifically inappropriate, and crazy...to say the least...the chill of the dark, silent waves brought him back to the 'ghat'...

I never could live for myself..at least I can die for myself...duties....family ties...commitments....a pretence...a sham....one unglorified piece of excruciatingly painful but great acting...one hell of a performance....YOU have come into your own...after all....learn to...

He felt sorry for his Ma...but still....was it really necessary...Baba's reaction had not gone down well with him...after Ma was dead...she had suffered silently...but foolishly..all her life...broken...failed relationships are not unsual....so many...but he understood in a very vague way...at least He had the consolation that his Ma loved him...for his Baba...it was a slap in the face...or even worse...What if he met the same fate with Aparna?...what if , Aparna left him one fine day....just walked out of his life...never to come back...would he react like his Ma?...but HE hadn't loved her...or so she had claimed...Ma....all 23 years of his life seemed too heavy for him to bear..did Ma really have to do this..did she really have to put him through this..she could have just died silently....she had kept silent all her life...so why now....why...but then...she liked to be honest with the people she cared about...brutally honest, at times...that was her way of showing how much she appreciated them...or was it...it....was all so confusing...the Taj...the Yamuna....the City...seemed so depressing....white...for purity...for sorrow....for mouring...had Ma been there with him, probably she would have driven him mad with her so called 'symbolisms'...but they were..insanely logical...inappropriately appropriate...so like her...

Ma had mentioned that this was 'HIS' city...Anant wished ... if only...he had kept it from his Baba that 'HIS' name was his'..but how many 'Anant's was he going to look for...the driver had probably fallen asleep in the car....they would have a long drive back to Gurgaon...Ma loved going on long drives...he still remembered the band that his Ma loved...she liked to keep the car stereo volume high...as she drove, or rather, sped down the highway with him...he loved those drives...they both did...strangely she had never brought him here... Anant slowly walked up the steps....he was trying not to think...couldn't bear to ....not any more...he took out his mobile....he needed to talk to Aparna...

Anant looked up from the manuscript. He shook his head and grinned..."Ma....this looks fine..errrr...ok..you can send it to the magazine. The stories they publish are far worse...well some of them, at least!" Somesh looked up from his Sudoko, "Haan go, shunchho...tomar Xaverian chheley rai diyechhen je tumi pass koreychho!" Manisha came out of the kitchen...looking undecided...as to who she should start with, "Keno??? tomader ar kono kaaj nei!! Amar lekhar kono critic-er dorkar nei...table-e alur chop gulo to shob thanda hoye gelo...cha ta niye ashchii khetey holey kheo!!" She stormed back into the kitchen...

The look of unquestioning love, gratitude and a thousand other inexplicable feelings that passed over Manisha's face were not lost on Somesh. After all, who knew his wife better than he did...it was their first meeting...her first words..." I don't want to keep any secrets from you..." that had made him decided that THIS was the woman he wanted to grow old with...

The obviously proud and loving look on his father's face did not go unnoticed by Anant...he turned back to the computer monitor...the names needed to be changed...few would realize why he was so proud of his parents...few realtionships had such a strong bonding and even fewer were based on the faith and love that Manisha and Somesh had for each other...Anant pondered over the name of the story...yeah!...what might have been!

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