It could be someone or you…

Hey everyone! You may have read this post of ours . if not you do read it. So basically to sum it up we had both argued in a previous post of ours that urban voters in India seem to turn away from voting because of the grim politics surrounding everything. But then what is the sense to be aware of really handy if we, (given the chance) are reluctant to put some contribution inside( the ballot box if you insist!). We both are not implying fault in voters. Politics can indeed bad.

And one may argue its not much of a contribution. that it is not creating a revolution and politicians around are still.. well politicians.


All that matters is that we have a choice in this political system. and that we enforce it.


‘This cynic could be someone above at the stairs, beside or just you. The newspaper is the truth!’

‘So what do you think about this?’

Still missing a beat? You can fill out this form which we had created some days ago at your conveniance here

Till then see you all of you. It is a short post but you may well just think about this. We will be coming out with more such illustrations on election behavior!

Au Revoir See you guys soon!

~Illustration and post by DuoDisseminators

‘ The Bench – A SHORT STORY’

An attempt to write something new… an attempt to gather attention… please read this story till the end.. Would love to know everyone ‘s views😃.( Anything simple will work the best!😅 Dont contemplate too much)




1.)    “ Did I ever stop to say I care?

When I didn’t seek to hear it to?

When you weren’t so sure that I ‘d be there,

Did I ever show love to you?

2.)    A wounded animal leaps with a broken leg.  It continues to do so until the pain eases. And fades away.

  Once, there lived a lively man named Robert. Robert Gupta. He started his Monday like every other person. He ate his breakfast, a half-made sandwich like many office goers. Often, cursed at the traffic and people. because they are existing to be cursed at.. and different varieties in that… His grudging boss who called him in hours, non-applicable hours..  even while driving home he would connect his device to his car system… Afterall to catch up to next day at office. Like every other being, once in his life.. he could not be the master.. He was a servant to his colleagues… who wanted to hear a joke from his self occupied self,… the inalienable nature of his boss was to annoy and by agreeing to be annoyed and giving up his precious time, he was a self-conscious servant.. Serving others though, is not always at diffidence to onself.. one ‘s health and one’s pleasures… He was a servant of love afterall.  Self desired.. self-made self groomed love. Love imploring for more to happen.  An assiduous engineer, because he struggled for a pay raise, made a fool of himself every time he showcased himself before his love. That is how it is called? Or who is called. My love.


But more than that, drifting away from the myopic scope, just like all others he was a servant of life.. And sometimes, no always.. you can’t dictate life to plunge down there rather than attacking at the exact point.. 


And there once lived such a  lively man.. lively because he remained active in the worst ( boss, office, job, pay raise) and of course he was an active onlooker, a participator at the best life still offered him.

It has been two years. Robert stares at his bed post, and turns off the alarm of his phone. It has been longer than anticipated.. 6.AM. Robert goes inside to freshen himself… Life must take a turn..  Robert, his shoulders shrugging, turns to apply paste to his brush. He does not look up at the mirror. He prefers to keep his identity reverted to his phone. But that too will run out of interesting stuff sooner or later. It’s a Sunday. But this man has risen himself up at his office’s alarm. With nothing better to do, he goes into the kitchen to make coffee for him.. A picture of him and Pia is there at the kitchen wall as he works. But he seems too tired to react to some “subversions”, some distractions of his past life and melt down and cry .   Yet Robert declares himself enslaved…  He declares everyday..

Its 10a.m and still a Sunday..  Locking the door behind him, he turns to walk ahead and coughs in the winter air. He does not speak until he has reached his destination.. it’s a fountain. A beautiful fountain which is producing water and reflecting some of the sunlight as it splashes down around it. Its hard to find such a sight.  And Robert the only onlooker seats himself before the fountain over an iron wrought bench and he settles himself down.

‘Hello Rob what brings you here’, an old man wearing a heavy coat and groggy glasses not too fastly, calls to Robert. It is more of a greeting and less of a question. The old man seats himself beside his Sunday companion and Robert passes him a smile in return..

‘Nothing just the usual uncle’ Robert says in reply.

‘Just the usual?’, the old man pushes his stick forward. ‘A fine man like you must be engaged at this hour. I find this peculiar and rather very embarrassing for yourself!’

‘ Engagements are proposed. And I am too short of proposals’, Robert says smiling, looking at the old man.

‘Your smile seems rather toothed though’ the old man tweaks a tone and stares at Robert with fake accusing eyes.

 ‘So where did we leave?’

‘Ahh at the point when you were to tell me about your engagement with the girl,’  Robert exclaims. These days the  only surety he is aware of was a  cliff-hanger from someone else ‘s story.

Oh, oh yes! The girl. The engagement did not happen though.’

Robert turned sharply and asked ‘Why?’

‘ You see I had approached her too soon.. or maybe we weren’t meant to be together. That is what I think, sitting here. But that time I was enraged inside, overpowered by a tremendous sadness. Afterall she left me.’

‘She d-‘,

‘Oh no not like what happened to you. But very similar to your case. She left me for another person.. another guy’

The old man continues hitting his stick to the ground,’ Alright he had a good nose.. good nose… maybe that is afterall.. yes! She left a fine chap. It was purely her loss.. She left me after all’ 

‘ You must have been sa- ‘ Oh sad I was.The old man jumped, maybe realising he was approaching too fast,’ The guy had good features. Ok. I agree he was affluent. What did I have then? A struggling folk into some ‘business’. I still remember him though… never thought this bad from him.. , the man grinds his stick to the ground.

‘ Oh too sad… too sad..’ the old man says as he reverts to Robert ‘ I had befallen down.. I felt dejected. I felt the greatest remorse of the world.. I felt an itching sadness beside my bed.. I felt bad.. terrible.. ‘

‘And?’, Robert asks. In an urgent tone he asks for more.

‘ And wasted.. that was it! Yes the worst feeling ever it gave to people around.. to me it brought nothing.’

The old man continues, ‘ But I was fortunate enough to be guided by some event and realised it sooner than later.. I felt why is it my fault? Why do I have to curse myself for not being rich to be not born with a silver spoon..  Moreover, It is as if I am cursing my parents more than myself… And strangely Robert, though I was expected to- . Robert is looking at the old man but with  a quite strange expression as the next will flow out of the old man. Robert ‘s mouth forms an oval ‘O’

Pia is looking at him, her fists clamped down over her lap and saying ‘ You enjoy this don’t you. This.. feeling of numbness.. feeling of doing nothing.. approaching nothing.. trying nothing new.. because new always tends to bring struggles.’

‘So’  Pia continues waving her hand ‘ you enjoy this na… You don’t have to do anything.. You just blame it on what has happened to you.. You don’t kiss the picture on the wall and cry every night.. You have already lost the feeling.. So why acting so numb? Why making me feel the accused one. Didn’t I give you enough love to show’. Robert though breaks the illusion, thinking some illusions are meant to be broken.

‘To put in you some deal, Didn’t she Robert, in you?The old man is speaking. Robert nods, suddenly disturbed by a new type of headache.

To see each and every relationship in a new way?the old man asks with concern full on his face. He pats Robert. Robert looks around at the sudden turn of events and talks.

‘ Love is what life has to offer.. don’t destroy your life from having it Rob. Don’t make yourself unnecessarily burdened and tied to your past. You also have a present… ,  the old man smiles at Robert who looks flustered..

‘ What happened to you’, Robert blurts out at the old man.

‘I see … you want an ending..  Maybe I said all that too soon. Aging people can  hurry with the plot climax.. an ending. He chuckles exclaiming  ‘ Like the moral of the story before the story itself.’

He continues, ‘ After she had broken off the plan of engagement, and since I was in my car, I had to revert my vehicle to a different destination. It was uncalled for.. so I swirled and swirled, tidied up the roads, took turns back,.. and tried to find a new destination… because all of it, He presses ‘ was uncalled for.’

 So, I spent some whole months.. dejected.. wasted . Smelled puffs of cigarettes. I made regular excavations to a pub.  Did not sleep… awaited nothing..  woke up  everyday to be afraid to look at my reflection.., The old man sighs and stops’ existed without meaning.’ What more do you want to know?’ he says sharply and Robert looks at him with some familiarity uncalled for..

‘ He says, ‘ Life had been beautiful with your auntie though. ’

‘At some place. Call it a bench if you may.  I befriended someone… Someone old.. you see old people have a perspective..  I changed.. Not completely but yes I did…’ Robert looks at him flustered and gets up from the bench.

‘ But I did change.. the main aspect of me did change..  and I want the same to happen to you.. You come everyday and sit on the same bench. When people arrive at the same place, they are either arriving for someone’

Robert had already taken big steps away from the bench. Accusation runs sharp in his eyes for the old man who elicited some names out of him.. to lecture him sometime.

‘Robert’, the old man called. Robert turns out of habit.

‘People arrive at the same place every day, they come about for two reasons, either to wait for someone to arrive, waiting for the arrival of something sure- Robert turns to go away. ‘ Hear the old man! The phrases don’t come everyday’. Robert stops as well.

The old man continues, ‘Or they demand some answers of their own, unsure of the question they want to ask.’

‘ But I see a question in you. Whether or not?  and according to an old man who believes he has some perspective I believe, don’t accuse her. Start anew.’ But Robert walks away.

‘You are not entitled to this bench.’, the old man shouts and starts feeding the ducks. 

And the recipients are enveloped under a beautiful morning despite their mood. Afterall, the sun can never stop to present itself before us.



3.)    ‘ I feel like blaming myself. But you tell me the reason.’

                                THE END.







And i guess that is the end. i felt it needed an uplift or twist here and there. but some ends do not require a twist do they? Btw this is kunjal. I honestly dont know how it is.😅 But khushi, my best friend and partner really liked the style in it( i got a good inspiration from someone’s blog/blogs)

But for all i want to know,😅 ( and cool my curiosity) how was it?

See you guys in the next post…!! and check out a form that we had created in a previous post of ours here.. Do fill it guys! its for everyone!

SOME LATEST POSTS( In case you missed):


Faith in the wrong way.

” We have faith on bad politics, bad system, better places to stay. Our faith.”

Before reading you can fill out a form so that you do not blame it on us to turn your heads after reading Just kidding😃. Please fill out this form:

All age groups can fill out this form( all those who can get what is written😅)

So , like last year when we all were locked in our homes, apart from the doctors and sanitation workers etc. Do you know which was another name being chanted and worshipped by a large population?

Can you guess?  

It was Amazon. Starting from a 3-year-old cousin brother to a 74-year-old grandma, Each of them knew that the solution to any difficult problem was the amazon wale bhaiya who was like a saint in disguise and delivered goodies to their place. 

I00000 people check amazon every hour.

This one was just to get a laugh. The rest must be serious:  

Each and every person requires a shoulder to lean on. For some its family, for some friends for both of us our classmates and best friend(s)

For a vast majority of the rural people (never the educated) in India that shoulder is the leader of their district be it the Sarpanch, and the local leaders. The shoulders which can guide them into clarity.

The trend despite the depravities of the leaders, has remained steady. But for educated people?

The educated masses are widely influenced by Netflix series and movies and the  “chai pe charcha”( talks at tea) For educated masses, the added booster is that they are after all educated. Too much education. 

Let us substitute ‘they’ to ‘we’

We start attributing all policy makers ( no actually ‘politicians’)  as a part of a greater sin called ‘politics’. But what if politics is more than a sin? What if it is a sin on a surface?

See the source image

Now, people may back themselves up with various series and reports to say politics is indeed a game. A gambit game, true. It is true.

But to the 180-degree level,   Politics is also not a game. It is a necessity.

In a democracy we do elect their representatives,  with one vote one value.We coin a huge chain in which people get elected and serve at different levels when we speak about ‘democracy’ of some sort. This is what is legitimately taught in our civics books. 

But the loophole is that elections serve merely as a medium to select politicians. On our civics books we vote for them based on their policies and initiatives. On reality more than half of us vote on a general ideology, the popularised caste and background and even to a certain degree on some ‘trend’

Politics is a fine necessity during elections. 

And surprisingly it is through politics that we start seeing the utter lies and repeated melody of politicians. 

But voter turnout should not be hindered by politics. It should not be affected in our opinion. In India, the majority of educated masses are turned away because of the ‘   ‘Politics is corrupt. Need not to rub our hands into it’

But who said to rub our hands into it?Ironically, we are apprehensive about ‘politics’ which we need not to commit ourselves to.  The true essence is this.

The true essence of leadership needs to be brought back in our political system and replace the ” party politics ” and “corrupt officers”                  

The shoulder is us. Of our electoral system. Not the politicians. No, not at all.

And we need to put our faith on our electoral system.  Afterall, once elected, it will only be the politicians who will be the policy makers.  ( more curses**)

Rather than cursing the fate of our nation and dreaming of better far off countries to live in, we(educated elite)  can judge, identify and elect better policy makers.  Education is a mass spreading phenomena, finally we will see an increasing turnout of educated people in statistics.

The educated elite are taught the electoral system, they are taught the civics books , and we are the ones who can bring the change, make people have faith in the government and the electoral system. 

 But the change begins within ourselves, when we ourselves have faith in it. Our faith runs our nation. Faith is bleak because we are enforcing it in the wrong direction.

But  even during the  pandemic our nation ran. Better or worse but  it ran. On some ‘faith’

So what are your opinions? We maybe slightly unexperienced in the opinion since we are in class 9th. So, we would love to know what you have got to say!

Check out our previous post here.


‘Voting~ a short story’

Hey everyone this is Kunjal here!! Now you must be wondering looking at the illustration above, what is the post upto?

State elections in India are around the corner.( Even if they aren’t, preparations are on full bloom. It feels they are.)

Uhem so let us begin. I have often been attracted by the manifestation of riots and some sorrowful events around elections. Though I do wish to convey my regards to the families ( especially in villages) which are rendered apart due to the fatalities that get emerged, I have started to visualise ( although it may be a misconception )such riots as “planned” or “schemed” which may have some connection to elections. Some connection to votes. Vote b.. Oh I must stop here.

But bounce to my previous sentence ‘riots around elections’.

Does that make any sense?

I have tried to give it some sense:


See the source image

‘ How are you coping up?’

‘Sahab, the produce is not going well. We have a huge debt on our heads. If only Divu gets some job in the city. But he is also struggling’, said the farmer Raju, his head glistening with sweat.

‘ You know what is happening these days?’, the man raised his eyes from his hands and asked.

A red gemstone on the little finger, and a fat golden ring, adorning a little ‘Om’ was stuck in the middle finger.

‘ Sir election sir.’ Raju, replied smiling sheepishly and continued’ Sir that is why-‘


 Raju possessively wrapped his gamcha around his shoulder. Thin brown shoulders. They were too glistening with mild sweat.

The man sensed. He recoiled back into a smile ‘Come, Sit’. Raju walked hesitantly. In a hesitant manner, he turned the plush chair. He patted hesitantly on the air filled blue material and took a seat. It was a chair with wheels. But there was something wrong. One of the wheels was protruding inwards and not moving. 

Raju had to wrest his hand to the table for balance, as he listened.

‘You want money, I see. Poor farmers… Who will do for them but us? 

Two black men with squared shoulders entered the office from behind. Passing the potted plant, whose leaves were almost fluttering dry under the slow fan, they walked forward to stand at either side of their boss.

One of them carried a black suitcase. Raju looked at it with interest, remembering something. ‘Which movie was it?… he thought..

‘ Our party is losing badly’, the man started and Raju looked forward.

‘Raju, the other party. You know its ills. Here Let me tell you. Wherever this party is in power your brother farmers are in bad shape… ‘

‘Sir here farmers are in bad shape-

‘But we will do something, the man piqued a loud tone ‘At least we won’t be licking off the foot of big businesses like this party does.


‘All the time. For a long time farmers had been central to policy making. Is agriculture central now?’

To Raju ‘s amazement, the man kicked his chappal while saying. He also strode his hand upward and reached for his handkerchief from his shirt. He looked away twisting his handkerchief around his first finger.

Raju ‘s attention became full-fledged at the sight.

But what had he come here for? 

‘We will make it central! We will help you all!  The man stopped.

‘For that?’, he resumed in a low voice.

‘For that?’ Raju repeated smearing sweat from his forehead, looking around.

‘For that we need to win this election. Which we are, it seems to me badly losing.’

‘But sir, why did you call me in here? ‘

‘Because everybody listens to you in the village!’, 

‘Aand because’ the man reached for the suitcase which had piqued Raju’s interest and passed it across the table. It opened with a click.

Raju looked delighted and astonished at the same time.

‘For this you will have to do something right? The man retorted and laughed as if Raju had kidded ‘ A fit bargain. Just like your fit banyan!’ Now Raju understood. His confusion was replaced with full understanding.


Raju, looked at the melee.  All his men were carrying lathis. Raju remembered what the sir had said ‘they will fight with lathis. Procure more men’. 

Some workers of the other party, though, were carrying guns. It was becoming bloody. More and more farmers were dying.

Raju dropped down to remove the blood that had gathered around his nostrils. There were more shouts from behind. He turned and marched forward with his lathi, remembering what the man had said

         ‘All must be dead. Otherwise no money’

Raju approached a man wearing a blue  shirt. He charged his lathi on him. the man did not have a gun like his comrades and fell down with a loud crunch. Raju approached ahead.

But in vain, had Raju swung  his lathi to injure that man, in vain he had decided he could kill some more.

     In vain, he had tried this much.

Three shots fired in the air. Before he could reach another villager, Raju fell down with a crunch. His fit banyan was now covered with dry red blood. More oozes of blood ruptured out of the wound in his back.

He groaned.

Many farmers were dead and many workers of the rival party were severely injured

‘ Your family would be given money’, The man had said and Raju who had fallen down, ‘s eyes seemed to flutter with the little greed that they could afford.

He closed his eyes. 20 villagers were dead.

See the source image


Two days later..

Suresh walked through the mourning crowd. He entered the hut of a woman who had lost his husband in the violent clash.

‘ Now it has been clearly proved through CCTV cameras who was responsible, you don’t need to worry.’, Suresh said aloud and sat down and said to the lady who was crying.

He asked again ‘what was your husband’s name?’

The lady sobbed uncontrollably in the dupatta of her saree. She was unable to turn her head up.

‘ Mahesh. Her husband’ s name was Mahesh’, another woman replied, consoling the wife in her arms. Her face too was in tears.

‘And your man’s?’

‘Sir his name was Raju’

Suresh ‘s eyes glistened with recognition.

       ‘ We will fight for the justice of Raju and other farmers once we come to power.’, Suresh replied after coming out to the reporters.

‘  Ayhe Ayhe! our party if in power, will fight for the upliftment of farmers!’, other members of the party echoed ,a tone in front of the reporters.


  ‘ Did we see something off here?’


~ DuoDisseminators