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A Creative Writing collage
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By : Mahesh Gulab D.
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2012 - 2014

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 Contents Page
Title Page no.

“From the shutters of Autism” 3

“Imagination: War” 4

“Looking by the window of Sydney” 5

“It was her” 6

“Sitting by the bar of Clarke Quay” 7

“The world and hand phones” 8

”Poetry” 9

“Unwritten Words” 10

"Mornin' Dew" 11-12

“Love” 13

“'Traitor” 14-15

“The Englishman” 14-

Disclaimer: All works presented in this portfolio are 100% original. No part of it is copied from any
source.

Page | 2
 “From The shutters of Autism”

Feelings nobody can fathom,

Clouds in the sky blacken,
Only words to portray the fraying,
Convoluted tangle of emotions within.

Mundane issues,
Splattering the skies with not blue,
But red omelettes dripping with goo,
Blotches of blood raining without any cue.

Volcanoes erupt,
Hunky alienated monsters emerge,
All set to eradicate the corrupt,
Screams never before heard.

Chaos,
Within the confines ,
Of this damned mind.

Chaos,
Destroying every ounce of my barely- there reality,
Exploding into smithereens unaffected by gravity.

A disability inborn from birth,

A lifetime of peace butchered.

Page | 3
 "Imagination: War"

Imagine
You are in battle,
Every second testing your mettle,
With gunpowder clouding your vision,
You are frantically running in no particular direction.

With the chatter of machine guns deafening your ears,

Every muscle in your body becomes taut with fear.
Gripping on to your rifle for your dear life,
For within the ground where warfare was rife,

You know that your life is in constant risk,

One moment you are there; the next, you no longer exist.

Page | 4
 "Looking by the window of Sydney”

Cars whizzing past,

Unbelievably fast,
To get to their workplace,
Before it is too late,
Adults briskly walking down the street,
With iPods stuck to their ears like a leech;
Tourists admiring the azure sky,
As they watch the clouds drift by,
Through the telescope of Sydney tower
Capturing every detail of every little flower;
Foreign expats sauntering through Hyde Hotel doorway,
Expats from Singapore, China and Norway;
Gossiping women in mini-marts,
Muttering about the high prices of the tarts;
Free-goers enjoying the shows in the Sydney Opera House Theatrette,
Followed by some premium latte;
Students running to the bus while finishing the bread.
But that having been said,
One must not forget,
The slum dwellers whom few have met,
The paupers beating their drums,
In the frail hope that they might earn some income;
The homeless on Sussex Street,
With nothing to cover their cold, bare feet,
Begging for a morsel of food,
Suffering coughing fits due to flu.
But then again, from the world to an insect,
A wise one once said, “Nothing’s ever perfect”,
While poverty drives people to sell their kidney,
Others enjoy the scenery on darling Harbor Bridge of Sydney.

Page | 5
 '"It was her"

It was her,

Her melodious laugh,

Gently wafting across the breeze,
Hearts immediately melt and unfreeze,
So sweet to the ears that people might have thought it to be bluff.

Her wavy, silky hair,

Flowing all the way till halfway down her back,
There was no one she couldn't attract,
Oh what a wonderful flair.

Her rosy cheeks,

Blushing ever so often,
Until it was thought to be a custom,
And kissing it is what everyone seeks.

Her pearly white smile,

Making the hottest of men turn cold,
For it was indeed a marvelous sight to behold
To catch a glimpse of it again; anyone would run miles

Oh it was her,
it was her indeed.

Page | 6
 "Sitting by the Bar of Clarke Quay"

Sitting by the Singapore River in May,

Enjoying the peaceful disposition of Clarke Quay,
Watching the sparrows flutter by,
In the vast, azure sky they fly.

Bumboats cruising past,

Slowly, not fast,
Joggers jogging on the walkway,
Alluring waitresses by the restaurants’ doorway.

The glaring sun glinting of the river,

The lights in the wine bar, brightly shimmers,
Sipping a cool Villa Maria Private Bin Sauvignon Blanc (2011),
Signing the $168 receipt with a stroke of my Mont Blanc,
Enjoying the cool, wafting breeze blowing past the bar,
Watching barrels of draught beer being dragged over the tar.

Admiring the vast central mall,

Colleagues briskly walking while children play with a ball,
A father and his daughters sitting on the steps by the river,
Their admiration of Clarke Quay, every minute, growing bigger.
Glancing at the prestigious WATAMI ( a Japanese shop),
Entering through its doors is many a family.

Taking a final sweeping glance at the beautiful scenery,

Grabbing my car keys and walking towards the car park briskly,
Revving the engine and smiling at the thought that none could say,
The amazing experience and aura of sitting by the bar of Clarke Quay.

Page | 7
 "The world and hand phones"

The world has been taken over by

Things that make us cry,
That captivates our entire being.
It invokes such a strong sense of craving,
Till the point that people sell their kidney;
To be set free from the ache of attraction,
A natural reaction
Of everybody in this world.
As time unfurls,
More people get lured into this cycle
Of the world that is virtual.

Although there are some who resist to the max,

The infinitely whirling vortex.
One has to grow old,
And a wise one has foretold,
That none can resist the might,
And the terrible fright,
Of things in abundance like pine cones,
The thing we now call hand phones.

Page | 8
 “Poetry"

Poetry,
Is like a little angel looking lovely,
It's ability to paint picturesque scenery,
Never failing to enchant us with its beauty.

Like the addition of a beating heart,

To a lifeless body,
Poetry is like a promising start,
To a vast and endless journey.

A picture to paint a thousand words,

And a poem to find one.

Page | 9
 “Unwritten words”

As much as the truth hurts,

Clouds in our lives burst,
Revealing it is ne'er a wrong deed,
If at all, bitter - sweet.

My heart is but a paltry gift,

In remembrance of our lovely kiss.
Although between us grows a rift,
Your love is one thing I'll ne'er miss.

Your lilting voice,

Pearly white smile,
Dazzling eyes ,
For which anyone would run miles.

I'll ne'er again see the light of day,

But as long as the light of my life is glowing,
It's expanding rays of happiness never slowing,
I'd gladly die again.

Since the time we kissed in the dark,

You know as well as I do,
That from the very depth of my heart,
I love you.

Farewell, my love,
Fare thee well.

Page | 10
 "Mornin' Dew"

As much as I love you,

my mornings blessed with dew,
between us grows a rift,
the partings clouding with mist.

I know not what I have done wrong,

to our seemingly perfect song,
maybe,
just maybe,
the culprit is fate,
depriving us of another date.

As loneliness seeps into my bones,

like a whirling tornado destroying homes,
all I seek is your blissful presence,
to calm my inward vehemence,
as we face the storms ahead of us,
braving through them without a fuss.

I kneel down and pray,

that at the end of the day,
when the sun disappears while setting down,
so will that omni-present frown.

I know I am not the perfect man,

who is able to weather every plan,
but just like a non-existent chanteuse,
"perfect" is something nobody is,
not that I'm using it as an excuse,
just saying it as it is.

Although there is an imminent storm,

I know that your feelings are torn,
so whether or not to keep up this discord,
I leave it up to you,
but for the record,
I love you.

As I close my eyes every night,

Page | 11
 with nothing on my mind but you,
I pray with all my might,
that the next morn' will be blessed with dew.

Page | 12
 "Love"

Love. Love. Love. Probably the only thing besides our beating heart that can take control over our
entire lives. The beating heart provides life, but love provides much more; a reason to live. The absence
of a beating heart renders us lifeless, but the absence of love is as good as a fish taken out of water and
expected to live. Everything we do, is more or less influenced by love. We eat "laksa", because we love
it. We buy flowers for our parents on their anniversary, because we love them. We get beautiful cakes on
our birthdays, because our family loves us. Absence of love can lead to many falling into the vicious
vortex of vices, such as drugs, while love for one’s spouse is enough to fuel the development of one of
the world’s seven wonders, the Taj Mahal.

When we’re swelling with vertigo, it is only love that, like a star - studded path in the engulfing
blackness of the night sky, guides us back to the right path. For some, their love for their religion is their
anchor amidst the turbulences in the ocean, during their voyage on the ship of life.

Admittedly, we sometimes brush off people’s love (parents, uncles, aunts, etc.) without contemplating for
a split second, that such love is our gas for the drive of our lives; it is imperative to have it alongside
with us all the time.

Some may say that , instead, love destroys their lives, and shatters their very purpose of living ( eg.
loving a dear family member who passes away) . However, in retrospect ( being in multiple such
situations myself) , such occurrences only further tightens the reins of our sled, as we prepare for our
inevitable, unpredictable, and inexplicable ride , down the snowy and rocky mountains of life.

In hindsight, love is like the conversion of a black - and - white film to that of color; it is like the
addition of a beating heart to a lifeless body. Love is life, life is love.

We can try to persuade our mind that we can do without love in our lives.

Only we can’t.

Page | 13
 “Traitor"

The lock clicked open as two dark tanned police officers crept into the headquarters of the drug
trafficking company known to them only as “ Heroes “ . Sam and Max then investigated the office or
any sign that would give them a lead as to where and when the next illegal drug trafficking action was to
take place.

The police officers had been assigned to resolve a case involving an illegal drug trafficking company
which had been evading the police for many years. Sam and Max’s objective was to infiltrate their next
hideout where they would carry out their illegal act and to catch the drug traffickers red handed. “I’ve
found something!” exclaimed Sam as he retrieves a single sheet of paper from a large pile of paper and
documents he had found in a secluded drawer in the room. There was a message written at the top right
hand corner of the document. The words were obviously written in a hurry, and besides, the scrawled
words were encrypted. Without a moments delay, the policemen hurried back to their secret warehouse
to decipher the message as to when the next illegal drug trafficking crime would take place. The venue
and time was at a secret dungeon near the Thames River at 8 pm that very evening.

Meanwhile, Max had been suspiciously whispering into his mobile phone, as if he was attempting to
keep the conversation a secret. When Sam asked him who he had been talking to , Max replied coldly, “
I was talking to....to the police Headquarters to prepare some back up in case we need it later”
Although Sam smelt a rat, he dismissed the thought and instead proceeded to prepare the ammunition
they would probably need while arresting the drug traffickers.

With only an hour to spare, the two policemen rushed to the Thames river and located the meeting
place, after confirming the arrival of back up from their HQ. When they arrived at the site, they
immediately dispersed to the two ends of the dungeon, shrouded in the darkness cast by the overhanging
drapes, a predator waiting for its prey. One by one, the drug traffickers filed into the dungeon, filing the
walls with their cacophony of loud, husky voices.

When everyone had arrived, Sam and Max, wanting to catch them by surprise, jumped out from the
darkness and aimed their .22 machine guns at the drug traffickers. They expected to see expressions of
shock or fright, but all they were greeted with was forty other, more sophisticated weapons, from
shotguns, to even a mean looking RPG-7. It was as if the drug traffickers had been forewarned about the
hideout plans.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Sam desperately tried to regain his composure, as he spoke
urgently in his walkie- talkie for the backup to enter. As the twenty or so commandoes barged into the
dungeon, they soon found out that they were outnumbered two to one. Fighting ensued. Not before long,
the commandoes accepted defeat under the heavy hail of bullets and immediately surrendered in a
desperate bid to save their lives; however, they were shot at and harpooned mercilessly, ragdolls

Page | 14
heaped over each other, the pile growing larger every minute. Sam a=could only watch in horror as the
commandoes’ blood flooded the ground and painted the walls.

As Sam turned around, his face contorted into a mixture of shock and curiosity as he found himself
staring at the nozzle of Max’s revolver. “Traitor...” Sam murmured just before a single shot
reverberated through the air. Sam had just realized that Max to was part of the drug trafficking scandal,
but it was too late. The next moment, a speeding bullet successfully embedded itself in Sam’s heart.

He never saw the light of day again.

Page | 15
 "The Englishman"

Black crows screeched ominously as they circled the rocky shore of the O' Reilly Harbor. As the sun
started its descent in the crimson red sky, shadows started to be cast around the modest, rickety
buildings in the harbor. One by one, lights blinked out of existence as the shopkeepers closed their
shutters and retreated for the night. O'Reilly was falling asleep. Yet, one lone ship was still moored to
the bank, awaiting its go - signal from Richard, the captain of The Silk.

Dabbing his dotted forehead with his kerchief, Richard scanned the surroundings anxiously, squinting at
the various entrances to the O'Reilly harbor. Not a soul was to be seen. Where was he?

As if on cue, a tall and slick silhouette emerged from the shadows. The man was dressed in black
overalls, overcoat, pants, boots, and sported a narrow- brimmed hat. Although the weather was
considerably humid and warm, he showed no sign of discomfort. With a hint at swagger, the well- built
man approached the captain.

“Sorry for the wait. There were other things I had to tend to.”

He didn't sound sorry at all.

“I understand. Shall we proceed? The Silk is almost reaching its docking limit, and the harbor is about
to close for the night. "

The man inclined his head forward, in a slight nod. The leaves in the sparse night breeze rustled.
Without a word, the two men turned and walked to The Silk. Richard felt goose-bumps rising on his
forearm as he led the man to the steps descending into the ship.

The man, known widely as the Englishman, had a pale white complex, and exuded such coldness that the
seconds - long conversation had already left its impression on Richard. Involuntarily shivering, Richard
led the Englishman down the dimly lit carpeted pathway and directed the Englishman to his cabin.
He knew who the Englishman was from the rumors that he had heard from his travels to the East Pacific
Islands. A ruthless contract killer, the Englishman had earned himself widespread fame in the
underworld sanctuary, and was known to be on contract every living moment of the day, signifying his
extreme skills and proficiency at the art of killing.

A Taipan decapitated in Kowloon, Hong Kong. The vice – president assassinated in the State of Gujarat,
India. A ministerial candidate's throat slit in a presidential campaign in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Only
wealthy parties could afford the Englishman's services, and his targets naturally encircled the
influential and rich.

Page | 16
 "Does the Englishman ever receive targets which were ordinary citizens? ", Richard wondered as he
plodded his way to the starboard of The Silk and throttled the engine, wincing as he swiveled the
steering wheel to the extreme left as the ship eased its way free from O'Reilly, leaving the rickety town to
welcome the long night ahead.

The vast blanket of darkness shrouded The Silk in pitch black darkness. A few glinting stars were to be
seen as Richard, sleepy- eyed from handling the wheel since forever, contemplated calling one of his
quarterback men to control the wheel while he took a quick nap.

As The Silk parted the seas with subdued silence through the never- ending Pacific ocean, Richard
vaguely acknowledged the passing islands, his eyes growing heavy with each passing moment. Stifling a
yawn, the captain decided to retire for the night. He barked the name of one of his most trustworthy
quarterbacks, to come and man the ship while he slept.

There was no response.

Richard barked the name again, louder than before, yet it was greeted with nothing but the swishing of
the gentle waves against the hull of the ship, and the occasional splutter from the engine. Mark, his most
trustworthy quarterback, was most certainly present and had never slept on duty before. Whatever in the
world had happened now?

After multiple failed attempts at calling Mark, the captain shouted orders for his other crew members to
man the wheel. Again he was greeted with an unearthly silence.

Not wanting to assume or jump to conclusions, Richard hooked his standby rope to one of the many
handles on the steering wheel to keep it in position, and slowly made his way back to the operations
cabin at the extreme end of The Silk. The quarterbacks were in for a good dressing down if there were
caught sleeping during their duty. He knocked rapidly and curtly on the operations door four times in a
row, the agreed signal for an urgent message. No movement or dialogue was heard. The unnerving
silence hung around Richard like heavy drapes.

Fearing the worst, he inserted the key into the Swiss lock and flung the cabin door open, where his crew
members were supposed to be busy with their work.

He was met with a whiff of repugnant air as numerous pairs of wide eyes ogled at him. Emotionless
faces, drained of color, were slumped on the bunk, table, mapping board, armchairs, and on the hard,
wooden flooring. Hideously disfigured bodies littered the cabin, as rivulets of red seeped down the
walls.

Page | 17
An inaudible scream escaped Richard's mouth as his entire body stiffened at the sight of his dead crew
members. Eyes wide in shock, the captain could only so much as stare aghast at his fellow companions
as his mind numbed from the utter extremity of the situation.

A wooden floorboard creaked in the background. The winds howled in warning as an unearthly chill
passed over Richard, freezing the beads of perspiration on his forehead, as he recalled a single name.

The Englishman.

As the muffled steps grew in volume, Richard had no doubt as to who was there, and what the person's
next course of action would be in a matter of seconds.

Controlling his ragged breathing, the captain left the operations door hanging open and slowly tiptoed
his way to the opposite side of The Silk, desperately hoping to reach the mast so as to unhook the safety
boat and escape the killing ground.

Hooking his clammy palms to the side of the starboard, Richard tensely inched his way to the opposite
side of the ship, his head pivoting from left to right ever so often to calm his panicky mind. Wide -eyed,
the captain scurried to the mast, unhooking the coils of rope attached to the safety boat. Sparing a final
cursory check of the starboard, Richard gently eased himself down the rope to the safety boat,
involuntary sighing in relief as his feet touched the wooden base of the boat. He had made it till the
boat. Now all that was left ,was to set off.

Fervently double checking the engine connections of the boat to prepare for his escape, his instincts
screamed at him as he heard the gentle creaking of a floorboard of the boat he was in. Swiveling his
head around , he was greeted with an ominous sight. The Englishman sat on the crates stacked up by the
side of the boat, calmly gazing at the captain.

Richard was shell-shocked, as his entire being froze once again at the sight of the killer. His eyes
immediately acknowledged the silver revolver resting in the Englishman's hands, gleaming in the soulful
moonlight.

His knees buckled under him, as he kneeled down on the base of the boat, his pleading eyes searching
for any sign of mercy in the blackness in his would-be killer's eye. He saw nothing but hard , coarse
pupils gazing intently at him, not even a flicker of humanity residing within its depths.

Cowering under fright, he bowed his head and started to blabber uncontrollably about his wife and
children, how he would do anything to escape the clutches of death, and how he would gladly give up all
his wealth in exchange for his life, when the Englishman finally spoke:

Page | 18
 " I have no need of your material wealth."

"Please spare me ! I will do anything I can ! But please spare me ! I have done no wrong! "

"Done no wrong? DONE NO WRONG ? ", The Englishman vehemently shouted in a sudden fit of rage,
fire crackling in his eyes as he raised his hands and slapped the kneeling captain with all his might.

Richard felt a stinging blow to his right cheek as he flopped sideways under the force of The
Englishman's palm. His skull connected with the hull of the boat with a sickening thud. Richard drifted
in and out of consciousness , barely registering the throttle of the engine as the safety boat slowly began
to distance itself from The Silk.

GIVE another tory, like annnother family or another charaacter . Something related to the captain, but
unrelate to the Englishman, cuz he is on one assignment only what

However, luck eluded the captain as Richard felt a sharpened steel blade thrust and buried deep into
his back. He barely registered the turn of events as he toppled on the floor, a dead man.

He had been the target all along.

Page | 19