Source: neelwrites/sundayphotofiction/#03ofdangerouslove/30/07/2017



Sunday Photo Fiction – July 30th 2017

Hosted by J Hardy at


207 07 July 30th 2017


By Neel Anil Panicker



Barring a single square mattress neatly laid out in the centre of the third floor mid-sized corner room there is just about no evidence to suggest that this room is the most important of all the 14 rooms including one large conference hall that together comprise what the outside world knows as Sumer Manzil.

Unmindful of the slow crawl of his henchmen and the occasional booming of distant motor engines or even the blare of the loudspeakers that resonate the soft yet soul stirring entreaties of the maulvi from the nearby Jama Masjid invoking the faithful to say their morning prayers, the man of the house is on his knees, his head bowed, his hands raised high into the darkened conical ceilings, his usually sprightly mind lost in deep contemplation, paying obeisance to the Almighty.

After what seems like an eternity, the man, clad in a natural black flowing sherwani, opens his eyes, raises himself to his full six foot tall glory and walks up to a lone stand.

There his piercing kohl lined eyes, eyes that a highly decorated police officer once described in his autobiography as that “of a crazed wild buffalo__spotted black and with tiny white balls wedged into its insides__”,  gazed at the mummified head, its face, a tangled squishy mass, exquisitely embalmed and glistening with the after effects of fresh, hottened oil, deep holes staring out of the eye sockets.

After a few minutes, he whispered into the empty shell, “The world knows I take good care of my enemies.”

And then he quickly strode out of the room and stepped into his world, the grisly world of Afzal Bhai aka Fred, the fearsome mafia don of Old Delhi.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #dangerouslove #partthreeofdangerouslove #fiction#294words

For dear readers and writer colleagues interested in reading the earlier two parts of this ongoing novella , please click on the links below:




neelwrites/whatpeg mansaw/blackisbackandhow!/historicalfiction/30/07/2017


Cape Town, South Africa

Thanks to K Rawson for hosting this wonderful weekly flash fiction challenge at

Cape Town, South Africa

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:


Genre:historical fiction



By Neel Anil Panicker

Amandla! Amandla! i-Afrika, mayibuye!  

Cliff Andrews elbowed his way ahead, to near the front steps of the Town Hall.

It means Power!Power! Africa it is ours!, his local aide cum photographer Desmond Steines responded.

Earlier in the day, Cliff, had flown in from Washington and contacted the ever smiling Des, whose darkish features lit up like a 400 watt bulb, the  black button eyes shining like diamonds in the dark, on being told about the assignment.

 “Des, this is big. The guy’s back from prison. Get some close ups. Really tight, buddy. We need to catch him in action, ” were the last bits of advice the senior newsman manning the Africa desk of the New York Times handed out before the two stepped out of the nondescript third floor hotel room and into the mid summer madness that had enveloped all of Pretoria.

Four hours later, back in his hotel room, Cliff’s Remington typewriter banged out the words, “The ANC tri-colour flew high in Cape Town today, the black at its top defiantly jutting out into the dark African sky. The fight for freedom is not yet over; it’s just begun, so said Nelson Mandela who looked …”

©neelanilpanciker2017 #whatpegmansay  #historicalfiction  #nelsonmandela #anc #africa



From racial segregation to global inspiration

Nelson Mandela lived one of the most remarkable lives of the 20th Century. Born in an era of racial segregation and oppression in South Africa, he made it his life’s mission to fight for an equal and democratic society in his country.

After 27 years in jail, Mandela helped prevent civil war and became South Africa’s first black president. By the time of his death he’d become a renowned statesman and global icon. Discover how Mandela went from prison cell to presidential office.

For more information you may click on this link



Three Line Tales, Week 78

Sonya at ONLY 100 WORDS has challenged us to write a three line tale from this photo prompt.


three line tales week 78: someone walks down the stairs at the Guggenheim Museum in NYC

photo by Mahdis Mousavi via Unsplash

By Neel Anil Panicker

Al slipped the phone back to its cradle, trudged back to his bare boned six by six darkened cell that he shared with one other inmate and there, left all to himself with only the stony walls for company, he began to ponder over the repercussions of his actions, the frighteningly damaging consequences of falling in love with Lisa.

She was ravishingly beautiful, a sex bomb, no doubt;  his hands had never felt so good on any other female form, the kisses never been so long and passionate with anyone else, his heart never flipping for anyone as badly as it had flipped for the very busty, feisty, sexually thirsty nineteen-year-old Liz.

But why then did Al feel as if he were forever climbing up a steep never ending staircase, one that had as many spirals going up as it had coming down? Why, what, and most importantly, whose wrath did he fear so much that even a moment’s solitude spent dreaming about Liz and her ‘oh so obvious’ pleasures was proving to be a Herculean effort?

(For those interested in the First Part please click on the link given below.

(neelanilpanciker2017 #3LineTales #fiction #shortstory #178words