Sunday Photo Fiction – December 10th 2017

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18 Eric Wiklund 10 December 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Mrs Mallick, I must say for a child of his age Rohan has a very fertile imagination. Here have a look at this.”

The two ladies looked at the arts and crafts patchwork laid out the long display table at the Annual School Arts and Crafts Exhibition.

“Isn’t that simply wonderful”, Miss Radhika Bose, the Class One Arts Teacher continued, pointing her finger towards the long angular cobbled pathway that led to a domed forested villa.

“Right down to the rocky outgrowth abutting it, the cute little wooden bench and the birds’ nest, tinged a sparkling blue, every single detail is a sensual treat. And the icing on the cake__ this quaint little miniature house adjacent to the main one. Tell me Mrs Mallick, which child of six displays the intelligence and foresight to draw such beautifully?”.

The question was meant as a rhetoric and as such Mrs Mullick had nothing much to offer but simply smile in acknowledgement of the deluge of praises that were coming her only child’s way.

She didn’t deem it fit to reveal to anyone the inspiration behind the ‘second’ house.

How embarrassing would it be if she revealed that Rohan’s father kept two houses.




Sunday Photo Fiction – November 26th 2017

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2018 11 November 26th 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

Fighting through the ever darkening rays of the setting sun, Vardharajan watched intently at the swirling ocean waters as a massive tidal wave of memories soon deluged him.

It was some three score years ago. He had first set foot in Chennai. It was these very same waters that had brought him, a bare boned slip of a boy, barely five, holed up in the ship’s bottom deck, in a small six by six hole in the wall cheek a bowl with fiery red eyes rodents.

They had thrown him into the sea, giving him up for dead.

Three days later, his near still frame was washed ashore only to be discovered by some fishermen.

They had carried him over, nursed him back to health, and thereafter accepted him as a gift from Thanniyamma, the Sea Goddess, the protector and guardian of the se/ven seas.

With the passage of time, he had become one of them, learning and doing everything a fisherman does___ rising up much before dawn, then cleaning, scrubbing, oiling the boats in which he would later joining others into the sea casting wide nets, battling massive winds and storms, and returning back safe though bruised and battered, with the day’s booty__ a catch of sparkling fish that later he would help in selling off at the wholesale fish market.

The frames changed. He was a strapping young man and people were bowling to him, paying obeisance, pouring out their concerns, the poor and toiling masses, the very same clan that had rescued him from the seas, saved him from sure death, adopted him as one of their own, even giving him a name were now treating him as their Almighty, their saviour, their dear ‘son’ who was now Vardha Anna __feared by the lawmakers and scourge of the lawbreakers, a law unto himself, the undisputed mafia Don of Chennai City.

The shrill sound of police sirens closing him on him broke his thoughts. He needn’t have looked back. They were closing in. He knew it was over.

The curtains were coming down. Pitch darkness had descended all over. He barely made out the long golden arms of Thanniyamma beckoning him from the ocean waters.

She was smiling. He moved towards her, knowing she embrace him in her arms and put him to eternal sleep.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #sundayphotofictioneer #sea


Sunday Photo Fiction – November 12th 2017

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217 11 November 12th 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

“I’m done for the day. Will you feed Ananya when she wakes up. The milk’s in the fridge. You just need to add…”

Raj gets up from the couch. ‘Don’t worry, baby. I know what to do. You go to sleep. You got an early morning flight, remember’.

As Sherlin mouths a ‘Thanks, darling’ and tucks herself in bed beside little Ananya, Raj bends over and kisses both mother and daughter. “Sweet dreams, my loves”.

Closing the bedroom door gently behind them, Raj steps into the drawing room, bracing himself for the long night ahead.

Turning on the dim lights beside the couch, he begins to rifle through the day’s newspaper.

The front page headlines scream at him. “India’s not world’s dumping yard”; “Beef eaters are anti-national”; “Massive job losses across sectors”.

Disgusted, Raj flips over and skips through the City and Nation pages, all full of crime reportage. “16 year old school boy kills classmate ”;  35-year-old murders hubby, in-laws; “65 year old carpenter rapes one-month old” .

He realizes the world’s turned binary__ nationalists and anti-nationalists, cow worshippers and beef eaters, good people and bad people, job holders and job seekers…



Sunday Photo Fiction – November 5th 2017

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216 11 November 5th 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

Roy Mathews narrowed his eyes and peered into the viewfinder.

Inside, the pupils of his eyes dilated as image after image assailed his senses.

A good three minutes later he extricated himself and half stumbling, fell onto his swivel chair.

Bloody Mary! He had been right. The bitch was cheating on him all this while.

Despite the air-conditioning, hot beads of sweat began to form around his temples.

“Darling, it’s your 40th birthday next week. I plan to make it absolutely memorable.”

Dammit! The lying infidel! His slurring voice ricocheted off the walls of their bedroom.

So this was her plan. Frolicking in bed with another man, his own office colleague, while he went around the countryside, slogging and flogging himself to death, selling sundry products for a living__ for her, for him, for their future.

Red hot molten rage swept through his veins as his heart beats went up and down like a yo-yo gone crazy.

He closed his eyes and maddening thoughts criss-crossed through his mind.

After battling for an hour, running through umpteen options, he finally succumbed.

She had to go, and quick.

A single bullet, shot through her heaving chest.

The death instant, the redemption instantaneous.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #SUNDAYPHOTOFICTIONEER #fiction #flash #shortstory #200words


Sunday Photo Fiction – October 29th 2017

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16 J Hardy Carroll 29 October 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

‘Sir, there seems to be a problem. Something suspicious is showing up’.

Singapore Airport Officer Alphons Rodrigues peered into the computer screen that reflected the results of the X-ray machine.

Then peering out he looked at the woman__middle aged, narrow crinkly slit eyes, pale yellow skin__as she extricated the suitcase from the outer bay and walked towards the check out counter.

“Excuse me Madam but would you mind stepping aside”.


He had never seen such perfectly crafted busts.

He inspected them one by one.

An African, another two who, given their dusky colourations and slit eyes resting on near oval faces could have been from any of the South Asian countries, probably Indonesian or Singaporean, he wildly guessed, a pair that looked liked twins, one Briton, and one more, who had an eerie resemblance to a pre-teen Donald Trump.

All six of them, they looked lifelike; their eyes shone bright, the skin flawless sans wrinkles, the cheeks oh so perfect and flawless, the hair, exquisitely coiffured.

Satisfied albeit a bit amused, Alphons green signalled the woman.

An hour later and in her hotel room, Angga Bintam Aldi smashed little Trump’s head onto the floor and out fell a pouch full of fine grain cocaine.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #SUNDAYPHOTOFICTION #flashfiction #shorttort #200words


Sunday Photo Fiction – October 22nd 2017


215 10 October 22nd 2017


By Neel Anil Panicker

From the sidelines, I see them __the man, the woman, their children.

I notice everything__his boisterous laughter, her unrestrained smile, their lilting laughters.

I envy their happiness.

Wish  I could turn the clock back.

She was mine, the children too.

A happy family if ever there was one.

Saturday night movies on the couch, monthly excursions to the zoo, gorging on sumptuous hot piping paper dosas at Sagar Ratna , early morning walks through the woods, after dinner soirees…all that and then some more.

And then kaput!

Lost it all. Gave it all up one mindless maddening summer month.

A sudden fire up the loins, an inexplicable weakness for the human flesh, a bad moral call___ call it what you may.

One night, one stupid night of passion play with Clara, that hot number with fluttering eye lashes and a 50 inch perennially heaving bust saw me blowing it all away, sent my life flying off the windows, I, a mere speck billowing into the dark grey skies, blown into obscurity by furious winds angrier than Hurricane Katrina could ever be.

This is a happy town; it could do without me.

©neelanilpanicker2017 #SundayPhotoFiction #onesillymistake#shortstory#200words



Sunday Photo Fiction – October 15th 2017

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214 10 October 15th 2017

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Honorable Sir, I warmly welcome you to my ship.”

Warm welcome? My foot. A murder’s occurred and the bastard’s grinning from ear to ear__baring his gold embossed teeth.

Inspector Sharma inspected the man: Mid-fifties, balding, with floral panoramic patterns clinging to near exposed skin adorned by gold embellishments all over that together he surmised, could easily weigh over a couple of kilos.

“Sir, I am Frederick D’ Souza, the captain…”

‘Cut the crap. Where’s the body?’

“Sir…sir…the body… err it was here…i mean it isn’t now…It…”

Inspector Sharma felt as if a huge boulder had dropped onto his chest. He felt dizzy. With enormous effort he raised his hands up and held onto to a metallic beam that circled the upper deck.

His free hand felt the gun strapped to his waist.

The bastard! A multi-millionare aging heiress on a ’round the world’ odyssey was found murdered on this ship and its owner was saying that the body had disappeared.
“Sir, the sharks…they ate her. I saw it…”

Inspector Sharma wasn’t sure whom he hated the most___the man, the ‘dead’ heiress or, the sharks.

(c)neelanilpanciker2017 #fiction #sundayphotofiction #allatsea #184words