Image result for FLOWERS

Destiny’s wheels
Sprout seeds of happiness
Flowering ever lasting joy,
(c)neelanilpanicker2018 #poem #Tanka

Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge, No. 72: Breakthrough & Movement, #SnyonymsOnly

Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge, No. 72: Breakthrough & Movement, #SnyonymsOnly




Image result for woman in pain but smiling

Writhing in pain
Battling away sorrow 
That comes chasing every morrow

Handing cups of joy
Unmindul of weakening cells
Brushing aside depression,
(c)neelanilpanicker2018 #poem#Tanka #character #affection

Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge, No. 71: Character & Affection, #SnyonymsOnly



24 Sascha Darlington February 18th 2018


Major Vijaykant Chauhan studied the two teenagers who stood quivering before him, their heads bowed and hands shaking.

Under the glare of the lone bulb, their farm fresh faces quivered like two frightened kittens.

A slow whistle escaped the Army officer’s lips.

“Tell me, where did you find them?”

‘Sir, I was on patrol duty when I heard voices from inside the Canteen adjacent to Gate No 5. Fearing them to be thieves or worse, I tiptoed forward and flashed my sten gun bulb. Sir, that’s when I found these two. They were…err…I am sorry sir…”

“What exactly were they doing?”

‘They…they were naked, Sir…I saw them…’

“Stop! The canteen you said, right? We have CCtvs there.

Can I get it’s footage?”

“What Sir?”

‘I said I need CCtvs footage of their err…antics”

Havildar Muthuswamy nodded his head.

A slow smile crept across Captain Vikram’s swarthy face. Finally, he ordered, “Ok, release the two now and don’t mention a word about this to anyone.”

As the three trooped out of the room Captain Vikram gloated at the fortune that had landed on his lap.

Now he could blackmail the City Police Chief with pictures of the latter’s daughter’s nocturnal peccadilloes.


Sunday Photo Fiction – February 18th 2018


By Neel Anil Panicker 
It started out pretty innocently, a casual dalliance, a mere fling, one of those outings that two high ranking and married individuals engage in when work demands drive them to spend endless hours closeted together on weekends.
But in between poring over voluminous data and  decoding intricate red and green squares that blipped on Excel sheets and pie charts, the two stumbled upon each other’s eyes.
It was not very long after that the peering shifted onto other contours of the human body.
Thereafter, the flood gates of unbridled passion were smashed open and the two succumbed to the  undulating pleasures of the human flesh and found themselves drowing in the maddening sea of lust.
By the time the two lust driven waywards realised the gargantuan folly of their debauchery and put an end to their nocturnal indiscretions it was too late.
It had cost two bitter divorcees besides leaving behind a retinue of severely disaffected young ones, their collectives fates hanging in limbo.
 (C)2018neelanilpanicker #fiction #shortstory




By Neel Anil Panicker

Holy smoke! One look at the woman seated opposite him and Inspector Sharma felt a stirring in his loins even as a slow bulge began to build up under his pants.


Thick lustrous auburn hair pulled straight back only further accentuated the air brushed smoothness of a high cheek boned porcelain china face that sat majestically atop an hour glass figure that looked as it had popped out of a glossy movie poster.

Looking at the smoking hot beauty for a moment he wondered if had made a mistake, wondered whether for once his famed powers of deduction had gone wrong, that she wasn’t the killer, and that she had absolutely nothing to do with the body that lay dead in the inner bedroom of this sprawling sea side bungalow in Lutyen’s Delhi___the lifeless bullet ridden body of the man the world knew as the ‘Diamond King of India.’

In a bid to clear the doubt that was plaguing his mind, Inspector Sharma decided to probe the woman one last time.  “Could you please tell me Mrs Khurana where and what exactly were you doing between four and six today morning”?

‘I…we…I mean I was …’

That’s it!_the smoking gun. He had got the answer, the small iota of doubt that had nested in his brain, even it was for a nano second, had now completely vanished; this lady was all smoke and mirrors, she indeed was the killer.

Suave upper crust English bred women born into wealth who lived in 100 crore mansions the size of a football stadium and travelled the globe in their own private jets did not blabber and get tongue tied when facing questions from lowly keepers of the law.

©neelanilpanciker2018 #fiction #shortstory #sixsentencestories #inspectorsharmacrimeseries #285words




#01 Hasty Generalization

By Neel Anil Panicker

Valentine’s Day is one big marketing scam orchestrated by money chasing marketers.

Or, I know of a teenaged couple who was harassed last year during Valentine’s. I myself suffered the same. I believe Valentine’s Day should be renamed as Harassment Day because that’s what it has come down to.

Two different statements, two different situations, and unfortunately two flawed conclusions.

These two instances are classic cases of the kind of hasty generalizations we make.

And we make them almost every single hour of our lives. And we make them of people, of places, of things, even of emotions.

For instance, take my friend Amit Kumar. He believes all  South Indians are kind and well mannered people. Now how did he arrive at this. Well, my good friend, who incidentally hails from Bareilly, a small town in Uttar Pradesh secured admission into the premier NIT and was offered to take his four year engineering course in Kozhikode, a beautiful average sized Indian town in the Malabar belt of Kerala.

Now, despite not knowing one word of the local language Malayalam he says he had a great experience and received the love and friendship of the Malayalis, be they his classmates or local shopkeepers, auto drivers et al.

In fact so moved was he by the red carpet welcome and honour that was rolled out to  a rank outsider like him and having partaked of the generosity and benevolence of Keralites, my friend turned emotional while on his last day of college and stay there and grandly announced to the whole world and its daddy that “South Indians are the most kind hearted and cultured people in the entire world”.

Now, sentiments aside, I wondered whether what my good friend has said was true or had he said something in the thick of the moment, overwhelmed as he was by his beautiful experience.

It so dawned on me that he had said of Malayalis and South Indians was a flawed conclusion.

A conclusion that may or may not be correct in the absence of more, better, and concrete verifiable data.

As goes the idiom “One sparrow does not a summer make”.

In the world of logic, more specifically Inductive Reasoning we have a name for this kind of flaw.

It’s called the Fallacy of Hasty Generalization.

Let me define it for you.

It’s “making assumptions about a whole group or range of cases based on a sample that is inadequate (usually because it is atypical or too small).

Making assumptions that are inadequate. About whom? About a whole group or range of cases based on a sample.

Or, how well we go about making them. We meet someone from another group or region or place or religion or region and find him so and so… you can fill that with rude, dishonest, shy, aggressive, insincere, drunkard… and thence draw a conclusion that the class or category or region or religion that they belong to or hail from is also like them.

How very faulty and wrong of us to think so.

So, how do we overcome this and ensure that we don’t fall into such traps and pass sweeping judgements about things and people we are not fully aware of.

Simple, just ask yourself what kind of “sample” you’re using: Are you relying on the opinions or experiences of just a few people, or your own experience in just a few situations? If so, consider whether you need more evidence, or perhaps a less sweeping conclusion.





three line tales, week 107: diaries, roses and bobbins with sewing thread


By Neel Anil Panicker

All summer he was just a kite flyer, one more among several other ten year olds whose psychedelic kites soared the skies.

Until one day when the winds of change blew.

As his nimble hands expertly manoeuvred the thread, he looked to his left.

It was then that he saw her.

She was on the opposite terrace, reading a book.

She lifted her head and spotted him spotting her.

From that moment the controls switched.

She had taken over the steering wheel of his life, their lives, for the next sixty odd years.

Thereafter, it was roses all the way.

©neelanilpanicker2018 #fiction #flash #100words #kiteflyer

Three Line Tales, Week 107

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