Spine Chillers!!!!!!!!!!!

Foreword: Here are some spiny chillers that can spook anybody and give some really nasty nightmares!! so beware these stories are not for the weak heart.

Story1: The air hostess, as she passed along the aisle of the plane on the transatlantic flight from Amsterdam to New York, she noticed that the baby, nestled between the couple who were asleep, didn't look very well, in fact it looked extremely ill. Not wanting to disturb anyone she gently lifted up the baby and took it back to her station. Feeling the baby's forehead, she found it was cold and with a sudden panic she realized that the infant was dead. calling upon a doctor she knew to be on board, he examined the baby and confirmed that, not only was it dead, but it was embalmed. The child's body had been hollowed out and it was full of the drugs that the couple was trying to smuggle into the States.
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Story2: A young lady is alone in her apartment. She goes to bed with her dog on the floor beside her. In the middle of the night, she is woken up by a strange sound. She is alarmed, but reaches down to the dog, which licks her hand. She is reassured and goes back to sleep. In the morning, she finds the dog hung in the shower. Where the dog slept, she picks up a note which reads 'Humans can lick too,"
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Story3: A woman living in the city {Salt Lake} was visiting some friends in Ogden. When she got into her car in front of this friend's house, she noticed that a car started up right behind her car. It was about 2:00 in the morning, and there weren't any other cars on the road. After she had driven to the highway, she began to think that this car was following her. Some of the time he would drive up real close to her car, but he wouldn't ever pass.
She was really scared to death and kept speeding to try to get away from him.
When she got to Salt Lake, she started running stop lights to get away from him, but he would run right through them too. So when she got to her driveway she pulled in really fast, and this guy pulled in right behind her. She just laid on the horn, and her husband came running out.
Just then, the guy jumped out of the car, and her husband ran over and said, 'What the hell’s going' on here?" So he grabbed the guy, and his wife said, "This man's followed me all the way from Ogden." The man said, 'I followed your wife because I was going to work, and as I got into my car, I noticed when I turned my lights on, a man's head bob down in her back seat." So the husband went over to her back-seat, opened the door, and there was a deranged man sitting on the floor with a knife in his hand. __________________________________________________________
Story4: Two roommates remain at their deserted college dormitory over a holiday break. One of the girls goes out on a date that evening, and the other one turns in and goes to bed before her roommate returns. Later that night the sleeping girl is awakened by gurgling and scratching noises coming from outside the hallway door. Frightened, she locks the door and cowers inside the room until morning. When the girl finally opens the door and ventures outside, she discovers the bloody corpse of her roommate in the hallway.
The murdered girl's throat had been slit, and she had bled to death in the hallway while clawing at the door.
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Story5: In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale
of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd.
The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed. She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She went to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale.
And what was in envelope?
A note saying 'This is the last one I am sending you today," __________________________________________________________
Story6: A male flight attendant was stopping over at Japan. He went to a local bar where a Japanese man and woman approached him. They chatted and had a drink. The man gave him an old traditional Japanese drink. The next memory the flight attendant had, was when he woke up in a bath of ice in a hotel room with agonizing pains in his stomach. He managed to pull himself out the bath and called the police. He told them everything he could remember, the policeman described the two people and the man said that's what they were like. The policeman calmly told him to get back into the bath and sit there till the police and ambulance had arrived. The man's kidneys had been removed. 
 

Marriages Made in Heaven

Foreword: If there is something that really cheers me up, its these funny stories between a couple. I always wonder how is it possible for two people who come from different walks of life with different backgrounds to live together for each other for their next forty to fifty years.I guess these lighter moments really make it up for it :) :)

An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite Italian anisette sprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs.
Gathering his remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands he crawled downstairs. With laboured breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite anisette sprinkled cookies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Italian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife..... 'Back off!' she said, 'they're for the funeral.'

The day before Christmas, a man in Ohio calls his adult son in Michigan.
"Son, I've had enough, after 40 years of marriage, I've decided to leave your mother."
The son hysterically responds: "Dad, this cannot be happening. Don't do a thing until we get there to talk some sense into you!"
The son then calls his sister in California who becomes equally hysterical. She also calls her father: "Dad, we're not going to let this happen, you and mom stay put, we'll be there tomorrow to work things out!"
The father hung up the phone, looked at his wife and said: "The kids are coming for Christmas and they're paying for their own flight."

Imperfect Heart

Foreword: An amazing story that would make everybody wish they had as imperfect heart as they could. I want my heart to be imperfect so that I can gather all the pieces of my jagged heart and cherish every single tiny piece of it.

One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect.There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.

Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, "Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine." The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.

The people stared -- how can he say his heart is more beautiful, they thought? The young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed. "You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears." "Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love - I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges,
which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared. "Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart
away, and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges -- giving love is taking a chance.
Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"


The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands


The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges. The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his. They embraced and walked away side by side.

The Violinist

Foreword: This is one of the stories, so beautiful that i dont mind reading it every morning to start the day on a more beautiful note :)

A  man  sat  at  a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the  violin;  it  was  a  cold  January morning. He played six Bach pieces for  about  45  minutes.  During  that  time,  since  it was rush hour, it was  calculated  that  thousands  of  people went through the station, most of  them on their way to work.

 Three  minutes  went  by  and a middle aged man noticed that there was a  musician  playing.  He  slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and  then hurried up to meet his schedule.

 A  minute  later,  the  violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman  threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.

 A  few  minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him,  but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was  late for work.

 The  one  who  paid  the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother  tagged  him  along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist.
 Finally  the  mother  pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning  his  head  all  the  time.  This  action  was  repeated  by several other  children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

 In  the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed  for  a  while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal  pace.  He  collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over,  no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

 No  one  knew  this  but  the  violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best  musicians  in  the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever  written with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

 Two  days  before  his  playing  in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a  theatre in Boston and the seats average $100.

 This  is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station  was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about  perception,  taste  and  priorities  of  people.  The outlines were: in a  commonplace  environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty?
 Do  we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected  context?

 One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be:

 If  we  do  not  have  a  moment  to  stop  and listen to one of the best  musicians  in  the  world  playing  the best music ever written, how many  other things are we missing?

A Marriage Story

Foreword: If you ask me what is my definition of marriage, i guess i have to say my thoughts are in concurrence with the person who quoted "I love being married. Because It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life."  ~Rita Rudner
However the below story can make even a cynical person like me to reflect on some romantic moments

"My husband is an Engineer by profession, I love him for his steady nature, and I love the warm feeling when I lean against his broad shoulders.
Three years of courtship and now, two years into marriage, I would have to admit, that I am getting tired of it. The reasons of me loving him before, has now transformed into the cause of all my restlessness.

I am a sentimental woman and extremely sensitive when it comes to a relationship and my feelings, I yearn for the romantic moments, like a little girl yearning for candy. My husband, is my complete opposite, his lack of sensitivity, and the inability of bringing romantic moments into our marriage has disheartened me about love.

One day, I finally decided to tell him my decision, that I wanted a divorce.
“Why?” he asked, shocked. “I am tired, there are no reasons for everything in the world!” I answered. He kept silent the whole night, seems to be in deep thought with a lighted cigarette at all times. My feeling of disappointment only increased, here was a man who can’t even express his predicament, what else can I hope from him? And finally he asked me:” What can I do to change your mind?”

Looking deep into his eyes I slowly answered : “Here is the question, if you can answer and convince my heart, I will change my mind, Let’s say, I want a flower located on the face of a mountain cliff, and we both are sure that picking the flower will cause your death, will you do it for me?” He said :” I will give you your answer tomorrow….” My hopes just sank by listening to his response. I woke up the next morning to find him gone, and saw a piece of paper with his scratchy handwriting, underneath a milk glass, on the dining table near the front door, that goes….

My dear, “I would not pick that flower for you, but please allow me to explain the reasons further..” This first line was already breaking my heart. I continued reading.
“When you use the computer you always mess up the Software programs, and you cry in front of the screen, I have to save my fingers so that I can help to restore the programs. You always leave the house keys behind, thus I have to save my legs to rush home to open the door for you. You love traveling but always lose your way in a new city, I have to save my eyes to show you the way. You always have the cramps whenever your “good friend” approaches every month, I have to save my palms so that I can calm the cramps in your tummy. You like to stay indoors. I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories to cure your boredom. You always stare at the computer, and that will do nothing good for your eyes, I have to save my eyes so that when we grow old, I can help to clip your nails, and help to remove those annoying white hairs. So I can also hold your hand while strolling down the beach, as you enjoy the sunshine and the beautiful sand… and tell you the color of flowers, just like the color of the glow on your young face… Thus, my dear, unless I am sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do… I could not pick that flower yet, and die.. ”

My tears fell on the letter, and blurred the ink of his handwriting… and as I continue on reading… “Now, that you have finished reading my answer, if you are satisfied, please open the front door for I am standing outside bringing your favorite bread and fresh milk… I rush to pull open the door, and saw his anxious face, clutching tightly with his hands, the milk bottle and loaf of bread….

Now I am very sure that no one will ever love me as much as he does, and I have decided to leave the flower alone…"

Futiristic Dating!!!

The Appraisal

Foreword: When i posted this blog, I was eagerly waiting for my hike letter. The hike which is based on my appraisal rating and other A..Z factors. In the past few weeks i have already deduced some n number of  permutations and combinations to guess what my hike and consequent CTC could be. I know i am going to be shocked at the figures of my actual hike numbers, but that still does not stop me from conjuring foolish fantasies.
Here is a really funny outlook on the Appraisal process.

The Art of Appraisal

Big Boss: This year your performance was good, excellent and outstanding. So, your rating is "average".

Kumar: What? How come 'average'?

Big Boss: Because...err...uhh...you lack domain knowledge.

Kumar: But last year you said I am a domain expert and you put me in this project as a domain consultant.

Big Boss: Oh is it? Well, in that case, I think your domain knowledge has eroded this year.

Kumar: What???

Big Boss: Yes, I didn't see you sharing knowledge on Purchasing domain.

Kumar: Why would I? Because I am not in Purchasing, I am in Manufacturing.  

Big Boss: This is what I don't like about you. You give excuse for everything.

Kumar: Huh? *Confused*

Big Boss: Next, you need to improve your communication skills.

Kumar: Like what? I am the one who trained the team on "Business Communication", you sat in the audience and took notes, you remember?

Big Boss: Oh is it? Errr...well..I mean, you need to improve your Social Pragmatic Affirmative Communication.

Kumar: Huh? What the hell is that? *Confused*

Big Boss: See! That's why you need to learn about it.

Kumar: *head spinning*

Big Boss: Next, you need to sharpen your recruiting skills. All the guys you recruited left within 2 months.

Kumar: Well, not my mistake. You told them you will sit beside them and review their code, and most resigned the next day itself. Couple of them even attempted suicide.

Big Boss:*stunned* (recovers from shock) Err...anyway, I tried to give you a better rating, but our Normalization process gave you only 'average'.

Kumar: Last year that process gave me 'excellent'. This year just 'average'? Why is this process pushing me up and down every year?

Big Boss: That's a complicated process. You don't want to hear.

Kumar: I'll try to understand. Go ahead.

Big Boss: Well, we gather in a large room, write down the names of sub-ordinates in bits of paper, and throw them up in the air. Whichever lands on the floor gets 'average', whichever lands on table gets 'good', whichever we manage to catch gets 'excellent' and whichever gets stuck to ceiling gets 'outstanding'.

Kumar: (eyes popping out) What? Ridiculous! So who gets 'poor' rating?

Big Boss: Those are the ones we forget to write down.

Kumar: What the hell! And how can paper bits stick to ceiling for 'outstanding'?

Big Boss: Oh no, now you have started questioning our 20 year old organizational process!

Kumar: *faints*


~~~~~Quote~~~~~:
“Appraisals are where you get together with your team leader and agree what an outstanding member of the team you are, how much your contribution has been valued, what massive potential you have and, in recognition of all this, would you mind having your salary halved.”

Degree of Utilization

Foreword: This is one of the stories that never fails to instigate in me, a sense of accountability to my deeds.This simple poignant tale is often associated with the teachings of Gautam Buddha.This exceptional ancedote is fitting in the times of global warming and universal exploitation.

The following is the text of conversation between him and his disciple. One of his disciples approached him and said humbly " Oh my teacher !
While you are so much concerned about the world and others, why don't you look in to the welfare and needs of your own disciples also."
Buddha : "OK.. Tell me how I can help you"
Disciple : "Master! My attire is worn out and is beyond the decency to wear the same. Can I get a new one, please."
Buddha found the robe indeed was in a bad condition which needed replacement. He asked the store keeper to give the disciple a new robe to wear on. The disciple thanked Buddha and retired to his room. Though he met his disciple's requirement, Buddha was not all that
contended on his decision. He realized he missed out some point. A while after, he realized what he should have asked the disciple . He went to his disciple's place and asked him "Is your new attire comfortable? Do you need anything more ?"

Disciple : "Thank you my Master. The attire is indeed very comfortable. I need nothing more"
Buddha : "Having got the new one, what did you do with your old attire?"
Disciple : "I am using it as my bed spread"
Buddha "Then.. hope you have disposed off your old bed spread"
Disciple " No.. no.. master. I am using my old bedspread as my window curtain"
Buddha " What about your old Curtain?"
Disciple "Being used to handle hot utensils in the kitchen"
Buddha : "Oh.. I see.. Can you tell me what did they do with the old cloth they used in Kitchen"
Disciple : "They are being used to wash the floor."
Buddha " " Then, the old rug being used to wash the floor...???"
Disciple " Master, since they were torn off so much, we could not find any better use, but to use as a twig in the oil lamp, which is right now lit in your study room...."

Buddha smiled in contentment and left for his room.

Once upon a time............

I have always loved listening to a story :) Be it funny, scary or an inspirational one. I equally adore telling stories as well. I also like to reckon that I am good story teller :)


A beautiful story does not just have the power of transporting its listener to distant landscapes and realms, the true splendour of a tale is in its aptitude to convey subtle morals and principles which forms the DNA of our ethical value structure. I agree with Ursula LeGuin when she says "There have been great societies that did not use the wheel, but there have been no societies that did not tell stories".

Ergo, i would like to dedicate this blog to the multitude story tellers who have charmed, inspired and enthralled their audiences over the generations into believing that "The universe is made of stories, not atoms".