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The Journey of Om - Chandru Bhojwani

The naked flames danced gracefully around me as the pain flowed, through my veins. The grief and sorrow enveloped me and I descended into it without resistance. Coldplay strummed their beat as their melancholic lyrics rang so very true.

The candles began to die one by one. They had served their purpose for that brief moment in time and finally reached their destiny. The sands of time continued to slip on by. The merlot mixed with my blood and the bitterness ran through me.

Devastated by his beloved\\'s betrayal, Om collapses both physically as well as emotionally and with that, begins his arduous battle for peace. Torn between love and anger, Om inadvertently starts to lose his grip on life as he knew it causing his world to spiral out of control.

Hoping to recover, Om turns to his closest friends, Arun and Mona. However, instead of gaining support, he bears witness to the trials which have beseiged their lives.

Like life, the three tales entwine sprinkled with humour, tragedy, perseverance and karmic retribution, and through Om, they bind together into a climactic conclusion.

AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK
Chapter 34

The Tir Na Nog pub at 5 Penn Plaza was my salvation for the night. I couldn’t go back to Sliver, it was temporarily disowned. Instead of trendy furniture, hottest music and the iconic aquarium, I’d make do with the wood laden tables, chairs, benches and the stench of beer.

Placing the sheets of paper on the slab, I slipped off my grey jacket and sat down on the bar stool.

“Om, my son, haven’t seen you in a long time, mate,” Paul snapped from the corner of the bar.

“How’s it going, mate? It certainly has been a long time.”

Paul was a tall, gruff man with an iron handshake and a hearty laugh. He had been pulling pints behind the wooden bar since anyone could remember.

“Caffrey’s, is it?” Paul knew the preferred poison of each of his regulars, even those who had been away.

“Please. I see you’ve got some new glasses, Paul?” I asked pointing at the thin silver framed instrument that sat on his disfigured nose.

“Aye,” he placed the frothy glass in front of me, “My eyes ya know and the missus, she’s been busting me nads. Says, I eye up all the totty in the pub and when I told her I’m flipping blind, she got me these buggers,” he laughed. “Only problem is, now I can see all the totty and I’m loving it!” He laughed louder this time, “Oye, you think the talent will think I’m more distinguished with these on?” He stood up straight and posed by placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh definitely, you’re a regular Brad Pitt.”

“Aw bollocks, that Pitt lad is a pussy!” he continued making his way to one of the regulars at the end of the bar, “Enjoy your pint.”

“Cheers,” I raised the glass.

Picking up the papers, I started to read the last article from the backup stash hoping it would keep my mind occupied. Monica’s deadline was around the corner and I hadn’t found a permanent cure for the crippling writer’s block I suffered. As I read through the old words about an Indian man’s turn-offs, my mind wandered in to thoughts of betrayal. Halfway through the pint, I dialled Mona’s number only to be diverted to her voicemail. I was struggling to keep it together and needed to talk to someone. Arun’s stupidity threw me into an emotional and mental whirlwind and I could once again sense myself slipping...