<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>mystery on Reflections</title><link>https://blog.karthikrp.com/tags/mystery/</link><description>Recent content in mystery on Reflections</description><generator>Hugo -- gohugo.io</generator><language>en-us</language><copyright>© Karthik Ramaswamy Padmanabhan</copyright><lastBuildDate>Tue, 07 Jul 2009 22:00:14 -0500</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://blog.karthikrp.com/tags/mystery/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Trip to Somewhere</title><link>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-trip-to-somewhere/</link><pubDate>Tue, 07 Jul 2009 22:00:14 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-trip-to-somewhere/</guid><description>The bus finally screeched to a halt by late evening. We were starving. It had been a nine hour travel, with no stops in between. The roads had been terrible, and the bus equally pathetic. All of us were suffering from backache, and we badly needed food and some sleep. We set off in search of a hotel.
We started walking along the crowded and noisy road that seemed more likely to have a hotel.</description></item><item><title>The Story of Muthu</title><link>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-story-of-muthu/</link><pubDate>Sat, 07 Feb 2009 21:42:38 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-story-of-muthu/</guid><description>Muthu was an ordinary individual. He was as ordinary as you and me, and all other ordinary human beings in the world. Muthu was a trader. He was always honest, and never tried to cheat any of his customers. He wouldn&amp;rsquo;t even think about it. All his goods were of top quality, and so all the people flocked to buy his wares. He sold them very cheap, and so didn&amp;rsquo;t get much profit.</description></item><item><title>The Rainbow</title><link>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-rainbow/</link><pubDate>Sat, 27 Dec 2008 21:32:15 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-rainbow/</guid><description>The air inside the room carried the odour of a dead rat. Not that it mattered much. That was all he could afford. His troupe had been in dire straits for the past ten years. But he was forever an optimist. He always told them that there would be a miracle. And there would be money. Though it all sounded encouraging then, now it seemed a lot hollow. But he still had hope, and he still hoped for that miracle to occur.</description></item><item><title>The Museum Mystery (Part 3)</title><link>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-museum-mystery-part-3/</link><pubDate>Sun, 25 May 2008 21:07:18 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-museum-mystery-part-3/</guid><description>If you missed out on Part 1 and Part 2, please click on the respective links to read it.
The alarm woke me up at exactly 4 in the morning. It was still dark and cold, but there was work to do. I had already decided what to do that day. After a shower and a quick breakfast of roast bread, I was on my way to my office. I called up Harvey on the way.</description></item><item><title>The Museum Mystery (Part 2)</title><link>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-museum-mystery-part-2/</link><pubDate>Sat, 24 May 2008 21:02:32 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-museum-mystery-part-2/</guid><description>For those of you who missed Part 1, please click here to read it.
I walked into the curator&amp;rsquo;s room. It was filled with press and media persons. They rose as I entered the room, and asked me to comment on the situation and about the suspects. I was in no mood to interact with the press, and therefore declined to comment, saying there will be an official press release soon.</description></item><item><title>The Museum Mystery (Part 1)</title><link>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-museum-mystery-part-1/</link><pubDate>Thu, 22 May 2008 20:58:37 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://blog.karthikrp.com/posts/the-museum-mystery-part-1/</guid><description>She was standing on top of the Eiffel tower. She was wearing a black dress, in which she looked ravishing, as usual. She looked very happy, and was calling me towards her. I went towards her with glee. I was inches away from her as her lips parted and came towards mine. Then suddenly, she started singing &amp;ldquo;Scotty doesn&amp;rsquo;t know&amp;rdquo; in a coarse male voice. I couldn&amp;rsquo;t get understand a thing of what was happening.</description></item></channel></rss>