Two stories as a Haroun and the Sea of Stories spin-off: Bolo & Khamoshi (Under the pretext of finding

ng his betrothed Batcheat, Bolo actually is desperate to meet his secret Chupwala lover Khamoshi) Bolo in Wonderland (Bolo is a real person that has lost his mind and is currently living in a mental asylum. He doesnt like his reality so he makes up an alternate reality where the whole story is in his mind. He dreams himself as a person who has freedom, power, choice and control; he can walk, be in two places, and do what he wants.)

Epilogue: Part II Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the bright light pierce through the lids, making him squint with agitation and displeasure. A flurry of forced sounds filled the previously deadly quiet room; the soft click of a door closing, the sound of metal grating against metal as the curtains were pulled open, the scraping a chair being pulled up punctuated by the tapping of shoes walking across the grey on the concrete floor. All of these were sounds that he had learnt to perfect even with eyes closed during his time at his home. Well, he wouldnt call it a home, but thats where he was living. Every single day was the same. The same noises would happen as the overoptimistic lady in the white dress came into his room and switched on the lights, signaling the beginning of the day, and he would go through the same routine: get up, make the bed, shuffle to the bathroom, take a shower and get dressed, and then return back to the room. But isnt that how all days start for everyone? No. Because he was alone, and spent almost all his time alone. The only prospect he would ever cheer up at was when his daughter would come and visit him once a week, along with his sister. Her constant batcheat was the only thing that brightened his day, that made him smile. But even as her dulcet tones echoed in the room, begging him to do what he did best, after which he was named, bolo, inside he was crumbling. He felt crushed that he could do nothing for her, and couldnt be there for her at all. So every day, for all the hours he spent between his meals, he would sit and daydream. He dreamt of a world that his daughter would enjoy, and he dreamt of a world where he could get out of his room and see the world. He dreamt of a world where he could impress his daughter, so one day he thought up of a story where there was a world, a land called Alifbay. And in that land there was a city, that was so sad, so ruinously sad that even the fish were called glumfish. And there was a boy called Haroun, and a. Bolo! Come on, its time for lunch. The lady in the white dress materialized in front of him. He shook his head to clear it of the thoughts, and tried to remember what the ladys name was. Oh, forget it, said a little voice in his head. Theyre all the same anyways. Bolo, lets go! Today were having curry, yum! And your daughters coming today, arent you excited? Yes. And I want to tell her a story. Can I tell her the story I made up? Of course you can, sweetie. Im sure shell love it. He got up and starts shuffling out of the room under the watchful eye of the nurse. As he walks across the pristine white hall to the cafeteria, he could barely hear the receptionist answer the phone. Asha Mental Health Institute, how may I help you?