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Showing posts from April, 2015

Will I?

The reclining chair in the patio looks appealing. I drag myself to it and just fall into its  'arms'; my tired limbs thank me.  My eyelids start drooping after the long and tiring day. Ah! Sheer bliss - this peace and quiet, the zephyr working its magic on my fatigued nerves, the fragrance of the white frangipani wafting along with it - what more could I ask for? Umm, maybe the company of a loved one, holding hands, talking into the sunset, forgetting the world and its botheration for a few moments of togetherness.  That would be perfect.
           But, life is perfect.  My job at the school, the kids, my colleagues. That's my world. My life. My identity. The happiness, the satisfaction I get at the end of the day, is incomparable.  Then, why do I feel an emptiness within?  Why is there this ache, that refuses to leave me in peace? A longing, which gives me many a sleepless nights. What is it that I crave? Or, should it be 'who is it that I long fo…

Five Sentence Fiction: The departure.

It had been a long, insufferable year for Daji, and his family of six; in fact, it seemed to be the story of every farmer one met in the region. The cruel drought that had wreaked havoc on the entire state for the second consecutive year, had robbed not only the livelihood of the poor farmer, but also the lives of many, who had been crushed under a mountain of debt they would never be able to repay.


          Daji squatted on the dusty hot platform, waiting for the train, which would take him and his family to a city, where his hopes, and dreams for a future, seemed to call out to him. He turned to look at his wife, who caught the look of uncertainty in his eyes; the eyes that had seen life changing in a flash, the tired rheumy eyes, which had stared unblinkingly at the sky, longing for the grey clouds to wash away their sorrows, the eyes, which had witnessed many a lives being snuffed out, looked scared.…


Janet  bent to pick up a shimmering bauble and hang it on the Christmas tree, when her phone rang. Dropping the bauble back into the box, she hurried to take the call.  It had to be Eric, she thought with a smile, as she put the instrument to her ear. But, when she heard the voice of her aunt Laura, her smile vanished.  She spoke with her aunt - the usual pleasantries she exchanged once in a while - and  dropped the phone back on the table.

               Disheartened,  she turned around to get back to decorating her tree, when she realised how quiet her apartment felt, in spite of the music player playing her favourite Christmas song, 'Silent night' . The night really felt so silent. All the merry-making happening in her neighbourhood seemed so far away. Not a sound entered her apartment. The deafening silence gave her a sudden jolt.  She reached for the nearest chair and collapsed into it.

"Oh, god, mum! Why did you have to leave me like that? This is…


Long back, I heard a song that simply took my heart away! It was by the pop group - Boyzone - which I am sure you must have heard.

It's only words, and words are all I have,
      to take your heart away...

     I agree, that  actions speak louder than words, but, isn't it also true, that our words do have the strength to not only take away someone's heart, but also break it in a thousand pieces?

       Words spoken with love, from the bottom of the heart, words of encouragement, of motivation, words of wisdom, spoken at the exact moment, words of advice, offered subtly and discreetly- they all have the desired effect. Words - they can actually turn a life around!  Can you imagine the enormous power our words  have?

     We humans have been blessed with the ability to speak - think and speak. But, do we ever give a thought to the effect our words can have on someone, especially, when uttered in the heat of the moment? We just go with the flow - the flow of…

A blessing.

Vicarious. it means, experienced in the imagination, through the feelings and actions of another person.

              The word just popped into my head today, and had me thinking if I have ever enjoyed or experienced something vicariously.  And, as if in answer, my nephew, P, came bounding down his room, waving his storybook, shouting excitedly "Ma, you promised me you would read the rest of the story today! Come, let's go and read!"

         Yes, my nephew calls me, Ma. That's short for Mami (aunt) in Marathi. It also means mother. And, because he is my sis-in-law's son, people  find it odd why he calls his aunt, Ma. Well, he calls me so because of  a request I made my sis-in-law the day he was born. I asked her if she could teach him to call me Ma, as Chikoo won't be able to call me so. The overwhelming sense of happiness, contentment on being called, "Mother", is incomparable to anything, ever. That is what I realised when he began calling me, M…

Miss you, my love!

Sniff sniff sniff...
   I follow her  trail,  to no avail. This is the spot where I met her yesterday, where we promised to meet  today. This is the place, where I set my eyes on her; she, in all her white furry glory, her light  brown eyes, her sexy whiskers, and her tail, swaying side to side. 
   There was something about the twinkle in those eyes, they grabbed my heart, and turned my world upside down. Her bark felt like music to my ears, her breath the sweetest breath, ever! And, her gait - oh, goodness, have I ever seen a more gracious sway before!?

  Here I am, waiting for her, missing her like crazy. Wondering when she will come, join me on my walk, and make this the best moment of my day. I find it tough to walk back home without a look at my love. But, go home, I must. For, tomorrow is another day , a day full of hope, a day full of promise. A hope that I will meet her, a promise that I will make her, of being her friend for the rest of my life, and showering her with my love f…

The tempter.

Hubby bought it last night - the pink paper bag of happiness.  "It was the only one available," he said. Although half asleep, I grabbed it and peeped inside. There, in a bright pink container sitting snugly in the  paper bag, was the tempter, and my all-time favourite - The Bavarian Chocolate Ice cream!

              It is something that can put an instant smile on my face, lift my spirits within seconds and add a spring to my step in the very first lick! I can wipe it clean, an entire tub, all by myself. Actually, I don't share it with anybody, and so can wipe it clean, in one sitting. My parents did teach me good manners, taught me to share stuff with my family, but, this tempter is one thing that I can not and will not share with anybody. Ever.

          Wonder what they put in it, but whatever it is, it sure is:

           ...umm, those are all the adjectives I can thin…

The birthday.

Their unbridled laughter reverberated around the deserted restaurant. This was the way they had celebrated each other's birthdays, right since childhood. The girls had always been there for each other, through all their highs and lows, supporting each other; an anchor to the other in times of need.

             Swapping stories of their lives over a chocolate cake, they were oblivious to the world around them, deeply engrossed in their conversation, when a ding on J's phone interrupted them. She threw a casual look at the screen, when the smile that had illuminated her face just a few moments ago, faded instantly. She drew in a deep breath and let out a sigh.
   "Is it..?" asked S, with a knowing look.

"Yup. Surprising!" whispered J, fiddling with the instrument, and then dropping it on the table.

"What does he say?"

         "Nothing. Just a "Hi". It's been long since I heard from him" she replied, when ano…

Five sentence fiction: The change.

The new bride sat by the window, gazing at the horizon, lost in her  thoughts; that spot, and her thoughts - she often took refuge there,   from reality, from her  new life, from the daily sniggering and  the bickering.

              Life had changed so much after marriage; gone were the days of her freedom, the days of living life with total abandon;  gone were her days.

             The life that once upon a time had belonged to her, now belonged to the man she had married, to  his family,and  to the life she had accepted as her own, or, had she?

               The womenfolk would murmur amongst themselves,"She scarcely mingles with us, hardly helps in doing the chores; does she at least interact with him?"

             They viewed her reticence as pride: pride, for being born into a rich family, pride, for being the fairest of them all, and pride, for being married to the only man left in their tiny hamlet, who hadn't been a victim of the black magic t…


Memories. How enlivening they can be, when they call out to us from our distant past, and add a touch of freshness to our lacklustre lives! Memories,  of  people from our past, who no longer share the physical world with us; memories of the warmth and  the love they showered on us. Is there anything else that can bring an instant smile to our faces,overwhelm us with a deluge of emotions, and quench our thirsty souls, leaving us refreshed and  invigorated?   Many a times, when I am lost in my thoughts,  I revisit  my past, and,  am at once enveloped in a snugness, like the comfort of a  soft old blanket, stashed away in the attic, to be retrieved every once in a while, and used as a cocoon in the cold days of winter.
             SInce quite some time, these memories have been of my grandparents. Their love, their indulgence, it fills my heart with emotions that I haven't experienced in quite a long time.  I have forgotten what it feels like to be pampered silly by a p…

Five Sentence Fiction: Isolation.

He trudges along in his 10X10 feet enclosure, pacing up and down; his breath laboured, his grunts heavy with the pain that he has been suffering from, since the past few months.
          His failing vision giving him  blurry images of his master, with a whip in his hand, shouting out the commands, his eyes - weakened further by the harsh halogen bulbs; his movements - slow, his old legs, no more able to perform the stunts; the isolation had meant just one thing: he had lost his value, 
          His moans go unnoticed, his pain, untreated; how long before it all comes to an end? 

           Life is, but, an irony; the king of the jungle, reduced to a shackled slave; living a life of misery at the mercy of a heartless human, for whom he is just a means to an end, to be used and thrown, offering a few moments of entertainment, all the while suffering from an unbearable pain.

      He squints, as his gaze sweeps the circus grounds, and sees his life reflecting back at him from every corner,…


I see her every evening, trudging along on the deserted street, lost in her thoughts. The wrinkles on her face tell countless tales of her life. But, her eyes - they seldom give away the pain they have seen.  She smiles at me, waves at me from across the road, if I fail to notice her, and asks, 
           "Did you complete your walk, or, have you just begun?"

          I don't know what it is about her, but we struck a bond right on our first meeting. We don't even know each other's names, but, there is something special  about 'aaji' (Marathi, for grandmother). She inspired  me to write one of my first poems. In fact, I think, she inspired me to look at life from a different angle, altogether. 
       When I look at her walking all by herself, I realise the true meaning of loneliness. The family you toiled for, the friends you so loved, are all long gone, leaving your world bereft of happiness. It's when you count (and are grateful for ) every passing …

A lesson learnt.

On the first day of this year, as is the norm, I made a resolution. I resolved to let go of old grudges, forgive and forget wounds inflicted in moments of passion, and open my arms wide enough for people to re-enter my life. It does take a fair amount of patience and understanding to look at things from other people's perspective, to understand why they did what they did. But, ultimately, it's worth the effort.  And, this valuable lesson I learnt from observing my mother (wonder what I would do without her!)
        As I age, I have begun to realise the importance of having people in my life. Not that I was leading the life of a hermit. But, I didn't give it much thought when somebody 'left' as a result of a misunderstanding. Or, due to lack of communication, or anything else, for that matter. These days, I feel my heart getting tensed when I realise someone, who has been close to me, moving away. I keep reading about how people come into our lives; some o…