Quas-e-qaza roz ho ye mumkin nahi,
Bulbule hi kafi hain muskurane ke liye.
Translation:
Rainbows won’t show up everyday.
Meanwhile,
Bubbles are enough to smile.
Rainbows
Ding Dong Bell, Knell in the Dell
The sound of the church bells at an unusual hour had the entire village whispering. The confusion was mixed with excitement as everybody closed their business to rush to the church. A place where entertainment were few and far between, anything was better than nothing.
The two middle-aged women walked at a brisk pace, so that they didn’t miss the ‘main event’. Out of breath, Mrs Pols grumbled, “I don’t think anybody was that sick in the village…”
“I hope it’s Elyn…” Mrs Stout said in a wishful tone, but seeing the older lady’s shocked expression, she backtracked, “I mean that she has finally eloped with that Johney Flynn,”
“Oh that! I agree. The two had been mooning over each other for too long. Did you see them kiss at the Harvest ball?”
“The entire village did. Shameless! My Tommy has never been the same since that day. He has had a soft spot for Elyn ever since he joined the village choir. They used to practice together every Sunday. But now, she only has eyes for that worthless Johney…”
“Well, I don’t understand what all the men in the village see in that girl beside her golden hair. A woman’s got to have some meat on her but that one looks like a matchstick. I’m not sure how she kneads dough and milks cows with those tiny hands. And she doesn’t even know how to brew ale,” Mrs Pols added in an indignant tone.
Mrs Stout was clearly shocked, “Oh my! How do you know?”
“Well, the other day, she asked me if I would teach her how to brew ale since her mother died long back. As if I would let a woman like her around my Michael…” Mrs Pols huffed.
“No wonder her father looks so pale…the poor man must be living on water. What a worthless woman! I really hope she has eloped so that my Tommy will get over her!”
“Well, there are other ways to distract young men. My Rosie would be happy to help,” Mrs Pols offered suggestively.
Mrs Stout took the hint, “Why don’t you bring her over for dinner tomorrow and we’ll let the chips fall where they may?”
So, the women kept refining their conspiracy the rest of the way until they reached the church, which was more crowded than on a Sunday. People were whispering amongst themselves but no one was speaking openly. So, they pushed through the bodies to reach the front. Elyn stood there, crying, while her father looked stricken. And ‘little’ Tommy was leaning over something furry…
The mother within Mrs. Stout roared, “Thomas Stout! What do you think you are doing? You are allergic to cats!”
“Mother, I am paying last respects. Poor Tabitha is dead…”
“Dead?” Elyn’s father was now shaking with rage, “Johney Flynn murdered her; threw her in the well! If wasn’t for Tommy dear here, we would never have found out.”
Johney looked aghast, “But why would I ever do that? “
“Because I wouldn’t let Elyn marry you. So, you took it out on our cat.”
“Rubbish!”
Tommy piped in, “I saw you, Johney. I was standing on the hilltop when you picked her up from outside the farm and threw her in the well.”
“But that’s not true!”
Tears trickled from Elyn’s eyes as she fumed, “I saw you kick her the other day!”
“I told you earlier, I wasn’t kicking her. She was using my leg for a scratch post. I was just trying to shrug her off.”
“Liar! I don’t want to see you again,” Elyn shouted, crying in the earnest leaning on Tommy’s shoulder as he put a protective hand around her.
“Fine! Have it your way!” Johney stomped away.
At the coroner’s cue, little “Tommy Stout” picked up the little dead cat and walked to the tiny grave with Elyn by his side, a smile tugging at his lips.
Dreams
Can’t sleep even if I tried,
Strangled by dreams awake wide;
Had I been able to get a wink,
Probably would have died!
Translation in Urdu
Neend hi toh nahi aati, bas khwab hi hain.
Jo neend bhi aa jati toh mar hi na jate?!
Dictate Feature to Help Typing Faster
I recently had a minor wrist injury and due to lack of enough leave (1.5-2 months typically for minor ligament injury), I had to return to work from home. I could not move my wrist or type without wincing. Since typing was 60% of my job at that point in the project (I create trainings for adult learners), it was impossible to work.
My supervisor was sympathetic, so he helped me in the best possible way. He showed me the Dictate feature in MS Word. It is a small mic in the submenu.
You can just click it and begins speaking. It will type whatever you speak. Once you are done speaking, click the mic again and it will stop. It easily understands Indian accent, so I believe it works for others as well.
There is small downside, the typed material is not perfect. You will need to edit it, add punctuations, fix spellings. Also, it picks up all the close by voices, so it picked up my daughter as she told me about her day on the side. So, I had to delete that part. But it is still infinitely faster than typing every word.
Also, most smartphones provide the same feature on WordPress. If you open WordPress on phone (go online to your WordPress account or use the phone application), your typing pad will show a mic on the side. Just click it and speak. Click it again once you are done. The result is not as good as MS Word. The first two may be unrecognizable, but if you give it a few tries–go slower, emphasise your words correctly–you will be able to get a decent result on third or fourth try. It is just editing then.
Just try it. You wrist will thank you!
Catford Catastrophe Zone | Book Review
“London, 2120. Frankie dreams of being promoted from undercover police officer to DNA-enhanced crime fighter. She just needs to complete one more mission to prove she’s got what it takes.
However, that new mission is to spy on a secret rebellion in a poverty zone – and Frankie has no idea what a poverty zone is, since nobody has ever escaped one.
Once she’s arrived in the Catford Zone, she realises the rumours barely do justice to the horror.
She must face the wild chaos of glitching brain implants and mutant insects, while the locals tell her it’s too dangerous to walk at ground level, but won’t tell her why.
Her boss won’t let her leave until she has completed the mission, even though Frankie is convinced there is nothing to investigate. The highly trained ‘rebels’ are just a group of hapless hippies and hysterics attempting to survive in the hellscape. As she uncovers their bizarre and tragic secrets, she is pulled deeper into the chaos and subterfuge and is unsure if she will ever escape.”
Honestly, I am not big fan of science fiction but there are some books that you just can’t put down. The Catford Catastrophy Zone by Petra Jacob certainly qualifies as one.
I have always been a fan of Petra’s unique way of looking at things and humorous twist in everything she sees. Once I started reading the first chapter, I was not able to put it down. I laughed, at times I felt the pain, and then I laughed again.
This book talks about environmental issues and societal too, all the while never being preachy. It gives you sleepless nights until you finish it and it leaves you wanting more. How exactly do I feel about the book in one line?
“It’s all gravy!” 😉
Read the book to know why!
I request you all to share this wonderful gem across the blogging community. And give it a thought when you are looking for clean entertainment.
You can find The Catford Catastrophy Zone by Petra Jacob on Amazon.
Roots
Once again, it is time to pull our roots and move on. A sense of déjà vu grips me as I plan where to go and how to go unnoticed. It is even more difficult now than the last time. As per the Vampires, we will need to take the back roads to avoid being seen or captured on the numerous cameras that dot the main roads. If it was just me, I wouldn’t have bothered. Once you have lived for a thousand years, you lose the wish to struggle for life. But there are young ones to consider. They were not around the last time, and I wouldn’t wish them to have the same memories we elders do—nightmares, I would call them.
It is difficult to believe that it has been four hundred years already. We were living in that quiet forest for thousands of years. The peace had made us complacent, and we hadn’t bothered to keep up with the world. Otherwise, we would have noticed when the river nymphs shunned the dirty waters and when the dead fishes started washing ashore. We were lulled into a false sense of safety, only to be rudely awakened by the sounds of horse carts.
There had been no warning, nor a declaration of war—they just fell on us with saws and axes. It was a massacre. They had picked the strongest and tallest of us first as we stayed limp in our places, still waking from our deep slumber. We were all stuck–our root had grown too deep, and our stems and branches were unmoving by the long disuse. It took us hours to get feeling in our roots, shake the soil around our feet and get away in the dead of night. We neither had the numbers nor the strength to retaliate.
The humans must have wondered where all the trees had all gone while they slept.
So many of us had died that night. Many others were gravely injured not capable of moving. We had to leave them behind to be chopped to pieces the next day. That day is still branded on our hearts for eternity. It took us decades to settle down in this new place; to start a life without fear; to stop waking up waving our branches like lunatics, fighting unseen enemies.
No, I wouldn’t impose those memories on our saplings. I wouldn’t be caught napping again.
As per what the birds have told, the humans plan to cut down and flatten this space where we live–they plan to build living spaces for their never-ending progeny. Well, they can take the land, but they wouldn’t touch us again. We can fight back—we have been practicing on windy days, moving our branches around and pulling out our roots to kick. But it is pointless. Humans will keep coming back with reinforcements. It makes more sense to move away. We will leave tonight.
Yes, we will need to push the young saplings to move—they are too intelligent for their own good and too sassy to deal with. They are moaning about the new place and adjustments, quoting a thousand reasons for why they shouldn’t leave, threatening us with tears. Well, they can cry and complain all they want once they are safe and alive.
The Vampires have offered to show us the way. These good people have always been our allies. They have been quiet neighbours who have slept hanging from our branches peacefully every day, leaving at night to eat and returning at dawn. Since they know their way around the city from their nightly hunts, it is easier for them to guide us than birds. The birds and squirrels will come with us, of course. They cannot let us leave with their nests and eggs and they cannot carry them elsewhere.
As the Vampires described them, the thought of the dark, smelly alleys infested by ghouls left me shivering. The narrow spaces with tall buildings on both sides will be a tight fit for most of us. Some of us may have scratches all over, others will have to leave branches behind. At least, we will live—if we make it to the end undetected, of course.
Because ghouls wouldn’t let us pass easily. We have denied them living space for far too long. But we could not associate with someone who moans all night, throwing things around and being a pest—there wouldn’t have been any sleep at all. So, of course, they will see this moment as a chance to vindicate themselves. They would probably fill our way and throw things around to create noise. Thankfully, the Vampires have promised to stand on our side adding to our numbers if the ghouls pose a problem. Together, we might win without fighting, which is imperative to our survival.
Because fighting will ensue noise and if the humans wake up and look out of the window, they will find an entire redwood forest standing on their backroad. There will be hell to pay!
So, we must go quietly. There is a “nature reserve” that the Vampires have told us about. They say that humans do not touch the trees over there—something about the law protecting the “nature”. It will be sad to lose the company of the Vampires eventually, though. They will have to return to the city and find new accommodations. The poor beings cannot survive too far from their habitat—as their sole source of food, an abundance of human populace is a must for their survival.
Also, they don’t fare too well around Fairies that apparently infest this nature reserve. I can already feel the little pests crawling up on my body, making home on my toadstools and throwing raucous parties all night. There will be no sleep.
Sigh! It will be a new territory and we will have to forge new alliances. Well, we will cross that bridge once we’re there. For now, we can just hope to survive.
Passing Through
To enter a public pool, you are required to shower first (unless you are the janitor).
To enter a library, you are required to know your alphabets first (unless you are the janitor).
To enter a police station, do you need to go to jail first?
(unless you are janitor, of course)
.
On a second thought, why can janitors get inside without passing the eligibility criteria?
Question for blogging community
I am presently planning a couple of short stories collections with 5-6 stories each with around 8000-9000 words. Do you think it is an acceptable length for a short stories collection?
If not, what should be the minimum length?
My Neighbour: The Adventurer
To call me an adventurer would be an overkill. I am just your regular guy who loves lying in the sun on a free day. But these busy bodies I have as neighbours…
Well, let’s just say they just don’t appreciate the art of doing nothing.
Here I was, minding my own business, lying on this metal contraption my neighbours had brought in recently. The white tyre cover is irresistible and I was lying down on the surface warmed by the sun earlier that day. The neighbour, of course, was infinitely jealous by my comfort and switched on the front light.
Not easily rattled, I paid him no mind. But then, there were the moths on the front light!
I mean, who in the world could resist these delicacies? So, I moved up and made a snatch for one of them but before I could catch it, the moron started the dratted machine.
And I was flying!
I was racing through the roads at a reckless speed that reminded me of the time when that Eagle picked me and cousin Gill from the white wall. Gill didn’t make it. I had to leave my tail behind.
The thought made me sick…
All the while, I was clutching the damned light with all I had, praying to the God of all Lizards to make this stupid contraption stop. These kind of things should come with a disclaimer–a large yellow banner saying, “Stay Away! It Moves!”
Why couldn’t this guy tell me that it moves? Or at least he could have asked me to move before he started it. I always knew that humans were not friendly to our lizard-kind but discourteous too?
Humph! Well, finally it stopped and stayed put for a while.
It wasn’t a bad place. Seemed like a feast was going on around several lights–loads of insects and lizard brethren about the place. Very nice people. Adjusting too. Shared the spoils with me and everything. I even met a girl I really liked–lush curves and a tail with a really unique pattern. I think she got it done at a shop. It suits her.
I wanted to stay but I couldn’t for long, though. The guy was already moving towards the bike. This new girl told me the name of the metal contraption. She thought I was really brave to ride that metal monster! I wish I could stay!
But I hadn’t told mom I was travelling and she would be worried out of her mind, especially after cousin Gill. So, when the guy started leaving on the metal contraption, I hitched a ride again, willingly this time.
As the wind swept over my face when I wasn’t in shock, the whole thing felt mighty fun. May be, the whole “art of doing nothing” was overrated. May be, I will hitch a ride again tomorrow and come back for that girl…
Mom wouldn’t be pleased though.
But who cares?!
Strangled
I brush my feet on grass
and feel nothing,
no dew, no earth, no grass blades.
.
My bare arms feel neither
the wind nor warmth
of the soft afternoon sun.
.
My senses drowned, strangled
by running thoughts,
shouting, demanding audience.
.
Life tears rare moment
of peace, leaving
me in pieces everyday…
A passing thought in Urdu:
Sukoon nahi hai mujhko marne ke baad bhi,
Ae Zindagi, tu peechaa kyun chhodti nahi!
Translation:
In death, I still find no peace,
Dear Life,
Why wouldn’t you let me be!
Author’s note: What do you think about life?
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 