Posted in Guest post

Guest Post: Ngozi Awa

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

I’d like to present a guest post by Ngozi Awa. She is fellow blogger and friend who shares heartfelt pieces of her life and other stories on her blog http://doshelles.com.

The Quiet and Reserved Ones


As an undergraduate, I wasn’t the boldest or the most eloquent in class. However, I knew I wanted to make a difference in the quality of studentship in the department. So, there came the decision to run for one of the supporting leadership positions in the department’s students’ association.

When I indicated interest to run for Treasurer of the Department of English and Literary Studies Students’ Association, I was laughed off. My classmates and seniors described me as withdrawn and shy. I was pained at the low levels of confidence I received from my classmates. I thought they could see past my quiet demeanour.

I didn’t let their disapproval stop me from pursuing my goal. I vied for the position, wrote and delivered a manifesto that sent the crowd to their feet with rounds of applause. I won the position.

It is okay to be reserved, quiet, or even withdrawn but you have to step out of your comfort zone once in a while.
Like Master Shifu of The Kung-fu Panda series says “If you do only what you can do, you will never be more than you are now.”

You can read more of her beautiful stories at http://doshelles.com/.

Posted in Poetry

The Prey

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

I was early today. My regular haunt, a local cafe’, had provided me with numerous conversations with different women in the past. Nearly each one led to fun-filled first dates and steamy nights. I never asked for a second date–do that and women begin planning the names of the babies.

I found her looking out of the window. A pretty face with a body to match. Her shoulder weren’t pulled back in haughty confidence. Approachable. Easy target. Perfect.

I approached her table and cleared my throat to get her attention but she was lost outside. Something about her ways felt serene–no fidgeting, no leg tapping.

I tapped on the table. That got her attention. But when I asked for permission to sit with her, she just shrugged in the universal sign of ‘suit yourself’ and returned to look out of the window.

To say I was surprised was an understatement. I’m what people call as tall, dark and handsome, so I’m not used to being ignored by women. I sat down and looked out to understand what held her attention–a conversation between a child and a man, probably his father. The child was using signs and the man was having difficulty in understanding.

The way her lips were turned up at the sight, she seemed to find it all amusing–not in the sneering, jeering, judgemental way, but the way you’d witness a bird’s baby learning to fly.

I coughed to get her attention. Nothing.

Trying another tactic, I sent myself a message. My message ringtone is a custom-made guitar tone and always gets women’s attention. Not this time though.

The waiter came with her order and glared at me with a ‘do not mess with her’ look. I was surprised! He had been quite cordial for so many months. Was she his girl?

He placed her order on the table. She looked up and, with a large friendly smile, she thanked him…in signs. He smiled back with a no-problem gesture and left the table, giving me a last glare.

I got up to get my order from the counter, and sat back down on the farthest table, awaiting another prey…

Photo by Ammpryt ART

Posted in Nature stories

My Neighbours: The Rebel

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

The lockdown has shown us weird things, but this is weirdest of all. If you have have read the Minions, you probably already know the context of this war.

Our house is under attack.

Ever since the recent house cleaning during Bakrid holidays, we had sighted increased activity close to our borders. While the reaction from the Arachne clan was expected who lost several lives in the process, their alliance with the neighbouring Wasp and Bee clans is rather surprising.

For the past five years, we had refrained from open hostilities on either sides. Our relationship had been rather cordial. We’d allowed free passage to the visiting bees and wasps, and had traversed outside our house and beneath their trees without an incident. But lately, we have seen a change in the pattern on their side.

Suicide attacker bees have been entering our borders stinging unassuming and unprepared civilians. While it is rather crippling experience for some time, it seems to be a ruse to hide the unauthorised infiltration by wasps.

There have been unofficial sightings of wasps entering our borders and lingering longer than needed, in spite of clear laws against outstaying their welcome. We have also found several bunkers hiding young soldiers along with food supplies. All this has forced us to revisit our rules regarding our dealings with foreign personnel.

  • Amendment 1: Don’t pay heed Swipe with a broom if they enter.
  • Amendment 2: Escort to window Hit with shoes if they do not leave immediately.

Some residents have also noticed unusual activities on the outer railings and windows of our house that are becoming full of spider webs overnight. While it was a usual occurrence overtime, the duration has decreased twenty times and the impacted area has increased ten folds, making it look like a well-planned strategy.

Considering that spider webs are three times stronger than steel wires, and the doors are being guarded by wasps and bees, it seems that the three clans–Arachne, Wasp and Bee–plan to trap us inside the house by cutting off all avenues of retreat, to be slayed by the hidden wasp, bee and spider soldiers.

Unprepared, we are trying to fight back with whatever comes to hand–brooms, mops, shoes–but, clearly, we are fighting a losing battle, like Lord Voldemort’s men dealing with an army of house elves, not sure how to fight back their magic.

The future looks bleak. We might have to flee through the hidden tunnel that Matthew built earlier this year (that is, if it is not already sealed by the spiders)–and leave the house to the rebels.

God save us!

Posted in Nature stories

My Neighbours: The Minions

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

Not sure what went wrong that day. We had never seen the Giantess in such a rage before.

We have lived in the castle in harmony with the Giantess for many generations. She’s a mage–she sits in front of her magic crystal box, and as moves her fingers across, moving pictures of far and beyond appear showing what, clearly, is the future. Sometimes, she chants in languages unknown and moves her hands and feet (she has only two each) in a ritual dance. But in spite of all her eccentricities, mostly, she’d been gentle and unobtrusive for centuries.

My grandma often told us stories about her opening windows to let out the trespassing bees and wasps rather than crushing them under foot, as is the usual practice among giants. Hence, yesterday, her actions came as unexpected.

She came to us with her face covered and swiped with a long sword with a big round top. Scared, we all moved back until our backs hit the wall and there was nowhere to hide. We ran in all directions. But she kept following one or the other, cursing and panting and puffing. Most of us took refuge in the various caves in the walls. Those who couldn’t were murdered in cold blood. When her sword couldn’t reach those of us in the caves, she became frustrated and broke our little houses.

Then she continued this act in all the halls, killing quite a few of my kin within the hour.

Now that we are done with the mourning, we’ve decided to avenge our dead. We’ve spoken to the Queen Bee and various Wasps around the place and they agree that the Giants, as they spend most of their time at home planning and plotting, are slowly becoming unhinged, and cannot to be trusted; and that our Giantess is now in league with the Dragons who abound the castle.

Hence the Bees and Wasps are now our allies and we are planning a joint attack tonight with our full combined forces, and take over the castle.

Let the world see that minions shall not be belittled.

Free photo by DivyadarshiAch1 on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction

World on Fire

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

“From the hole in the box, I could see them beat Abba until he couldn’t move. Ammi begged them to spare him but they held her back by the hair and one of them tore her clothes and laughed.

Then they tied Abba in a sack and dragged him out. We couldn’t find him after that. I’m afraid they threw him in a nullah to drown, like Zameer bhaijaan next door and Imran bhaijaan who ran the bicycle shop.

They were crying ‘Jai Shri Ram!’ (Victory be with Ram). I wonder who this Ram is and how he could win by killing those who weren’t even fighting against him.”

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Posted in Fiction

Guest Post: Vaidehi

Posted on by Shaily Agrawal

I’m pleased to present a short story by a fellow blogger, Vaidehi. In her story, she explores emotions rather than events. Her style is simple yet powerful. I loved the piece. I hope you do too.

ABANDONED
I am old and frayed now.

Nevertheless, I am classy, one of substance and not like the new ones on the block. And yet, here I am, abandoned and lonely.
When I was young and in good company, I had many admirers and conversations in elegant circles revolved around me. Life was good.
Over the years, I was slowly relegated to the background. At first, to the back of the shelf and then to the trunk in the attic. But nobody can deny that I was and still am the best in deductive crime fiction. The characters that unfold as you turn my pages are still alive in the minds of people. I am told that they are still making films and serials with my main characters.
All this crowding and jostling in the trunk exasperate me. Even a trash can would be better than this! Soon, I was picked up with several others of my clan and shoved into, you guessed it right, the trash can. Talk to me about a self-fulfilling prophecy!
Abandoned and hurt, I had no faith in humankind. After a long and painful journey, I lay in the dump and resigned myself to being shred or burnt or just left to decay.
I woke up from my stupor when a gloved hand picked me up and crammed me into a coat pocket. “Now what?” I thought. I dimly remember that I passed through several hands over the next few days, none that is worth mentioning.
So, I was pleasantly surprised when the young woman looked at me with interest and I felt the care in her touch. She cleaned my red leather cover carefully, removing the smudges and stains of years of neglect and the rough and tumble of the last few days. My title glittered again and I shone like a new coin.
What does a book want? To be handled carefully, to be read with interest and to be valued. She did all this and much more.
I had been with her for quite some time when, one day, she picked me up, put me in her handbag and left for work. I was enjoying the snug ride when she took me out, put a paste-on note on my cover and placed me gently by her side on the metro train seat. I was quite happy to have a separate seat and looked around brimming with pride, to check if anyone had noticed. But I am sad to say that all of them were totally engrossed with a gadget held in their hands.
As my owner got up to alight, I looked up at her expectantly. To my dismay, she moved to the door, glanced back at me and got off. What? Abandoned again?
I sat there clueless and despondent. While several passed, an elderly man stopped in front of me, read the note and picked me up. Smiling, he flipped through the pages and put me in his bag. My stay with him was brief but wonderful as he too read and valued me. A few days later, I was left by him deliberately on one of the benches of a metro station.
So, here I am, lying abandoned on the metro for the umpteenth time and waiting for yet another eager reader to pick me up. I have learnt now that I am a part of a social project “book on the metro”. Books are left at prominent places on the metro trains and stations, to be picked by interested readers, who would leave the books again for others. Thus, the chain of readers continues.
Needless to say that I now love being abandoned.

For more such stories, visit Vaidehi’s blog at https://vvaidehi.wordpress.com