Posted in My life

Claws

Lions are clawing me inside out!

Okay, I am on a diet–a high protein, low carb, no fat diet–a healthy diet that involves loads of milk, protein shake, fruits and nuts. What it lacks is everything I love–Breads of all kinds, rice, pasta, noodles, patties, pastries, even porridge! Chapattis (Indian bread) with veggies and pulses once a day are its saving grace. You see, I am a foody with a very low hunger threshold. I eat every three hours and I love variety in food. Hence most of my day is spent creating or planning that variety. So, dieting is beyond me.

But my husband could see my love for food was creating tires around my waist, and now these car tires were aspiring to become truck tires soon. Worse part, I was unwell with joint pain and body ache, thanks to the fast reduction and, then, adoption of weight in the past one year, thanks to Hypo-Thyroid and it’s medication’s side-effect. So my husband finally put his foot down.

11th July was the first day of the torture. My diet has been split in 3-hour schedule with smaller portions that provide me with only what I need, which means no fat, low carbs. I could feel lions clawing me inside out–I guess, they had always lived there, eating my food. Now with the famine, they are reminding me of their existence. I was techy, angry and on the verge of crying all day. But nothing would move my stone-hearted husband to give a hungry wife a few morsels of bread (with butter and jam).

Next day, the clawing had mellowed down slightly, at least I wasn’t crying. Or may be, I was too busy with laundry and other household duties to notice them too closely. I survived.

Today has dawned with the old clawing back. While I work on my computer, I can feel the desperation in this clawing. I think they know they are going to die of starvation soon. I hope this entire pride dies soon, for this diet is here to stay for a while.

Please pray for my safe return…

Colin McQueen, earlier you had talked about the hazards of running. I will take that any day as compared to this.


Free photo by Louis Hansel on Unsplash

Posted in Blogging

Woohoooo! 200 followers!

I just found out that I have 200 WP followers and it means the world to me. These people aren’t my family. But they ready stories and liked them enough to give me a second chance! Thank you, All of you, for that!

My stories have a comment section. If you feel that the story could have been better, let me know that. This blog is my Sandbox. I am open to suggestions as I play with words.

Thank you, once again. Here are some sweets for dessert! ๐Ÿง๐Ÿจ๐Ÿฆ๐Ÿฉ๐Ÿซ๐Ÿฌ๐Ÿญ๐Ÿฎ

Posted in Fiction

Spell-Check

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I’m sure, the quill had lost its potency, or may be it’s the fancy ink I had purchased at the Witch’s Supplies store. They had guaranteed that anything written with the quill and ink will be accepted for publication without fail. But I should have known better–these readymade spells wear off after a few readings, and I, myself, had reread the manuscript at least four times.

Was that why it had felt rather bland in the last reading?

Now the entire thing has returned from the publisher and I had to pay for the return Owl as well. And to think, I had spent three months writing the entire thing with hands.

Once Paa hears of it, I’ll never hear the end of it. Over and over, he had offered me his spell-operated typewriter with the secret homemade Publication ink–the one he had used for all of his 18 published books. But I had been too proud to accept the favour. And now he’s busy writing his 19th, so typewriter is busy.

May be I’ll beg him for his secret ink recipe…anything for the elusive Booker Prize…


Photo by Clark Young on Unsplash

Posted in Nature stories

My Neighbours: The Legislators

We’ve been getting too many knocks on the windows during lockdown. This series is dedicated to these neighbours.

Ever met those black coats who gather in huge numbers to discuss important matters, dissent on everything, protest for everything, speak all at once for hours, and then go away without discussing anything worthwhile? The sharp eyes, the curt manner, the voice that doesn’t accept ‘No’ for an answer…

Around 40 Starlings (Myna) gather on neighbour's roof to discuss god-knows-what.

A Starling (Myna) stares sharply into the future.

Ever so often, they campaign for a cause. They knock on the door, squawk a curt greeting and cry “Vote, vote, vote” and hurry away before I can understand anything.

Not sure if they expect a reply. My voice won’t carry that far anyway.


Author’s note: I always believed Myna as uninteresting until I moved to Baghpat. For the first time, I noted the subtle differences between the various myna breeds that frequent the area. I don’t have decent shots of all types but here are a few.

Grey-coat Orange-eyed

Black-coat White-shirt Pied

Grey-coat Orange-shirt Brahmini

Posted in Fiction

Burning Mist

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The world was on fire, but no one felt the burning heat, except she, who walked alone on snow–barefoot, her clothes frayed from her last struggle not unlike her soul–waiting patiently for revenge, until they bring back another, as she knew they would.


Photo by Daniel Mirlea on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction

The Misty Castle

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The crumbling walks

and tottering walls

whisper the stories of bygone…

The gates relive the shrieks

of the maidens the princes took…

Floor echoes the laments

of farmers forced to give up

lands to build the majestic view…

The walls, washed since,

hold traces of blood

of labour forced to trade

shovel for spears

to fight the battles

they didn’t choose…

All to pacify kings

who couldn’t care less if

babies died of hunger…

The wind in the castle

passages quietly whispers

to those who’d close their eyes

to the view and just listen…


Photo by Cederic X on Unsplash

Posted in My life

Wearing Jerome’s Shoes

Here is an excerpt from Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome. While this book is always on my mind, it came to me today because of the happenings in the past three weekends, and in fact, the past five years of my life.

“And we other boys, who would have sacrificed ten terms of our school-life for the sake of being ill for a day, and had no desire whatever to give our
parents any excuse for being stuck-up about us, couldn’t catch so much as a stiff neck. We fooled about in draughts, and it did us good, and freshened us up ; and we took things to make us sick, and they made us fat, and gave us an appetite. Nothing we
could think of seemed to make us ill until the holidays began. Then, on the breaking-up day, we caught colds, and whooping cough, and all kinds of
disorders, which lasted till the term recommenced ; when, in spite of everything we could manoeuvre to
the contrary, we would get suddenly well again, and be better than ever.”

I have low immunity and get viral fever whenever season changes, but only on weekends and, then, become completely well on Mondays and ready to work. Nearly 80 percent of my sick leave lapse unused every year while so many weekends are killed. My super manager had once joked that our team has a habit of falling ill only when there is no work. It comes back to me ever so often.

For the first time in past five years, I am out of office for illness for more than a couple of hours (five days already and would need another tomorrow). It feels weird in extreme to not open my laptop for five days in a row, as if I’ve lost a limb.

Thank goodness for the WordPress app on my phone to keep me engaged. Else, I would have gone crazy with boredom.