I walk around the city
without purpose
drowning in gloom.
Long unemployment
Often does that to you.
Yellow flashes
in the corner of my vision
in a crack of the pavement
pulling me forward,
a marionette on strings.
A cluster of flowers,
smaller than my nail,
stand tall, smiling,
in a place
where stomping feet
can wipe them out
instantly.
They care not,
smiling
in the face of adversity,
unlike me.
Waves race to mark the passage of time.
Crashing against the rocks, daring me.
I wait for nothing.
Looking back, I see nothing.
Looking ahead, I see the Sun close to close.
So am I.
Author’s note: For those of you wondering, I am not suicidal. But one month of being locked up with a bunch of crazies (my family) pushes you down the precipice.
Photo by Maksym Ivashchenko on Unsplash
The story is now part of a short-story collection available in black-white and coloured prints and as an ebook. I will share the links soon.
My tired mind hopes for a stroll,
but the stench of traffic assaults me
and slams back the door.
Sigh! How I miss home.
The place where I grew,
jasmine wafted through the windows,
harsingar filled the roads.
Frogs lured me out,
crickets sang all night, and
fireflies gilded the path with gold.
The moon shone brighter,
stars seemed more and merrier.
Woodfire and
roast potatoes called to me,
pulling me where men told stories
of ghosts on peepal tree,
and herds of deer.
I wonder where the deer are now,
for the pastures are long gone.
I feel sad for the Peepal tree ghosts
who lost their favorite haunts.
No Harsingar or Jasmine
no fireflies, owls, crickets and frogs,
dwell the unyielding cement roads.
No one gathers around woodfire
to share stories or lore.
How I miss the home
of my childhood,
for this is home no more.
This piece is inspired by Mohan, my friend and colleague, who told me about the real Bangalore, a place he lost over the past two decades of ‘development’. Â
Authors note: I am trying a different genre now inspired by the Ellen’s Wonderfuss Faeries. You can visit her blog for a good laugh combined with Scottish mythology. I am fairly new at the genre though. Also, I am painting after 15 years. So, bear with me.
Meet Bagula Saheb, our resident delivery guy, He brought my daughter home three years back. For many years, he had been handling local deliveries on his own (Cranes usually manage the intercity stuff.)
But lately, he had been looking a little grumpy. I guess the constant work-related travel and the increasing pressure on his time was getting at him. I tried to talk to him but he just won’t stop, always crying “Busyyyyy! Busyyyyy!” Lately, the lockdown has locked the humans in their homes, and birds and animals have a free reign outdoors, more work seemed to be coming his way. So, I wasn’t surprised when I saw him approaching the higher-ups for help.
The result was heartening. He was instantly provided with a female colleague. Together, they were promised a brood of tiny apprentices to train in the coming months. Once ready, these apprentices will take most of the workload off his shoulders.
He seemed to be over the moon by the arrangement. I could hear him cackling with delight all night, earning him some very sleepy, grumpy and puffy-eyed neighbors. But well, who cares! Woohoo!
My daughter turned three this month. Amidst the Corona Virus scare, we were not able to celebrate. We also had to postpone her admission to playschool. Still, I wanted to make the day special for her.
Then my mind drifted to the Playhouse I build last year for 1.5 USD. The flowers were now peeling off and the color yellow had become mellow. My family was planning to discard it. I thought better and gave my child a Playschool and something to occupy her time.
It cost three dollars (around 200 Rs). I pasted 16 pieces of card sheets, glue, and cello tape. Then, wrote English-Hindi alphabets and numbers on the inner sides. Tadaaaaaaaaa! The school was ready.
For decoration, I hired professional help–my daughter. I gave her colors and a free reign. She is still having a gala time ‘decorating’ it!
Here is the result.
I drew the animals, she coloured.
.
She drew the animals, we coloured.
The best part is that within a month, my daughter learnt how to write English alphabets just because of the excitement and the sense of importance. The ‘play-school’ walls are full of animal names my daughter has written and we are progressing to numbers next.
And I have a wonderful artifact that will be auctioned for 1000 dollars someday! (Well, a mother can hope!)
The story is now part of a short-story collection available in black-white and coloured prints and as an ebook. I will share the links soon.
Hi All,
These are difficult times. People are home bound and a lot of them who earn their bread daily can’t feed their families anymore. I urge we share surplus with them.
In Islam, there is a concept of sharing 2.5% of your surplus every year. It is a complex calculation but in simple terms: if I have had money, jwellery, or property that I am not living in, and had it for more than an year, I give away 2.5% of its value. It keeps a lot of families afloat. And somehow, I feel richer by giving away.
Not everyone will be ready to part with that kind of money, but if you can spare even one dollar to feed empty stomachs, you get blessings, regardless of the value.
Here are four ways to do it:
These are desperate times. I urge you to do your bit and deserve the blessings you have.
Photo by Kat Yukawa on Unsplash
Watch the video to know why staying at home is once in a lifetime opportunity. Don’t forget to laugh!
I’m not afraid of him anymore. Sure, he hit me plenty earlier but I was a puny little thing then. His belt marks and cigarette burns have long faded away from my body.
My father doesn’t dare come too close now that I’m a bigger bully than him…
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
Short Stories 