We call him
Over and over again,
Sitting next to the phone,
Waiting
And praying,
And crying,
And praying again;
That he had reached home safe
And fallen deep asleep;
Or switched off his phone
After our fight last night;
Or run away
With the guy
His father is so against.
Anything’s better than
What the Police states…
They’ve found a body
In the bottom of the lake.
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.
I’m old.
With more than 50 years behind me, I’ve some fond memories. I remember bringing Eddie and Chris home the day they were born–such wee little things. And when Eddie married, I drove the happy couple to their honeymoon. I held his daughters as babies and even took them camping when they grew up…
It was fun while it lasted.
But nobody can carry on forever. So now that I tire easily and my joints make me groan, I spend my days sitting in the sun in the yard while the new generation does the hard work.
Sigh! Well, I had a good run…
Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash
The landslide victory of AAP in Delhi Union Territory (India) serves as the verdict from the soul of secular India:
“We want Progressive politics, not Hatred-politics.
Give us true development–better schools, hospitals, roads, buses, railways.
Stop your men from killing people over meat. Stop them from scaring us in submission.
Give us a corruption-free system. Give us the list of the Swiss Bank accounts you have received and kept quiet. Or give us the reason for doing so.
Then ask for a vote. Period.”
Sigh! I simply love this lighthouse. The view from the top is breathtaking, especially on starry nights. I can sit here and look at it forever. The same stars that light up the sky also shine in the ocean; you, in the middle, feel like you’re floating in the outer space…
But people avoid this place. They call it haunted!
Earlier, I tried to talk to the few people who came here, probably on a dare. I assured them there is nobody here but me. I should know—I’ve lived here for more than a thousand years.
But they ran away! What Ninnies! Well, nobody can say I didn’t try.
 Photo by Introspectivenl on Unsplash
It’s my personal hell
In my little town–
The wall by the pond
We graffitied together
To scare the passers-by
Snickering all the time–
The one that we openly
Laughed at later…
How well you knew
I was scared too!
With you gone under,
I throng that place now
Even though it creeps me,
Knowing you too well,
Hoping you’ll come back,
To scare me.
Photo by Bryan Debin on Unsplash
When I was broken,
You picked up my pieces
And put me together
Making me whole again,
Only to end up
Hurling stones
To smash and pick me
Everyday.
My piece of poetry published on one of my favourite sites: beetleypete.com
Also, check the site out for crime fiction serials that get you hooked.
“That angel smile is so fake. She threw the basin at me right before the session with the artist!”
“And that dress and hat are so yesterday, though they costed a small fortune!”
“Well, it’s a small price to keep a wife, who’s half your age, happy.”
“I can’t believe she painted her lips mauve. Even the queen couldn’t get away with that! And I wouldn’t even look at that mop of hair. ”
“If I had such unlimited access to makeup, I’d look far better.”
“Did you know she’s having an affair with the artist?”
“No way! Who told you?”
“I saw it while I waited on them everyday at the dinner. The looks they gave each other across the table…” (fanning her face)
“Well, I did wonder why he gave her the rose she’s holding.”
“He’s probably only after her money.”
“Sigh! If only I had that kind of money…”
Photo by Boston Public Library on Unsplash
The story is now a part of a short-story collection available both in print and as an ebook. I will share the links soon.
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 