A collection of short stories
FROZEN MEMORIES OF A STORYTELLER
Written by
Jayanthi Narayan
A short story dedicated to parents, they have sacrificed their happiness, wants, and needs. Have they spend even a day for themselves? Looking back, I think I should have written this letter to my parents long ago. They would have cried reading it, for all that they have done for us children.
*** Live for yourself ***
She was anxiously waiting for the postman. It's was a cold, windy, foggy day. Ramu was trying his best to ride the old Hero bicycle, his friend, for the past 30 years.
His khaki dress has drenched, and his thick spectacles had rain droplets. Zareena walked inside and outside of the old fashioned tharavadu.
The moss in the narrow path leading to the gate was slippery.
She cursed the rain. Ramu finally showed up; he yelled from the road, excitedly.
"You have a letter!" She ran to the gate, huffing, and puffing, grabbed the inland from him.
"Mollude Katha?" ( Is it your daughter's letter) Almost in tears, Zareena shook her head.
She only knows how she reached her room, holding the inland dearly to her bosom—feeling the warmth of her little girl. Zareena sat in the comfortable chair which creaked. She cleaned the reading glasses with her saree pallu, opened the letter.
Umma, today is your day. Please cook your favorite spicy fish curry with tapioca just for yourself. You have for years cooked all our favorite dishes. Making sure we relished. You have read thousands of bedtime stories to us.
But today you, read your fantasy storybook which, you hide under the soft pillow, sitting on your comfortable chair. You have made sure we had warm water to take a bath by boiling it early in the morning before making breakfast for us. Today you enjoy your luxurious oil bath, apply sandalwood powder, and comb your thick long hair. Wear that pink saree with a light orange pallu. You looked gorgeous in it. Today make your special ginger tea with crushed cloves. Enjoy it slowly listening to your favorite song, close your eyes and sing along. Love and hugs Jasmine ***
Zareena smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She sat on the jhula.
The gentle evening breeze had the fragrance of champaka flowers.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
The rescue
***
Linda could not hold her curiosity, and the corridors were narrow, slippery, and green. Dark moss was making it more difficult to crawl. She could hardly breathe.
She cursed the rain and the muddy pool that created.
The railway station was very close to the enormous meadow. Linda could hear the horns and fast approaching train.
She had almost given up her hopes to make it back to her burrow. She could hear her heart thumping.
The gang of mongooses was waiting for a chance to grab their snack. The stork standing in one leg in search of easy prey stood still.
She closed her eyes, dreaming of those juicy carrots she desperately wanted to nibble from the garden.
The rain had started to pour again; the gushing water carried her to the garden; she was in the muddy pool.
All she could remember was she was gently lifted and carefully left on top of the broken wooden table.
She could hear the sniff, and Roger was trying to save yet another life. He wagged his bushy tail as he saw her moving her head, her red eyes glancing at him.
####
She sat on the corner of the kitchen, reckoning about what to cook for supper. The amber coal in the stove was still burning.
The strong wind made the wooden windows slam against each other. The night owl sat on the large oak tree. "Why bother, " she murmured. "He was not going to come home." She set the table, kept sparkling wine and cheese for him. The slow-roasted chicken was on the table. Waiting for him on the couch, she closed her eyes and visualized the beautiful evening she could have spent with him. The waves were slow and rough at times, touching their tired feet. She held the violin, and he was standing behind her, helping her play a romantic note. The sun was setting at the horizon.
***
The blackboard was empty. A little kitten was playing with small pieces of chalk. The chilly night and cold made it tough for him. He was making a painting of himself and the girl he loved, playing the violin as the waves lapped at their feet.
Love is in the air!
***
Sit like a duck in the room and don't walk on the beach."
She was so furious. Driving to a lovely beach resort and chilling out on the beach with him was all she wanted.
But he wants to talk to his business associates' work and work endlessly, even on vacation!
He hurriedly ate his dinner and vanished, for a zoom call, the previous night.
She sat at the table for a couple of hours, looking at the calm beach, enjoying the moonlight, and playing soft piano music in the background.
Morning she got up very late and decided to go for a long walk on the golden sand beach, holding his hands and talk to him.
He got up, had a tea, rushed to the restaurant facing the beach, had his breakfast, and wanted to run back to the room!
She lost her cool, "I am not in a hurry to go back. I want to go for a long walk, and the soft sand is soothing. You need it more than me, and it's so relaxing."
He finally got up; she looked at him, he gently asked: "are you not joining me?"
"Where? To the room..."
He mischievously smiled " to the beach.."
****
Winter had set in. A few birds are still hanging around and looking for twigs to build their nest. Trees are shedding leaves; some had turned into bright yellow, maroon, and dark brown. She was busy the whole afternoon plucking dry leaves from the garden.
The new leaf composter that had arrived a couple of days ago was sitting silently in the corner of the small area where all garden tools were hiding. She dumped a sack full of old weathered leaves into the composter.
The caterpillar, which was happily munching on, fall flat into the large pile of dry leaves. "Where am I?" He could not hold his curiosity. " Please be gentle, and he yelled," "What have I done to you?" He could hear nothing; the wind was chilly.
The silence of the leaf composter scared him. Was there a wicked smile on its lips? Raghavi opened a small packet of microbes, spread a little on the top of the leaf pile, used a long neem stick to mix in. "What have you added?" "It burns me, you human. Can you hear me, please?"
Raghavi was churning the pile.
She finished her work and left the garden. It fell into a deep slumber.
Will he emerge as a butterfly?
Enter the dragon
***
History was the subject line that she dreaded the most. The tall and stout teacher had a thick accent and stressed on every third word.
He spoke as if he was dramatizing the events and would enact Emperors' role, modulating his voice and roaring the words ridiculously.
"How noisy and boring!" she thought.
"Sneha!" he yelled, voice thundering across the classroom. "Why are you not paying attention?!"
His loud croaky voice annoyed her. She clicked her tongue in irritation.
"Stand up!" he commanded.
She hesitantly stood up, trying her best to keep a neutral, blank expression. With a red face like a tomato, eyes looked like they were going to jump out of their sockets.
He resembled something close to and the undignified dragon that hadn't had its lunch.
The caricature of him that she was drawing fell on the floor facing upwards!!
*****
Oh no, not again!
Please don't take that mortar and pestle.
I can't re-wash it; you guys have no sense of compassion towards the person who cleans.
The pile of unwashed utensils, from each spoon to the mixer jar, were looking at her like they wanted to jump out of the kitchen window and run away.
For making a little chutney to go along with boiled tapioca, this much circus! She looked at the last thing on the counter. The black stoneware mortar and pestle was a gift from her mother. She remembered when her mother fondly handed her the age-old kitchen tool and had said to her in a low voice:
"Use it when you want to create those amazing hand-pounded chutneys."
Her eyes sparkled when she held her mother's prized possession.
She silently looked at her soap-worn wrinkled hands and chipped nails.
******
Touching his arm gently, she whispered, "The wait is over."
She opened the glass jar and served him the first piece of mango pickle.
*****
Speak softly
***
"Could you please turn off the radio?" Sue was furious; all she wanted was silence the morning.
It had been raining, and the weather was gloomy, with no trace of sunlight, and occasionally a bird fluttered to one of the trees outside to chatter with its mate.
I was in the kitchen, making breakfast, and Joseph was on endless calls from his business acquaintances.
"kya hua tera vada, woh kasam..." the radio was blasting on full volume!
Her grandma couldn't live without making some noise and could not comprehend why she should lower the volume.
"Why can't you people understand? I need to revise my portions. I have an exam...." she was murmuring to herself.
Finally, Joseph had had enough of his mother's acrobats. He decided to turn off the radio, but grandma had already had her share of laughter and fun. She turned off the radio and ran to the washroom for her bath.
Joseph sighed; the little girl went back to her studies. I was whispered to him, "Please talk to ma. Let her do all her pranks once the kid's exams are over."
At about 11, Grandma had the immediate urge to make kheer. She rushed down and kept the dhaliya in the pressure cooker. She started to smash the jaggery and cardamom. The noises from the kitchen were driving Sue crazy!
Agrrrhhhh, not again.
In an hour, her online exams would start.
At lunchtime, I began looking around to find ways to stop grandmas elaborate discussions with Joseph. How would I make her understand that keeping quiet is the best while Sue gave her exam? Moreover, that seemed like common sense.
The phone rang, and Joseph became busy with his work.
Grandma was looking for a reason to chatter with Joseph after his phone call.
When Jo returned to the dining table, grandma could not stop herself and talked to him. I could not take it anymore.
Sue was helpless. She could not say anything or even move from her chair while giving exams. I was the only person who could make even the noisiest people quiet with my presence!
I gently spoke to her, "ma, please, we will discuss it later. Sue is writing her exams."
Jo was silent. He knew his mother to be boisterous, but at that moment, he felt that his wife was indeed an epitome of patience to handle his chirpy mother.
I could see a broad smile on his face.
For Sue, she loved the question paper, which was quite challenging.
I went back to my writing.
******
We were at Varanasi in January this year. My MIL was enthusiastic about buying a couple of sarees, and my husband, who dislikes shopping, glanced at me,
I, too, was not so into going to the tiny gullies and pick sarees.
I hardly wear it these days. While working as a school teacher, I was mad about sarees but became too comfortable in other easy wear after leaving the job.
My passion for pretty sarees and self-designed blouses see a diminishing curve. I was often donating my sarees to my mother and other relatives.
We took a tuk-tuk or shared auto-of-a-kind things and headed towards the wholesale shop in one of the tiniest gully.
I was amazed by the kind of sarees displayed, and the enthusiasm slowly sprang up in me, then. At one point, our tuk-tuk stopped. We were to meet the person who will guide us to the gully.
But from that point, no auto can go, either walk or a cycle rickshaw, I was in a dilemma, how my MIL would climb up in a rickshaw, she had a knee replacement, and how we will walk?
The rickshawala said, please keep your legs here and then climb, nothing will happen.
I jumped and sat. While the rickshawala helped MIL and I hold her hands, finally, she made herself comfortable. After a few minutes, we reached the shop, and the kind of sarees display that followed was mind-blowing.
I slowly started picking a few, turned them, opened them, and slyly looked at the mirror imaging me wearing them, and by the end of about 2 hours of asking, seeing, and calculating, we both had ten sarees! I picked four and MIL 6!
By the way, the sarees were in my wardrobe for six months, and yesterday while rearranging, I took them, and all went for stitching attached blouse and saree falls
After months of the lockdown, the tailor had crawled back to business.
******
WFH: Sandwiched
***
Madhavan had tolerated enough; the tug of war between his mother and wife took a toll on him.
His potbelly bulged a few more extra inches
Both the contestants had no mercy on him. They both cooked endless dishes for him to relish.
He had a tough time deciding what to eat with what? Rajma with rice and heap of aviyal?
Tomato rice with rasam and Raitha?
His mother gave a not so happy glance as he took a ladleful of tomato rice. She pushed the rasam bowl, telling him how tasty it is.
He gave a sad look to Seema, who was not less in expression.
He finally turned around and asked her," why don't you tell each other what you are going to cook? Why punish me? Am I supposed to eat dishes which are not related to each other?"
Seema murmured, "your mother is thinking her sunny(Mumma's boy) should enjoy her cooking, no matter whether there is salt or not, please eat...... Put some more sambar with lemon rice!!"
His mother gave him another look, which meant eating every grain of food from the plate. Even those curry leaves!!
How he wished he could go back to the office!
Anniversary celebrations
***
A usual evening, Sam was busy with his mobile, reading messages, and checking out videos on the couch.
Two cups of tea on the table, some freshly made samosas to gulp.
Reena was going through her WhatsApp Messages. She then sipped her tea silently, looked at Sam.
"Sam, where will you take me to celebrate our 25th anniversary?"
Sam, without taking his eyes from his mobile.
"To the zoo, we will see the bear! "
****
WFH scenario 3
The mirror could not hold his face. His beard has grown so much, almost like a beehive. His curly hair touches his shoulders when pulled. They grow upwards.
Going to the hairdresser was a dream. They will charge not less than 30 dollars.
One day early morning, he called his mother, who just got up and thinking of making either her coffee or make breakfast. Unable to decide, she was humming.
The mobile rang many times. He has almost given up on his crowning glory.
His mother was teasing him. We will divide your hair and tie two juttu. Laughing loud at her remarks, he thought seriously, she is right. I may look like the little girl going to nursery.
Finally, she attended the call.
"Hey Amma, how are you?"
"Huh, I am okay. What did you make for dinner today?"
"I made biriyani, and we all had it,"
"Oh, really, that's good, but whose recipe you followed?"
" Ayyo, Amma, we nowadays see plenty of chef's videos. I like Ranveer."
"Oh, good good, he is good. You will learn a lot about the history of how food evolved."
"Yes, yes, he nodded."
His face was clear, and the video call was on. His mother could see him in perfect light. From a different angle, the little brat looked exactly like her when she was a toddler.
Same curly hair, growing upwards, and it formed like a fan on his head.
" Amma, Could you please help me cut my hair!"
"How, sitting here, what?"
She tried to explain, "comb your hair upwards, hold with two fingers like scissors, and cut an inch, continue doing it. Until you have reached the desired length."
"But Amma, all the videos you have forwarded are for men with straight hair, not suitable for me."
Cut, cut, bunches of black curly hair locks lying on his study room, and all he could do was to vacuum the floor.
Hair filled the trimmer, and he used a tiny soft brush to remove them.
Swearing never to try on his own.
He quietly went and had a shower, came back to the mirror, and found a strange haircut.
A bad hair cut, he exclaimed!
The chase
***
He was running as fast as he could, Busky was chasing him, they ran from balconies, roof and on the terrace. At one time, he even felt like jumping into the compost bin.
Finally, he did what he knows best, hide behind the curtains, and drive Busky mad.
He was sure she would get beaten up by the lady who hates him to destroy the curtains. Busky was a pretty girl. She had deep green eyes and a soft tail.
His little heart was thumping as he peeped out of the curtain rods. He used to love the butter cookies and nibbles of cheese. Stella forgets to dump in the bin. As the lights in the kitchen go off, it's feast time.
He will check every single scrap lying on the sink. Busky will be roaming on the balcony looking for him!
But he sadly remembered people hate him. No one tolerated his presence —a parasite, intruder, stealer, dirty, filthy creature.
Stella was cooking, and she could hear a mild squeak and a loud meow.
Rat!
***
A better batter
***
He was talking to the refrigerator, "there are so many vegetables, and why did she make aval with jaggery, coconut, and coconut milk?"
Ah, it is delicious, yummy, the fragrance of crushed cardamom is divine.
But why she thinks I will live like a bird, nibbling her discoveries?
Sunita had given up on his overeating habits. His demands and his grumblings.
Putting each meal on the table seems to be a task; she wants the best for all of them.
But ultimately, he keeps whining.
Waking up so early in the morning, all she could think of is writing the unfinished journal and publish it.
He was already in the kitchen, tiptoed and seeing what she will experiment on him?
Is it that oats, millets from the grocery shop? Is it quinoa? Ragi? Amaranth?
He called his mother,
" How are you, beta? What you had for breakfast?
He was running short of words. He doesn't know what will happen next.
With his silence and no answer from the other side, his mother guessed that Sunita made no breakfast and will be busy with her work.
"Ma, I want to make idly today, could you please send me your recipe?"
"Oh, why not, in an hour I will send you idly, chutney and sambar,"
"We have plans to make it today. Your Dad will come to see you with breakfast."
Oh, ma, love you so much
She turns to her husband, looking at her like a bullfrog, trying to push down oats porridge.
"Go, get idly batter, we will send breakfast for Sunita and Raghav."
He left the porridge and darted out like an arrow. After all, he will at least see the face of idly and chutney. He sends a silent prayer to his unbelievable luck!!
Some dreams come true!!
The perfect cut
***
The gigantic jackfruit sitting in the corner of the kitchen was staring at Arun for no apparent reason.
He turned around, trying to figure out what to do with it. His mother was in the back yard feeding the cow, which has given birth to a handsome calf.
He wanted to do something for his mother in the kitchen, that means even cutting the jackfruit.
He walked towards her, shouting
"Amma, I want to help you today. All my friends are doing so much work in their home, and please give me some chore."
Bhavani turned back,
" Arun, did you say something?" You have nothing to study. Why are you jumping around like this?
The cow shook her head in unison with Bhavani.
"Amma, please, I want to help you, give me a chance!"
"Oh, okay, why don't you cut the jackfruit and remove the seeds?
After an hour, Arun clicks pictures for his Instagram and lets his friends also know the amount of work he did for his mother.
There lie heaps and heaps of seeds, florets in the bin, and the jackfruit's outer layer is perfectly cut, layered in a circle.
Jackfruit ratatouille!
Lakshmi, the cow, had a feast with perfectly cut jackfruit skin. Arun had tears in his eyes while he was feeding Lakshmi!
Bhavani was almost sure what Arun would do if she forgets to give proper instructions.
****
WFH scenario, part 2
Madhavan is more conscious after the cooker whistle episode. He has started to keep in mind to be more alert.
Seema kept half a litre of milk boiling for evening coffee,
She said, "Maddy, baby, please remember to off the stove. I have kept milk, will you?"
"Huh!? Yeah, sure, I will put it off!"
Seema had to feed the baby, and after a few minutes.
He could smell something burning in the kitchen.
Madhavan's instinct is evermore sharp.
The milk has boiled, reached till the edge of the vessel, and flowing out.
He almost starts to panic..., he switched off the stove.
"You did it again,....." the song ringing in his head.
He was helplessly looking for a piece of cloth, the kitchen towels, but they are a way to clean for the task.
Idea! He quickly removed his shirt, and the white vest came out for rescue.
A good scrub here and there, the stove is clean, sweating, he squeezed his milk dipped vest!
Just look at the milk vessel. It's now half the quantity.
Madhavan again was super alert. He boiled water and filled the vessel.
Ewww! Eureka, he did a small twist in the kitchen!!
Seema, oh, Seema.
What? She yelled from the bedroom.
"We should warn the milkman to add less milk in the water!"
Ehhh, but we are buying packet milk, how come!!!
The milk smell still lingers in his vest.
****
What do you miss the most?
A cup of strong tea, you staring into my eyes, and I blush.
Those moments were the most beautiful.
You were trying to walk along with me, and our legs almost crossed.
Our walks on the beach. I was walking in your footprints.
The sweat on your forehead, and I couldn't help but wipe them.
Listening to your nonstop talking and trying to comprehend something. Your voice is music to me.
We tried to resolve the issues by bringing it on and nodding my head for all your solutions. You were watching my earrings dancing to your tune.
Making sense out of my imperfect world with your fingers touch the strings of the heart. Each note is a little different from the first one. The tender music you play falls like raindrops in the thirsty Earth, waiting to calm her down.
***
True Life story
The summer days are long, humid, and sweaty. We kids have enough time to do all
mischievous activities in the backyard when mom takes rest after a days-long
work, cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, grinding the batter, vegetable
shopping, and so on.
The guavas were almost ripe on the tree. It has turned yellowish, while a few more emerald green. The tree is as tall as our villa, our next plan of action for the afternoon is to climb the tree, quickly balance on the parapet and grab as many.
Eat a few sitting there, and rest would be down. If there are too many, throw it down on each other's head and laugh crazily doing such silly things.
There will be the other sibling standing down who is lazy to climb up. The brave one, most of the time, the youngest of all, will get the task of climbing the tree like a trained sloth bear!
Once the task is over, we can swing and step on the branches and land in Tarzan style.
On one such adventure, I realized my two siblings were too busy with their friends, and I was left alone at home. All I could think of is to climb up and pluck a few guavas. At the same time, my mom was not aware of my plan. I slyly jumped out from my room, marched towards the backyard, and inspected the situation.
I tried to assess the tree bark. It was rough as usual. I being the climber, reached the tree in a few attempts. I have decided to enjoy my mid-afternoon snack on the parapet.
I grabbed ripe guava and started eating it. It was quite large for my hand. I may be about seven or so.
I have noticed a family of ants were busy building their home by sticking a few leaves together, and the red ants were busy doing their job. One-touch, and it's going to be fatal.
You don't know how time flies when you observe nature. I might have sat in the parapet for more than an hour!
I have plucked a few more almost ripe ready to eat guavas and think of a way to bring them down.
My tiny frock cannot hold so many. The other option was to throw it down and slide down, hanging using one hand to have the tree, the other hand holding the parapet. After a few minutes of circus, I landed in the garden.
I removed all the guavas, washed and kept them in the fruit basket. I silently went to my room and sat with a comic.
We will continue with other adventures in the garden.
After a few decades, I met my husband, only to realize he too had climbed coconut trees and once had fallen from them. He never told his landing story to his parents! Neither me!!
The journey back home
***
A large family of migrant labourers was walking towards their home town. Small children without a sandal, holding their hands dearly to their mother. She was carrying a big sack on her head, maybe all their possessions.
They looked tired, desperate, and hungry. There were uncertainty, melancholy, and no hope in their eyes.
It was clear they had to leave as there were no jobs, labour, food, money to pay rent. The empty can on the eldest daughter's head had no lid.
The group was heading towards their village, and the children were looking for a morsel of food. They were thirsty and hungry.
Unable to walk further, Seema stopped at the stream flowing, she washed her face and legs, the children drank water, there were small fish in the clear water.
It was a hot and humid mid-summer afternoon. The family sat for a while to take a rest. The milestone on the way showed 350 km.
****
Life is full of mystery. She ran out of the grocery store.
She saw the boy who broke her heart when she was 18, and he was obese and bald!!
She celebrated her 38th birthday a week ago!!
A glimpse of her he couldn't believe his eyes, she looked gorgeous though she had a thick spectacle and grey hair. His first love, he is still searching for her at the store.
*****
Dim, ttoohhh, tup, I could hear weird noises, my thoughts were like this,
Did that pigeon broke the small pot in the garden!?
Why on Earth is it after the cactus?
Or any pipe burst in the heat!?
Did the kitchen shelf opened on its own, and one of the containers decided to jump out?
Did the pickle bottle open up on its own?
What is that noise coming and from where there again I heard one more this time it's longer.
A louder ttttuuuppppp! A small full stop for the commotion. As though the miscreants had enough of their task.
I tiptoed and started looking suspiciously in the garden, no, no trace of pigeons, it is blazing hot, and leaves were shining.
Then I checked the living room, no, nothing there.
But my puppy was missing!
I turned towards the kitchen.
The battle is over, the eggs have blasted, exploded, and the half of the broken piece with its brownish shell was helplessly lying on the floor.
My puppy sniffing.
The copper-bottomed pan's bottom resembled almost like an erupted lava, blazing red and heat, smoke, and that burnt smell emitting through its spout.
The water had evaporated entirely.
An egg broken into four asymmetrical pieces like a dinosaur had just now come out of it. The other half had the brownish, blackish yellowish yolk.
My presence of mind advised me to off the stove. I scooped the half egg from the floor, kept it on the counter if my puppy gulps it with the shell, ayyo bhagawane.
I mustered the courage to remove the egg pieces with a pakad and switched on the exhaust fan.
The strange-looking pieces with a stinky odour and the excavated pieces beyond human consumption finally saw the compost bin.
After washing, cleaning, sweeping the floor, counter, I slowly returned to reading the book.
Naah, there is no trace in the kitchen.
****
There is always a rare charm in nature. The burbling stream travels along its bed, bubbling over the branches, rocks gradually falling like a waterfall, the mossy stones, the cold water, chilly breeze, a wooden table placed in the middle of nowhere.
The waiter placed the steaming hot pot of soup. Their table had a check-patterned cloth, a few bamboo chopsticks, white bowls, and a square box with a candle, matchbox, and toothpicks.
She ordered potato wedges for him, a tiny bowl of mac and cheese and salad with olives, feta cheese, cucumber, strawberries, scooped watermelon, and sunflower seeds.
The valley and the mountain looked stunning in the slow dipping sun. The birds were busily returning to their nest.
He slowly sipped his soup, munched on potatoes enjoyed the crunchy salad, which was quite filling. While going through the menu and looked at him, "May I place an order for the main course?"
Already feeling full, he said," not for me."
The gentle music from the piano was captivating. He was wondering what more had done to make the evening memorable.
The delicious aroma from barbecue filled the air, which had paneer, pineapple, watermelon, and prawns
He spotted wildflowers in the fence, the bright pink Lillies, and small white roses. He wanted to relax in the hammock facing the stream.
The moon reflected vague and luscious on the stream's slow ripples, the fitful silvery moon on the dark grey and blue sky.
The crickets chirping, the sky was getting darker and darker, stars twinkling.
He was staring at her. She was blushing.
She sat near the campfire, watching the firefly getting attracted to the flame, live for the moment.
****
The live music band began to play old numbers. It was a full moon night, the stars were twinkling, and the shooting stars just dashed the sky. She closed her eyes and made a wish.
His hands were holding her hands, and both had a moment of pure bliss of their love
Sitting on his lap, she closed her eyes, her head resting on his shoulders. He brought his face down, looking into her eyes, gently kissed her forehead, his rough pokey beard rubbed against her cheeks.
Her lips were trembling as he bends down to bite her ears.
.
He screamed in her ears.
Ouch.
Ahhhhh.
"Please remove your hair clip; it is piercing me!!"
****
The diyas' were trying hard to maintain the flame, the wind was blowing, and the boats lined up for the Arthi have crowed at the Ghat.
She was praying as she lights up the second diya, which had a thin wick. The lovely pink roses in the small floating diya holder were emitting fragrance. She lit both the diyas, and it was almost time for the Arthi to start.
Gently lifting the diyas she walked, the boat slowly dangling, she found a tiny gap between the boat and other boats that were floating.
One by one, she let the diyas into the river. They started to gear up the pace as the river flow to the other direction of the wind.
Diyas had to compete with each other; she was anxious will the strong current topple the diyas, which kept its pace floating and drifting faster and faster from the boat.
She climbed up on the boat and wanted to have a glimpse of the two diyas. The bells started ringing. Arthi has just begun.
People hold their heads, seeing the beautiful sight, the diyas were almost had reached the other Ghat were bodies had lined up, and piles and piles of dry wood caught fire, between holding their emotions people watched the last journey.
She closed her eyes, and she could hear her heartbeat. Let fire cleanse you in a sacred way. The fire enchants, purify, and empowers as it has fascinated and enlightened humans for centuries.
*****
Catching up with oneself
***
Packing his bags, he turned around and looked at his wife. Was she smiling?
Who doesn't want that much-awaited break from daily chores, waking up, making breakfast, listening to the criticisms, and never-ending household work?
Living together with absolutely no interest in each others' lives, he neither enjoys watching movies, walking, dancing, or anything she loves to do. They were poles apart with different likes and dislikes. She was again going to sulk thinking about it.
But then her inner voice cheered her, you have a home, children, and a million reasons to be happy. Stop looking at the part of the relationship which is not working. Focus on what's happening. Move on with your life.
He waved his hand and closed the lift door. She closed the door and silently went and sat on the couch. Thinking about the one zillion things she can do when he is not around, like reading, watching her romantic movies, cooking a meal without the worry of his liking, like a wild butterfly, her thoughts spread its wings.
After ages, she turned on the radio, listening to old songs and humming along.
I enjoyed little things in life and felt alive with no one to disturb her thoughts.
While he already started missing her.
I was wondering what she will be doing, maybe dancing to Michael Jackson trying her new steps. Wearing the new dress admiring herself or dusting the cupboards while forgetting to drink tea, or talking to the puppy and rolling with him, she was all he wished for, being with her makes him happy.
Unable to express his love, he silently thought about her interests which he could never understand, Why she is wasting 3 hours watching that stupid movie or why she wishes to dance bharathnayam with Michael Jackson, or why she wants to look like a schoolgirl in her new clothes, giving a tough competition to her teenage daughter?
Her shelf filled with those fat books she greedily read and writes articles, what is she trying to achieve?
Why she is so different and why she is dragging him to her interests?
He called her, but she did not pick his calls, she was in the shower, blowing bubbles and listening to Shivamani's drum beats!!
She arranged the room, changed the bedsheets, cooked a delicious meal, closed the windows, filled water in mud pots, turned off the fan, feed the dog and closed the door as she walked towards her room.
He was fast asleep dreaming about her on the couch, a book on his chest, his reading glasses upon his head.
The thief in the garden jumped the tall wall and plucked roses for her. The dog chased him and quickly ran. The petals withered, the thorn pierced his hand.
The bark of the dog and the commotion, he got up from his sleep. His book fell off, the pillow dribbled.
She switched off the lights and fell into her bed. She was thinking about what to cook for the next days morning breakfast.
The final call
***
"I will meet you tomorrow," she said to him in a very low voice or was she trembling? Was there anyone listening to their conversation? Before he could say anything, she cut the call.
He was looking at his mobile impatiently expecting her call. But it didn't buzz at all till afternoon.
He started to walk towards the airport. In three hours, his flight will take off to Paris. He has to check in and complete formalities. He switched off his phone as there was no charge on his mobile phone.
"Last and final call for the passengers travelling to Paris"
He slowly got up and started to walk towards the gate.
Suddenly he felt someone touched him, he turned back and there she was standing behind him, holding his passport and boarding pass.
Sir, you left it at the coffee shop!
Paper boat
***
Can we play together? I asked him. He turned back and looked at me without
uttering a word.
I again couldn't resist the temptation. As its the one thing, I want to do on a rainy day. But he said nothing. I started to fold my doll's clothes.
He continued to stare at his laptop while slowly sipping his tea.
Then I thought I would make paper boats myself, deciding not to wait for him to play with me. He did not seem to care and remained glued to his laptop. Work, work always work.
He did not seem to appreciate the little fun I wanted to have with him. Like dancing in the rain, climbing walls, plucking fresh fruits, eating unripe guavas, running after the calf, playing hide and seek with the puppy, colouring with a bunch of crayons, and all those small pleasures that bonded us.
I then started making colourful boats, put a few ants in them as great voyagers, and dropped a few rice grains for them to feast. They started going steady, and the ripples in the water created a contest—speeding boats and vying with each other in a bid to reach towards the front lawn. Red, yellow, pink, blue, green, purple, I tore them all from the scrapbook.
I heard him calling out my name, Richa, come inside, you will catch a cold, and there he was, standing with a towel and looking at me with his soft, gentle eyes.
***
The eyes in the dark
***
She tiptoed silently into the kitchen.
Closely following her
was a pair of glowing eyes--
Bright green eyes were contrasting against pitch black.
Slowly, she picked up the heavy urn and placed it on the counter
Her arms stretched
towards the candle for
Unbeknownst to her, the wind has doused the fireplace.
And then, the chimney creaked.
Whose eyes were they?
Alex was no longer with her.
The scent of the lilies wafted through the windows.
But she no longer found it pleasant.
***
The Run
Signing the yellow form and she carefully ticked the small box.
10 k!
A successful marathon runner who looks forward to such events so that she can participate.
She will run up and down the stairs, goes for a long run in the early morning. She gifted herself
a pair of running shoes. Before dawn knowing, he wakes up very late; she will be on her running sessions.
No one knows why she is running. She was exhausted, tired, and asking for water.
He gently asked her. From what are you running away?
***
In the face of adversity
Be humble like that earthen pot.
As the temperature outside rises high, the water inside the pot becomes more chilled and sweet.
Being in a state of such virtue makes you wiser.
When people try to provoke, you stay calm and relaxed.
Respond, don't react. There is a big difference between these two terms.
**
The rainy days are here - Buried seeds
Dig deeper and bury, go ahead, do it.
The squirrels were busy digging and hiding the seeds. Deep inside the forest
They were unaware those are seeds which eventually germinate in the rain.
The squirrels were digging in progress, while the man deforests to build his home.
***
Pearls of Wisdom
"If you are stressed look for ways to de-stress yourself."
"Being happy and contented is a choice."
"Don't get annoyed by the reactions of people around you, especially your partner who have no clue what you are going through."
Ria, "Doing meditation will calm you."
She spoke softly to her friend after an outburst with her man.
Slowly whipping her tears. Staring at the wall.
Her puppy came running from nowhere to hug her, as though he got the vibe.
Whoof woof, holding a blue ball, he called her to play with him.
***
My love affair with chai (tea)
- the confessions part 1
I thought of making that special cup of Sulaimani chai which is quite popular these days in Kerala.
Being from the southern state's coastal region, I always had a liking for tea without milk.
I was interested to know the origin of this delicious drink which attracts my taste buds so much that my days are not over without a cup of it. Be it winter or summer, rainy days, whether I am at home or travelling.
The great sulaimani chai has Arab origin. No wonder I feel like Jasmine after drinking a hot cup of it as I have already confessed the number of cups of chai increases when it's a rainy day or chilly cold winter days.
Sulaimani chai served with a heavy meal like yummy biryani ( I know you are already drooling)
I was reading the history, geography and chemistry of Sulaimani chai. But finally realized it's available in Dubai and other Arab countries.
No wonder where my countrymen, I mean God's own country- Kerala, they will make sulaimani, and I am sure I will get my cup of tea.
FROZEN MEMORIES - SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS
Symphony of music in the kitchen
***
The crispy, crunchy music that biscuit cover makes and my puppy from nowhere appears! Even at wee hours of the night!
The crackling of mustard, the whooshing of fresh vegetables and the buzzing of the exhaust fan, the beep when you open the fridge and leave it for more than a minute
The gentle, rhythmic music when you grate coconut.
The wrooommm of your mixer, the dadak of the grinder as it softly grinds urad dal.
Water tap making a woooooshhh sound and you wonder who let the tap on at 5.30 am!! You hear it as a waterfall!!
When we fill water from the water filter, a piece of annoying music will play, which overpower the water's gentle flow.
When you accidentally keep the burner in the wrong way, a strange bumble bee buzzing it does. When the vessels are put back in shelf after cleaning the musical orchestra, they create. Some days it's like jalatharangam the other days like bhangra, I have heard drum beats too!! Depending on the mood of the person who arranges.
The low-intensity beep of the washing machine as it completes the task.
The shelves make a scary noise when there is pin-drop silence in the house.
Some days when you boil the milk, it will jump out of joy make the vessel jump along.
The conversation ladle and subzi's make in kadai is out of the world.
When you chop onion, cabbage, carrot, tomato, beans, ginger, palak and fruits, each one creates Beethoven's symphony!!
Kitchen is a fantastic place to be with such enlightened souls!!
The filter coffee maker was burbling first in the morning or night whenever we pour boiling water to the old brass coffee filter.
I wonder if could re-create all the vast treasure trove of food sound—the ocean of unparalleled music. Music is everywhere, and it's the essence of life. It is endless jamming.
A cruise with my valentine
She was wondering what to wear? An unusual question which kept on popping in her mind. Finally, she wrote a message to him.
Can I wear a saree, salwar kameez, jeans or shorts?
What about the skirt and blouse? Maybe a gown or that parallels with a casual t-shirt.
The difference it makes the guy not understand why she was giving so much importance to such things. All he knows that his heart skipped a beat when he sees her.
He removed the beautiful silver anklets he bought for her, and it was packed in a small jewellery box. He dreamt of putting it on her feet. She will look gorgeous, he thought.
In small italics, he wrote in a pink sheet of post it. Happy Valentine's Day my love ❤️
His love for her was above all definitions. He believed love should be for a lifetime, celebrating togetherness in joy and pain. He marked the dates on his calendar with blue ink against the black letters.
She gifted him a sturdy, glowing walking stick, his initials engraved in bold golden letters.
" R"
In the age column, she filled 52, and he wrote 59. They handed over the forms together as they boarded the cruise for Athens. Did you hear her anklets tingling?
The shadow
A brief message that read:
I don't know how to reach you; Can I call you? There is something I wish to discuss. Please check your messages where I have tagged you.
Busy bee, she mumbled, half smiling to herself.
Waiting for his response was always fun; it's the thrill of waiting, making it even more enjoyable.
She gently smiled at his photograph, which she had saved in her phone. His smiling face and soft eyes were all she admired the most.
It happens when we are busy with our work and prioritizes our work over the little things in life.
She was talking to herself.
What will he be doing now?
Busy writing something important or reading or attending seminar.
But for her the tiny details he gives to the relationship was more important.
He always made sure her needs met. No matter how hard his day was, and how lazy he felt in doing certain errands.
He was quite good at playing with words, which made her happy. Knowing very well of his virtue and ability to speak straight from heart, she will melt in his arms.
She focused on decorating the living room with bold, bright candles and the large vase with his favourite flowers. She started humming an old song.
Waiting for him, she had fallen asleep on the couch.
It was almost 11 at night, and the doorbell rang thrice.
She ran as fast she could to open the door, a lean thin figure moved like a shadow. She got scared to see a stranger outside her door.
The doorbell rang again. She was finding it difficult to hold breath.
The shadow slowly moved backwards and vanished on the dark, gloomy street.
***
It was getting dark, and the GPS navigation was going round and round. He was unable to recognize the usual path. There was a division in the regular traffic.
The traffic jam was evident with the heavy downpour. As he headed towards the road that leads to Church, he could see a thin, lean figure standing and helplessly waving its hand as though asking for help. He had no heart to ignore the plea.
Many cars passed ahead of him without giving a thought of the person asking for a lift. Finally, he decided to be kind. He stopped his car and let him in.
He was a thin man with a very long face and eyes as sharp as a hawk. His nose was bit curved, making him resemble a comical character. He tried to speak in Spanish and Portuguese. But was unable to utter a word in English and so communication becomes a hard thing.
They spoke in sign language. The stranger asked to drop at the nearby cemetery as he had to meet his family who lived near the Church.
Stevie was in a hurry to get rid of the unwanted passenger at the earliest. He knows his wife must be waiting for him to join supper.
The rain was making it even more challenging to drive. Finally, he reached home and could not see any street lights on.
It was as though the power shut down. He tried to call, but then he realized the battery died.
He tried to knock the door; the clock struck 1.
Ena slowly opened her eyes. She was sitting near the door, shivering and speechless.
Stevie gently called out her name. Ena, baby it's me, darling.
"Please open the door."
Ena was at last relieved to hear her man's whisper, she got up and tried to open the door. The cold wind was blowing.
In the dark, she could see her man. Smiling at her, she rushed and hugged him.
He whispered in her ears. " I am at home." Stevie lifted her and brought her inside the house.
It was a terrible night the couple went through.
But who was that thin, lean hawk-eyed man who travelled with Stevie and rang the doorbell??
What was the reason for his appearance in their life?
Did a shadow move far away? Was it the hawk-eyed man?
The Phobia
***
Her diary had notes of every day's activities.
She wrote in bold, big handwriting with a fat ink pen, some words marked in red, some in blue, what she did every hour.
Incidents which shook her, passion, hobbies, failure, fights she had, love that was divine, and the last page of her diary had a lot about her.
Strange fears and phobias.
I am afraid of heights. But I want to fly like a bird one day. I travel by flights and enjoy seeing the buildings and farmland like small toy land.
I have road fear, so I don't drive my car. But I am a showstopper. I stop all vehicles while I cross the road.
I get scared when I have to stay alone in a room while travelling. I enjoy staying all alone when at home.
I am afraid of rats, but I am a wildlife enthusiast. I travel the world in search of tigers and other wild animals.
I am afraid I may never meet you again. But I dream every day of being with you. You are my first love, but I fear losing you.
What are you afraid of?
The funeral
***
Yesterday we were attending the funeral of a close relative's father.
I have stopped going for funerals for the past five years as it evokes painful memories of my elder sister who died in her 50's. Sometimes my mom says I resemble her. I have seen the pain in her eyes.
Losing your elder child is such a heartbreaking experience.
I think we will never overcome the pain, no matter how much we try to forget, our loved one's memories will always linger in our life.
Well, death is inevitable.
I was thinking about the last rites we did for my sister. I refused to see her ashes. For me, she still is there with me. I want to think about her as a happy go lucky person who was full of life.
Return if possible, the world needs humans like you.
FROZEN MEMORIES - SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS
An unhappy marriage
There seems to be nothing much to discuss these days. The usual: did you pay
bills, insurance premium, grocery shopping, dropping children to school. The
same boring things.
Ranjana looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes were dull, lined with dark circles. Unkept hair, she rolled them into a messy bun. He was no longer interested in her.
She got up, and made coffee and breakfast. Woke the children up and they had breakfast. Sunil was still asleep.
She quickly had her shower, wore a faded kurti, and started making lunch. She turned on the radio and started humming an old song.
Nothing seemed special, nor was there any excitement in their relationship. She didn't bother about anything anymore. Like a robot, she did her duties.
He got up, had his brunch, sat with the newspaper. He didn't bother to wish her, nor appreciate her cooking. She had stopped asking him anything anyway. She didn't smile at him, nor did she discuss anything except the usual boring stuff.
She watched what she liked, he watched what he enjoyed.
They lived their life for the sake of their children. Nothing had changed until them, nothing was going to change either.
They would celebrate their 25th anniversary like that.
***
Ranjana sighed, looking at her client's pictures., "Yet another counselling session is needed," she thought. All her efforts to rekindle their relationship hadn't worked. It seemed like they have given up on each other.
She saw three messages from Sunil: pay the EMI, transfer money for the children's tuition, and please check when is the insurance premium due?
She took her handkerchief and wiped her tears.
She made a list of activities for the couple, her clients.
Go for outings to exotic places,
Bring back the spark in your life
Write love notes to each other
Go for blind dates, call each other to meet at park, coffee shop, beach or anywhere you like to meet.
Give surprises, give an unexpected call.
Bring home flowers for her.
Give her a foot massage.
After writing all of them she turned back and looked at her husband. Sunil was glued to his laptop sending mails. Ignoring her and acknowledging her presence.
One winter night
One winter night
***
It was 12 am and everyone in the lawn greeted each other, she stayed back alone at home. The air was intoxicating, loud music, champagne bottles, Chinese lanterns, people talking and laughing.
He hugged her and wished happy new year, she closed her eyes, it's been a year they met. The mirror had so much steam he wrote her name in it.
The cat was making weird noises looking up.
There were no blood stain and the bathroom was filled with steam, making it difficult to see each other.
Her wardrobe was wide open dresses scattered here and there, her jewelries were intact, not a single card was missing.
Except his first love letter.
She sat in the dark for hours thinking about that night.
His blue eyes were shining like sapphire when he bends down to lift her, she could not recollect anything after that.
They found her outside the lawn under the big mango tree, scared and shivering.
The mirror was clear now, she looked at her reflection, there were love bites on her neck.
Will he come back?
***
An unhappy marriage
An unhappy marriage
***
There seems to be nothing much to discuss these days. The usual: did you pay
bills, insurance premium, grocery shopping, dropping children to school. The
same boring things.
Ranjana looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes were dull, lined with dark circles. Unkept hair, she rolled them into a messy bun. He was no longer interested in her.
She got up, and made coffee and breakfast. Woke the children up and they had breakfast. Sunil was still asleep.
She quickly had her shower, wore a faded kurti, and started making lunch. She turned on the radio and started humming an old song.
Nothing seemed special, nor was there any excitement in their relationship. She didn't bother about anything anymore. Like a robot, she did her duties.
He got up, had his brunch, sat with the newspaper. He didn't bother to wish her, nor appreciate her cooking. She had stopped asking him anything anyway. She didn't smile at him, nor did she discuss anything except the usual boring stuff.
She watched what she liked, he watched what he enjoyed.
They lived their life for the sake of their children. Nothing had changed until them, nothing was going to change either.
They would celebrate their 25th anniversary like that.
***
Ranjana sighed, looking at her client's pictures., "Yet another counselling session is needed," she thought. All her efforts to rekindle their relationship hadn't worked. It seemed like they have given up on each other.
She saw three messages from Sunil: pay the EMI, transfer money for the children's tuition, and please check when is the insurance premium due?
She took her handkerchief and wiped her tears.
She made a list of activities for the couple, her clients.
Go for outings to exotic places,
Bring back the spark in your life
Write love notes to each other
Go for blind dates, call each other to meet at park, coffee shop, beach or anywhere you like to meet.
Give surprises, give an unexpected call.
Bring home flowers for her.
Give her a foot massage.
After writing all of them she turned back and looked at her husband. Sunil was glued to his laptop sending mails. Ignoring her and acknowledging her presence.
The journey of life
The journey of life
***
A short journey back home after a vacation seems to be the longest train journey ever traveled. He was waiting at the station, and she looked at her watch, the train seems to take its own sweet time, halting at every single station.
Life seems to be an endless journey, unexpected twists and turns, endless waiting for the one you want to spend your time.
It's late by an hour, but for her it was like a year. Meeting the one you love the most and a short vacation without him around seems unbearable.
Each passing day she could feel the emptiness, amidst her siblings and relatives she felt loneliness. The void was so great.
Then she started to imagine he is right next to her, an imaginary conversation with him was giving her peace of mind. She was complete, happy and cheerful. The simple thought of a walk with him on golden beach sand, sometimes keeping their legs at the same pace.
Praying for his well-being, thinking he was standing next to her at the sanctum sanctorum of their family deity. She felt his invisible presence everywhere, which was something new to her.
She ordered food that he loved to eat at different restaurants. Cooked meals which he loved to eat. Each time she was alone she knew he was with her. So, the loneliness which was killing her no longer exist.
Beaches were the place she loved the most, she drew two loving hearts on the beach sand to be kissed away by the naughty waves, she imagined the sea will evaporate and the rain clouds will carry her strong love for him and shower. The intensity of her fondness for him grew more when they were away from each other.
She drew rangoli on her front yard, but they too turned out to be expressing her deep love for her man. It's all getting into her nerves.
Mountains she visited had a mysterious charm, the thick fog had a charming impact on her. She thought of flying like a kite on top of the mountains, he by her side of course. She called out his name and the mountain echoed it!! She knew he loved mountains, which made her fall in love with it!
The train chugged along, even more slowly as it had no plans to reach its destination. She was feeling bored, looking outside at the trees, houses running away. The thought of getting down at three stations away from her destination, pick a taxi to reach him! A thought she laughed away. She was traveling ahead of the train at a great hurry to reach him.
Finally, the snail train reached her destination, much to her relief he was waiting for her, smiling gently as she dragged her heavy baggage. Talking to herself, laughing at the same time.
The train left the station and she sighed.
By the time he grabbed her luggage and started walking towards their car. She had to run behind to reach him. With the heavy silk saree she wore, was making it hard for her to walk faster.
She placed her handbag on her lap and put seat belt, she knows he drives very fast, but then she started to narrate him about the wedding, places she visited, temples she prayed, he was silently listening to her nonstop descriptions. Laughing at her excitement to tell everything at one go!
It was a dream vacation, he carefully planned for her. He knows she loves her native village, her family her childhood friends. After meeting her she had made him her world. A break from usual routine will do good for her. He was feeling happy that she got her well-deserved break from routine.
Driving back home, he was thinking it's like meeting her for the first time!!
She was looking gorgeous on a beautiful saree which his mother had gifted her. He adjusted the mirror so that he could see her dimples when she smiles.
Nungu and walking
I love to go for long walks, in fact the best way to know your city or any place in the world is to walk and enjoy the nature. When I travel which is a habit now, taking short break from every day running around. I feel happy and rejuvenated after a refreshing journey to unknown destinations.
Coming back to the very interesting part of my walkathon. Well, I am preparing myself for a long walk and trekking to visit a dream destination. Valley of flowers. I don't know when I will take a break and embark to this rare gem hidden in the valley of Himalayas. By the way I go for walking every day to short distance say 2 to 3 kilometers.
But of late the desire to go for more enjoyable walks have taken over!!So I increase the distance slowly day by day week by week. A long-term planning.
Today I thought of taking a brisk walk after making breakfast and lunch. It was about 10 am and it was bright, sunny outside. There is a small park nearby where I live and a temple, plus you can also buy fresh vegetables. Many benefits by walking around your neighborhood.
When I reached it was almost closing time? A security guard was trying to chase away the few who were still sitting and doing exercise. I took a large round in the park, then realized the guard have already locked the main entrance.
To my dismay I could see people inside probably many just left. Then I started walking towards other gates, luckily one was half open. Thanking my stars, I came out of the park and walked outside. As I was walking towards my home on the streets in a cart, I saw a palm fruit seller. We call it nungu in Tamizh.
After a pleasant chit chat with the guy in Kannada, he finally realized I can speak in Tamizh, which I think most of the people sense! Well, he and a few like him get the fruit from Salem. One full cart of nungu will get sold by afternoon! Each one costing about 30 rupees.
But they were really delicious and I enjoyed eating them. The thin layer of tender skin around the fruit was bit tricky to remove. But I tried to remove it and just gulped the tender, juicy fruit. It was yum! By the way he gave me another very tender one, that was full of juice. In fact while he was cutting it was dripping!
After that I went to the temple had a good darshan and merrily walked back home. Had a great morning walk, about 4 kilometers today. I will come up more with my stories!!
Enchanting escapades
She refused to marry. Her parents didn't understand why their daughter was saying no to every prospective alliance.
Is she in love with someone?
They don't know about her lover, no one know. He was not visible to anyone's eyes.
But she could see him, talk to him, spend time with him. They met every night under the huge parijatha tree, which had the beautiful fragrant, orangish stem and white petals flower.
It bloomed at night like their eternal love and fall at dawn when the naughty wind blow. Making a carpet of white and orange colour.
The moon and wind know their love. But no one understand what the blowing wind murmured in their ears. Nor the fading moon uttered a word.
Celestial being he was, up from the heavens. Great musicians of Indraloka. Who made apsaras dance to their tune?
She waited for him to reach her, every night.
She gently put her arms around his neck and whispered to him," I want to be with you during day time or whenever I want to see you. Please give me a boon. "
He smiled and disappeared. It was already dawn.
The wind started blowing, there were signs of a heavy downpour.
She was in an intoxicated state, smitten with his genuine love.
Third night he appeared out of nowhere.
He smiled and hold her hands, there was a tiny idol which exactly looked like him. He gifted that to her.
"You touch it with a peacock feather whenever you want to see me, I will appear" He said.
They cooked amazing food, he sang the most melodious songs, they danced sometimes at slow pace, swam at the green emerald lakes and oceans, drove to exotic places, and lived their lives far away from the maddening crowd. She was happy. After all what else do you need in life?
Love is blind so they say, its invisible too!
A
magical planet
***
This is something I woke up with one morning, reminds me of Douglas Adams, and
I have no idea where it's going. It has no name yet.
Want to try and
continue the story? :)
-----
"I'll buy a planet, that's what I'll do", thought T, nearly jumping
into the air in delight at the sheer simplicity of the answer to all his
problems. "Yes, I'll buy a planet and set up a place there and it should
all be fine!" he repeated to himself, pulling out his phone to check his
current worth. The string of zeroes that stared back at him made him smile
dreamily before a troubling thought struck him. Who does one buy a planet from?
T wasn't used to not knowing, he simply wasn't. In the 45 years he'd been around, living in different countries, dining and being dined by heads of state and bald dictators of little countries, launching ships to Mars no less, he couldn't remember a single person who claimed to be in the business of selling planets. There was an ambitious realtor who tried for a while to sell him weekend timeshares in a Tibetan monastery though that chap hadn't been seen for a while. "What a fool I've been, ignoring the most obvious place of all", he thought, heading for the thick yellow book on the table in the corner - the yellow pages!
After scanning all three volumes, and having called a few entries from Aliens & Immigration, Catering, Gigolos and Spiritual Services that offered 'out of this world' experiences and not having found quite what he was looking for, T was forced to admit he may need to find help. Someone who saw the world for what it was, not a nerd as he was. Someone sophisticated, well-traveled, worldly and wise... his daughter C.
He should have thought of her earlier. Who else did he know who were as well-informed as she was, as resourceful, as clever? No one! Reaching the door to her room, white and trimmed with pink and gold, he knocked, only slightly nervous. She always did that to him, sometimes ignoring him and at others showering him with all her attention. Ah well, if you couldn't pull all that crap at 10, when could you, he chuckled, opening the door after hearing a sing-song 'come in daddy!' from within.
T opened the door and walked in to find C, his 10-year-old daughter, sitting at her desk opposite a disheveled man with a large, overstuffed, brown leather briefcase. "Daddy!", C exclaimed when she saw him, "You must meet P, he has this awesome butterfly farm in Bulgaria that he thinks would be a great investment." said C as she walked over to give her father a tight hug. They didn't see each other very often, busy as both were with their own lives, hers considerably busier than his. The man in the shabby grey kurta rose, hand outstretched, "Hello Mr. T", he said, "How have you been?"
"Good, good", said T, "Didn't you used to have this thing about a Tibetan monastery some time ago?"
-- to be continued
***
The above story
appeared on CaL: Readers written by Sid Khullar; I have tried to complete the
short story.
A
man wants to buy a planet where he will get* out of the world experience*
Here is the proposal for his perfect land,
the seller is showing a small brochure which had the description.
Read on
A planet were angles sing the most melodious
song.
Birds sang the lovely songs and angels sing
along.
Cupid was busy mending broken hearts. There
was no disparity between rich and poor, in fact everyone was equal.
People could understand when animals speak.
A pollution free planet with no plastic at
all.
Men, women and children cooked all meals
together and none went to sleep hungry.
The inmates looked much different from humans
on planet Earth. , they were all very beautiful and looked graceful even
without clothes. None had it.
All had big long sharp ears, and smile from ear to ear, they had long pointed
tails, which helped them to climb from one tree to another. They also can glide
in the sky like birds.
They were all pale golden yellow in colour
with deep blue eyes which shine. Everyone had an antenna to track themselves,
so none will ever go missing in that land.
No politician lived
there; people know how to manage their lives without them.
They prayed together before every meal to
Almighty God, who lived with them. They could see the God within and other
inmates.
Water was in abundance for birds, animals and
inmates.
Food was always available; the trees bore the
most delicious fruits.
A perfect place to live in. Welcome to the magical land of happiness.
***
V looked at T with anticipation. C was more
than happy after all someone has volunteered to share T's dream of owning a
planet.
Then V and T spend days together to finalize price for that perfect place,
sleepless nights discussing about the deal.
Because V knew how to propose him the perfect deal, which T could never refuse!
***
C was wondering where her Dad hurriedly go every evening. T was looking
cheerful and he became wise.
V and T were painting each other with golden yellow, fixing sharp pointed ears
and long tails.
T was living his life in the magical land with V by his side of course! The
evening shows were big success. V was clever enough to bring out the best actor
in T.
The show must go on...
****
Telling a tale of cups
and saucers.
***
"Neena, please get ready fast, the boy and his family will be here any
moment."
She sat before the mirror looking at herself. Unable to come in terms with the whole concept of arranged marriage.
Her mother was busy in kitchen making delicious snacks and tea for the guests.
Neena slowly started to wear that lime yellow saree and white blouse with tiny beads, carefully tucking in the pleats.
A pair of bangles she had kept in the dressing table drawer, it was looking bit elaborate for the simple saree she was wearing.
Her mother had instructed her to wear those golden jumka, but she disliked it, instead she chose the silver, large earrings.
Finally, a little touch up, eye shadow and a small black bindi.
She braided her long hair and kept jasmine flowers.
Looking herself in the mirror admiring her slender body. For a moment she thought she look better in jeans and shirt.
The doorbell rang and she could hear the cheerful greetings of her family eagerly waiting for the "boy"
Her aunt came rushing to the room handing over a tray full of snacks and tea. She gently asked Neena to meet the guests.
She reluctantly took the tray and with slow steps somehow reached the living room.
Meeting a group of people who were looking at her. She kept the tray on the table and silently sat on the couch. Waiting for them to interview her.
Anand was looking at her, but she was staring at the floor.
A few questions were asked, without any emotions she answered. Not even a smile on her face.
The elders finally give them little privacy by cooking up a reason as though they are going to see the house.
Anand had no clue what to ask, he was spellbound by her beauty.
Neena looked at him and said, "Anand, do you really think we should get married? We hardly know each other. "
He smiled mischievously at her and looked straight into her eyes.
To work or not to work is your choice
To work or not to work is your choice.
***
Why don't you start working again? A question which most of us homemakers get to answer at one point of time, if you are qualified and have decided to be a stay home mom.
The conversation starts with me usually is "you were doing your research for quite some time," I remind them, "yeah about 6 years now."
Did you complete your PhD? I replied politely, yes, finished Viva Voce a few months back.
The group of grannies couldn't hold their curiosity, after doing so much studies you should start working again!
10 commandments!! My MIL slyly enjoining the conversation. She must be thinking loud "why her daughter in law loves home so much!" Where her daughter slogs between work and home! Injustice, truly.
She hints it many times, reminding me of my role as a lecturer, teaching students. My prolonged silence in the subject, now she is asking through her friends!!
I respond with a usual smile, counting the innumerable interest I have and managing children and home, finding time for myself, trying to balance between my food blogging, gardening and living a peaceful life, while my counterparts abroad struggle to meet both ends.
Already heading towards spirituality these interactions make no wave in me, I remain silent, after all my heart is not in running rat race or spending 8 hours unable to manage home and work. Something I experienced years ago, when I decided to resign from my job and started food blogging and writing endless stories of my travel experience.
The trio my MIL, her sister and their childhood friend look defeated at their secret mission!
My husband gently smiled and winked at me, I smiled in agreeing to his gesture.
The queue
Standing in the long queue outside the consulate wondering why the queue is like an anaconda today?
It's not a holiday but like any other weekday, there were children, students, working men and women, senior citizens and a handful of policemen.
A few auto drivers were alluring passengers. A coconut seller was selling tender coconuts for a whooping 50 rupees!
I dropped my daughter who had applied for BI/B2 tourist visa.
We were at the consulate about 7.30 am, my daughter had 8.15 am appointment. Looking at the hanuman tail, I mean endless queue, I know it will take time for us to reach near the gates.
After standing in the humid, hot bus stand which had almost become the shelter for thousands who come to Chennai for getting their visa.
I thought of having breakfast than stand there, which was almost impossible, I was promptly approached by an auto driver, who was more than eager to show me the city than taking me to the destination - Murugan Idli Shop.
I was bit skeptical whether the joint is still working, after reading its license is temporarily withdrawn due to certain issues.
To my surprise the auto driver, by the time claimed to be food connoisseur of Chennai specialized in idlies and other breakfast options, gave me a dozen joints where I can explore.
But I insisted on Murugan, he gladly dropped and requested me to relish my breakfast while he promised to wait for me, which he honestly did.
I had a few delicacies, packed podi idli, sweet pongal for my husband and dashed out, he was waiting to transport me back to the consulate. A few extra bucks, I settled his account.
It was almost 9 am, the people who stood ahead, behind us were coming out of the door, I became impatient, it was scorching heat, the coconut seller asking me to stay away from his cart.
I was glued to the wall like a lizard, watching every single person coming out of the gate, finally my daughter's phone was switched on, she appeared cheerful, gleaming as though she got an award!
From nowhere exactly at the same time one auto driver appeared saying I will drop you; you got the visa! There are many who got it rejected, you are the first one!
My daughter was looking at that short guy with her big eyes, she glared at me, I just smiled, I know the tricks of trade these guys play.
He then told me you should give me 500 rupees as you got the visa!
My Lord! I was flabbergasted, why on Earth I will do such a thing.
I smiled and told him we will see, he promptly dropped us at the hotel where we were staying.
He then started to talk very sweet, I was already getting annoyed by his over friendliness, to make points clear, I gave him a small advice.
Don't you think it's wrong to ask passengers money like this? First of all, you have refused to put the meter, second you are asking almost 5 times of the charge, third you have done nothing for us getting our visa.
I then went inside the nearby restaurant, called my daughter gave her a hundred rupees and told her to settle him. She was not sure what to tell him, her tamizh is not fluent, picking few words known to her, she framed a sentence.
Take this and I will not pay you more!!
He felt defeated all his enthusiasm went away in a jiffy, he put the money in his purse and left the place.
We both walked slowly to our room checked out and called an ola cab for our airport drop.
Travelling with my teen over the past 5 years, I have experienced such strange people ranging from a taxi guys who belonged to union and demand I should hire them, auto guys like this!
Bulldozing the bullies!!
A makeover session
Visit a beauty parlor at your own risk!
Be prepared to hear loads and loads of unwanted advice as to what kind of
treatments you should undergo.
It starts from the lion maned beautician examine your hair texture, shine and count the number of black hairs left in your head.
You should regularly take hair spa, it's very good for you (bad for your wallet)
The pollution, water, travelling takes a toll on your hair, a good shampoo (of course it's their brand) and a conditioner (ditto) can improve it!
Which brand you use?
If you are naive and straight forward you will out of your innocence utter the name, bingo, they got a prospective murga!!
There comes another Dr. Do little or so, most of the time a very pretty looking girl, smiling at you and desperately trying to save your broom stick (by now you look like a person who got a shock) from the dust and harmful products.
Her job profile is to convince, cajole and make you guilty of not caring your hair for obvious reasons!
Two tiny bottles one is a serum and another look like toothpaste tube it's a cream, now she will blend them before setting your hair, (even a rat will do a better job in cutting your hair!)
The blow dryer is a deadly weapon, it dries less of your hair, burn more of your face. The curler or straightener depends on the hair, if you have curly wavey hair she will straighten it, or the other way around.
For two days you can walk around with your set hair. Give it a try!
Manicure, Pedicure session follows with a facial.
The treasure hunt
The treasure hunt
***
She stumbled upon an old book from her attic, as old as her, a few pages had doggy ears, the cover page was pale green with the letters almost impossible to read.
She sneezed, the *biblichor (smell of the number of old books piled up) was pretty strong. The books were looking like a treasure untouched by anyone for ages.
She felt like Aladdin, carefully rubbing the books like they were magic lanterns. A tiny creature jumped out, genie, ran for its life, before she even realized what it was!
A rusted, iron trunk sat silently watching her in the hope she will at least run her fingers over it.
The spiders were worried will she try to clean up their trapezium? They were having the gala of time at that dark corner where none dare to even sneak peek, forget having the courage to pick anything from there.
The fat lizard was annoyed, her presence and her curiosity to devour books, a safe haven he and his family of four called their home.
The broken earthen pot crumbled a bit when she crawled past her, it's really scary.
She holds the hurricane lamp just to make sure she could read the title of the books.
The big shadow of long hands and curly hair drive the bravest of the brave. She looked like a witch to the inmates.
After an hour of struggle, she found what she was desperately looking for!
It was a small " Japanese numerology book" her grandfather bought from Japan on one of his voyages, there were few more books all bundled as a gift, "beginners guide to Japanese language," surprisingly all the books had her grandparents' signature,
To our granddaughter who will one day come looking for these priceless books!
Love
Makoto Ishihara
Mizuki
Painting my heart with your love- Love just happen
She raised her eyes, he was staring at her
She lowered her glance and blushed, He smiled.
She drank few sips from her smoothie, he gulped the rest.
He ordered food saying she would love it, but she watched him eat it, as it's his
favorite dish. Nibbling now and then something.
She was looking at the lanterns hanging from the roof, his eyes were following her.
Love never knocks your hearts door, it just happens. There is a strong bond of love
in every friendship.
She sighed as he got in his taxi watched him going away from her.
Every time you go, oh boy you take a piece of me!
Bidding adieu - A mango story
Bidding adieu
***
Carrying the heavy basket filled with vegetables she somehow reached the
billing counter.
Her eyes captured the few left over Dasheri, Chausa, Langda and those sad looking Neelam, it marks the end of Mango season.
With a heavy heart and drooling over the forbidden fruit she left the vegetables basket and went ahead and took another red basket and slowly walked towards mango section.
She inspected the mango by lifting each one, smelling and gently squeeze them to make sure they are ripe and ready to consume.
Good quality Langada will remain green even though its deliciously ripped and ready to devour, a tiny tear in the skin and indulge.
Filling the basket with a variety of mangoes and heartlessly ignoring the cry of pineapple and apple, she walked towards the counter.
By the time two more customers had finished billing and she again had to stand in the queue, it didn't bother her much, she was satisfied with the mangoes which were gleefully sitting in the basket.
After billing her son drove her back home. While wondering why his mom was silent.
Her thoughts dates back to her childhood days in their village. She loved those very special royal kutoorkonam varikka mangoes available only during summer. She still requested her brother to send her a few whenever someone visits her during summer.
She removed all vegetables and arranged them in separate smaller bags, kept them in fridge.
She started to arrange mangoes in the sack basket each one sliding so that children can enjoy them.
After all the work, she sat for her lunch, a little red rice, curd and a chausa. Still lost in her thoughts she had a hearty meal, forgetting all the restrictions not to eat mangoes!!
She turned on the music and started singing an old melody.
Jaaneman jaaneman tere do nayan
Chori chori leke gaye dekho mera man
Jaaneman jaaneman jaaneman
Mere do nayan, chor nahi sajan
Tumse hi khoya hoga kahi tumhaara man
Jaaneman jaaneman jaaneman
***
Crossing the straight line
Crossing the straight line
***
Aging gracefully, looking at the mirror, tiny lines in forehead, natural eye liners, dimple when you smile, tiny hair which grows near ears, they are curly, small almost invisible pimples even at middle age, a few grey hairs as you comb your crowning glory, her face without any makeup not even any kajal, her eyes become small when she gives that confident, wide smile.
Her neck bones, visible as she proudly wears the blouse and slowly draped a beautiful saree adjusting the pleats, pinning them here and there, a small bindi, and matching handbag sometime or any easy cloth bag, a good sandal, a simple hair do, most of the time the fashionable bun or a twirl and twist a butterfly clip, a few hair crumpled and curled.
There she is ever so looking gorgeous and pretty. Admiring her curves, amused at her body carefully placing the excess fat at the right places, like a voluminous sculpture.
She is stepping out of her small world the four walls; she is here to rock your world.
Your desi girl!!
In a red georgette with peacock feather all over, a polka dotted black tops. She walked out of the house, picking her heavy suitcase and backpack.
He was impatient at the railway station to grab his childhood sweetheart. His dream girl!
Unable to recognize each other they stood in different platforms, the railway tracks parallel before them, marking the endless journey to their unknown destination.
Holding two tickets in hand he slowly with a heavy heart got into train.
She sat on the bench waiting for him.
***
Do you wish to continue this story? How would you like to end this story?
Crossing the straight line
Crossing the straight line
***
Aging gracefully, looking at the mirror, tiny lines in forehead, natural eye liners, dimple when you smile, tiny hair which grows near ears, they are curly, small almost invisible pimples even at middle age, a few grey hair as you comb your crowning glory, her face without any makeup not even any kajal, her eyes become small when she give that confident, wide smile.
Her neck bones, visible as she proudly wear the blouse and slowly drape a beautiful saree adjusting the pleats, pinning them here and there, a small bindi, and matching handbag sometime or any easy cloth bag, a good sandal, a simple hair do, most of the time the fashionable bun or a twirl and twist a butterfly clip, a few hair crumpled and curled.
There she is ever so looking gorgeous and pretty. Admiring her curves, amused at her body carefully placing the excess fat at the right places, like a voluminous sculpture.
She is stepping out of her small world the four walls, she is here to rock your world.
Your desi girl!!
In a red georgette with peacock feather all over, a polka dotted black tops. She walked out of the house, picking her heavy suitcase and backpack.
He was impatient at the railway station to grab his childhood sweetheart. His dream girl!
Unable to recognize each other they stood in different platforms, the railway tracks parallel before them, marking the endless journey to their unknown destination.
Holding two tickets in hand he slowly with a heavy heart got into train.
She sat on the bench waiting for him.
***
Do you wish to continue this story? How would you like to end this story?
For the love of your team
For the love of your team
***
Sunday morning, he looks forward to read magazine section, newspapers are supplied with extra pages and he is particularly interested in back page.
Hmm, his love for back bench, back seat and now back page is obvious. There is always scope for some mischief.
The endless supply of story books, that piece of cake flicked from the front bencher's lunch box, the geometry box which is used by the entire class, math notes silently copied and all answers were wrong!
You get very good view of the girls sitting ahead of you, and sometimes a curious pair of sparkling eyes meet with your dreamy eyes and a gentle smile on the lips of the boy next to you! It's so prominent that more than you he felt the spark.
His memories glid back to his school days.
His father's hawks' eyes met with him for a millisecond.
"Why are you wearing those fancy dress? you look like a buffoon."
"Sitting at home not going to work and talking big things, working from home, Why don't you go to office? "
Unable to focus on cricket match and listening to nonstop nonsense from his retired father, he thought of giving his piece of mind.
"Ayyo, Appa, why don't you chatter krishna, rama and sit in that easy chair, enjoying your coffee and snacks? Why like a vethalam you are after me!?"
"I am doing my job from the comforts of home and please let me watch this crucial match, India is batting."
"But then why you are wearing the cap, t shirt and sitting in your underwear?"
"Ohh, Appa it's shorts, and I am cheering the team India."
"Okay, okay I don't know what fancy dress you will be when India reach Olympics, short put and archery! Not to forget swimming, are you going to swim in the bed with the team,"
"Shiva, shiva! Appa don't be so annoying, have some sportsman spirit!"
"Lakshmi, did you hear that? Sportsman spirit!!"
His mother peeped out of kitchen and without any expression goes back to her cooking.
"I was the football team captain in college, ask your mother, how she fell in love with me."
"Those were the most beautiful days."
"We were in the field, not sitting in bed, eating chips
drinking diet coke, wearing
t-shirt and cheering!"
Ouuuuuttttt! He screamed....
5th wicket fall and the desperate fan in
t-shirt started praying!
The father started humming a keerthanam, mother busy making supper, he back to nail biting and a handful of lays pushed down!
" Tatha, want to join us? His grandson pulled his Dhoti?"
Surprised he looked at the little one, with a football in hand, he and his team, two puppies wagging their tail inviting him to play the game!
"That's the spirit, my boy!"
Picking his creches and jumping in one leg he went down the steps, forgetting all about his amputated right leg.
Lakshmi's eyes were filled with tears of happiness, seeing her man back to his favorite game.
The kitchen window cheered the team, she wiped her tears with her saree pallu.
"GOAL"
Hunger - Its face is always pale
"Keep quiet! Why can't you maintain silence for 5 minutes in the classroom?"
"What is there to talk so much?" She was furious and annoyed by the buzzing in her class.
These kids are becoming too much nowadays.
Children sat quietly for a minute, trying hard not to laugh. The last benchers were so restless, but tried to be silent, giggling noiselessly.
Akshay couldn't take it anymore, he drank so much water during the lunch break. Now how to ask the teacher that he had to use the washroom.
She had declared 5 minutes silence, silence means no one should open their mouth and talk, then how to ask her permission?
He stood in his place, hoping for her to notice him. She was busy correcting answer papers.
He made a vague effort to shake the bench and immediately stopped himself, that will put himself in more trouble.
Finally he slowly walked towards her and stood very close to her, she suddenly realized his presence, she raised her eyebrows, he showed her the tiny finger in his right hand.
She got very annoyed, why can't you ask? Why are you trying to speak to me in sign language?
He wanted to tell her, but looked innocently at her and the class, other kids were smiling and some burst into laughter!
She realized the reason for his silence and let him go, he darted like an arrow. In a few minutes she started narrating a story to the class, he was walking back to the classroom.
"May I come in ma'am?"
He opened his mouth to ask for her permission to enter the classroom.
"Yes, Akshay, please come in, " she smiled at him.
Knowing very well, he never brought lunch to school and she had many times shared her lunch with him. The poor kid will drink water the day no one share their meal with him.
Bubbles
A jar of pickle faded and oil had completely drained and sitting sadly in corner of the refrigerator looked at her with some hope, at least she will pick it.
On the side racks a few eno packets and some Thai red curry paste were also hopeful of being touched by her.
She switched off the machine, the tall sturdy refrigerator which silently sat in the middle of the kitchen right-side wall.
It was decorated like an elephant going to a procession, magnets from over the world, places she had visited, a souvenir which she brings on her visits.
The milk try had cheese, paneer, butter and its divided into two parts, on the right side it previous days milk packets on the left side its freshly delivered milk.
The next one had curd, leftover food in small containers. But here and there in small bottles something will be sitting untouched for months together. Each time when fridge gets a spa the bottles were removed and kept back.
She was not in any mood to leave them alone, she actually wanted to open and find out what's inside them.
A steel small box tightly was hugging the big jar of jackfruit jam, she found two tablespoons of tamarind pulp, which had gone with the wind!
A tall thin jar of Mango pickle which had some strange things in it was the next victim, she decided to discard the stuff with the rusted lid.
Next was a ice cream box which had few herbs, completely turned into dark green, shivering inside. "Boom!" there goes that too to the sink.
A few packets completely squeezed and left to survive were there, a packet of egg less mayonnaise, tomato ketchup and hot and sour sauce.
A little bit of chili powder, some masala powder for tamarind rice, a few spoonful's of some white powder, whether it maida or rice or whatever, something was dearly hanging from it, like trapezium threads.
The table mats which now acts as a protector in between hard sturdy steel vessels and the racks of the fridge where looking literally like wounded warriors, a bit of batter, some yellow stains, a little bit of curd, some chocolate stain.
She removed all the stuff from fridge carefully staked them like building blocks on the counter, pulled out every table mat, racks, shelves, tiny shelves for eggs, milk, trays every piece went to the sink, all the mats were neatly arranged for washing with hot water and soap solution.
Ice cubes were emptied, a box full of small packet of masalas, she rolled rubber bands around them so that they don't talk to eat other and jump out of packet making a mixture of unknown flavors.
The large triangles of chocolates were cut and kept inside a ice cream air tight container. So that the kids can scavenge the fridge and wonder where they just vanished.
After an hour of rubbing and scrubbing she finally completed the task, the refrigerator was looking happy after all she got the perfect spa and she was beaming with a large smile ever so silently decorated the kitchen with her gentle presence.
And for her she felt a sense of achievement every corner of the house gets her undivided attention which includes the tiny microorganisms, bacteria, fungus, and other living creatures.
Next target is the storage cupboard which is under the stairs.....
The missed call
Referring through a bundle of study materials, journals and websites for writing an article, and completing assignments after assignments he realized it is been a long time, he called his mother.
Her last visit to his home a few months back for a weeks' time was the best time, he had said with her, had a hearty breakfast his wife fondly made for the family.
But then after his parents left home, he became busy with his professional work, completely absorbed in his work, days, weeks and months flew.
Three months of maddening schedule, work pressure, commitments, children's education, their exams everyday dawn with a new challenge.
His wife equally went through her share of household work, her personal life and her issues.
But then one day morning his mother gave him a missed call.
He was busy browsing for his new write up, scribbling now and then, his ginger, clove tea getting warm in the white mug, sipping it now and then, his mother's call distracted him for a moment.
Is there any emergency, mom never calls unless it's something important?
He left all his work halfway and messaged his brother,
"Bhai all well? Why mom calling me? Anything urgent?"
After a few minutes his brother wrote back, "nothing, but mom misses you."
"She wants to hear you talk to her; you know she cares for you more than all of us!"
"Okay, I will call her, I was planning a surprise for mom and dad, once all my work gets done, I want to come home for a couple of days."
"Oh good, at last you took some time off your schedule to be with family. We will have fun bro!"
He then called his mom,
तुम हमको भूल गया क्या?
That was his mother's first reaction!
Mother's heart and mind is always with her children, no matter how old they are.
He was overwhelmed with her affection and promised her to keep in touch before diving into the bunch of books!
A collection of short stories
FROZEN MEMORIES OF A STORYTELLER
Written by
Jayanthi Narayan
A short story dedicated to parents, they have sacrificed their happiness, wants, and needs. Have they spend even a day for themselves? Looking back, I think I should have written this letter to my parents long ago. They would have cried reading it, for all that they have done for us children.
*** Live for yourself ***
She was anxiously waiting for the postman. It's was a cold, windy, foggy day. Ramu was trying his best to ride the old Hero bicycle, his friend, for the past 30 years.
His khaki dress has drenched, and his thick spectacles had rain droplets. Zareena walked inside and outside of the old fashioned tharavadu.
The moss in the narrow path leading to the gate was slippery.
She cursed the rain. Ramu finally showed up; he yelled from the road, excitedly.
"You have a letter!" She ran to the gate, huffing, and puffing, grabbed the inland from him.
"Mollude Katha?" ( Is it your daughter's letter) Almost in tears, Zareena shook her head.
She only knows how she reached her room, holding the inland dearly to her bosom—feeling the warmth of her little girl. Zareena sat in the comfortable chair which creaked. She cleaned the reading glasses with her saree pallu, opened the letter.
Umma, today is your day. Please cook your favorite spicy fish curry with tapioca just for yourself. You have for years cooked all our favorite dishes. Making sure we relished. You have read thousands of bedtime stories to us.
But today you, read your fantasy storybook which, you hide under the soft pillow, sitting on your comfortable chair. You have made sure we had warm water to take a bath by boiling it early in the morning before making breakfast for us. Today you enjoy your luxurious oil bath, apply sandalwood powder, and comb your thick long hair. Wear that pink saree with a light orange pallu. You looked gorgeous in it. Today make your special ginger tea with crushed cloves. Enjoy it slowly listening to your favorite song, close your eyes and sing along. Love and hugs Jasmine ***
Zareena smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She sat on the jhula.
The gentle evening breeze had the fragrance of champaka flowers.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
The rescue
***
Linda could not hold her curiosity, and the corridors were narrow, slippery, and green. Dark moss was making it more difficult to crawl. She could hardly breathe.
She cursed the rain and the muddy pool that created.
The railway station was very close to the enormous meadow. Linda could hear the horns and fast approaching train.
She had almost given up her hopes to make it back to her burrow. She could hear her heart thumping.
The gang of mongooses was waiting for a chance to grab their snack. The stork standing in one leg in search of easy prey stood still.
She closed her eyes, dreaming of those juicy carrots she desperately wanted to nibble from the garden.
The rain had started to pour again; the gushing water carried her to the garden; she was in the muddy pool.
All she could remember was she was gently lifted and carefully left on top of the broken wooden table.
She could hear the sniff, and Roger was trying to save yet another life. He wagged his bushy tail as he saw her moving her head, her red eyes glancing at him.
####
She sat on the corner of the kitchen, reckoning about what to cook for supper. The amber coal in the stove was still burning.
The strong wind made the wooden windows slam against each other. The night owl sat on the large oak tree. "Why bother, " she murmured. "He was not going to come home." She set the table, kept sparkling wine and cheese for him. The slow-roasted chicken was on the table. Waiting for him on the couch, she closed her eyes and visualized the beautiful evening she could have spent with him. The waves were slow and rough at times, touching their tired feet. She held the violin, and he was standing behind her, helping her play a romantic note. The sun was setting at the horizon.
***
The blackboard was empty. A little kitten was playing with small pieces of chalk. The chilly night and cold made it tough for him. He was making a painting of himself and the girl he loved, playing the violin as the waves lapped at their feet.
Love is in the air!
***
Sit like a duck in the room and don't walk on the beach."
She was so furious. Driving to a lovely beach resort and chilling out on the beach with him was all she wanted.
But he wants to talk to his business associates' work and work endlessly, even on vacation!
He hurriedly ate his dinner and vanished, for a zoom call, the previous night.
She sat at the table for a couple of hours, looking at the calm beach, enjoying the moonlight, and playing soft piano music in the background.
Morning she got up very late and decided to go for a long walk on the golden sand beach, holding his hands and talk to him.
He got up, had a tea, rushed to the restaurant facing the beach, had his breakfast, and wanted to run back to the room!
She lost her cool, "I am not in a hurry to go back. I want to go for a long walk, and the soft sand is soothing. You need it more than me, and it's so relaxing."
He finally got up; she looked at him, he gently asked: "are you not joining me?"
"Where? To the room..."
He mischievously smiled " to the beach.."
****
Winter had set in. A few birds are still hanging around and looking for twigs to build their nest. Trees are shedding leaves; some had turned into bright yellow, maroon, and dark brown. She was busy the whole afternoon plucking dry leaves from the garden.
The new leaf composter that had arrived a couple of days ago was sitting silently in the corner of the small area where all garden tools were hiding. She dumped a sack full of old weathered leaves into the composter.
The caterpillar, which was happily munching on, fall flat into the large pile of dry leaves. "Where am I?" He could not hold his curiosity. " Please be gentle, and he yelled," "What have I done to you?" He could hear nothing; the wind was chilly.
The silence of the leaf composter scared him. Was there a wicked smile on its lips? Raghavi opened a small packet of microbes, spread a little on the top of the leaf pile, used a long neem stick to mix in. "What have you added?" "It burns me, you human. Can you hear me, please?"
Raghavi was churning the pile.
She finished her work and left the garden. It fell into a deep slumber.
Will he emerge as a butterfly?
Enter the dragon
***
History was the subject line that she dreaded the most. The tall and stout teacher had a thick accent and stressed on every third word.
He spoke as if he was dramatizing the events and would enact Emperors' role, modulating his voice and roaring the words ridiculously.
"How noisy and boring!" she thought.
"Sneha!" he yelled, voice thundering across the classroom. "Why are you not paying attention?!"
His loud croaky voice annoyed her. She clicked her tongue in irritation.
"Stand up!" he commanded.
She hesitantly stood up, trying her best to keep a neutral, blank expression. With a red face like a tomato, eyes looked like they were going to jump out of their sockets.
He resembled something close to and the undignified dragon that hadn't had its lunch.
The caricature of him that she was drawing fell on the floor facing upwards!!
*****
Oh no, not again!
Please don't take that mortar and pestle.
I can't re-wash it; you guys have no sense of compassion towards the person who cleans.
The pile of unwashed utensils, from each spoon to the mixer jar, were looking at her like they wanted to jump out of the kitchen window and run away.
For making a little chutney to go along with boiled tapioca, this much circus! She looked at the last thing on the counter. The black stoneware mortar and pestle was a gift from her mother. She remembered when her mother fondly handed her the age-old kitchen tool and had said to her in a low voice:
"Use it when you want to create those amazing hand-pounded chutneys."
Her eyes sparkled when she held her mother's prized possession.
She silently looked at her soap-worn wrinkled hands and chipped nails.
******
Touching his arm gently, she whispered, "The wait is over."
She opened the glass jar and served him the first piece of mango pickle.
*****
Speak softly
***
"Could you please turn off the radio?" Sue was furious; all she wanted was silence the morning.
It had been raining, and the weather was gloomy, with no trace of sunlight, and occasionally a bird fluttered to one of the trees outside to chatter with its mate.
I was in the kitchen, making breakfast, and Joseph was on endless calls from his business acquaintances.
"kya hua tera vada, woh kasam..." the radio was blasting on full volume!
Her grandma couldn't live without making some noise and could not comprehend why she should lower the volume.
"Why can't you people understand? I need to revise my portions. I have an exam...." she was murmuring to herself.
Finally, Joseph had had enough of his mother's acrobats. He decided to turn off the radio, but grandma had already had her share of laughter and fun. She turned off the radio and ran to the washroom for her bath.
Joseph sighed; the little girl went back to her studies. I was whispered to him, "Please talk to ma. Let her do all her pranks once the kid's exams are over."
At about 11, Grandma had the immediate urge to make kheer. She rushed down and kept the dhaliya in the pressure cooker. She started to smash the jaggery and cardamom. The noises from the kitchen were driving Sue crazy!
Agrrrhhhh, not again.
In an hour, her online exams would start.
At lunchtime, I began looking around to find ways to stop grandmas elaborate discussions with Joseph. How would I make her understand that keeping quiet is the best while Sue gave her exam? Moreover, that seemed like common sense.
The phone rang, and Joseph became busy with his work.
Grandma was looking for a reason to chatter with Joseph after his phone call.
When Jo returned to the dining table, grandma could not stop herself and talked to him. I could not take it anymore.
Sue was helpless. She could not say anything or even move from her chair while giving exams. I was the only person who could make even the noisiest people quiet with my presence!
I gently spoke to her, "ma, please, we will discuss it later. Sue is writing her exams."
Jo was silent. He knew his mother to be boisterous, but at that moment, he felt that his wife was indeed an epitome of patience to handle his chirpy mother.
I could see a broad smile on his face.
For Sue, she loved the question paper, which was quite challenging.
I went back to my writing.
******
We were at Varanasi in January this year. My MIL was enthusiastic about buying a couple of sarees, and my husband, who dislikes shopping, glanced at me,
I, too, was not so into going to the tiny gullies and pick sarees.
I hardly wear it these days. While working as a school teacher, I was mad about sarees but became too comfortable in other easy wear after leaving the job.
My passion for pretty sarees and self-designed blouses see a diminishing curve. I was often donating my sarees to my mother and other relatives.
We took a tuk-tuk or shared auto-of-a-kind things and headed towards the wholesale shop in one of the tiniest gully.
I was amazed by the kind of sarees displayed, and the enthusiasm slowly sprang up in me, then. At one point, our tuk-tuk stopped. We were to meet the person who will guide us to the gully.
But from that point, no auto can go, either walk or a cycle rickshaw, I was in a dilemma, how my MIL would climb up in a rickshaw, she had a knee replacement, and how we will walk?
The rickshawala said, please keep your legs here and then climb, nothing will happen.
I jumped and sat. While the rickshawala helped MIL and I hold her hands, finally, she made herself comfortable. After a few minutes, we reached the shop, and the kind of sarees display that followed was mind-blowing.
I slowly started picking a few, turned them, opened them, and slyly looked at the mirror imaging me wearing them, and by the end of about 2 hours of asking, seeing, and calculating, we both had ten sarees! I picked four and MIL 6!
By the way, the sarees were in my wardrobe for six months, and yesterday while rearranging, I took them, and all went for stitching attached blouse and saree falls
After months of the lockdown, the tailor had crawled back to business.
******
WFH: Sandwiched
***
Madhavan had tolerated enough; the tug of war between his mother and wife took a toll on him.
His potbelly bulged a few more extra inches
Both the contestants had no mercy on him. They both cooked endless dishes for him to relish.
He had a tough time deciding what to eat with what? Rajma with rice and heap of aviyal?
Tomato rice with rasam and Raitha?
His mother gave a not so happy glance as he took a ladleful of tomato rice. She pushed the rasam bowl, telling him how tasty it is.
He gave a sad look to Seema, who was not less in expression.
He finally turned around and asked her," why don't you tell each other what you are going to cook? Why punish me? Am I supposed to eat dishes which are not related to each other?"
Seema murmured, "your mother is thinking her sunny(Mumma's boy) should enjoy her cooking, no matter whether there is salt or not, please eat...... Put some more sambar with lemon rice!!"
His mother gave him another look, which meant eating every grain of food from the plate. Even those curry leaves!!
How he wished he could go back to the office!
Anniversary celebrations
***
A usual evening, Sam was busy with his mobile, reading messages, and checking out videos on the couch.
Two cups of tea on the table, some freshly made samosas to gulp.
Reena was going through her WhatsApp Messages. She then sipped her tea silently, looked at Sam.
"Sam, where will you take me to celebrate our 25th anniversary?"
Sam, without taking his eyes from his mobile.
"To the zoo, we will see the bear! "
****
WFH scenario 3
The mirror could not hold his face. His beard has grown so much, almost like a beehive. His curly hair touches his shoulders when pulled. They grow upwards.
Going to the hairdresser was a dream. They will charge not less than 30 dollars.
One day early morning, he called his mother, who just got up and thinking of making either her coffee or make breakfast. Unable to decide, she was humming.
The mobile rang many times. He has almost given up on his crowning glory.
His mother was teasing him. We will divide your hair and tie two juttu. Laughing loud at her remarks, he thought seriously, she is right. I may look like the little girl going to nursery.
Finally, she attended the call.
"Hey Amma, how are you?"
"Huh, I am okay. What did you make for dinner today?"
"I made biriyani, and we all had it,"
"Oh, really, that's good, but whose recipe you followed?"
" Ayyo, Amma, we nowadays see plenty of chef's videos. I like Ranveer."
"Oh, good good, he is good. You will learn a lot about the history of how food evolved."
"Yes, yes, he nodded."
His face was clear, and the video call was on. His mother could see him in perfect light. From a different angle, the little brat looked exactly like her when she was a toddler.
Same curly hair, growing upwards, and it formed like a fan on his head.
" Amma, Could you please help me cut my hair!"
"How, sitting here, what?"
She tried to explain, "comb your hair upwards, hold with two fingers like scissors, and cut an inch, continue doing it. Until you have reached the desired length."
"But Amma, all the videos you have forwarded are for men with straight hair, not suitable for me."
Cut, cut, bunches of black curly hair locks lying on his study room, and all he could do was to vacuum the floor.
Hair filled the trimmer, and he used a tiny soft brush to remove them.
Swearing never to try on his own.
He quietly went and had a shower, came back to the mirror, and found a strange haircut.
A bad hair cut, he exclaimed!
The chase
***
He was running as fast as he could, Busky was chasing him, they ran from balconies, roof and on the terrace. At one time, he even felt like jumping into the compost bin.
Finally, he did what he knows best, hide behind the curtains, and drive Busky mad.
He was sure she would get beaten up by the lady who hates him to destroy the curtains. Busky was a pretty girl. She had deep green eyes and a soft tail.
His little heart was thumping as he peeped out of the curtain rods. He used to love the butter cookies and nibbles of cheese. Stella forgets to dump in the bin. As the lights in the kitchen go off, it's feast time.
He will check every single scrap lying on the sink. Busky will be roaming on the balcony looking for him!
But he sadly remembered people hate him. No one tolerated his presence —a parasite, intruder, stealer, dirty, filthy creature.
Stella was cooking, and she could hear a mild squeak and a loud meow.
Rat!
***
A better batter
***
He was talking to the refrigerator, "there are so many vegetables, and why did she make aval with jaggery, coconut, and coconut milk?"
Ah, it is delicious, yummy, the fragrance of crushed cardamom is divine.
But why she thinks I will live like a bird, nibbling her discoveries?
Sunita had given up on his overeating habits. His demands and his grumblings.
Putting each meal on the table seems to be a task; she wants the best for all of them.
But ultimately, he keeps whining.
Waking up so early in the morning, all she could think of is writing the unfinished journal and publish it.
He was already in the kitchen, tiptoed and seeing what she will experiment on him?
Is it that oats, millets from the grocery shop? Is it quinoa? Ragi? Amaranth?
He called his mother,
" How are you, beta? What you had for breakfast?
He was running short of words. He doesn't know what will happen next.
With his silence and no answer from the other side, his mother guessed that Sunita made no breakfast and will be busy with her work.
"Ma, I want to make idly today, could you please send me your recipe?"
"Oh, why not, in an hour I will send you idly, chutney and sambar,"
"We have plans to make it today. Your Dad will come to see you with breakfast."
Oh, ma, love you so much
She turns to her husband, looking at her like a bullfrog, trying to push down oats porridge.
"Go, get idly batter, we will send breakfast for Sunita and Raghav."
He left the porridge and darted out like an arrow. After all, he will at least see the face of idly and chutney. He sends a silent prayer to his unbelievable luck!!
Some dreams come true!!
The perfect cut
***
The gigantic jackfruit sitting in the corner of the kitchen was staring at Arun for no apparent reason.
He turned around, trying to figure out what to do with it. His mother was in the back yard feeding the cow, which has given birth to a handsome calf.
He wanted to do something for his mother in the kitchen, that means even cutting the jackfruit.
He walked towards her, shouting
"Amma, I want to help you today. All my friends are doing so much work in their home, and please give me some chore."
Bhavani turned back,
" Arun, did you say something?" You have nothing to study. Why are you jumping around like this?
The cow shook her head in unison with Bhavani.
"Amma, please, I want to help you, give me a chance!"
"Oh, okay, why don't you cut the jackfruit and remove the seeds?
After an hour, Arun clicks pictures for his Instagram and lets his friends also know the amount of work he did for his mother.
There lie heaps and heaps of seeds, florets in the bin, and the jackfruit's outer layer is perfectly cut, layered in a circle.
Jackfruit ratatouille!
Lakshmi, the cow, had a feast with perfectly cut jackfruit skin. Arun had tears in his eyes while he was feeding Lakshmi!
Bhavani was almost sure what Arun would do if she forgets to give proper instructions.
****
WFH scenario, part 2
Madhavan is more conscious after the cooker whistle episode. He has started to keep in mind to be more alert.
Seema kept half a litre of milk boiling for evening coffee,
She said, "Maddy, baby, please remember to off the stove. I have kept milk, will you?"
"Huh!? Yeah, sure, I will put it off!"
Seema had to feed the baby, and after a few minutes.
He could smell something burning in the kitchen.
Madhavan's instinct is evermore sharp.
The milk has boiled, reached till the edge of the vessel, and flowing out.
He almost starts to panic..., he switched off the stove.
"You did it again,....." the song ringing in his head.
He was helplessly looking for a piece of cloth, the kitchen towels, but they are a way to clean for the task.
Idea! He quickly removed his shirt, and the white vest came out for rescue.
A good scrub here and there, the stove is clean, sweating, he squeezed his milk dipped vest!
Just look at the milk vessel. It's now half the quantity.
Madhavan again was super alert. He boiled water and filled the vessel.
Ewww! Eureka, he did a small twist in the kitchen!!
Seema, oh, Seema.
What? She yelled from the bedroom.
"We should warn the milkman to add less milk in the water!"
Ehhh, but we are buying packet milk, how come!!!
The milk smell still lingers in his vest.
****
What do you miss the most?
A cup of strong tea, you staring into my eyes, and I blush.
Those moments were the most beautiful.
You were trying to walk along with me, and our legs almost crossed.
Our walks on the beach. I was walking in your footprints.
The sweat on your forehead, and I couldn't help but wipe them.
Listening to your nonstop talking and trying to comprehend something. Your voice is music to me.
We tried to resolve the issues by bringing it on and nodding my head for all your solutions. You were watching my earrings dancing to your tune.
Making sense out of my imperfect world with your fingers touch the strings of the heart. Each note is a little different from the first one. The tender music you play falls like raindrops in the thirsty Earth, waiting to calm her down.
***
True Life story
The summer days are long, humid, and sweaty. We kids have enough time to do all
mischievous activities in the backyard when mom takes rest after a days-long
work, cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, grinding the batter, vegetable
shopping, and so on.
The guavas were almost ripe on the tree. It has turned yellowish, while a few more emerald green. The tree is as tall as our villa, our next plan of action for the afternoon is to climb the tree, quickly balance on the parapet and grab as many.
Eat a few sitting there, and rest would be down. If there are too many, throw it down on each other's head and laugh crazily doing such silly things.
There will be the other sibling standing down who is lazy to climb up. The brave one, most of the time, the youngest of all, will get the task of climbing the tree like a trained sloth bear!
Once the task is over, we can swing and step on the branches and land in Tarzan style.
On one such adventure, I realized my two siblings were too busy with their friends, and I was left alone at home. All I could think of is to climb up and pluck a few guavas. At the same time, my mom was not aware of my plan. I slyly jumped out from my room, marched towards the backyard, and inspected the situation.
I tried to assess the tree bark. It was rough as usual. I being the climber, reached the tree in a few attempts. I have decided to enjoy my mid-afternoon snack on the parapet.
I grabbed ripe guava and started eating it. It was quite large for my hand. I may be about seven or so.
I have noticed a family of ants were busy building their home by sticking a few leaves together, and the red ants were busy doing their job. One-touch, and it's going to be fatal.
You don't know how time flies when you observe nature. I might have sat in the parapet for more than an hour!
I have plucked a few more almost ripe ready to eat guavas and think of a way to bring them down.
My tiny frock cannot hold so many. The other option was to throw it down and slide down, hanging using one hand to have the tree, the other hand holding the parapet. After a few minutes of circus, I landed in the garden.
I removed all the guavas, washed and kept them in the fruit basket. I silently went to my room and sat with a comic.
We will continue with other adventures in the garden.
After a few decades, I met my husband, only to realize he too had climbed coconut trees and once had fallen from them. He never told his landing story to his parents! Neither me!!
The journey back home
***
A large family of migrant labourers was walking towards their home town. Small children without a sandal, holding their hands dearly to their mother. She was carrying a big sack on her head, maybe all their possessions.
They looked tired, desperate, and hungry. There were uncertainty, melancholy, and no hope in their eyes.
It was clear they had to leave as there were no jobs, labour, food, money to pay rent. The empty can on the eldest daughter's head had no lid.
The group was heading towards their village, and the children were looking for a morsel of food. They were thirsty and hungry.
Unable to walk further, Seema stopped at the stream flowing, she washed her face and legs, the children drank water, there were small fish in the clear water.
It was a hot and humid mid-summer afternoon. The family sat for a while to take a rest. The milestone on the way showed 350 km.
****
Life is full of mystery. She ran out of the grocery store.
She saw the boy who broke her heart when she was 18, and he was obese and bald!!
She celebrated her 38th birthday a week ago!!
A glimpse of her he couldn't believe his eyes, she looked gorgeous though she had a thick spectacle and grey hair. His first love, he is still searching for her at the store.
*****
Dim, ttoohhh, tup, I could hear weird noises, my thoughts were like this,
Did that pigeon broke the small pot in the garden!?
Why on Earth is it after the cactus?
Or any pipe burst in the heat!?
Did the kitchen shelf opened on its own, and one of the containers decided to jump out?
Did the pickle bottle open up on its own?
What is that noise coming and from where there again I heard one more this time it's longer.
A louder ttttuuuppppp! A small full stop for the commotion. As though the miscreants had enough of their task.
I tiptoed and started looking suspiciously in the garden, no, no trace of pigeons, it is blazing hot, and leaves were shining.
Then I checked the living room, no, nothing there.
But my puppy was missing!
I turned towards the kitchen.
The battle is over, the eggs have blasted, exploded, and the half of the broken piece with its brownish shell was helplessly lying on the floor.
My puppy sniffing.
The copper-bottomed pan's bottom resembled almost like an erupted lava, blazing red and heat, smoke, and that burnt smell emitting through its spout.
The water had evaporated entirely.
An egg broken into four asymmetrical pieces like a dinosaur had just now come out of it. The other half had the brownish, blackish yellowish yolk.
My presence of mind advised me to off the stove. I scooped the half egg from the floor, kept it on the counter if my puppy gulps it with the shell, ayyo bhagawane.
I mustered the courage to remove the egg pieces with a pakad and switched on the exhaust fan.
The strange-looking pieces with a stinky odour and the excavated pieces beyond human consumption finally saw the compost bin.
After washing, cleaning, sweeping the floor, counter, I slowly returned to reading the book.
Naah, there is no trace in the kitchen.
****
There is always a rare charm in nature. The burbling stream travels along its bed, bubbling over the branches, rocks gradually falling like a waterfall, the mossy stones, the cold water, chilly breeze, a wooden table placed in the middle of nowhere.
The waiter placed the steaming hot pot of soup. Their table had a check-patterned cloth, a few bamboo chopsticks, white bowls, and a square box with a candle, matchbox, and toothpicks.
She ordered potato wedges for him, a tiny bowl of mac and cheese and salad with olives, feta cheese, cucumber, strawberries, scooped watermelon, and sunflower seeds.
The valley and the mountain looked stunning in the slow dipping sun. The birds were busily returning to their nest.
He slowly sipped his soup, munched on potatoes enjoyed the crunchy salad, which was quite filling. While going through the menu and looked at him, "May I place an order for the main course?"
Already feeling full, he said," not for me."
The gentle music from the piano was captivating. He was wondering what more had done to make the evening memorable.
The delicious aroma from barbecue filled the air, which had paneer, pineapple, watermelon, and prawns
He spotted wildflowers in the fence, the bright pink Lillies, and small white roses. He wanted to relax in the hammock facing the stream.
The moon reflected vague and luscious on the stream's slow ripples, the fitful silvery moon on the dark grey and blue sky.
The crickets chirping, the sky was getting darker and darker, stars twinkling.
He was staring at her. She was blushing.
She sat near the campfire, watching the firefly getting attracted to the flame, live for the moment.
****
The live music band began to play old numbers. It was a full moon night, the stars were twinkling, and the shooting stars just dashed the sky. She closed her eyes and made a wish.
His hands were holding her hands, and both had a moment of pure bliss of their love
Sitting on his lap, she closed her eyes, her head resting on his shoulders. He brought his face down, looking into her eyes, gently kissed her forehead, his rough pokey beard rubbed against her cheeks.
Her lips were trembling as he bends down to bite her ears.
.
He screamed in her ears.
Ouch.
Ahhhhh.
"Please remove your hair clip; it is piercing me!!"
****
The diyas' were trying hard to maintain the flame, the wind was blowing, and the boats lined up for the Arthi have crowed at the Ghat.
She was praying as she lights up the second diya, which had a thin wick. The lovely pink roses in the small floating diya holder were emitting fragrance. She lit both the diyas, and it was almost time for the Arthi to start.
Gently lifting the diyas she walked, the boat slowly dangling, she found a tiny gap between the boat and other boats that were floating.
One by one, she let the diyas into the river. They started to gear up the pace as the river flow to the other direction of the wind.
Diyas had to compete with each other; she was anxious will the strong current topple the diyas, which kept its pace floating and drifting faster and faster from the boat.
She climbed up on the boat and wanted to have a glimpse of the two diyas. The bells started ringing. Arthi has just begun.
People hold their heads, seeing the beautiful sight, the diyas were almost had reached the other Ghat were bodies had lined up, and piles and piles of dry wood caught fire, between holding their emotions people watched the last journey.
She closed her eyes, and she could hear her heartbeat. Let fire cleanse you in a sacred way. The fire enchants, purify, and empowers as it has fascinated and enlightened humans for centuries.
*****
Catching up with oneself
***
Packing his bags, he turned around and looked at his wife. Was she smiling?
Who doesn't want that much-awaited break from daily chores, waking up, making breakfast, listening to the criticisms, and never-ending household work?
Living together with absolutely no interest in each others' lives, he neither enjoys watching movies, walking, dancing, or anything she loves to do. They were poles apart with different likes and dislikes. She was again going to sulk thinking about it.
But then her inner voice cheered her, you have a home, children, and a million reasons to be happy. Stop looking at the part of the relationship which is not working. Focus on what's happening. Move on with your life.
He waved his hand and closed the lift door. She closed the door and silently went and sat on the couch. Thinking about the one zillion things she can do when he is not around, like reading, watching her romantic movies, cooking a meal without the worry of his liking, like a wild butterfly, her thoughts spread its wings.
After ages, she turned on the radio, listening to old songs and humming along.
I enjoyed little things in life and felt alive with no one to disturb her thoughts.
While he already started missing her.
I was wondering what she will be doing, maybe dancing to Michael Jackson trying her new steps. Wearing the new dress admiring herself or dusting the cupboards while forgetting to drink tea, or talking to the puppy and rolling with him, she was all he wished for, being with her makes him happy.
Unable to express his love, he silently thought about her interests which he could never understand, Why she is wasting 3 hours watching that stupid movie or why she wishes to dance bharathnayam with Michael Jackson, or why she wants to look like a schoolgirl in her new clothes, giving a tough competition to her teenage daughter?
Her shelf filled with those fat books she greedily read and writes articles, what is she trying to achieve?
Why she is so different and why she is dragging him to her interests?
He called her, but she did not pick his calls, she was in the shower, blowing bubbles and listening to Shivamani's drum beats!!
She arranged the room, changed the bedsheets, cooked a delicious meal, closed the windows, filled water in mud pots, turned off the fan, feed the dog and closed the door as she walked towards her room.
He was fast asleep dreaming about her on the couch, a book on his chest, his reading glasses upon his head.
The thief in the garden jumped the tall wall and plucked roses for her. The dog chased him and quickly ran. The petals withered, the thorn pierced his hand.
The bark of the dog and the commotion, he got up from his sleep. His book fell off, the pillow dribbled.
She switched off the lights and fell into her bed. She was thinking about what to cook for the next days morning breakfast.
The final call
***
"I will meet you tomorrow," she said to him in a very low voice or was she trembling? Was there anyone listening to their conversation? Before he could say anything, she cut the call.
He was looking at his mobile impatiently expecting her call. But it didn't buzz at all till afternoon.
He started to walk towards the airport. In three hours, his flight will take off to Paris. He has to check in and complete formalities. He switched off his phone as there was no charge on his mobile phone.
"Last and final call for the passengers travelling to Paris"
He slowly got up and started to walk towards the gate.
Suddenly he felt someone touched him, he turned back and there she was standing behind him, holding his passport and boarding pass.
Sir, you left it at the coffee shop!
Paper boat
***
Can we play together? I asked him. He turned back and looked at me without
uttering a word.
I again couldn't resist the temptation. As its the one thing, I want to do on a rainy day. But he said nothing. I started to fold my doll's clothes.
He continued to stare at his laptop while slowly sipping his tea.
Then I thought I would make paper boats myself, deciding not to wait for him to play with me. He did not seem to care and remained glued to his laptop. Work, work always work.
He did not seem to appreciate the little fun I wanted to have with him. Like dancing in the rain, climbing walls, plucking fresh fruits, eating unripe guavas, running after the calf, playing hide and seek with the puppy, colouring with a bunch of crayons, and all those small pleasures that bonded us.
I then started making colourful boats, put a few ants in them as great voyagers, and dropped a few rice grains for them to feast. They started going steady, and the ripples in the water created a contest—speeding boats and vying with each other in a bid to reach towards the front lawn. Red, yellow, pink, blue, green, purple, I tore them all from the scrapbook.
I heard him calling out my name, Richa, come inside, you will catch a cold, and there he was, standing with a towel and looking at me with his soft, gentle eyes.
***
The eyes in the dark
***
She tiptoed silently into the kitchen.
Closely following her
was a pair of glowing eyes--
Bright green eyes were contrasting against pitch black.
Slowly, she picked up the heavy urn and placed it on the counter
Her arms stretched
towards the candle for
Unbeknownst to her, the wind has doused the fireplace.
And then, the chimney creaked.
Whose eyes were they?
Alex was no longer with her.
The scent of the lilies wafted through the windows.
But she no longer found it pleasant.
***
The Run
Signing the yellow form and she carefully ticked the small box.
10 k!
A successful marathon runner who looks forward to such events so that she can participate.
She will run up and down the stairs, goes for a long run in the early morning. She gifted herself
a pair of running shoes. Before dawn knowing, he wakes up very late; she will be on her running sessions.
No one knows why she is running. She was exhausted, tired, and asking for water.
He gently asked her. From what are you running away?
***
In the face of adversity
Be humble like that earthen pot.
As the temperature outside rises high, the water inside the pot becomes more chilled and sweet.
Being in a state of such virtue makes you wiser.
When people try to provoke, you stay calm and relaxed.
Respond, don't react. There is a big difference between these two terms.
**
The rainy days are here - Buried seeds
Dig deeper and bury, go ahead, do it.
The squirrels were busy digging and hiding the seeds. Deep inside the forest
They were unaware those are seeds which eventually germinate in the rain.
The squirrels were digging in progress, while the man deforests to build his home.
***
Pearls of Wisdom
"If you are stressed look for ways to de-stress yourself."
"Being happy and contented is a choice."
"Don't get annoyed by the reactions of people around you, especially your partner who have no clue what you are going through."
Ria, "Doing meditation will calm you."
She spoke softly to her friend after an outburst with her man.
Slowly whipping her tears. Staring at the wall.
Her puppy came running from nowhere to hug her, as though he got the vibe.
Whoof woof, holding a blue ball, he called her to play with him.
***
My love affair with chai (tea)
- the confessions part 1
I thought of making that special cup of Sulaimani chai which is quite popular these days in Kerala.
Being from the southern state's coastal region, I always had a liking for tea without milk.
I was interested to know the origin of this delicious drink which attracts my taste buds so much that my days are not over without a cup of it. Be it winter or summer, rainy days, whether I am at home or travelling.
The great sulaimani chai has Arab origin. No wonder I feel like Jasmine after drinking a hot cup of it as I have already confessed the number of cups of chai increases when it's a rainy day or chilly cold winter days.
Sulaimani chai served with a heavy meal like yummy biryani ( I know you are already drooling)
I was reading the history, geography and chemistry of Sulaimani chai. But finally realized it's available in Dubai and other Arab countries.
No wonder where my countrymen, I mean God's own country- Kerala, they will make sulaimani, and I am sure I will get my cup of tea.
FROZEN MEMORIES - SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS
Symphony of music in the kitchen
***
The crispy, crunchy music that biscuit cover makes and my puppy from nowhere appears! Even at wee hours of the night!
The crackling of mustard, the whooshing of fresh vegetables and the buzzing of the exhaust fan, the beep when you open the fridge and leave it for more than a minute
The gentle, rhythmic music when you grate coconut.
The wrooommm of your mixer, the dadak of the grinder as it softly grinds urad dal.
Water tap making a woooooshhh sound and you wonder who let the tap on at 5.30 am!! You hear it as a waterfall!!
When we fill water from the water filter, a piece of annoying music will play, which overpower the water's gentle flow.
When you accidentally keep the burner in the wrong way, a strange bumble bee buzzing it does. When the vessels are put back in shelf after cleaning the musical orchestra, they create. Some days it's like jalatharangam the other days like bhangra, I have heard drum beats too!! Depending on the mood of the person who arranges.
The low-intensity beep of the washing machine as it completes the task.
The shelves make a scary noise when there is pin-drop silence in the house.
Some days when you boil the milk, it will jump out of joy make the vessel jump along.
The conversation ladle and subzi's make in kadai is out of the world.
When you chop onion, cabbage, carrot, tomato, beans, ginger, palak and fruits, each one creates Beethoven's symphony!!
Kitchen is a fantastic place to be with such enlightened souls!!
The filter coffee maker was burbling first in the morning or night whenever we pour boiling water to the old brass coffee filter.
I wonder if could re-create all the vast treasure trove of food sound—the ocean of unparalleled music. Music is everywhere, and it's the essence of life. It is endless jamming.
A cruise with my valentine
She was wondering what to wear? An unusual question which kept on popping in her mind. Finally, she wrote a message to him.
Can I wear a saree, salwar kameez, jeans or shorts?
What about the skirt and blouse? Maybe a gown or that parallels with a casual t-shirt.
The difference it makes the guy not understand why she was giving so much importance to such things. All he knows that his heart skipped a beat when he sees her.
He removed the beautiful silver anklets he bought for her, and it was packed in a small jewellery box. He dreamt of putting it on her feet. She will look gorgeous, he thought.
In small italics, he wrote in a pink sheet of post it. Happy Valentine's Day my love ❤️
His love for her was above all definitions. He believed love should be for a lifetime, celebrating togetherness in joy and pain. He marked the dates on his calendar with blue ink against the black letters.
She gifted him a sturdy, glowing walking stick, his initials engraved in bold golden letters.
" R"
In the age column, she filled 52, and he wrote 59. They handed over the forms together as they boarded the cruise for Athens. Did you hear her anklets tingling?
The shadow
A brief message that read:
I don't know how to reach you; Can I call you? There is something I wish to discuss. Please check your messages where I have tagged you.
Busy bee, she mumbled, half smiling to herself.
Waiting for his response was always fun; it's the thrill of waiting, making it even more enjoyable.
She gently smiled at his photograph, which she had saved in her phone. His smiling face and soft eyes were all she admired the most.
It happens when we are busy with our work and prioritizes our work over the little things in life.
She was talking to herself.
What will he be doing now?
Busy writing something important or reading or attending seminar.
But for her the tiny details he gives to the relationship was more important.
He always made sure her needs met. No matter how hard his day was, and how lazy he felt in doing certain errands.
He was quite good at playing with words, which made her happy. Knowing very well of his virtue and ability to speak straight from heart, she will melt in his arms.
She focused on decorating the living room with bold, bright candles and the large vase with his favourite flowers. She started humming an old song.
Waiting for him, she had fallen asleep on the couch.
It was almost 11 at night, and the doorbell rang thrice.
She ran as fast she could to open the door, a lean thin figure moved like a shadow. She got scared to see a stranger outside her door.
The doorbell rang again. She was finding it difficult to hold breath.
The shadow slowly moved backwards and vanished on the dark, gloomy street.
***
It was getting dark, and the GPS navigation was going round and round. He was unable to recognize the usual path. There was a division in the regular traffic.
The traffic jam was evident with the heavy downpour. As he headed towards the road that leads to Church, he could see a thin, lean figure standing and helplessly waving its hand as though asking for help. He had no heart to ignore the plea.
Many cars passed ahead of him without giving a thought of the person asking for a lift. Finally, he decided to be kind. He stopped his car and let him in.
He was a thin man with a very long face and eyes as sharp as a hawk. His nose was bit curved, making him resemble a comical character. He tried to speak in Spanish and Portuguese. But was unable to utter a word in English and so communication becomes a hard thing.
They spoke in sign language. The stranger asked to drop at the nearby cemetery as he had to meet his family who lived near the Church.
Stevie was in a hurry to get rid of the unwanted passenger at the earliest. He knows his wife must be waiting for him to join supper.
The rain was making it even more challenging to drive. Finally, he reached home and could not see any street lights on.
It was as though the power shut down. He tried to call, but then he realized the battery died.
He tried to knock the door; the clock struck 1.
Ena slowly opened her eyes. She was sitting near the door, shivering and speechless.
Stevie gently called out her name. Ena, baby it's me, darling.
"Please open the door."
Ena was at last relieved to hear her man's whisper, she got up and tried to open the door. The cold wind was blowing.
In the dark, she could see her man. Smiling at her, she rushed and hugged him.
He whispered in her ears. " I am at home." Stevie lifted her and brought her inside the house.
It was a terrible night the couple went through.
But who was that thin, lean hawk-eyed man who travelled with Stevie and rang the doorbell??
What was the reason for his appearance in their life?
Did a shadow move far away? Was it the hawk-eyed man?
The Phobia
***
Her diary had notes of every day's activities.
She wrote in bold, big handwriting with a fat ink pen, some words marked in red, some in blue, what she did every hour.
Incidents which shook her, passion, hobbies, failure, fights she had, love that was divine, and the last page of her diary had a lot about her.
Strange fears and phobias.
I am afraid of heights. But I want to fly like a bird one day. I travel by flights and enjoy seeing the buildings and farmland like small toy land.
I have road fear, so I don't drive my car. But I am a showstopper. I stop all vehicles while I cross the road.
I get scared when I have to stay alone in a room while travelling. I enjoy staying all alone when at home.
I am afraid of rats, but I am a wildlife enthusiast. I travel the world in search of tigers and other wild animals.
I am afraid I may never meet you again. But I dream every day of being with you. You are my first love, but I fear losing you.
What are you afraid of?
The funeral
***
Yesterday we were attending the funeral of a close relative's father.
I have stopped going for funerals for the past five years as it evokes painful memories of my elder sister who died in her 50's. Sometimes my mom says I resemble her. I have seen the pain in her eyes.
Losing your elder child is such a heartbreaking experience.
I think we will never overcome the pain, no matter how much we try to forget, our loved one's memories will always linger in our life.
Well, death is inevitable.
I was thinking about the last rites we did for my sister. I refused to see her ashes. For me, she still is there with me. I want to think about her as a happy go lucky person who was full of life.
Return if possible, the world needs humans like you.
FROZEN MEMORIES - SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS
An unhappy marriage
There seems to be nothing much to discuss these days. The usual: did you pay
bills, insurance premium, grocery shopping, dropping children to school. The
same boring things.
Ranjana looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes were dull, lined with dark circles. Unkept hair, she rolled them into a messy bun. He was no longer interested in her.
She got up, and made coffee and breakfast. Woke the children up and they had breakfast. Sunil was still asleep.
She quickly had her shower, wore a faded kurti, and started making lunch. She turned on the radio and started humming an old song.
Nothing seemed special, nor was there any excitement in their relationship. She didn't bother about anything anymore. Like a robot, she did her duties.
He got up, had his brunch, sat with the newspaper. He didn't bother to wish her, nor appreciate her cooking. She had stopped asking him anything anyway. She didn't smile at him, nor did she discuss anything except the usual boring stuff.
She watched what she liked, he watched what he enjoyed.
They lived their life for the sake of their children. Nothing had changed until them, nothing was going to change either.
They would celebrate their 25th anniversary like that.
***
Ranjana sighed, looking at her client's pictures., "Yet another counselling session is needed," she thought. All her efforts to rekindle their relationship hadn't worked. It seemed like they have given up on each other.
She saw three messages from Sunil: pay the EMI, transfer money for the children's tuition, and please check when is the insurance premium due?
She took her handkerchief and wiped her tears.
She made a list of activities for the couple, her clients.
Go for outings to exotic places,
Bring back the spark in your life
Write love notes to each other
Go for blind dates, call each other to meet at park, coffee shop, beach or anywhere you like to meet.
Give surprises, give an unexpected call.
Bring home flowers for her.
Give her a foot massage.
After writing all of them she turned back and looked at her husband. Sunil was glued to his laptop sending mails. Ignoring her and acknowledging her presence.
One winter night
One winter night
***
It was 12 am and everyone in the lawn greeted each other, she stayed back alone at home. The air was intoxicating, loud music, champagne bottles, Chinese lanterns, people talking and laughing.
He hugged her and wished happy new year, she closed her eyes, it's been a year they met. The mirror had so much steam he wrote her name in it.
The cat was making weird noises looking up.
There were no blood stain and the bathroom was filled with steam, making it difficult to see each other.
Her wardrobe was wide open dresses scattered here and there, her jewelries were intact, not a single card was missing.
Except his first love letter.
She sat in the dark for hours thinking about that night.
His blue eyes were shining like sapphire when he bends down to lift her, she could not recollect anything after that.
They found her outside the lawn under the big mango tree, scared and shivering.
The mirror was clear now, she looked at her reflection, there were love bites on her neck.
Will he come back?
***
An unhappy marriage
An unhappy marriage
***
There seems to be nothing much to discuss these days. The usual: did you pay
bills, insurance premium, grocery shopping, dropping children to school. The
same boring things.
Ranjana looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes were dull, lined with dark circles. Unkept hair, she rolled them into a messy bun. He was no longer interested in her.
She got up, and made coffee and breakfast. Woke the children up and they had breakfast. Sunil was still asleep.
She quickly had her shower, wore a faded kurti, and started making lunch. She turned on the radio and started humming an old song.
Nothing seemed special, nor was there any excitement in their relationship. She didn't bother about anything anymore. Like a robot, she did her duties.
He got up, had his brunch, sat with the newspaper. He didn't bother to wish her, nor appreciate her cooking. She had stopped asking him anything anyway. She didn't smile at him, nor did she discuss anything except the usual boring stuff.
She watched what she liked, he watched what he enjoyed.
They lived their life for the sake of their children. Nothing had changed until them, nothing was going to change either.
They would celebrate their 25th anniversary like that.
***
Ranjana sighed, looking at her client's pictures., "Yet another counselling session is needed," she thought. All her efforts to rekindle their relationship hadn't worked. It seemed like they have given up on each other.
She saw three messages from Sunil: pay the EMI, transfer money for the children's tuition, and please check when is the insurance premium due?
She took her handkerchief and wiped her tears.
She made a list of activities for the couple, her clients.
Go for outings to exotic places,
Bring back the spark in your life
Write love notes to each other
Go for blind dates, call each other to meet at park, coffee shop, beach or anywhere you like to meet.
Give surprises, give an unexpected call.
Bring home flowers for her.
Give her a foot massage.
After writing all of them she turned back and looked at her husband. Sunil was glued to his laptop sending mails. Ignoring her and acknowledging her presence.
The journey of life
The journey of life
***
A short journey back home after a vacation seems to be the longest train journey ever traveled. He was waiting at the station, and she looked at her watch, the train seems to take its own sweet time, halting at every single station.
Life seems to be an endless journey, unexpected twists and turns, endless waiting for the one you want to spend your time.
It's late by an hour, but for her it was like a year. Meeting the one you love the most and a short vacation without him around seems unbearable.
Each passing day she could feel the emptiness, amidst her siblings and relatives she felt loneliness. The void was so great.
Then she started to imagine he is right next to her, an imaginary conversation with him was giving her peace of mind. She was complete, happy and cheerful. The simple thought of a walk with him on golden beach sand, sometimes keeping their legs at the same pace.
Praying for his well-being, thinking he was standing next to her at the sanctum sanctorum of their family deity. She felt his invisible presence everywhere, which was something new to her.
She ordered food that he loved to eat at different restaurants. Cooked meals which he loved to eat. Each time she was alone she knew he was with her. So, the loneliness which was killing her no longer exist.
Beaches were the place she loved the most, she drew two loving hearts on the beach sand to be kissed away by the naughty waves, she imagined the sea will evaporate and the rain clouds will carry her strong love for him and shower. The intensity of her fondness for him grew more when they were away from each other.
She drew rangoli on her front yard, but they too turned out to be expressing her deep love for her man. It's all getting into her nerves.
Mountains she visited had a mysterious charm, the thick fog had a charming impact on her. She thought of flying like a kite on top of the mountains, he by her side of course. She called out his name and the mountain echoed it!! She knew he loved mountains, which made her fall in love with it!
The train chugged along, even more slowly as it had no plans to reach its destination. She was feeling bored, looking outside at the trees, houses running away. The thought of getting down at three stations away from her destination, pick a taxi to reach him! A thought she laughed away. She was traveling ahead of the train at a great hurry to reach him.
Finally, the snail train reached her destination, much to her relief he was waiting for her, smiling gently as she dragged her heavy baggage. Talking to herself, laughing at the same time.
The train left the station and she sighed.
By the time he grabbed her luggage and started walking towards their car. She had to run behind to reach him. With the heavy silk saree she wore, was making it hard for her to walk faster.
She placed her handbag on her lap and put seat belt, she knows he drives very fast, but then she started to narrate him about the wedding, places she visited, temples she prayed, he was silently listening to her nonstop descriptions. Laughing at her excitement to tell everything at one go!
It was a dream vacation, he carefully planned for her. He knows she loves her native village, her family her childhood friends. After meeting her she had made him her world. A break from usual routine will do good for her. He was feeling happy that she got her well-deserved break from routine.
Driving back home, he was thinking it's like meeting her for the first time!!
She was looking gorgeous on a beautiful saree which his mother had gifted her. He adjusted the mirror so that he could see her dimples when she smiles.
Nungu and walking
I love to go for long walks, in fact the best way to know your city or any place in the world is to walk and enjoy the nature. When I travel which is a habit now, taking short break from every day running around. I feel happy and rejuvenated after a refreshing journey to unknown destinations.
Coming back to the very interesting part of my walkathon. Well, I am preparing myself for a long walk and trekking to visit a dream destination. Valley of flowers. I don't know when I will take a break and embark to this rare gem hidden in the valley of Himalayas. By the way I go for walking every day to short distance say 2 to 3 kilometers.
But of late the desire to go for more enjoyable walks have taken over!!So I increase the distance slowly day by day week by week. A long-term planning.
Today I thought of taking a brisk walk after making breakfast and lunch. It was about 10 am and it was bright, sunny outside. There is a small park nearby where I live and a temple, plus you can also buy fresh vegetables. Many benefits by walking around your neighborhood.
When I reached it was almost closing time? A security guard was trying to chase away the few who were still sitting and doing exercise. I took a large round in the park, then realized the guard have already locked the main entrance.
To my dismay I could see people inside probably many just left. Then I started walking towards other gates, luckily one was half open. Thanking my stars, I came out of the park and walked outside. As I was walking towards my home on the streets in a cart, I saw a palm fruit seller. We call it nungu in Tamizh.
After a pleasant chit chat with the guy in Kannada, he finally realized I can speak in Tamizh, which I think most of the people sense! Well, he and a few like him get the fruit from Salem. One full cart of nungu will get sold by afternoon! Each one costing about 30 rupees.
But they were really delicious and I enjoyed eating them. The thin layer of tender skin around the fruit was bit tricky to remove. But I tried to remove it and just gulped the tender, juicy fruit. It was yum! By the way he gave me another very tender one, that was full of juice. In fact while he was cutting it was dripping!
After that I went to the temple had a good darshan and merrily walked back home. Had a great morning walk, about 4 kilometers today. I will come up more with my stories!!
Enchanting escapades
She refused to marry. Her parents didn't understand why their daughter was saying no to every prospective alliance.
Is she in love with someone?
They don't know about her lover, no one know. He was not visible to anyone's eyes.
But she could see him, talk to him, spend time with him. They met every night under the huge parijatha tree, which had the beautiful fragrant, orangish stem and white petals flower.
It bloomed at night like their eternal love and fall at dawn when the naughty wind blow. Making a carpet of white and orange colour.
The moon and wind know their love. But no one understand what the blowing wind murmured in their ears. Nor the fading moon uttered a word.
Celestial being he was, up from the heavens. Great musicians of Indraloka. Who made apsaras dance to their tune?
She waited for him to reach her, every night.
She gently put her arms around his neck and whispered to him," I want to be with you during day time or whenever I want to see you. Please give me a boon. "
He smiled and disappeared. It was already dawn.
The wind started blowing, there were signs of a heavy downpour.
She was in an intoxicated state, smitten with his genuine love.
Third night he appeared out of nowhere.
He smiled and hold her hands, there was a tiny idol which exactly looked like him. He gifted that to her.
"You touch it with a peacock feather whenever you want to see me, I will appear" He said.
They cooked amazing food, he sang the most melodious songs, they danced sometimes at slow pace, swam at the green emerald lakes and oceans, drove to exotic places, and lived their lives far away from the maddening crowd. She was happy. After all what else do you need in life?
Love is blind so they say, its invisible too!
A
magical planet
***
This is something I woke up with one morning, reminds me of Douglas Adams, and
I have no idea where it's going. It has no name yet.
Want to try and
continue the story? :)
-----
"I'll buy a planet, that's what I'll do", thought T, nearly jumping
into the air in delight at the sheer simplicity of the answer to all his
problems. "Yes, I'll buy a planet and set up a place there and it should
all be fine!" he repeated to himself, pulling out his phone to check his
current worth. The string of zeroes that stared back at him made him smile
dreamily before a troubling thought struck him. Who does one buy a planet from?
T wasn't used to not knowing, he simply wasn't. In the 45 years he'd been around, living in different countries, dining and being dined by heads of state and bald dictators of little countries, launching ships to Mars no less, he couldn't remember a single person who claimed to be in the business of selling planets. There was an ambitious realtor who tried for a while to sell him weekend timeshares in a Tibetan monastery though that chap hadn't been seen for a while. "What a fool I've been, ignoring the most obvious place of all", he thought, heading for the thick yellow book on the table in the corner - the yellow pages!
After scanning all three volumes, and having called a few entries from Aliens & Immigration, Catering, Gigolos and Spiritual Services that offered 'out of this world' experiences and not having found quite what he was looking for, T was forced to admit he may need to find help. Someone who saw the world for what it was, not a nerd as he was. Someone sophisticated, well-traveled, worldly and wise... his daughter C.
He should have thought of her earlier. Who else did he know who were as well-informed as she was, as resourceful, as clever? No one! Reaching the door to her room, white and trimmed with pink and gold, he knocked, only slightly nervous. She always did that to him, sometimes ignoring him and at others showering him with all her attention. Ah well, if you couldn't pull all that crap at 10, when could you, he chuckled, opening the door after hearing a sing-song 'come in daddy!' from within.
T opened the door and walked in to find C, his 10-year-old daughter, sitting at her desk opposite a disheveled man with a large, overstuffed, brown leather briefcase. "Daddy!", C exclaimed when she saw him, "You must meet P, he has this awesome butterfly farm in Bulgaria that he thinks would be a great investment." said C as she walked over to give her father a tight hug. They didn't see each other very often, busy as both were with their own lives, hers considerably busier than his. The man in the shabby grey kurta rose, hand outstretched, "Hello Mr. T", he said, "How have you been?"
"Good, good", said T, "Didn't you used to have this thing about a Tibetan monastery some time ago?"
-- to be continued
***
The above story
appeared on CaL: Readers written by Sid Khullar; I have tried to complete the
short story.
A
man wants to buy a planet where he will get* out of the world experience*
Here is the proposal for his perfect land,
the seller is showing a small brochure which had the description.
Read on
A planet were angles sing the most melodious
song.
Birds sang the lovely songs and angels sing
along.
Cupid was busy mending broken hearts. There
was no disparity between rich and poor, in fact everyone was equal.
People could understand when animals speak.
A pollution free planet with no plastic at
all.
Men, women and children cooked all meals
together and none went to sleep hungry.
The inmates looked much different from humans
on planet Earth. , they were all very beautiful and looked graceful even
without clothes. None had it.
All had big long sharp ears, and smile from ear to ear, they had long pointed
tails, which helped them to climb from one tree to another. They also can glide
in the sky like birds.
They were all pale golden yellow in colour
with deep blue eyes which shine. Everyone had an antenna to track themselves,
so none will ever go missing in that land.
No politician lived
there; people know how to manage their lives without them.
They prayed together before every meal to
Almighty God, who lived with them. They could see the God within and other
inmates.
Water was in abundance for birds, animals and
inmates.
Food was always available; the trees bore the
most delicious fruits.
A perfect place to live in. Welcome to the magical land of happiness.
***
V looked at T with anticipation. C was more
than happy after all someone has volunteered to share T's dream of owning a
planet.
Then V and T spend days together to finalize price for that perfect place,
sleepless nights discussing about the deal.
Because V knew how to propose him the perfect deal, which T could never refuse!
***
C was wondering where her Dad hurriedly go every evening. T was looking
cheerful and he became wise.
V and T were painting each other with golden yellow, fixing sharp pointed ears
and long tails.
T was living his life in the magical land with V by his side of course! The
evening shows were big success. V was clever enough to bring out the best actor
in T.
The show must go on...
****
Telling a tale of cups
and saucers.
***
"Neena, please get ready fast, the boy and his family will be here any
moment."
She sat before the mirror looking at herself. Unable to come in terms with the whole concept of arranged marriage.
Her mother was busy in kitchen making delicious snacks and tea for the guests.
Neena slowly started to wear that lime yellow saree and white blouse with tiny beads, carefully tucking in the pleats.
A pair of bangles she had kept in the dressing table drawer, it was looking bit elaborate for the simple saree she was wearing.
Her mother had instructed her to wear those golden jumka, but she disliked it, instead she chose the silver, large earrings.
Finally, a little touch up, eye shadow and a small black bindi.
She braided her long hair and kept jasmine flowers.
Looking herself in the mirror admiring her slender body. For a moment she thought she look better in jeans and shirt.
The doorbell rang and she could hear the cheerful greetings of her family eagerly waiting for the "boy"
Her aunt came rushing to the room handing over a tray full of snacks and tea. She gently asked Neena to meet the guests.
She reluctantly took the tray and with slow steps somehow reached the living room.
Meeting a group of people who were looking at her. She kept the tray on the table and silently sat on the couch. Waiting for them to interview her.
Anand was looking at her, but she was staring at the floor.
A few questions were asked, without any emotions she answered. Not even a smile on her face.
The elders finally give them little privacy by cooking up a reason as though they are going to see the house.
Anand had no clue what to ask, he was spellbound by her beauty.
Neena looked at him and said, "Anand, do you really think we should get married? We hardly know each other. "
He smiled mischievously at her and looked straight into her eyes.
To work or not to work is your choice
To work or not to work is your choice.
***
Why don't you start working again? A question which most of us homemakers get to answer at one point of time, if you are qualified and have decided to be a stay home mom.
The conversation starts with me usually is "you were doing your research for quite some time," I remind them, "yeah about 6 years now."
Did you complete your PhD? I replied politely, yes, finished Viva Voce a few months back.
The group of grannies couldn't hold their curiosity, after doing so much studies you should start working again!
10 commandments!! My MIL slyly enjoining the conversation. She must be thinking loud "why her daughter in law loves home so much!" Where her daughter slogs between work and home! Injustice, truly.
She hints it many times, reminding me of my role as a lecturer, teaching students. My prolonged silence in the subject, now she is asking through her friends!!
I respond with a usual smile, counting the innumerable interest I have and managing children and home, finding time for myself, trying to balance between my food blogging, gardening and living a peaceful life, while my counterparts abroad struggle to meet both ends.
Already heading towards spirituality these interactions make no wave in me, I remain silent, after all my heart is not in running rat race or spending 8 hours unable to manage home and work. Something I experienced years ago, when I decided to resign from my job and started food blogging and writing endless stories of my travel experience.
The trio my MIL, her sister and their childhood friend look defeated at their secret mission!
My husband gently smiled and winked at me, I smiled in agreeing to his gesture.
The queue
Standing in the long queue outside the consulate wondering why the queue is like an anaconda today?
It's not a holiday but like any other weekday, there were children, students, working men and women, senior citizens and a handful of policemen.
A few auto drivers were alluring passengers. A coconut seller was selling tender coconuts for a whooping 50 rupees!
I dropped my daughter who had applied for BI/B2 tourist visa.
We were at the consulate about 7.30 am, my daughter had 8.15 am appointment. Looking at the hanuman tail, I mean endless queue, I know it will take time for us to reach near the gates.
After standing in the humid, hot bus stand which had almost become the shelter for thousands who come to Chennai for getting their visa.
I thought of having breakfast than stand there, which was almost impossible, I was promptly approached by an auto driver, who was more than eager to show me the city than taking me to the destination - Murugan Idli Shop.
I was bit skeptical whether the joint is still working, after reading its license is temporarily withdrawn due to certain issues.
To my surprise the auto driver, by the time claimed to be food connoisseur of Chennai specialized in idlies and other breakfast options, gave me a dozen joints where I can explore.
But I insisted on Murugan, he gladly dropped and requested me to relish my breakfast while he promised to wait for me, which he honestly did.
I had a few delicacies, packed podi idli, sweet pongal for my husband and dashed out, he was waiting to transport me back to the consulate. A few extra bucks, I settled his account.
It was almost 9 am, the people who stood ahead, behind us were coming out of the door, I became impatient, it was scorching heat, the coconut seller asking me to stay away from his cart.
I was glued to the wall like a lizard, watching every single person coming out of the gate, finally my daughter's phone was switched on, she appeared cheerful, gleaming as though she got an award!
From nowhere exactly at the same time one auto driver appeared saying I will drop you; you got the visa! There are many who got it rejected, you are the first one!
My daughter was looking at that short guy with her big eyes, she glared at me, I just smiled, I know the tricks of trade these guys play.
He then told me you should give me 500 rupees as you got the visa!
My Lord! I was flabbergasted, why on Earth I will do such a thing.
I smiled and told him we will see, he promptly dropped us at the hotel where we were staying.
He then started to talk very sweet, I was already getting annoyed by his over friendliness, to make points clear, I gave him a small advice.
Don't you think it's wrong to ask passengers money like this? First of all, you have refused to put the meter, second you are asking almost 5 times of the charge, third you have done nothing for us getting our visa.
I then went inside the nearby restaurant, called my daughter gave her a hundred rupees and told her to settle him. She was not sure what to tell him, her tamizh is not fluent, picking few words known to her, she framed a sentence.
Take this and I will not pay you more!!
He felt defeated all his enthusiasm went away in a jiffy, he put the money in his purse and left the place.
We both walked slowly to our room checked out and called an ola cab for our airport drop.
Travelling with my teen over the past 5 years, I have experienced such strange people ranging from a taxi guys who belonged to union and demand I should hire them, auto guys like this!
Bulldozing the bullies!!
A makeover session
Visit a beauty parlor at your own risk!
Be prepared to hear loads and loads of unwanted advice as to what kind of
treatments you should undergo.
It starts from the lion maned beautician examine your hair texture, shine and count the number of black hairs left in your head.
You should regularly take hair spa, it's very good for you (bad for your wallet)
The pollution, water, travelling takes a toll on your hair, a good shampoo (of course it's their brand) and a conditioner (ditto) can improve it!
Which brand you use?
If you are naive and straight forward you will out of your innocence utter the name, bingo, they got a prospective murga!!
There comes another Dr. Do little or so, most of the time a very pretty looking girl, smiling at you and desperately trying to save your broom stick (by now you look like a person who got a shock) from the dust and harmful products.
Her job profile is to convince, cajole and make you guilty of not caring your hair for obvious reasons!
Two tiny bottles one is a serum and another look like toothpaste tube it's a cream, now she will blend them before setting your hair, (even a rat will do a better job in cutting your hair!)
The blow dryer is a deadly weapon, it dries less of your hair, burn more of your face. The curler or straightener depends on the hair, if you have curly wavey hair she will straighten it, or the other way around.
For two days you can walk around with your set hair. Give it a try!
Manicure, Pedicure session follows with a facial.
The treasure hunt
The treasure hunt
***
She stumbled upon an old book from her attic, as old as her, a few pages had doggy ears, the cover page was pale green with the letters almost impossible to read.
She sneezed, the *biblichor (smell of the number of old books piled up) was pretty strong. The books were looking like a treasure untouched by anyone for ages.
She felt like Aladdin, carefully rubbing the books like they were magic lanterns. A tiny creature jumped out, genie, ran for its life, before she even realized what it was!
A rusted, iron trunk sat silently watching her in the hope she will at least run her fingers over it.
The spiders were worried will she try to clean up their trapezium? They were having the gala of time at that dark corner where none dare to even sneak peek, forget having the courage to pick anything from there.
The fat lizard was annoyed, her presence and her curiosity to devour books, a safe haven he and his family of four called their home.
The broken earthen pot crumbled a bit when she crawled past her, it's really scary.
She holds the hurricane lamp just to make sure she could read the title of the books.
The big shadow of long hands and curly hair drive the bravest of the brave. She looked like a witch to the inmates.
After an hour of struggle, she found what she was desperately looking for!
It was a small " Japanese numerology book" her grandfather bought from Japan on one of his voyages, there were few more books all bundled as a gift, "beginners guide to Japanese language," surprisingly all the books had her grandparents' signature,
To our granddaughter who will one day come looking for these priceless books!
Love
Makoto Ishihara
Mizuki
Painting my heart with your love- Love just happen
She raised her eyes, he was staring at her
She lowered her glance and blushed, He smiled.
She drank few sips from her smoothie, he gulped the rest.
He ordered food saying she would love it, but she watched him eat it, as it's his
favorite dish. Nibbling now and then something.
She was looking at the lanterns hanging from the roof, his eyes were following her.
Love never knocks your hearts door, it just happens. There is a strong bond of love
in every friendship.
She sighed as he got in his taxi watched him going away from her.
Every time you go, oh boy you take a piece of me!
Bidding adieu - A mango story
Bidding adieu
***
Carrying the heavy basket filled with vegetables she somehow reached the
billing counter.
Her eyes captured the few left over Dasheri, Chausa, Langda and those sad looking Neelam, it marks the end of Mango season.
With a heavy heart and drooling over the forbidden fruit she left the vegetables basket and went ahead and took another red basket and slowly walked towards mango section.
She inspected the mango by lifting each one, smelling and gently squeeze them to make sure they are ripe and ready to consume.
Good quality Langada will remain green even though its deliciously ripped and ready to devour, a tiny tear in the skin and indulge.
Filling the basket with a variety of mangoes and heartlessly ignoring the cry of pineapple and apple, she walked towards the counter.
By the time two more customers had finished billing and she again had to stand in the queue, it didn't bother her much, she was satisfied with the mangoes which were gleefully sitting in the basket.
After billing her son drove her back home. While wondering why his mom was silent.
Her thoughts dates back to her childhood days in their village. She loved those very special royal kutoorkonam varikka mangoes available only during summer. She still requested her brother to send her a few whenever someone visits her during summer.
She removed all vegetables and arranged them in separate smaller bags, kept them in fridge.
She started to arrange mangoes in the sack basket each one sliding so that children can enjoy them.
After all the work, she sat for her lunch, a little red rice, curd and a chausa. Still lost in her thoughts she had a hearty meal, forgetting all the restrictions not to eat mangoes!!
She turned on the music and started singing an old melody.
Jaaneman jaaneman tere do nayan
Chori chori leke gaye dekho mera man
Jaaneman jaaneman jaaneman
Mere do nayan, chor nahi sajan
Tumse hi khoya hoga kahi tumhaara man
Jaaneman jaaneman jaaneman
***
Crossing the straight line
Crossing the straight line
***
Aging gracefully, looking at the mirror, tiny lines in forehead, natural eye liners, dimple when you smile, tiny hair which grows near ears, they are curly, small almost invisible pimples even at middle age, a few grey hairs as you comb your crowning glory, her face without any makeup not even any kajal, her eyes become small when she gives that confident, wide smile.
Her neck bones, visible as she proudly wears the blouse and slowly draped a beautiful saree adjusting the pleats, pinning them here and there, a small bindi, and matching handbag sometime or any easy cloth bag, a good sandal, a simple hair do, most of the time the fashionable bun or a twirl and twist a butterfly clip, a few hair crumpled and curled.
There she is ever so looking gorgeous and pretty. Admiring her curves, amused at her body carefully placing the excess fat at the right places, like a voluminous sculpture.
She is stepping out of her small world the four walls; she is here to rock your world.
Your desi girl!!
In a red georgette with peacock feather all over, a polka dotted black tops. She walked out of the house, picking her heavy suitcase and backpack.
He was impatient at the railway station to grab his childhood sweetheart. His dream girl!
Unable to recognize each other they stood in different platforms, the railway tracks parallel before them, marking the endless journey to their unknown destination.
Holding two tickets in hand he slowly with a heavy heart got into train.
She sat on the bench waiting for him.
***
Do you wish to continue this story? How would you like to end this story?
Crossing the straight line
Crossing the straight line
***
Aging gracefully, looking at the mirror, tiny lines in forehead, natural eye liners, dimple when you smile, tiny hair which grows near ears, they are curly, small almost invisible pimples even at middle age, a few grey hair as you comb your crowning glory, her face without any makeup not even any kajal, her eyes become small when she give that confident, wide smile.
Her neck bones, visible as she proudly wear the blouse and slowly drape a beautiful saree adjusting the pleats, pinning them here and there, a small bindi, and matching handbag sometime or any easy cloth bag, a good sandal, a simple hair do, most of the time the fashionable bun or a twirl and twist a butterfly clip, a few hair crumpled and curled.
There she is ever so looking gorgeous and pretty. Admiring her curves, amused at her body carefully placing the excess fat at the right places, like a voluminous sculpture.
She is stepping out of her small world the four walls, she is here to rock your world.
Your desi girl!!
In a red georgette with peacock feather all over, a polka dotted black tops. She walked out of the house, picking her heavy suitcase and backpack.
He was impatient at the railway station to grab his childhood sweetheart. His dream girl!
Unable to recognize each other they stood in different platforms, the railway tracks parallel before them, marking the endless journey to their unknown destination.
Holding two tickets in hand he slowly with a heavy heart got into train.
She sat on the bench waiting for him.
***
Do you wish to continue this story? How would you like to end this story?
For the love of your team
For the love of your team
***
Sunday morning, he looks forward to read magazine section, newspapers are supplied with extra pages and he is particularly interested in back page.
Hmm, his love for back bench, back seat and now back page is obvious. There is always scope for some mischief.
The endless supply of story books, that piece of cake flicked from the front bencher's lunch box, the geometry box which is used by the entire class, math notes silently copied and all answers were wrong!
You get very good view of the girls sitting ahead of you, and sometimes a curious pair of sparkling eyes meet with your dreamy eyes and a gentle smile on the lips of the boy next to you! It's so prominent that more than you he felt the spark.
His memories glid back to his school days.
His father's hawks' eyes met with him for a millisecond.
"Why are you wearing those fancy dress? you look like a buffoon."
"Sitting at home not going to work and talking big things, working from home, Why don't you go to office? "
Unable to focus on cricket match and listening to nonstop nonsense from his retired father, he thought of giving his piece of mind.
"Ayyo, Appa, why don't you chatter krishna, rama and sit in that easy chair, enjoying your coffee and snacks? Why like a vethalam you are after me!?"
"I am doing my job from the comforts of home and please let me watch this crucial match, India is batting."
"But then why you are wearing the cap, t shirt and sitting in your underwear?"
"Ohh, Appa it's shorts, and I am cheering the team India."
"Okay, okay I don't know what fancy dress you will be when India reach Olympics, short put and archery! Not to forget swimming, are you going to swim in the bed with the team,"
"Shiva, shiva! Appa don't be so annoying, have some sportsman spirit!"
"Lakshmi, did you hear that? Sportsman spirit!!"
His mother peeped out of kitchen and without any expression goes back to her cooking.
"I was the football team captain in college, ask your mother, how she fell in love with me."
"Those were the most beautiful days."
"We were in the field, not sitting in bed, eating chips
drinking diet coke, wearing
t-shirt and cheering!"
Ouuuuuttttt! He screamed....
5th wicket fall and the desperate fan in
t-shirt started praying!
The father started humming a keerthanam, mother busy making supper, he back to nail biting and a handful of lays pushed down!
" Tatha, want to join us? His grandson pulled his Dhoti?"
Surprised he looked at the little one, with a football in hand, he and his team, two puppies wagging their tail inviting him to play the game!
"That's the spirit, my boy!"
Picking his creches and jumping in one leg he went down the steps, forgetting all about his amputated right leg.
Lakshmi's eyes were filled with tears of happiness, seeing her man back to his favorite game.
The kitchen window cheered the team, she wiped her tears with her saree pallu.
"GOAL"
Hunger - Its face is always pale
"Keep quiet! Why can't you maintain silence for 5 minutes in the classroom?"
"What is there to talk so much?" She was furious and annoyed by the buzzing in her class.
These kids are becoming too much nowadays.
Children sat quietly for a minute, trying hard not to laugh. The last benchers were so restless, but tried to be silent, giggling noiselessly.
Akshay couldn't take it anymore, he drank so much water during the lunch break. Now how to ask the teacher that he had to use the washroom.
She had declared 5 minutes silence, silence means no one should open their mouth and talk, then how to ask her permission?
He stood in his place, hoping for her to notice him. She was busy correcting answer papers.
He made a vague effort to shake the bench and immediately stopped himself, that will put himself in more trouble.
Finally he slowly walked towards her and stood very close to her, she suddenly realized his presence, she raised her eyebrows, he showed her the tiny finger in his right hand.
She got very annoyed, why can't you ask? Why are you trying to speak to me in sign language?
He wanted to tell her, but looked innocently at her and the class, other kids were smiling and some burst into laughter!
She realized the reason for his silence and let him go, he darted like an arrow. In a few minutes she started narrating a story to the class, he was walking back to the classroom.
"May I come in ma'am?"
He opened his mouth to ask for her permission to enter the classroom.
"Yes, Akshay, please come in, " she smiled at him.
Knowing very well, he never brought lunch to school and she had many times shared her lunch with him. The poor kid will drink water the day no one share their meal with him.
Bubbles
A jar of pickle faded and oil had completely drained and sitting sadly in corner of the refrigerator looked at her with some hope, at least she will pick it.
On the side racks a few eno packets and some Thai red curry paste were also hopeful of being touched by her.
She switched off the machine, the tall sturdy refrigerator which silently sat in the middle of the kitchen right-side wall.
It was decorated like an elephant going to a procession, magnets from over the world, places she had visited, a souvenir which she brings on her visits.
The milk try had cheese, paneer, butter and its divided into two parts, on the right side it previous days milk packets on the left side its freshly delivered milk.
The next one had curd, leftover food in small containers. But here and there in small bottles something will be sitting untouched for months together. Each time when fridge gets a spa the bottles were removed and kept back.
She was not in any mood to leave them alone, she actually wanted to open and find out what's inside them.
A steel small box tightly was hugging the big jar of jackfruit jam, she found two tablespoons of tamarind pulp, which had gone with the wind!
A tall thin jar of Mango pickle which had some strange things in it was the next victim, she decided to discard the stuff with the rusted lid.
Next was a ice cream box which had few herbs, completely turned into dark green, shivering inside. "Boom!" there goes that too to the sink.
A few packets completely squeezed and left to survive were there, a packet of egg less mayonnaise, tomato ketchup and hot and sour sauce.
A little bit of chili powder, some masala powder for tamarind rice, a few spoonful's of some white powder, whether it maida or rice or whatever, something was dearly hanging from it, like trapezium threads.
The table mats which now acts as a protector in between hard sturdy steel vessels and the racks of the fridge where looking literally like wounded warriors, a bit of batter, some yellow stains, a little bit of curd, some chocolate stain.
She removed all the stuff from fridge carefully staked them like building blocks on the counter, pulled out every table mat, racks, shelves, tiny shelves for eggs, milk, trays every piece went to the sink, all the mats were neatly arranged for washing with hot water and soap solution.
Ice cubes were emptied, a box full of small packet of masalas, she rolled rubber bands around them so that they don't talk to eat other and jump out of packet making a mixture of unknown flavors.
The large triangles of chocolates were cut and kept inside a ice cream air tight container. So that the kids can scavenge the fridge and wonder where they just vanished.
After an hour of rubbing and scrubbing she finally completed the task, the refrigerator was looking happy after all she got the perfect spa and she was beaming with a large smile ever so silently decorated the kitchen with her gentle presence.
And for her she felt a sense of achievement every corner of the house gets her undivided attention which includes the tiny microorganisms, bacteria, fungus, and other living creatures.
Next target is the storage cupboard which is under the stairs.....
The missed call
Referring through a bundle of study materials, journals and websites for writing an article, and completing assignments after assignments he realized it is been a long time, he called his mother.
Her last visit to his home a few months back for a weeks' time was the best time, he had said with her, had a hearty breakfast his wife fondly made for the family.
But then after his parents left home, he became busy with his professional work, completely absorbed in his work, days, weeks and months flew.
Three months of maddening schedule, work pressure, commitments, children's education, their exams everyday dawn with a new challenge.
His wife equally went through her share of household work, her personal life and her issues.
But then one day morning his mother gave him a missed call.
He was busy browsing for his new write up, scribbling now and then, his ginger, clove tea getting warm in the white mug, sipping it now and then, his mother's call distracted him for a moment.
Is there any emergency, mom never calls unless it's something important?
He left all his work halfway and messaged his brother,
"Bhai all well? Why mom calling me? Anything urgent?"
After a few minutes his brother wrote back, "nothing, but mom misses you."
"She wants to hear you talk to her; you know she cares for you more than all of us!"
"Okay, I will call her, I was planning a surprise for mom and dad, once all my work gets done, I want to come home for a couple of days."
"Oh good, at last you took some time off your schedule to be with family. We will have fun bro!"
He then called his mom,
तुम हमको भूल गया क्या?
That was his mother's first reaction!
Mother's heart and mind is always with her children, no matter how old they are.
He was overwhelmed with her affection and promised her to keep in touch before diving into the bunch of books!
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