Thursday, 28 May 2015

forlorn farms





Keeping an eye on the ruckus and another on the bunch of assignment sheets,

I was amused to see an unusual drawing instead of words scribbled.

Rohan with a morose face said, “This is my family; parents, grandparents, me,

my sibling and these little ones are my kitten”.

Each tomato glistened from the bright crayon hues.

“The untimely rains destroyed our standing tomato crop and only these have 

survived”, and saline pearls streamed down the innocent checks.

Nature and its vagaries cannot be commanded but the student drop-out rate 

could be checked.


“Waive off school-fees”, screamed the morning newspaper headlines.


                                       Written for Wordy Wednesday -B-A-R

                                     BAR_WW_Badege

Thank you Aparna George, for the lovely picture prompt.

Wednesday, 27 May 2015

colourful




Don’t let the fear of not pleasing someone stop you from being creative.
                                                                                                                Wil Wheaton





The ululation of the grieving people filled the atmosphere giving an eerie 

feeling. The air seemed pregnant with pity and uncertainty that loomed 

large like dark clouds.  

The stark white cotton cloth clung to her body but could do little to cover 

her feelings as the barbs insinuated by over-zealous relatives pricked her

soul like zillion needles. She looked pale and ghostly in the colourless white

robe. The tears refused to dry away even after the day of final rites. After

the last relative departed, she embarked on her routine household chores 

lest work kept her busy and fatigue overtook her body and put her to sleep

which was deprived for the past fortnight.


She would have to lead an austere life sans the trappings of a married woman

with the colour white dominating her life. The whole six yard reminded of the

long lonely life ahead devoid of colour and laughter.


As she stepped out of the bathroom, her mother-in-law stuffed a bundle in her

hands.

“But Ma, I cannot drape these colours. What about our relatives and the 

society?, questioned the young widow with trepidation in her eyes.


“Don’t let the fear of not pleasing someone stop you from being creative. Fill

the  blank white canvas with myriad colours of life. Live life to the fullest”,

sermon-ed the lady with grey in her hair and wisdom in the folds of her brain.


Anita smiled and warmly hugged the colourful sarees that were a part of her 

trousseau, year before. The rich vibrant hues were a balm to her tired soul, 

each motif on the sari beckoned her, and the intricate design became clearer 

navigating her onto the path of a brighter horizon and the softness of the 

whole six yard comforting her of a strong mentor and guide.


The older orthodox lady's vision was broader and brighter than any holy lamp 

that Anita hitherto had lit. She could confidently bask in the glory of the lamp,

unafraid of darkness and ghosts. 

                     Live and let live would be Anita’s mantra for life.



                                Written for :  Light and Shade Challenge


                                                    logo

feline fears.

“I have buried my fears. They no longer trouble me”, said Leila nonchalantly

 and  I hurriedly ran inside.

The unfinished painting resting, I was relieved. The two white furry models

curled  up, snug on the sofa, posing and pouting, their whiskers gleaming.



                                                    

Thursday, 21 May 2015

rice field.


                       


Carpe Diem #736 one patch of a rice field


                                             Image result for paddy field with scarecrow and birds flying



ripe rice stalks stand 

wind bends scare-crow 

pigeons have their fill


This Haiku is shared with Carpe Diem - One Patch Of A Rice Field.

Google Image.

the fort


May 20, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write about an old mystery in the
current time.
Is it a discovery? Is it solved? Does it no longer matter, or does it impact innocent
generations in between?









The courtesan swirled to the strains of the 16th century Indian music.
Her beauty unmatched, she was the cynosure of the King's lust while
her heart strings were tied elsewhere.

The moon in its full glory witnessed to the fall of the helpless
courtesan from the fort ramparts into the deep moat by six pair
of evil hands.



I clicked the fullness of the moon with my cell-phone and looked 
in the direction of the footfalls. There was no soul in sight.
Fear froze me. The folk-lore claims were true.

A loud thud was heard and the moat-water rippled.



written for : Carrot Ranch : Flash Fiction Challenge.

Friday, 15 May 2015

River Ganges




And she tried desperately to hold his deliberate loosening grip, the diamond

ring slipped off and remained in his cupped palm, as she saw his sinister smile

before the foaming Ganges sucked the bride into the river-bed.


After the last rites, he sat, staring at the diamond ring.


Horror was largely writ on his face as he saw a hand with the wedding ring, 

rising above the rapid Ganges water-current. His feet gave away as he 

couldn't resist her strong grip dragging him.


"In life and in death together", the wedding vow, he remembered.


                                 A watery grave they had.


                          Written for Carrot Ranch



Wednesday, 13 May 2015

Divorce



The candle-light, the roses and the music wafting serenely did not assuage

our feelings, when the cheque arrived, rudely interrupting our thoughts.


The dollars rested beneath the unfinished drink as I paid my share, snapping

the last vestiges of our decade-long relationship.



                                        

Saturday, 9 May 2015

Spring


                      





The buds had burst spreading the petals and displaying the coloured hues 

of Nature. The red, white, yellow, burnt orange and white seem to jostle 

for space among the soft green leaves. 


The bees flirting with each shy flower were pampered. The Sun rays seems

to spread its golden quilt on each bounty. The Earth seems to be satiated

with mirth and abundance. 


The impatient toes of the stream danced and bounced from one rock to 

another splashing foam on the moss.


Diana inhaled and her lungs filled with fragrance.


Her frayed nerves calmed.


Spring is in the air…….



Friday, 8 May 2015

waves of memories

Five Sentence Fiction – Memories



SOURCE


Five pair of soft hands applauded to the symphony of the winds and the

rise and fall of the tides, squealing and squeaking of mirth and gay abandon.

The promise of being together and being there for one another was spoken in

unsaid words and read in each other's innocent eyes.

Seasons changed with the waves and the hands were not longer little and the

palms chaffed with the trials and tribulations of life.

But the solemn promise fresh in their memories with each passing decade.

The beach echoed with the soft laughter from the five throats, renewing their

bonds of friendship and togetherness with grey in their hair and wrinkles on 

their faces.

written for :  Five Sentence Fiction 



Lillie McFerrin Writes


Thursday, 7 May 2015

discrimination






The Sun rays kiss every coloured idol equally.

The rains wet all bodies lustily.

The food-grains satiate hunger calmly.

Cupid's colour-blind arrows shoot piercingly.

Every heart beats for love.

Tears shed are salty.

Then why are people classified as Whites, Blacks and Browns?

Is the pigment of the derma the sole criteria?

Aren't we all humans and humanity the only religion?

If God has shaped us all with His bare hands, pray tell me why

 is one race considered to be superior?

Sally looked up as her favourite pupil stood questioningly.

She had no answers to this Asian girl.






written for : Carrot Ranch Communications