Child labor.

                                        

The summer vacations yawned lazily in aestivation. 

Tanya purchased textbooks and readied her uniform.

Laxmi too looked forward.

Both saw each other on the first day.

Laxmi 'manned' the counter, handed a burger to Tanya.

Laxmi's makeshift cafe, outside the school premises, held her family's body and soul 

together.

                                         

school days

The contrived expression and the palms pressing on the abdomen were the ploys.

“Put on your gumboots and carry the umbrella”, I ordered sternly.

The school bus arrived. Examinations stressed him.

The paper boats stood on his desk. I smiled.

                                                 







Google pic.

Grandma's memories

Those were the days when going on a vacation meant visiting our extended family 

members in hometown. I did not go to exotic destinations in my summer holidays.

A trip to my maternal grandmother was most awaited. My other cousins , younger and 

older , too assembled in the 'dodda-mani' (literally means big house in Kannada, an Indian 

language). There was enough space for our battalion of cousins and neighborhood kids to 

play in the courtyard. And there was a bigger space in the hearts of relatives who 

accommodated us and our pranks. There were no project deadlines or school schedules 

to be followed. The Sun, moon and stars dictated our time-schedules.

My grandmother, the matriarch, who ruled with an iron hand had the softest heart which 

she displayed it at an appropriate time. We were scared and at the same time in awe of 

her. Her work started with the kitchen and ended there. Kitchen was her playground.

Cooking gas stove and cylinder hadn't made inroads into rural India and my little mind 

couldn't grasp the reason. Grandma cooked on a makeshift stove of bricks cemented with 

mud. There was a huge chimney area for the hot air and fumes to rise up. Logs of wood 

were used and fire was lit. 

                                               

                               (Indian make-shift culha/gas stove) (google pic)


The crimson tongues flared up and the matriarch bowed to the Fire God paying 

obeisance. All the Elements were worshiped. The food was cooked in earthen pots in an 

eco-friendly way.

My keen interest in the rural way of rural way of life kindled my grandma's interest in 

explaining each ritual and need to thank the Almighty for having a roof over the head, 

food to keep the wolf at bay and relatives sharing the common DNA for warmth and 

comfort. The simple truths later shaped my raw mind.

After all the food was cooked, grandma used to mix clarified butter (Indian ghee) with a 

tablespoon of cooked rice and offer it to the fire as oblations. The aroma of the food sent 

my hunger pangs into an overdrive and my mouth salivated. The human senses of sight 

and smell were awakened before touch and taste. Watching this ritual was sacrosanct to 

me while my cousins played in the courtyard.

Water was gingerly splashed on the makeshift stove and the flames quietened to sleep 

and rest after devouring 'prasadam' (offerings). All the Elements of Nature were 

worshiped.

A pair of dozen plates appeared and grandma used to serve food and love to all her grand-

kids.

Last summer I paid a visit to my ancestral villages. Rural India has made progress. 

Grandma's kitchen has made way to a swanking and sparkling modular kitchen and the 

makeshift stove burns only in my memory. I looked at her smiling portrait with a 

sandalwood garland around it. She has cooked memories for two generations, fresh and 

aromatic.

                                                 


This week’s prompt is fire. Campfire? Forest fire? Just burning your life down and 

starting over? Wherever this prompt takes you is fine!

Thelma and I

                                

                                

                                                        image by Greyerbaby at Pixabay

Thelma had an eye for perfection. She did the most imperfect thing perfectly. Like 

dangling out her clean shaven athletic legs out of the window at the certain angle as they 

would not hurt her and her torso perched on a pillow for maximum comfort. The canvas 

shoes were gleaming in the freshly incubated sun-rays.


I asked her to relieve me while I relax and munch on a cucumber sandwich.

I got down from the driver's seat and clicked a photo of her carefree legs dangling 

outside the window, on my Nikon.


She reluctantly plonked herself in the driver's seat while I shifted in the passenger seat 

besides her.

Next summer we both would graduate. Excitement as well as trepidation weighed equally 

on a see-saw plank. Trepidation , as we would have to work for different firms in 

different cities. One never knew where our paths would take us. So she voted on a road 

trip to Goa. 

We left behind the bustling Mumbai City.  The narrow belt of the Konkan strip with 

verdant farms as far as the eye could reach, slowed down our journey. We feasted our 

eyes on the picturesque splendors of Nature. The bucolic beauty wowed us to take a road 

trip again after we were settled in life.

"Could I get a Paracetamol? " I inquired at the tiny Medical-Cum-General store.

"It is closing time for tea and I will do no business", a stern looking man with Gandhi 

specs manned the counter.

" I won't be able to drive with this headache. Pleaseee", I pleaded with an urgency in my 

voice. The sound of temple bells reverberated at a distance. 

He agreed to dispense the medicine.

Thelma picked up the crate of aerated drinks, dropped the currency notes on the counter 

and ran towards our vehicle.

"Thissss is cheating", the old man hollered. I had no option but to press my legs into 

action.

I started the ignition and the old bones defying his age started to run behind the clouds 

of dust , swearing at us. We picked up speed and never saw his face again. 

                                   
                                             * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


The temple bells struck a sonorous note. The small shop was replaced  by a swanky 

Day-and-Night Chemist shop. My body was slightly sore with wear and tear. My temples 

were throbbing. A young lad manned the counter. I asked for a Paracetamol. 

My bespectacled eyes hunted for a crate of aerated drinks. 

I started the ignition. My eyes turned moist. I looked at the skies. "I have kept my 

promise, Thelma. You ......" .  My eyes turned moist. 

I still have the picture of her legs dangling, in my brief-case.

              The solo road trip after two decades is incomplete.

                                               



The two mandatory prompts are the use of the image by Greyerbaby at Pixabay and the 

use of the emotion  schadenfreude. 

Definition of schadenfreude 

: enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others

try try

Amy's name was not announced.

Her ego took a fall. The floor tasted like bitter-gourd. 

The bitterness of defeat left a bad taste in her mouth. 

She would be Master-Chef next year.

                                         

Space travel

Nikhil loved travel. Traversing the terra firm was reserved for the hoi polloi , he inferred. 

Invading the unknown  and far-off planets was his idea of adventure. And it ran in his 

veins.

The space-ship which resembled an orange hot air balloon glided smoothly  towards 

the Milky Way.  Nikhil wished the vehicular traffic had smooth sailing on Mumbai 

highways. He had read a report by doctors that screamed of backaches and slip-discs of 

patients commuting on pot-holed roads. His flight odyssey would make Mumbaikars green 

with envy. 

The planet of Hoth has fierce creatures like the predatory wampa and tauntauns but they 

couldn't harm him. He would be safe, he  assured himself.

The hot air balloon picked up speed and the centre of the Milky galaxy look surreal. His 

eyes twinkled.

He had watched  'The Empire strikes back' umpteen times. Stars Wars was his fav serial.

School academics failed to ignite his curiosity. The lessons seemed banal to him 

and the teacher's voice monotonous. Science-fiction unleashed his interest and creativity. 

As his space ship cruised closer to Hoth, he imagined the cold white snow and ice for 

miles around. His heart beats resonated in his ears and he couldn't contain his 

excitement. He would regale his classmates with his experiences of the small terrestrial 

planted. But ughh !! the cretins  would not be interested. 

Hunger pangs pricked his insides and the aroma of his mother's rajma-chawal broke his 

reverie. The door opened. "Nikhil, rajma-chawal is ready. Enough of your simulation video 

games."

            Nikhil stepped down to hard reality and headed towards the kitchen.

                                          

Mumbaikar - resident of the city of Mumbai.

Rajma-chawal -  Indian one pot meal of rice and kidney beans gravy.

Election-time

Leader : Namaste!!! , Do I need to introduce myself? 

                                        

Hands folded and flashing a wide grin.

Person 1 : Never seen you?

Rolling his eyes, the person turns the other way.

Person 2 :  I care not who you are. 

Picking the newspaper , he covers his face to avoid the leader's glance.

Leader : well, er, I am contesting for the Lok Sabha elections (Lower House of the Parliament) . I am splashed all over the newspapers and.....

Person 3 : I read only Corporate news and Sports.

Leader : How sporting of you.!!! 

The grin widens and so does his malice.

Person 4 : What is your party symbol?

Leader : Good question, concerned Nagrik (Citizen). A cast iron skillet is our symbol. Easy to remember.

Person 4 : Is it??? 

A sarcastic smirk makes its appearance  on the expensive business suit.

Air hostess: Leader, please take your seat and fasten your seat belt.

Leader: No hitting below the belt, Hawaii sundari (air-hostess).

And he breaks into peals of laughter.

The eyeballs of the air hostess pop out. She moves ahead, 

closing the windows of the overhead cabins.

 
Air hostess 2 : He is more stupid in person than on Television.  

Chuckling.

Air hostess 1 : Shush. He might overhear you. 

All the passengers are seated and the cabin crew take their positions. The giant bird is airborne. Seat belts are unfastened.

Leader gets up from his seat and again with his hands folded. 

I will propel the country to a smooth take-off towards Vikas( prosperity) if I am elected. 

Person 3 : India Inc. is already cruising on the path of prosperity. 

Person 4 :  what is the significance of your party symbol?

Leader: Rubbing his hands in glee and flashing his dimples.

Again a very intelligent question, concerned Nagrik (citizen). Our cast iron skillet will whip up mouth-watering and healthy gastronomical delights reminding you of your grandma's cooking. Healthy food will usher into a new era. 

Person 1 : Nani yaad aayegi.( difficult task to be accomplished)

Leader smiles , winks and walks to embrace person 1.  

Person 1 is flabbergasted.  The aircraft resonates with boisterous laughter and applause.

                                                      


           The object prompt is: a cast iron skillet.  The setting prompt is: an airplane.

(Google pic)

A mother's milestone

                                            

With a spring in his maiden step, he jerked awkwardly 

ahead, wavering. With two uneven steps, the fall to the 

ground surprised him. With tempest in my chest, I cried 

with happiness.

I had googled extensively on Cerebral palsy.

Today is his fifth birthday.

                                                                

Alive

She folded each dress in a neat pile and stacked them in the wooden wardrobe. The socks 

were segregated from the handkerchiefs and put away in the drawers. Everything moved 

in clockwise precision for Lucy's morning school. 

"Did you....

"I remembered to pay the school fees on time", and a broad smile flashed on his face. 

Last time he had to pay a small penalty.

They ate their breakfast together in the kitchen slurping on maple syrup pancakes and 

laughter.

Their little cottage attracted both admiration and envy from the neighbours. Mrs. Annie 

said that their home was built on the foundation of love and each brick was cemented 

with understanding.


She winced in pain as her back stiffened . The hot water bag arrived to ease her pain. 

Her tired eyes smiled, sending a small 'Thank you' note to him silently.



"Hope Lucy's examination goes not clash with our wedding anniversary next month", as 

she stirred the spinach broth over slow fire. The knife on the chopping board came to a 

standstill as he raised his hand to wipe a solitary tear that had escaped his eye and a 

suppressed sob made his face pale. "These onions are pungent", he complained as she 

turned to look at him. His bundle of grief been been tightly held by the rope of patience 

when all pills, potions and psychiatrist treatment failed.


Four decades ago Lucy waited at the crossroad for the school-bus with the tiny silver 

prattle in her hand. Fate had other plans. The prattle lay beneath the vagrant truck tyre.


He kissed the tarnished silver rattle  in the darkness of the night.


She had not buried Lucy.

Lantern

He cleaned the soot of the lantern glass and the cotton wick. The flame burnt brighter 

each night as the King and his concubines copulated. Vatsyayana chronicled each 

escapade between the silk sheets. Thus Kamasutra was born, the guide to “art-of-living”.

Dennis presented the book to his Valentine.

     

                                                  


                                                  

                Prompt : Write a story in exactly 48 words that includes a lantern.

                 You can post your comment on my Face-book Page too.

                                                  

Vagaries of Nature.

The dormant dinosaur had stirred and woken up from its slumber to become active after 

nearly two decades. The ash strewn had settled everywhere. The molten  liquid had shed 

its anger and managed to go into aestivation.

The survivors were transported to safer  places. The basic amenities were provided but 

fell short of expectations. Queues stretched like serpents to fetch potable ale. Harish 

thirsty's feet refused to move out of the shelter. His diabetic body had not consumed the 

mandatory medicines. Anita was busy with other chores.

The Rehabilitation form was lying besides him. He was procrastinating and the details for 

compensation remained unfilled.

"Look at the Saptarishi", said Anita trying to infuse enthusiasm in his favourite subject. 

She pointed her index finger upwards at the blanket of blackness. "Isn't it fascinating?" It 

was more of a statement than a question. But Harish's mind was blank and his gaze was 

transfixed into distant nothingness.  She caressed his back with concern, "Look Harish 

everyone is in the same boat".

Images of his home reduced to debris came flashing before his eyes. Anita had pushed 

him out of their house as emergency sirens wailed. They were a part of fleeing group to 

safety.

The vagaries of Nature had tossed their lives into disarray.

A wrinkled face looked around the pandemonium and softly uttered. " The dawn will 

herald a new better beginning." A child squealed with a crude ball of rags. A nubile girl's 

anxious eyes searched for her near and dear ones. A dozen pair of legs hurried to get 

provisions.The fire in the belly had to be doused.

Mother Earth had spewed detritus from her bowels. Harish's heart lay below the rubble of 

his home.

                                              

Blind-date

As I pushed the ornate gates of her little cottage, my heart gathered speed as if I was 

cruising on the Highway. The manicured lawns reflected the neatness freak in her. The 

green thumb was evident by the array of colourful flowers blooming. Anne would have 

loved such a picturesque garden.



Billy has been my best friend from childhood. He was worried about my loneliness and 

aloofness and had taken matters into his hands. It was his persistent rant that I move

ahead in life. I was a bit skeptical when he passed on her cellphone number.



My anxious hand hit the doorbell. What was I expecting? I know not. Could any lady 

match the graciousness of Anne? I brushed aside these stray thoughts. This was just a 

date, I reminded myself.The door opened and my eyes fell on a feathered mask."Good 

evening , David", a husky voice peered through the mask. I returned the greeting. The 

voice had a tinge of familiarity.

I sat on the chair and she got up from the opposite chair to be behind me. I tilted my 

head behind and before I could look up at her , my eyes were blinded with a piece of 

cloth. The vehicle of my thoughts hit a speed breaker. "Whhhhhat is.......", completely 

taken aback. "Shhhh...This is a blind date, isn't it?". I hadn't heard a more feminine 

seducing voice. My nerves relaxed a bit. Something touched my lips and my hands felt 

the shape of a goblet. "Drink ", she urged me. It was my favorite wine. 

                  Billy must have told her about my preferences. 

I could feel her closeness as she hovered around me. Her perfume slightly assailed my 

nostrils. Anne's favorite perfume. I had gifted it to her on our wedding anniversary. Her 

touch was soothing. I had missed this gentle touch after Anne left my world. The goblet 

was taken away from my hands and she stroked my lips with her slim fingers and I felt 

stoked. This was a beginning of a wonderful relationship, I deduced. The pleasure 

continued. I lost track of time. Her arousal made me tumescent. I was dying to 

see her face.The telepathy worked and the blindfold was yanked off in one 

smooth action. There was no mask on her. I could feel the color drain off my face. The 

face was very familiar even in dim lights. She could not be Anne. NO. 

I could feel my chest constrict and breath tighten. My hands and legs were in air, 

gasping. Two claw-like hands encircled my neck.

                 Karma had come back to haunt me.