Fluid thoughts

The water meanders through the mountains, valleys and plains.

"Stop if you can", challenges Mother Nature.

The behemoth dam arrests the forward fluidity.

The water gurgles and spreads backwards, smilingly but not losing its fluidity.

"Is your brain membrane permeable for exchange of ideas, opinions and thoughts?” questions God.

“I am your creation, Almighty, and am open to all discussions and signals from you", humbly bows Man.

                                    Six Sentence Stories. Thank you Zoe.

                                              

plate

"I would have loved to help you, Sandra, but you know I have a full plate now  with the client meetings , power-point presentation", and Zarine's voice trailed off.

"It is okay", said Sandra concealing her disappointment and making her way to her cubicle.

                                              **********

"Here is your dinner and don't forget to take your medicines", Sandra's courteous voice echoed as she pushed the plate towards her sick room-mate and office-colleague.

Nibbling on her food in bed with the fever burning her body and the throbbing ache threatening to split her head into two, Zarine recollected her self-centered and selfish attitude while donning a mask of civility.
                                
She realized that tables could be turned on her and a helping hand and heart went a long way in establishing solid bonds.

Zarine missed her mother in this moment of weakness and decided to make amends.


                                            

                         Six Sentence Stories. Thank you, Zoe.

                                                The cue is plate google pic

Border : hope and homecoming

          Six Sentence Stories

This week’s cue is BORDER.

Tending to the meticulous kitchen garden of potatoes, radish and fenugreek leaves , her forlorn eyes scan each bus for a hopeful footfall.

With a heavy heart and a tiny bud sprouting inside her womb she bade him good-bye in military fatigue as he boarded the swollen bus when the clarion call to join his duty at the border came, two summers ago.

The leaders of the two countries shook hands and released white doves but the pawns on the political chessboard were still fighting their internal battles.

Is he taken as a prisoner by the people on the other side of the border or is he six feet beneath  the earth at peace with no name inscribed on the tomb ? 

The questions continue to haunt her with no  echo of any answers and to each dawn she wakes up with a mission.

The reparation from the government has kept the wolf away from the door but her soul subsists on hope, expectation and a strong belief of his home coming.

          

                              Written for : Six Sentence Stories. Thank you Zoe.