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High and Mighty

The homecoming was exciting as I got to live in the part of the city that I had always coveted. Having lived in different cities for a decade I had found people so vastly different in their behaviors and beliefs. And I admit sheepishly I had become a bit judgmental myself.

I always cherished the memories of the city where I lived for the longest period of my life and considered my home. I had memories from the time I lived here. I remembered the people being kind and considerate, more tolerant than people in any other city.

People in my city were simple and suave at the same time. Honest but super smart, trustworthy and hardworking.

So imagine my surprise when I discovered that all that I had seen and upheld was merely reminiscent of people who existed then in that time and space.

To say things had changed was an understatement.

I shifted into a high tower, hoping to weave new fabric of friendships and togetherness.

Slowly I learnt (and in a very unpleasant manner), people were more disconnected, more distanced by huge corridors and unseen glass doors, divided by elevators and floor rises, judged by being an owner of an apartment or just a tenant passing by (these were looked down upon and their say was not important in forming any rules).

As the Whatsapp messages became more and more derogatory and all people could do was off load their grievances, more to say their own inadequacies and frustrations of being behind self-created glass doors I realized the high and mighty were really low on self-esteem and lacking in basic human courtesy.

People who would not even glance at you in the elevator would side up on the Whatsapp group conversations. Most of them would even generally go by the drift of the masses and like me there were other minorities who decided to become silent spectators for the fear of being trolled and  lynched online for have our own opinions and not going by what the prestigious elite were saying.

As for tolerance, well this quality was soon diminishing in the people staying in high rises (maybe staying among the clouds was clouding their minds).

People were becoming intolerant to sounds coming from everywhere around, be it the call for prayers or the celebratory music on various festivals.

There was widely circulated self praising posts of how their twitter message got the cops to shut the music down.

It is becoming so sad and desperate that people want the winds to stop whistling.

Next they will be complaining of the sun shining in their eyes.

How I pity these poor living machines because the music has definitely left their souls.

I hope when it is time for me to relocate soon I will descend a little towards those living people who dance in the streets in the rain and forget to see you after their fires have been personally doused by you.

To those wanting to live a notch higher, my advise is don’t lose yourself in the clouds because it is to earth we must return one day.

Ambrosia

behaving as though one is more important than others.
condescending, patronizing, disdainfulsupercilioussuperiorsnobbishsnobby, haughtyarrogantproudconceited, above oneself, egotistic, egotisticalimperiousoverweeningoverbearing
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The Incident

I am getting late ma, it’s my friend’s birthday

If I do not go, he will take someone else

To distribute the toffees

Probably the last words the mother heard

As she got him ready for school

Walk fast Daddy, we shall be late

No I will go to the toilet in school

As soon as I reach

Probably said the innocent little boy

Even a minutes delay was not acceptable

It was his friend’s birthday

He had to be there, to wish and partake

In simple joys of childhood

Little did he know, his joy was short-lived

And he would come to such a violent end

The parents now bereft with inconsolable grief

Could never have known that fate

Would deal them such a cruel blow

They need not your sympathy

They need justice

And an assurance that no child

Will ever suffer at the hands of any perpetrator

In places deemed safe, school or home

By persons known or unknown

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sympathy/”>Sympathy</a&gt;

For the Parents of Pradyuman, we cannot even fathom your grief, may no parent have to ever go through this

http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/ryan-international-school-gurgaon-murder-pradyuman-thakur/1/1045666.html

 

God’s Creation

I am special says my mother
God’s creation specially for her
She prayed for a child
Who would bring her joy
He made me in response
To her prayers, her cry
Let my child be kind and nice
And his smile alone shall suffice
The world needs a kind soul
One who would light the paths
With deeds warm and thoughtful
I hope to live up to her dreams
And be the person she wants me to be
I am special, God’s creation
He loves me and that is all I need

 

Written for my son (really for his poetry recitation). I could not ignore such a beautiful expression, one that I hope he will appreciate some day

My Paper Boat

It began as a craft and then

It was a game

Making paper boats and

Sailing them

Sometimes in clear water

Sometimes in a drain

Chasing it with sticks

And racing them till they drown

The fun of fighting with friends

And cheering ail along

I will sail my boat

In the clouds one day

Will gather my friends below

Cheering by the bay

Looking at me having taken wings

They will surely ask me

Is it in their dreams

We will ail soar and sail

Away from each other one day

But when we see a paper boat

We will think of this day

The door across the hallway

She poked her head while I was still unpacking my boxes. I had not just moved into an apartment I had moved to a new phase of my life.

After college I had lived in various hostels while trying to find work and making just about enough to cover my rent travel and commuting expenses. As I completed my higher studies along the way I also got into better paying jobs and thought I finally need to get out on my own.

“Where are you from? Are you going to live here alone? Are your parents letting you do this, are they not worried you are going to be alone in this big bad city? Do you want some food, you are obviously not eating enough to cover those bones.” Her barrage of questions hit me like an avalanche. So much for getting out of the hostel and from under the nose of an ultra strict matron.

At first I tried to ignore her but she was so persistent. I felt watched all the time. When I stepped out to work she would greet me, when I came back (no matter at what hour) she would peep and say good night or grunt or comment, depending at the hour of my return.

The door across the hallway was always a bit ajar. It was as if she had been appointed as my guardian.

I slammed my door shut at times when I was too irritated by her constant presence and the next morning I would get a bigger smile and a louder good morning. Nothing seemed to deter her.

When I broke up with my then boyfriend she almost hugged me. I shrugged it off and stayed cooped up inside for a couple of weekends, ignoring the constant doorbell and knocking.

And then one day I saw the doctor leave her apartment chiding her on his way out.

She sat on her favorite chair draped in a shawl, looked a bit withered.

I weighed the consequences of going in and against  my better judgement got pulled into her world. As soon as she saw me hesitating outside her door, she called out, “Come in, come come my child”. She tried to get up but fell back in her chair.

It alarmed me a bit I always thought she had endless supply of energy in spite of her being in her seventies.

“Sorry I am a bit tired today, my youth is slipping away”, she winked.

I sat on the couch next to her and slowly we started talking.

It was well after midnight when I realized that we had emptied a pot of tea, some hurriedly put together healthy meal (it was a great break from my frozen ones)

I would then check on her regularly, morning and night. She had lost her only son who served in the army while he was still unmarried. Lost her husband to heavy drinking and depression post her son’s death. But she trudged on in the battle called life.

Stayed young in heart and mind even whilst the hair turned grey then silver.

The home she lived in had belonged to her father and she was the only living child, she had lost her brother at a very young age too and her sister who had married and moved overseas had passed away some years back, childless and alone.

She had so many tragedies but when she spoke of them her voice never wavered, it was matter of fact as if these realities of life were so easy to accept.

She showed me pics of her parents, sibling, friends, husband and son.

Told me stories of her enchanted childhood, fairy-tale marriage and her son’s awesome achievements. She inquired enough about my own family, my life and my recent break-up.

Slowly as I got to know her I started appreciating her genuine concern, unrelenting care and nothing asked in return for compassion.

I learned from her true strength and grit.

And then one day the door from the hallway was closed. I had a spare key.

When I opened it she seemed to be dozing in her favorite chair with her shawl draped around her. On moving closer I realized she was at peace forever.

I should be happy she would no longer meddle in my life,why were then tears clouding my vision.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/meddle/”>Meddle</a&gt;

via Daily Prompt: Meddle

Total Recall

When it came to it I knew

We were not going anywhere

The space had grown in light years

And things were not even remotely the same

I knew not when it crept in, this huge critter

Of emotional garbage between us

We had both stepped back hoping

It will dissolve.

The sum of total pain and happiness

Stacked on the scales

Weighed zilch, zero and nothing at all

Tired now we were packing our

Left over emotions in zip locks

His hand brushed mine and a

Sliver of a shiver ran through me

It brought back memories of

What had fossilized by now

The melting of snow was quick

And the torrent of love came gushing

All that we once shared flourished

And it was a total of all the love minus

Emptiness

 

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/total/”>Total</a&gt;

via Daily Prompt: Total

Deceitful Impressions

She watched them as they took their daily walk. He would take at least eight to ten rounds depending on how long the coach made his child play, the wife on the other hand would tire after four rounds and then sit under the trees and watch her son play.

That was the time to move in, to take a walk with her own son, teasing him pushing him and generally being a fun person. Swaying her hips in a rather inviting fashion. She would take the path coming in from the opposite direction so that she could cross his path and watch him from far.

He wouldn’t be able to resist her for long, after all the men playing tennis were smitten by her weren’t they? But he took no notice and she was not used to being ignored. She was often given the look over by men and she basked in the attention.

Well what use was beauty if it did not make you popular, make men fall at your feet and make women snigger behind your back?

She gave the impression of being coy, as she turned round the bend and twisted around falling right into his arms.

“Sorry, I must have twisted my ankle, ouch and it does hurt terribly”, she gushed as he held her. She batted her kohled eyes at him making sure he smelt her perfume and sweat well.

“Here let me help you” he offered. She took his arms and even put a bold hand around his shoulder making a pretense of limping gasping and crooning all the while.

He took her to the spot where some chairs were placed for the tennis players.

She thanked him profusely and was about to advance further in her ploy when the pot-bellied, always stinky smelly man from her tennis class swarmed in on them. He was almost towering over her, “thank you for helping her out, we will take care of her”, he said as if dismissing her prey.

He smiled turned and left and she was fuming because all her ploy had come to naught.

But now he knew her and surely he would remember how wonderful she smelt, he would dream of her and she would walk the rest of his lonely rounds with him from tomorrow, after all they were now acquainted weren’t they.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

“What took you so long today?” the wife looked at him as he held out a hand to hoist her from the ground.

“Nothing just bumped into someone who sprained her leg, so escorted her to a chair, are we done for today?”

“Yes we are and look our son is all smiles”, she pointed out to a child running towards them, beaming.

They came here for their walks while their son got coached. Perfect family fun time.

What could possible go wrong?

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The eyes that followed them were kohled and full of deceit…….

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/impression/”>Impression</a&gt;

Fish Fry

Wash the fish and rub salt

They are dead anyways

So, no you are not rubbing salt

In their wounds

Apply garlic, then lime

Then apply the red masala

The recipe of which has

Been in my family for

Generations, just like

The way of frying fish

Heat oil in a pan, add fish

Turn once to make sure

Both sides are cooked

That’s the way we have fried

Fish for as long as I remember

Though I never eat fish

And I hated the smell

My hubby loved the way

My mother made Fish Fry

So I learnt it reluctantly

And now my son loves it too

So now I am an expert at

Frying the Fish

images

Masala: A mixture of ground spices used in Indian cooking.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/fry/”>Fry</a&gt;

Measuring Tales

She measured out the red ribbons, two for Aisha, two for Sana, two for Zeeya and then stored the rest for another year, maybe she should cut their hair and save the cost of these ribbons, another burden.

 

He measured out the cow’s milk into the saucepan and left, he was in a hurry and forgot to cover it. When Mala opened the door, the cat was licking her paws,  on cue the baby wailed.

 

One drop for a sound sleep would be enough the doctor had said, ten were lethal he knew. The pain, the suffering was older than he could recall. They found the tea-cup next to his body.

 

As she measured the coffee into the press she though of the loving arms, when she went back into the bedroom, her only wealthy possession, her gold necklace was gone, with him.

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/measure/”>Measure</a&gt;

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