Immortal love

Stories are on streets, stories are on leaves but my story is different, it’s been weaved in yarn sweater. Thirty years ago, my grandma made it for me and today when my daughter wore it, it was still looking new.

Never before in my life, I had ever realized but it’s true that at times, tales of love and care become immortal.


This post is in response to Three Line Tales, Week Thirty-Three by SonyaThe photo is a courtesy to Philip Estrada.

 

My story in three lines

three line tales, week 30 – pocket watch

For a long time, he remained disappeared and when I was sure that I had lost him, he suddenly came back in my life. For me time seemed to stop and only when he fell into my arms, I realized it was not a dream.

I wanted to capture the moment and holding my long lost son, I froze the time.


This post is in response to  Three Line Tales week thirty by Sonya. Photo prompt by  Rachel Crowe.

I’m a wounded…

nimo

I wanted to see you in person but these days when I’m down in spirits, I’m finding it really hard to leave my room. This morning, I mustered up my courage and after a week of living a secluded life in my room, I finally peeped out of my window and saw children laughing and playing in the street.

The world has already ended for me and I’m amazed how anyone on earth can feel so happy.

Please Dr, I’m not ill. I’ve just checked my temperature, it’s normal. My pulse rate is fine but I’ve this strange sensation that I’m sure that sooner or later I’m going to bid my farewell to this world.

I’ve just Googled my symptoms but found nothing that could fit well with my condition.

Now, it’s been an hour that I looked in the mirror and found my eyes puffy and while trying to write the draft for this mail, I found it hard to concentrate. These days despite my utmost efforts I’m unable to focus and while talking with my family, my mind is continuously taking a ramble in that strong world of imagination.

Everyone at home is sure that my mental state is not good but what they don’t understand is the fact that I only want a reassurance.

The mere sentence that the show that I had been busy watching in these past days hadn’t ended can bring a whiff of hope for me.

I’ve pleaded and I’ve requested them but all they’re saying is this that I needed to accept the reality.

I wanted to see you but couldn’t find the heart to leave my laptop. The last episode of the last season is open on my screen. I didn’t count but I’m sure I had already watched it for at least hundreds of times.

With no apparent reason of any disease, my health is deteriorating day-by-day. No one at home is happy for me. I really want your help and waiting anxiously for your reply.

I’m a wounded binge-watcher

 

Trust

tot week 18

In life sometimes a slight drizzle can obscure one’s vision but what is more important is a fact that in this journey mere feeling of suspicion could also result in parting of ways.

I never wanted my younger sister to repeat the mistake and today when she got married, she asked my advice and I replied

“Remember if ever there’s a key to successful marriage then it’s only trust..”

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

This post is a response to Three Line Tales, Week Eighteen by Sonya.

Photo by Wilson Lau

 

Lemonade story

TLT week 15: lemons

Our school was not far and a walk back to home was not more than five minutes but when it was hot, it felt the distance would never end, and only the idea of drinking cold lemonade would give us much needed strength.

Today when so much has changed, the heat wave of summer season remained same and this morning while buying vegetables, I also bought some fresh lemons and thinking about sweet and sour memories of my childhood, I smiled.

I’m a mother of two and my mom was a mother of seven, she was strict but in the scorching heat of June’s sun the way she prepared lemonade showed her love for her kids.


This post is a response to Three Line Tales, Week Fifteen by SONYA author of the blog Only 100 Words.

TLT photo prompt by Erol Ahmed

 

 

Let’s explore the world

jump

“Cut it out,” he said firmly, rubbing the scar as the pain receded again… Harry ignored it. He felt older than he had ever felt in his life, and it seemed extraordinary to him that barely an hour ago he had been worried about a joke shop and who had gotten a prefect’s badge.

An imaginary land of witches and wizards is sure a piece of fiction but it can also offer lot for its reader to learn. Above mentioned lines are taken from “Harry Potter and the order of Phoenix”, Harry was worried that why he didn’t receive the prefect’s badge and he was thinking about the joke shop but the moment his scar started to pain, he wondered that how could he be worried about such trivial issues.

Reading these lines and while writing the draft for this post, I was thinking that world is big and there’s so much to explore but petty issues, tensions and worries won’t give us much free time and as William Henry Davies describes in his poem “Leisure”

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

 

 

Magical land

magical land

That land of kind people is surrounded by misty mountains but despite being covered by foggy clouds, the people there are learned and informed.

Once, I got a chance to visit that place. I found that the flowery meadows and the lush green fields covered every inch of that land. The beautiful winding streets were covered with the dense green trees. The leaves of the trees were thick and they formed a canopy which provided passersby with shade against the sweltering heat.

That land is known for its large number of libraries. Walking into one such library, I found the people were absorbed in reading.There was a silence and only sound audible was that of the scribbling of pen on paper.

There prevailed an atmosphere of peacefulness. Outside, the green leaves were trying to filter the warmth of sunshine and the shimmering rays of a distant sun were coming dancing through the windows.

I looked at the librarian. That old woman with her wrinkled skin was in her late sixties. I walked towards her and asked her about the book of descriptive writing. She looked up and smiled and adjusting her glasses, she coughed and said, “You’ll find it there on the left side of that shelf.”

Thanking her I moved towards the shelf when I heard her voice. She was saying, “Don’t forget to write something about us.”

I smiled back.

I had no doubt that the woman was wise enough to recognize me as a writer.

Without the description of their houses, this post would not do justice to those kind people.

The people of that magical land keep their houses clean. They grew a variety of flowers in their gardens and the windows of their bedrooms opened in their gardens. So, in the morning when the sunshine falls on the petals, the sweet fragrance escapes and gently strokes the hair of a sound sleeper.

The softness of their touch is so fascinating that a person wastes no time in leaving his bed.

Dear Reader, the people of that land of mesmerizing beauty took a great care of their neighbors. In the evening, when the sky is blue and the soft breeze is blowing, it’s a ritual that neighbors arrange a get together. So, before sun set, the toasty nutty aroma of chocolate cake spreads in their streets and one could see the fairies of mirth and happiness dancing in their backyards.

I remained there for some time and before returning I asked a wizened man how one could find his way to their land. I saw something sparkled in his eyes. Next moment, he smiled and said, “You only need to have a pure heart to find this land of peace and beauty.”

I returned with the promise of writing about them. It was a heartfelt experience and this was the story of my visit to that far away land which lies hidden among those misty mountains.

 

Thirsty crow

thirsty crow

That was that clever crow and here goes a tale of a poor sparrow.

On our terrace, a little sparrow after eating bird’s seeds tried to drink water from the pot but the level of water was so low that in her effort of bending down, she lost her balance and to her good luck, she narrowly escaped the death of getting drowned in water.

My mother while ironing the clothes in the corridor saw that scene and after scolding me for being ignorant, she ordered me to fill the water pot up to its edges.

The fictional characters and their heroic deeds cannot always be copied in real life. If it was true then that sparrow must have opted for dropping pebbles in the pot, for the construction work is in progress on the back side of my house and with little bit of search, sparrow must have found something from there.

It’s highly unlikely that the sparrow hadn’t heard about the tale of his elder brother crow. The story is very famous but believe me the sparrow was also intelligent, for dropping pebbles would have absorbed all the water in the pot 🙂

So, here is the moral of this story

“Think and work hard but don’t try to copy others blindly.”

 

My brave friend

horse

My father wanted to see me strong but throughout my childhood I continued to remain a frightened boy. Today, I’m an altered person but that change in my personality is due to an accident.

On one foggy day, I and my friend went for a morning walk when a pack of wild dogs attacked us. The mere sight of furious dogs made me to shiver and losing my control, I fell on the ground. The next moment, I saw my friend providing me a shield but the dogs confronted him. I remember them locking their jaws around his neck and to this day, I’m ashamed of my decision.

I ran for my life.

Sitting beside the window, I’m watching the melancholy shades of late afternoon sun. It’s been ten years now but the memories of that incident are still fresh.

I remember reading that only a horse is known to weep for its dying master but today the master is crying for his faithful friend.

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Back in June 2015, I wrote this piece for Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers.

Purpose of Life

pilot

In school he was ready to fight for his brothers and at home he was always willing to share his things with them. Such was his compassionate nature that didn’t allow him to see me sad and the day I asked him to join his father’s business, he cried for disobeying me.

I thought I knew him well but it’s only been a day that I came to understand the purpose of his life.While receiving the folded flag, I was told that his plane was flying above the school and in order to save lives, my son never ejected.