Framed memories

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I was sure, I could

go back in time which was mine

with framed memories,

I feel the passage of time

but can never reverse the clock.

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Image Courtesy: Little Miss Chris

Final adieu..

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That final adieu was painful and yet I tried to forget everything but life without him was hard. In those days when I was depressed, my father encouraged me to take some decision.

I tried again and this time I was successful for once I took freedom from past and future also, I found solace in life.

 


Written for  Three Line Tales, Week 136

An old kitchen tray…

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Recently, I’ve been thinking about the presence of some old things in my home. There’s this silver ladel of my great grandmother on which the year 1941 is inscribed.

There are also some old pictures which are hanging on the walls of my home but my association with this tray in kitchen is different.

With made in England inscription on its backside, the tray is more than thirty years old. It is a long time but the colors of this village looking scene are still bright.

In these past thirty years the tray along with other things in my home made frequent travels with us. First we were living abroad then here in this city we moved quite a lot. During this time when most of the things lost their strength this tray along with a picture hanging on the wall of my lounge retained their vigour.

My association with this tray is different.

For me it’s a reminisence of my carefree time. As a child I would look at the scenery and would think about the presence of people inside the homes. I very much liked to think about what was happening in those homes, I would imagine the presence of rooms with beds and kitchen inside.

There’s lot of work going on in this picture, as rooster and hens are busy in eating so do men and woman are busy in their work for living.

I admit, I have almost neglected this tray for some new trays have replaced it and it’s not in use much unless we have to place some ten to fifteen cups on it which is not a usual occurrence but yesterday when I was reading ode on a gracian urn by John Keats, I thought about the scenery on this tray.

Keats’s in his poetry asserts that art is permanent while human life is mortal. In his poem, the beautiful image of a boy playing music for his lover remains unchanged on urn and so does this scene of village on this tray in my home.

These days the tray is not much in use and for the sake of taking this picture, I scrubbed it hard. There were some tea stains and once they were removed, I hold it in front of my eyes and looked at the busy people in scene.

In these past years lot has been changed in my life. I’ve lost some people who were closed to me. Though, in their lives I didn’t realized their importance but once they were gone I understood the importance of relations in life.

From all good and bad experiences of my life, I’ve learned that though life is about work and struggle but at the end of the day we can’t ignore our loved ones. This is what this picture tells me for I can assume that during the day men and women remained busy doing their work and once on getting back home they’ll find relief in the company of their loved ones…

Before we’re able to understand the importance of people in our lives, sometimes life ends. There’s nothing more beautiful than to end my post with these beautiful words of Valadimir Nabokov, he writes

“The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.”

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October sun

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Mellow light of October sun is looking gloomy these days, summer has already packed up and winter season is looking ready to appear on screen.

I have always found winter to be a bit sad in appearance. I like bright sunlight and when it gets fade, I became sad.

But, then like John Keats who in his poem “ode to autumn” tries to find some beauty in that season, I too succeeded in capturing some beauty of October season.

It was three in the afternoon when lying on couch, I took this picture. The effect of lazy rays of late afternoon sun coming through these screened windows looked majestic to me.

Selfless- service

three line tales week 36 service

Ours was a group in class, who never showed interest in studies and the day our teacher’s daughter died, imagining a day-off from Mathematics we took a sigh of relief but when we were busy in chatting and enjoying ourselves, the classroom door opened and the weary face of our teacher appeared.

On that day he was coming straight from graveyard and when one of his colleagues asked him to take a leave; he broke into tears and said,

“Perhaps this act of mine would make God happy and He’ll make home for my daughter in Paradise.”


(Above story is an inspiration from a real life event which I read in a book of a civil servant.)

This post is in response to Three Line Tales, Week Thirty-Six by SONYA. Picture for this week’s challenge is provided by  Mike Wilson.

 

My dear brother

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I admit I was elder but it was you who always acted like a responsible child. I was nervous; you were confident, I was reserved; you were frank and despite the age difference of five years you were my best friend.

I had complete trust in you. Once, getting furious, I was on the brink of losing my control when you came to rescue me. Holding my hand you took me into a garden. There we both planted flowers and you asked me to water them daily. I took great care of them and on that calm morning after taking their picture you never forget to remind me the importance of spreading love in life.

On that day, standing beside you, I promised that I would never lose control of myself again.

It’s been a long time and I’m still keeping my promise. I’ve selected my dress and soon I’m going to start my new life. I very much like you to be here with me but I’m not going to lose my temper. For, I’m aware that where ever I’ll go your support would always be with me.

My brave pilot, May you always fly high

Lots of love from your sister


This post is written for Sunday Photo Fiction – September 25th – October 2nd 2016 by Sunday Fiction.