An excerpt for his will

three line tales week 35; deer at sunset

I’m seventy and when I’ve lived life to its fullest, people consider me lucky but I think myself an unfortunate person who despite having loved ones in life never tried to own them.

Today, when I’m losing my strength, I can hear the voice of my father who was aware of my feelings of displeasure which I always possessed for my aunts and uncles and explaining the importance of relations in life he once gave me an example

He had said,

“Ever noticed animals? They preferred to remain in herd!”

This post is in response to Three Line Tales, Week Thirty-Five by Sonya. This magical photo prompt is courtesy to  Rebecca Johnston.

My dear brother


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.



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.



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



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.”


Baby birds

baby birds

Those were some warm days of June 2015 when I took these pictures and today while going through some of my older posts, I decided to share them again. In my house there’s a lamp above the car porch and the Bulbul bird thought it would be a nice place to design her nest.

For some days the father and mother birds preferred to remain closer to their nest and one night when mother bird finally decided to spent her time in her home, I made a reckless mistake.

In my excitement to capture the moment, I quietly mounted a stool and slowly took my camera closer to the nest but what happened next is a history, for the bird got frightened and left her nest.

My parents were angry, for in the middle of the night my act of capturing a picture has created a whole trouble and I was so embarrassed that the whole night I continued watching a dream about a bird.

Luckily, in the morning the birds were back and I took a sigh of relief. For, previous night everyone at home was so angry that I was considering myself to be a culprit 🙂

In the next days I remained conscious and with some help from my mother, I succeeded in capturing these pictures.





My parents weren’t satisfied so they made this protective layer of cloth beneath the lamp.


In this whole process of making a nest safe the birds made a lot of noise.


After some days of finishing this stunt of making a protective layer, I decided to look for eggs.The shape of the nest was such that despite standing on the ladder, I wasn’t able to look inside. So, I took my camera closer and clicked the button. Once, I got down I was happy to see the picture of these eggs.


After some days of wait the baby birds finally arrived.


They were pink and featherless.


Within days they were big and they looked ready to fly.

My brave friend


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.


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