My Ramblings

And the knife ran through her wrist. May be rising from the ashes was going to be better.  After all she didn’t feel a thing while blood oozed out of that thin line.                                                              ___________________________________________________________________________________ This is my response to the Trifecta weekly challenge, which is to write a 33 word 'write-anything-on-your-own'.

Perfect as her dream, Flawed and truthful as her heart, The tunnel was just ornate, The waters singing the mild lullaby. The drizzle wetting his sweater With her hiding in a canopy The clunk of the laughter fitting  Like an acoustic playing nearby.                                                          “Where would you rather be?” He asked. Glare of love and Hope of a hope. She knew, There was no messing around! A little tilt to her side She trudged along. Patting his Cheeks she said, “Here silly, With you”, the tear billowed out. 

A weekend of fun, being uncontrollable, being pampered, being nostalgic, being loud, being voracious, eating, sharing, laughing, and so much more. It all started with Friday night of whining and me getting hopeless, short of breaths when almost-put-into-action plan was going to ruins in front of my eyes. By that time, I had tried every tantrum, emotional blackmailing and the same over and over again. Every time we would opt for a new strategy and every time there’d be a new fallout. But, then something miraculous happened and a plan was tabled. This time no fall-backs. By 9, our plan was chalked out and 5 am, the cabbie rang us up. I just love to describe the impromptu-ness. Perfect. K was woken up when he had just started meandering. So some cussing we were already prepared for. Plus the never-ending happiness on S’s face (S here is not me, mind it!) on witnessing the sunrise from inside the car; a first for him had already given us the sense of fulfillment the trip was sur...

I want to fly-off fifteen floors, “Why shouldn’t you”, The convoluted life, they fuss, Hell no fun without it, you say! Crazy life no time, Yet time we manufacture To shed our tears, No trouble there albeit. Losing it, whining.  Empirical. Things n ot occuring so normally  To you.  Above that the life’s so Messy. ‘Cause we make it so. Trusting, go figure what is, Happy with the cuts and wounds. Alright if we’re healed, but Souvenirs are fun to us. The mask, we just  enjoy  The illusion. A fragile puritan inside. And so scared are we of the wolves around.   Angry and freckled but no Retribution, something you don’t get. Why immolate, you ask, With looks so empty.  Finding answers for us,  With that semblance questioning Why you hate it all so much? We'll get an answer, trust me!  Lost on words, still I make an effort. Garbled, they sound, but the heart   Concurs. And, no troubl...

They told her to try, She knew it better, But still tested her nerves, May be solace could come in handy. She had done it before, The results no different, Something always seemed misfit, But she was not a weakling. “Baby, could you dive in”, The pit so deep in. Tired of herself, People thought she was pushover. “Anything for you, love”, She said and dived in. The onlookers throttled, Anxiety was far from her. Never knew who she was. A brave heart or a torn one. But rattled were they who had Tormented her. Bullied her. But the warrior was determined, World’s no haven, she agreed Finally. And life thought so too Time she donned a mask.   

She looked so simple, nothing out of the ordinary. I would not have picked her out from the crowd had she not come to me on her own. It was a sunny morning, and that too a Sunday. And as part of my Sunday ritual, I was overloaded with so many things in both my hands. I could swear I had my hands stuck but they were not more than my sedan’s boot-space could handle. But just as I thought I had them stuffed inside the trunk, they started tumbling out one after the other and I stood there watching with the despair I had accumulated in my life till date. She must have pitied me because she came running.  She helped me put all those spilled beans from the now-tattered bags. Few chips packets were torn. My breaths were almost rising when she came towards me. I was overwhelmed and I couldn’t just  not  ask her for a cup of coffee. She came from an affluent house, I could say by looking at her demeanor, and her clothes more-or-less.  We introduced ourselves and without gi...

I live in a box. My world may seem strange to you. But, it’s not as bad as you think. It does have holes in it which lends me some fresh air from time-to-time. You may think I must be scared of the big-burly cat living on the outside but I am not. We are kind of best friends. I can listen to all the chatter from outside.  But now I can close my ears whenever I want to without anyone seeing. The holes, I must reveal now, ain’t my best friends either. They complicate things for me because I can’t feel the total darkness here because of them. Just when I am about to, rays of sun from these holes try to illuminate it down here for me as if I am some impotent chap, not capable of doing that on my own. They just don’t get it! So if they are not going to stop playing this naïve game, they are going to get a worthy opponent in me. And so in retrospect, I plastered few of them with black paper. But now, right this moment, I want to live out in the open again, enjoy the warmth...

Long lost for hope, she felt unhinged. Cries all-over, the savior was losing. Wait for that hint was unending, The universe too was undependable. Lot of suns had set; So did those moons, Yet the stone remained unturned. But the faith wavered never. The gaze stuck, at that horizon, Those barren rays of sun And vacuous shimmer of moon. The dollop of hope, never served. Yet the time had no mercy, That shiny countenance Rested her head. Petrified. The mildews out-grown. Just when it was serene Something simpered. Threadbare, she was. If only She had time, she lamented.   

The light spray of the waters from the ocean, the freshness of the new air, nothing made it easier. It was one of those questions she had always dreaded answering and secretly wished she was able to take it to her graves or may be write in a paper, tie it with a stone and throw it far, too far in the ocean never to be discovered again. She was ready to be a coward for as long as it was safely guarded. But, there it was out in the air, and she, still not ready to accept the challenge.  She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eyes and quickly stared at the ocean. Even the arched gaze was enough to bring that unique satisfaction on her face. Immersed in those liquid eyes, she lived it again. Since antiquity, she had been good at reading people and their nuanced faces.  She could easily make out the subtlety between altruism, and hypocrisy. But, this was no same. Those eyes with so much brightness had a trove full of mystery which she wanted to decrypt...

She was trying very hard to not let herself enervate in front of him but in spite of her efforts, she had started growing pale. With her palms pressed against his ears strongly and tenderly to ensconce him from the noise of demonism around, she looked into his eyes and her head tilted inadvertently. Lost for words, consciously or unconsciously her eyes kept asking for forgiveness; forgiveness for not being able to shield him from the evils, for failing him. She felt a tear rolling-off on her cheek. Maybe, she had never anticipated tearing-up but she hardly anticipated anything any more. Still, that little boy in front of him, and his naivete, they could easily make her believe not all good was lost yet.  “Why are you crying? We can go back home and have cookies. Don’t cry”, said the innocent toddler wiping the shiny trail of tear on the angel’s face. Thwarted by those puerile eyes, she burst into the river of tears and kissed him. More affirmed than before, she touched his f...

Cleaning up the cluttered coffee-table that had been lying around messy, she raised her head and called-out her husband at a pitch higher than usual, “Honey! Could you please help Manu with the homework or whatever is it that she wants help with”.   ”Sorry Hon, I can’t. I have to prepare for meeting tomorrow”, she heard her husband speaking from far-off. “No Mom, I don’t need dad’s help”, snipped a pesky 14-year old Manu.  “I don’t understand sweetheart, 2 minutes ago you were shouting out my name to come help you”. With a contemptuous grace on her face, Manu came out of room to yell at her mother “Could  you  for one second think of helping me and not ask Dad? There's no light in my room and I am still neck-deep in my homework" Radha pulled herself back against the coffee table and nodded as if she was convincing her that that was not the worst of all the hurtful remarks she had heard. But, nonetheless it was no music to her ears.  “Sure...

“How beautiful!. It’s like looking over a different city! “Thought this might change your plans and you’d stay”, he said, chinned down. “No, You might have … ”, she stood up and jerked-away. _________________________________________________________ This is my response to the  Trifecta  weekly challenge, which is to write a 33 to 333-word response  using the above picture.

She crumpled the paper and made it into a paper-ball, threw it casually. Her eyes were still stuck at the notepad,  at the impression of the words from the page above which she had just rolled into a paper-ball.  That paper-ball alongwith all the other paper-balls that she had been throwing for an hour had unconsciously made into a honeycomb lay arranged on the ground.  Her phone started ringing. The caller id said, “Sheila”. She did  appear  a bit mortified on seeing her name but then she let it go to her voice-mail. It has been long since she had started dodging her agent’s call. Every time she would call, she would mock her voice and complete the conversation that would have taken place while Sheila chatted with her voice-mail. “Annie, you are late. You were supposed to send me the draft by today morning”. “I know Sheila, I just got stuck with some work. Only the last bit is pending. I’ll send it to you by tomorrow morning.”    She knew ...

Life’s  short. I’m scared, But you know. Can’t keep running But can’t let it run out. Dreams too many, Many rungs To vanquish. Loneliness, Darkness may overwhelm. Just don’t give up on us. Courtesy :  fineartphotographysite.com ______________________________________________________ This is my response to the  Trifecta  weekly challenge, which is to write a 33 word confession. A cool prompt, isn't?

She could see the brown cloud from the glasses in her car. She knew she had to rush back before it actually started raining. For some pedantic reason, she hated the rains. The petichor, the greenery, the big fat drops on the grasses on her lawn would evince the distaste she had for them; give her butterflies in stomach, everytime it would rain.  But, her car broke down 200 metres from her house and it started raining already.  Those round, fat drops kept hitting her windscreen. She had switched on the wipers and kept waiting for it to get over. Even though she kept looking outside for anyone to help her, none could be seen on roads guess they must have forecasted the rains and were already lying cozy on their couches enjoying the lousy rains. The wait seemed forever. So, she ran and took shelter under a tree. Her house was in a visible range. So, she decided she would take turn hiding under the trees with a plastic bag above her head to avoid those rain drops falling on ...

He could topple, Nerve taut. Still the Swagger, he flaunted. Proud underneath. Thought he blended in. But, a paradigm at its best, It was. To spare him the sympathy Or pity was it?   __________________________________________________________ This is my response to the    Trifecta  weekend prompt:   This weekend we are asking for exactly 33 words, 30 of your own and three of the following:  topple     paradigm     underneath     nerve     honey     loop.

He knew not how to respond, The wait had made him unsure. The reality could be distorted, But he was convinced. Slapped, beaten was he; But the tears had him strong. Nobody could con the truth in his eyes. No love was free. The only thing his was the fumbling. His melancholy rippling over that piano. Never thought it struck her heart too. Bull’s eye was it? Still unconvinced, he walked towards her. Too good to be true. A Dream with sun shining on his head. But, a mother knows her child. The disbelief gleaning in his eyes, Set to break the hypocrisy of it. But hers had waited so long. She just couldn't fail him. Again. “Oh My Dear, come to your mother. Sorry for the wait so long. Devils had me chained.” The deliberate attempt she made. “Shackled your mother had been away. But now she's free. Unfettered, to never leave again. To take you home", p romised she. And no longer orphan he was! _________...