My Ramblings

“This ought to be sparkly enough”, I added another line of the led strip. My eyes hurt from the constant flicker but who cared. I would mumble but my family wouldn't let me have that too. “Just leave it, I will find some more decorative lights. I ordered online and they came yesterday too”, the excitement on my sister's face reflected a grimace on my face. “Who twirls and claps their hands on seeing so much of eyes-hurting artificial lighting. Hello! May be worry a little about light pollution this Diwali”, I talked within. Maybe my soul heard my heart's voice. Or was it my mind speaking? I could never make it out definitively. “Throw me that you little devil. I will lay them out along the margins you penciled. No one can afford to miss the design”, I tried to colour down my sarcastic tone. Sometimes I feel like a devil who has nothing but a weapon of sarcasm which she wields incessantly, all the time with no concern for possible whiplash. Yeah backlash would be mu...

She was totally frantic. Moving frantically across from one end of the room to the next. Running the same line over and  over. Mumbling. Prima facie, she was a little dopey. The glass in her hand had bourbon and the little round-edged cubes which must have been full-sized at some point. “You know…”, she almost jumped at me when I entered the room barely comprehending her centre of gravity. With that girl around you for two years, you know she is just struggling to express. Everytime she scratched her hair near her temple and lunged, I knew she was fighting to wrest words from thin air. I knew I had to feed her those words. But which ones? “You know when we talk to so many people and read so many books, we start to know the way people behave”, she raised her eyebrows at me to solicit approval for conversation to continue. I nodded along. “You know how things go out of control when you start to care”, her words were slurring. I wanted to go along but we have had strong...

I always enjoyed the private shows she put. The ones where she sang in solitude. I would hide behind the taupe wall at the entrance so she couldn't see. Its not my fault. She never talked. To me or any other being. Maximum she'd do is smile and nod along in yes or no. But when she sang I swear the nightingales would burst open their hearts just to emulate her. I knew she was a cool person. I have a connection with people, they communicate with me with their eyes. Plus only the good ones can have such blessed voice. I wanted to butt in. But somehow, I gathered myself before I went pricking on. "I have seen you staring at her. This is the third time. I will tell her if you don't stop. You are a lurker, aren't you?", I was flabbergasted by the vocabulary of a ten-year old. I had just been accused of something almost criminal. And, so I needed to snub it away before she shrieked. Guess I was lurking. "No I wasn't. We have known each other for a ...

What of her, a broken one. So her table, pencil and soul. With palpable weary A sprightly turned into a ghost. He never looked back at her, She rose above. May be just She could pen them in words. An anthem for to feel less alone. Pencil pierced sheet and another And thump shuddered roaches from under Still like corpse, she stared down the ground. All I could do was watch from afar. Death is not an embrace of life Unless I be a new start from the cards. But I can't let her choose now Even when she's wise, I know . _________________ Prompt 1: Start with  "If you wanted to set your life on fire there wasn't a better combination". Or Prompt 2: Death's pov

It was time for me to leave. Leave the comfort of darkness under the bed. “Who was I hurting? No one!”, I was agitated. A life of selflessness and it is I who must give up her principles. It is all very confusing. To take on the burden of teaching and informing the world is not an easy task. I always reminded myself of that. Only the toughie toughs can do that. Jake and I have been pals since he was born. More like since he started crawling and then could stand up and finally move around. Before I signed up for the job, I made it abundantly clear to my employers that I would not go on scaring the little kid or kids I was going to be assigned to. It is not fair. But, I realized the kids also need to know about the demons and evils in the world.   So, I decided to appear apparition-y. I worked on my deportment. And, it worked. I would spread out like a whirl of shadow and eat jam crackers. He wouldn’t see that. Only me.   But one thing was for sure even befo...

Mincy, the mouse was recently separated from his family. He was a sweet mouse. They were rushed out of the house of the messy couple on second floor. Mincy left at the last after making sure every other member was out. On their way down the stairs, they lost track of each other or atleast Mincy did. He couldn’t find the others. Scared, a little, he slid into the first door he found opened. That was one slick, shiny looking place. Meredith, the owner was the sort who detested mess from far away and one who no one ever tried to mess with. The birthday party had almost ended. Leaving her closest few friends behind, everyone else had gone home. The floors and the corners were all spic-and-span. Mincy needed somewhere to lie low. With the meagre crowd in the living room, he found the bedroom to be empty. All, he had to do was slither across the hall past the house-guests and the host who were little drunk with the festivities and beer-bottle in almost every person’s hands. He to...

The life gets accustomed to a kind of calm when you are alone. And, everything around is just in place. No mess, no disorder, no clink-clank to get you out of your hibernation. This hibernation then leads to lethargy and finally a puddle of emotional upheaval. It’s a paradox really. And, she was the epitome.  The life in city would be too active one would think, yet she managed to make an island of peace for herself. More like, one was created for her. She was a lonesome soul. Not too talkative, not too big of a sharer, so, it was assumed she would like the peace. Away from all hustle-bustle. Her fiancé, now husband, found for themselves that palace of solace. No one asked her for her opinion. Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise. But, too calming peace was now questioning every motivation of her fiancé.                She had not gone out for a long time. Keeping aside those few neighborhood meets, much-needed so...

The city was shimmering when she looked down from the lighthouse. The lighthouse was a sacred place, maintained by the city but yet not open to the tourist. Neither had it been in the past. Only few had keys to the lighthouse. The lighthouse was amply situated at the top of the entry gate boasting of the grandeur alongwith the mighty walls and glimmering outrageously because of its exclusivity. “The city has a life of its own. It makes its own choices, chooses its own people. It breathes in people it likes and spits out the rest", the view had her mesmerized. "There is something to be learnt from this. Who says the walls are bad? Maybe keep population in check so help our country”, she said tapping the cigarette butt after a long drag. It was a cold night. And the air at that height must already be thin. It was his last day. She may not have been ready to take over but she was not going to miss out on any wise words coming from his trusted friend, confidante and me...

Why wouldn't you leave me alone?", I was about to burst into tears. My arms were caught in the choke-hold the black apparition-y thing had me in. They felt flail now. I was so tired. I didn’t want to fight anymore. No matter what I did, where I went I could feel a presence. A presence so subtle to evade everyone's eyes yet solid enough to make me turbulent. I had tried to rid it by jumping the lights, standing in the sun for hours. So, I knew it didn't want to kill me. Otherwise my methods would have kept its hands clean. I needed to get away to save my remains. I was not sure I was whole. A substance anymore. I tried going near the waters. But it didn't drown. Maybe I hike up to where oxygen dies. Otherwise, the only choice I had was to jump off the cliff. Who has ever caught up with the gravity? It wouldn’t. Nobody does. So, I tried the lesser of the both choices. The woods were calming my nerves. Fresh air had ruffled my hair and patted my cheeks a...

His actions all felt rather meaningless now. But they were her some of the best memories. It was afternoon now. She had started packing in morning when he left for office. But these memories were keeping her tied up. "Hey, did you really think you could run on one foot in those thickets. Really? You didn't let me stay here. Pull another stunt and I am going to be here twenty-four seven. You entertain all those bugs from my office then", all she could see was the crinkle between his nose and his cheek. She knew he meant every word. The wind batted against her eyelids and she was back to ruffling those keys in the glass bowl. She kept wondering if she really needed to put her set back. "Honey, I lost them again. I may have dropped them in my office but the chances of CCD are equally good", she was shameless. This was the third time in 4 months. "Look at the present I got you. It has been in my drawer for a week now. True surprise! You get anothe...

She thought dark was bad. Although she was merely conforming to popular opinion, she wanted to belong. But, in seclusion, she would be most comfortable at nights. She could really know her neighbours. Never did she pry but like always dark gave people liberty to come out and do what they thought would be obscured from others. She knew the slithers, whispers, susurrations . She knew when the doors slid, she knew how the dowel pins clinked. "The roommate didn't see anything? Crazy millennials!", the officer retorted. But she knew Amy was not home. An eavesdropping Emma scoffed at the sleuth. ____________________________________ The prompt is word "Dark" with word limit of 100 words at TSN.

They revived her after the palpitation, shaking, perspiration. All were symptoms of withdrawal. They gave her another dose. May be so she can tell who made her a drug mule. Or may be to avoid human-rights suit in case she died. She was swaying, although her mind was getting clearer as much as it could. Her head was thumping but someone may have been slapping her, butting her. Yet she was high. So happy! “Tell me why and your sentence is reduced”, a voice made way to her ears. “To survive. What do you think?”, smiling at her empty palms. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The prompt is word "MULE" and word limit is 100 at  TSN . 

A little girl's hope From her fairy tales A protector of sorts A star in the sky. A wish in the air To turn alive now. To watch over her From up above in the sky. Baba, now you are there To guide me through. Every minute I am lost. For I do a lot look up to the sky. Things are tough, Not everything to tell. Now you'll know everything shining At the edge of milky way in the sky.

I wonder what he would wonder Up above in the sky. A doom for treachery, a sigh of relief. Or cry for the people who cry for him. I wonder what he would say. Sitting elsewhere how to Tell those pallbearers they are not Carrying my soul anywhere. I wonder what he would say To the funeral party. Not to fret but to enjoy. Sadness too much to ask for anyways. I wonder what he would look down at. A eulogy in silence or A praise of wisdom or hope For loved ones who will miss him. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s that? Talk?”, my grandfather snorted. “It’s a talk Grandpa. With the Prime Minister. Where he talks to a journalist. In this case Sharma . And maybe just maybe take questions from the audience. I know you have many. You know I could ask him if I pull the lucky straw.” “Pffft….”, he started to mumble, “Questions… They are for naïve young bloods like you. I wish someone asked why were people like him, politicians ever created?” He pulled out a hundred-rupee note and dangled it in front of me. That mean furtive smile. I was not falling for the dare. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The prompt is word "TALK" and 100 words at TSN . 

It was a serene morning at the beach of Wasalpur. They called it Wasalpur-at-sea. Was it to strip it off its identity, the one where roads bustled with two-wheelers; drains opened to the main drain and ultimately into the sea; stagnant freshwater pools reeked of putrefaction; garbage mound aimed to touch sky; nobody knew. At least I didn’t. Like a human being, my town also had its shades of personality. People shed attitude, like I changed pens, or Gauri changed clothes. Some brought the lasting sympathy, others took it away with their bands of ghouls loitering around to recover loans. It was not a law and order problem though. The constant hum of water ebbing in and away produced a symphony of the orchestra. A soft, piecemeal segue into something calming. It was as if it wanted me to drift away to sleep along to complete my night-long sleep. I had woken up after a meagre 2 hours. And then I just ambled around the kitchen, the dining room, the patio trying to be as soft on my fee...

“Who are you trying to light up in the sunlight? Ghost? This is not something to mess with, man. Bhangarh is scary! No Kahin Deep Jale crap please.” “No. Fancy a ghoul! A human ghoul.”, Amit shifted his eyebrows. It was clear he meant Raghav. “We’ll have to reel him in. So, we leave the first group of diyas. Rub the second and third one with manganese, glycerine. We also leave the fourth rack.” Night descended. The trio was in. No local to guide them. Confident. Suddenly Rajan fainted. “First and fourth Amit, ho….ho….how?” Everything went black after that. ____________________________________________________________ For 100-word challenge here at TSN’s. Prompt = word Fancy which could be used or implied.

S hort of breath, eating carbon T he man from then kept moving forward. E nraged them with queries, himself not dithered. “ A re you sure, this is 21 st and not any other?” M arauder not was he, confused only. P osterity was indeed more intelligent but their acts unwisely. U ncertain, was he skeptic or were they insane?  Yet N othing justified their shallow blings. K icking aside everything, he looked out to take a final mental shot.   --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Prompts for YeahWrite : word 'pivot'/ genre Steampunk/ acrostic poem. Steampunk is a subgenre of science fiction or science fantasy that incorporates technology and aesthetic designs inspired by 19th-century industrial steam-powered machinery. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s no way out You be who you want to be Just remember to call When you feel to hold the ground. Be reckless and carefree Feel the death get by your side Pull me aside to tell those stories When you feel to crumble inside. Get your bruises your burns Your souvenirs from the fight I don’t care just get back to me When you feel to hold and scream. Pull those bullets out yourself Or have damn doctors’ claws in. Text me in my meeting room   When you feel to flinch and pass out. Meet me half meet me full They don’t have to anchor you Run to me to find me home When you feel you are sinking in.

The wall behind the cashier was littered with small portraits. Only some were real, most bragged ‘model’ life pair of father-child, mother-kid, or a model family with three generations chuckling at some family secret. But they certainly supplemented the cafe owner’s design of giving the place a certain family appeal. With no crowd at the counter, Mr. Osprey fled to the front of the queue. Not that his legs could hold the extra pressure of running neither did his heart contain enough zeal. He was even closer to those photos now. He was stuck at the photo of a father holding his kid most likely for the first time. “This is beautiful, isn’t it?”, the cashier at the counter tried to break the prolonged silence. With the break in his thought, Mr. Osprey needed a moment so he could find ground in the reality. “Yea, yes… It certainly is.”, he staggered. “How would you like to place the order Sir?”, Gus finally resumed his job. “Sir, sir…!” “I am sorry. A cappuccino w...