My Ramblings

You asked and I said. I said what I meant. You heard what you thought , But that wasn't what I meant. Sorry may be a casual word But when it’s the only one It’s sorry not anything bent. __________________________________________________________________________________________ This is my response to the  Trifecta  weekly challenge, which is to write a 33-word response, in addition to and preceding the following: “That wasn't what I meant” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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...

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! _________...

Since her childhood, she had been very brave. Unlike the other kids who would cry on seeing the first palette of blood she would press her wound hard and let it ooze faster. She somehow reveled in the blood-y flow, as if some witch was trying to purge a part of her soul and she had surrendered completely to it. Every time she would cut herself, she would wait for the gush and wish it never stopped and drenched her to the last drop. Always surprised listening to the wonders of being related by blood, she would ask herself if those blood-kins had blood any thicker, because she was sure hers must have thinned. Every time she would see a girl walking by along with his father giggling, happy, she would turn around and blade herself wishing she could change the blood flowing inside her. It was her blood’s fault if not hers; she was convinced. She even dreamt of getting fanged by the vampires. Looking for solace at any place,  she surmised who better than those kindred spirits in ...

~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~ This is my response to Trifecta’s weekend prompt: This weekend we’re having some fun with the prompt, some super-powered fun, that is. We’re asking you to write the origin story to the superhero of your choice in exactly 33 words. I was so confused who to write about. I had so many of those qualities in mind. But, I mentioned only the best I had liked. May look out of place, but 33 words were too cruel this time.  This is my SUPER-Man!  ~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~-~~~ Tormented past, never complained. Didn’t know he could save then. Thus the Growl. Sketched the tormentor Like a Marionette. Which he then hung upside-down. Never uttered anything ill, So words had Midas touch.

A brisk walk so long Cool breeze combing through my hair, The pestilence-wilted leaves Turned inside out, So that green leaves manage To slither out Hope remained, It’s not the end of the world just yet.   __________________________________________________________ This is my response to Trifecta’s weekend challenge.  In their words, here is the challenge: Your challenge this weekend is to give us 33 words about anything you want.  Your piece must include at least one hyphenated compound modifier. 

Woke up just to find ‘twas a dream, Drenched in the ecstasy of loneliness. But he was nowhere to be found. Tears in her eyes, She knew she had defaulted. Again. How could she face them all without him? Selfish, had she been again? Not sure! Opened her windows. Desperately waiting for a  sun to dawn. But a mirage featured, Because  it was too good to be true. Sitting on the curb was her man, Her soulmate! Scampered she to apologize, Just to find him with his arms wide opened. Surprised, was she the luckiest?     __________________________________________________________ Link to Trifecta Homepage:  http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/   This is my response to the Trifecta weekly challenge, which is to write a 33 to 333-word response  using the following word/definition: ECSTASY  (noun):  trance;  especially : a mystic or prophetic trance

I could lead the charge and get us through it. I might as well wait for a century.   But, what you think is lost, I want you to know Was more air than I ever had  To breathe.  ___________________________________________________________ Link to Trifecta Homepage:  http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/   This is my response to Trifecta's weekend challenge, which was to write 36 words which includes the words "charge," "century," and "lost."  Have a great weekend!

Something happened or did someone snap their finger in front of him, he suddenly woke out of it.   A sense of despondence had flourished across his face. His face changed color , a mix of red and blue at the same time. He was embarrassed; the embarrassment evident in his eyes. Vidya could sense his vain attempt to cover the damage; he could have bore his soul a little less to her but it just struck her, he was adorable. He thought he had gotten used to the fact that the story that he has been narrating for the past one hour was now just a story, getting further from reality with every passing moment. But, the urge to want to continue living it was making it difficult for him to believe that he now had to keep them all ensconced somewhere and move on. But au contraire, he let her have a glimpse of it.   Even then he was contented inside. He trusted her. It was a load shed! Check out the previous episode here: Episode 4 ________________________________________________...

He had dreams. Many of them! Everytime he’d fail he’d spawn few more. But he had jotted them all down so when he achieves his first he could say, “Life was worth it!” ________________________________________________________________________ Link to Trifecta Homepage:  http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ This is my submission for this weekend’s  Trifextra challenge . We had to write exactly 33 of our own words inspired by the following quote from the book we could win in the WBN  giveaway. Good luck! “It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.”  ―  Paulo Coelho ,  Alchemist

His lips suddenly twitched bringing out a flicker of smile that he didn't even know was there. And he started on. He had met Anu in college. It was one just another day of the series when those jocks flouted all kinds of laws. He with his few buddies would go around and humiliate the measly-ies. But that day they had taken it a bit further and in the act was caught a newbie. He had started bleeding when they thrusted him around and he hit the edge of that civil-war time table or whatever of it remained in the cafeteria. His left forehead was bruised right above his left ear. ‘If you can’t get your shit together, don’t try to mess others’ lives’, he heard someone at the back yelling at him. He had heard that voice before. He could feel that the person was running. She knew she regretted saying that already. She was not cut out for bellicosity. It was not her place. But somebody was terribly hurt and she just couldn’t let it go  like everybody else did. She hurriedly rem...

It was a Saturday, a normal day-off for everybody else that she had gone to the office with the dying hope of her project meeting its deadline, that they actually met. Both have been working in the same offices for quite some time, more like a couple of years, even sitting in the adjacent cubicles but they had barely interacted; except from the occasional hi’s and the good mornings’. There was always a reluctance, a sheer hesitation in his eyes even when they would rise in order to wish her the same. To everybody, he was just another workaholic who would move out of his cubicle, make a beeline to the pantry, take coffee, and make another beeline back to his place. So, that day, just for company’s sake over lunch, she asked Vishal to join her. And since then, everything had started falling out of place. She had expected it to be a sour company, a dull conversation if at-all. Out of courtesy,they offered each other, Vidya offering him her self-made  matar-paneer  an...

The meet that had her head over heels in love without her even knowing about it! The one which made her believe it was okay to let life take control of her sometime. I  had so much to write ... This 33 word-limit can be cruel sometime. But, Stay tuned ... a lot more to come!  Check the before and after story here :  Episode 1      Episode 3 Link to Trifecta Homepage:  http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/

Her phone started ringing. It said,” Vishal calling”. A moment ago, she was almost mumbling to herself cursing him to stand her up again.  But, seeing his name flash, the first thing she said once she had her phone-mic near her mouth were, “Vishal, are you okay? Where are you?” The voice on the other side said, “Hi! I am not Vishal. It looks like Vishal is down on the ground, puking and is out of his senses. He had your number on speed-dial and that’s how I called you".” “Where are you? Can you please … tell me… where is he... are you?”, her voice started breaking. The guy on the phone said, “I am in Mid-town Bar, 500 meters south of the Hotel Trans-Scend on the BelAir Road.” And, within  seconds, she was out of the restaurant and inside her black sedan. She fed in the address into the GPS, and soon she was out of the parking lot and on the road making hasty turns. The road was clear, with almost no traffic, a surprise considering it was just a little late after 9. May be it ...