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Sunday, 29 June 2014

Comfort

Good music for ears
Good food for stomach
And a hearty laugh

Written for Haiku Horizons : prompt "comfort"

Abandoned


What is it? What is it? She tried to coax an answer from her mind.
Her waiting for her long gone man? Her patience? Her love? Her lust? Or fanning herself so that she could feel better in the hot summer? A rose that lives for a day? Or the water that quenches her thirst for a few hours? Or her thirst itself?
What are you living for?
What is it that is forever in this world? 
And what is forever anyway? 
She threw everything that she had anchored for her life at once.
She left without flinching, without bidding good-byes, without leaving a note.
Nothing is forever.

Written for Magpie Tales : Mag 225

Doors

She waited there - oblivion beyond a frame of wood, or better than that.
But, she didn't want to feel - not even the peak of joy. 
She didn't want to talk to anyone.
Then there was a knock and she opened it.
It was her son who was gone for twenty years.

Tuesday, 24 June 2014

I passed by a monument ...

I don't know where my opinion stands. Because anything with love wins. Live-in or marriage, unless you allow the society to influence your relationship. It is just a matter of realizing true love in each other. It may take a marriage for a few and for a few others it may take a live-in relationship. It might take a lifetime for a few, it might take a short time for a few others. And a few more might not find it at all.

Nobody is born perfect in this world. It takes love to make someone perfect.

To be in a live-in, you should be strong enough to walk against the society and say "No I'm going to search for my true love only this way!". But, the point is, how can you be so sure? By the time you decide, your true love might be married off to a woman in the cliched society or your hair may start graying.

I'm not sure about anything apart from the opinion that true love always, and  ALWAYS wins in the end.

And before you die, do you care whether you married the person or you just moved-in with him/her? Nope. You would only look back at the memories that you couldn't forget.

Good ones or bad is up to you and your fate.

Friday, 20 June 2014

Open thy eyes

Open your eyes
See them, force your eyes
Until they can see it

The souls in despair
The living and the dead
Are you still hungry?

Are you still hungry?
For pleasure and blood?
Or for tonight's dinner?

Or for tonight's dinner
With your gut wrenching
For a girl who died

For a girl who died
Who lost her right
To smile, laugh and live

To smile, laugh and live
For no sin of hers
For only being born

For only being born
As a girl child
A god-gifted one!

Written for Haiku Horizons : Open

Borosil is in

Borosil glass. The thought that first strikes me is laboratory glassware. Yes, we used borosil measuring cylinders ONLY, because the measuring cylinders' graduations were precise for a successful experiment. Our labmates had tried using plastic measuring cylinders and were disappointed to find how 500mL of water in one plastic cylinder had showed 520 mL in another. Sorry, science cannot afford such inaccuracy. But, the case was different with borosil glasswares. They were accurate and made for scientific experiments.

The thought of using borosil for kitchen crockery is an interesting idea! The transparency of glass helps to keep the different colours of food visible and tempting. Salads of cucumber, carrot, onion cut into different attractive shapes and arranged in a dinner bowl set, look luscious. The red tomato sauce on the salad could add as a feather on the cap. A veg manchow soup, my personal favourite, would give away its secret ingedients through a transparent bowl. A vegetable-rich cooked rice looks very delicious in a borosil casserole. The green of peas and cucumber, the red of carrots, the golden brown of paneer and onions, offer your senses a feast. Cakes are a delight for eyes and taste buds when kept in a easy-grip-round-cake dish. One could excuse oneself for indulging in a fulfilling meal.

Children, especially, despise vegetables. By improving the appearance of food, we could attract them to nutritious food and a healthy lifestyle and alleviate the serious conditions of malnutrition. And, why not, make all mothers happy? If you are thinking, "Happiness comes at a price", says who? It comes at an affordable price here at www.myborosil.com.

Another advantage of borosilicate is that it withstands high temperature for microwaving food stuff and without giving off chemicals into food materials. What an alternative to cheap plastic containers that release harmful chemicals when heated!

I was attracted to especially the melamine wares. I had bought 5 serving plates of melamine as a gift to my cousins. They look catchy, trendy and like they say "kewl" (cool). The boring and monotonous steel containers and coffee cups make the kitchen look dull and so-less-of-life. 21st century is heading towards a revolution in fashion and colours, and it applies to kitchen too! Let's make our kitchen colourful and lively.

And the food cooked here will take care of the rest of the work.

Written for Indiblogger, My Beautiful food - www.borosil.com

Thursday, 19 June 2014

Conscience


You are a cheat, people like you should be killed. The voice echoed in space. Wherever he groped for help, for support, for justification, there was only an unforgiving void, detesting his action at the spur of a moment.

Stop cheating, do the right thing, and you know what the right thing is, what your heart craves for. Go and do it. And now! He was going mad in the roller-coaster of emotions, decisions and his action. He knew he had made a decision without introspection. Looking back, he had felt guilty. Aaah! Guilt. It is a strange feeling. It can lead you to the right path when it awakens the conscience. But, if it takes a wrong turn, may god be with you.

He looked at the mirror. But his reflection was not what he saw. His conscience was dead and his soul no more dwelled in him. It was sold. To his father. And his business. He had given up his love for a marriage of businesses.

He splashed water on his face. The chillness of water stung his skin. In an instant, the marred appearances became vivid, he suddenly knew the right thing to do. He picked up his cellphone and called up his father. When he spoke, his voice was stern, "Sorry dad, I cannot marry her." And hung up before a reply.

Whatever you do in life, echoes in eternity. - Gladiator.

Written for : Magpie Tales : Mag 224

Thursday, 12 June 2014

Music


1st April, 1960

Pushi, a well known singer, is getting married on the 19th April, 1960. Her parents and relatives were excited. Today is her first concert, a grand one. And the last one too. One of the pre-requisites for her marriage was to give up her singing career. It was decided, amongst the older "mature" adults. Why is she getting married? she had questioned herself many a times. The question was hushed by the voices of hypocrisy, chauvinism and unscrupulous manner of the society, many more times.

1st May, 1967

Pushi, I mean Mrs.Pushi Jones, a married woman, a mother of a baby girl, is standing in front of her house, waiting for her kid to return home from school. She is humming a beautiful melody, that was the first song she had learnt from her teacher in music school. Lost in the melody, she has closed her eyes. "Mama! I won the first prize in music competition today!" shouts her kid before reaching her.

Pushi smiled and hugged her kid tightly, silently promising herself that she will never let her girl go through the same ordeal again.

Written for Magpie Tales: Mag 223

The pill



"Just one-step away", he said - "to hell or heaven." She raised her head to look at him and asked, " Do you think I can live without you?" They both knew the answer. It was redundant to explain. He laughed for the last time. The night was eerily quiet and unsettling.

In a glance, she understood him and extended her hand for another pill. In a flash, before they could change their minds, before anybody could stop them, they gulped down, one each. In a few minutes, they hit the ground with a thud, awakening the rest of the world.

No, the world did not deserve them.

Written for Magpie Tales : Mag 222

Tuesday, 10 June 2014

Master

The most extolled
The stark truth of life
The highest rank of mankind

The highest rank of mankind
Omni-present omniscient they say
Can I get a glimpse, master?

Can I get a glimpse, master?
Of you, of life, of world
Of their denuded essence?

Of their denuded essence
Simple and child-like
To see every moment 

To see every moment
To live an unrelenting life
With fleeting time.
 

Saturday, 7 June 2014

Growing up

It's a strange word. Growing up. You will never know what it exactly means, and you will never know when it starts and ends. Yet, it's a crucial phase of everyone's life, ironically.

Ammi was an orphan girl. Her parents were alive, but childless. She was abandoned by them and they were dead to her. That was what everyone told her. Yes, of course, that was an easier way to live life - she, in delusion and they, in denial. If Ammi had known the reality, it would have taken eternity to come to terms with her life, or probably she wouldn't have come to terms with it at all. Mom, dad, brother, sister, these bonds had no meaning in her life.

Once when walking down the street of her house, she had seen a child back from school holding her mama's hand. Of course, she lived in a so-called house, thatched roof that allowed all seasons - sunshine, moonlight, rain, chilly air and snow! There was nobody with her, to call it a home. There was a shudder down her spine when she saw the heart-rendering scene in front of her eyes. Why was she deprived of the smallest pleasures in life, she didn't find an answer.

The kid was going home from school. She accidentally stepped into a muddy pothole. Her mom grumbled. The school shoes, polished snow-white carefully and immaculately by her mother, were soiled. Ammi looked at her own sun-tanned feet. Bare, rough and cracked. She didn't have a pair of shoes.

A tear escaped her eyes, she was in deep pain. So much pain that if she had felt it, it would kill her. She had steeled herself, against all troubles. It was a part of growing up she thought, to be indifferent, fearless, painless and lifeless. But, who would anyway tell her what is growing up?

Written for Three Word Wednesday.

Wednesday, 4 June 2014

Retreat

I love you
More than my life
Do you see it?

Do you see it?
Or choose not to?
Or is it too blinding?

Or is it too blinding?
That you turn your back
And walk away

And walk away
Towards oblivion
But where do I go?

But where do I go?
My life began with you
And you are my retreat.

Written for Haiku Horizons: Retreat