U - Umbrella

Image courtesy: Google

I watch her walk in the rain, the blue umbrella in her hand threatening to fold backward any moment in the wind. She is dressed in an emerald green dress, but it's wet, clinging to her curvaceous body, the shade in the dark looks almost black. 

She waits at the bus stop. Whom is she waiting for? A flash of lightening illuminates her face. I'm not sure if it was the rain, but her face is dripping wet. Is she crying? Or is it my mind playing tricks on me like always?

I don't go and talk to her, though that is what I'm dying to do. She is my addiction, an elixir in my otherwise dry life. The fragrance of wet earth and rain surrounds us. The bus stop is deserted. There is no one but me and her. I want to push the wet hair from her face, I want to know what her skin would feel like beneath my fingers. Will her hands be rough from conducting daily chores? Or will they be soft and supple like the jasmine flowers that she sometimes used to adorn her hair?

I watch a car stop not far away and couple of men getting out and approaching her. I'm angry, yet I do nothing but watch them. There seems to be some sort of argument. After a few minutes, she gets into the car with them. She catches my eye before closing the car's door, a wistful look on her face. 

What does she see when she looks at me? My torn clothes, the broken umbrella that has failed to keep even a strand of hair on my head dry or my begging bowl? I bid her goodbye silently; I know she will be back tomorrow. Just like yesterday or the day before. Just like how I know she is going to be cursed for the rest of her life. Like me. We would make a great pair. Me and her. Only if she would realize that. 

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

R - Regret

Image courtesy: Google

Do I regret the time 

we spent together? 

What once made me smile

Now carry remnants of hurt in them

Memories tainted by guilt

Yours or mine? 

All those nights spent in your arms

Seems so distant now

Riding on your bike 

Holding you tight 

Makes me reminiscent 

Of a time that was solely ours

Were you a mistake?

One that I willfully made?

All I know is that regrets I have none

You were a part of me and continue to be

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

End of Time

Image courtesy: Google

Take me to the end of time
To see the sparkling rays of golden sun
Take me to the end of time
To see the blushing pout of roses red

Take me to the end of time
To feel the wind on my fingertips
Take me to the end of time
To feel an angel's kiss on my face

Take me to the end of time
To hear the melody of hopping birds
Take me to the end of time
To hear sweet murmur on your lips

Take me to the end of time
And hold me close
To your heart and soul...

Linking this post to Write Tribe Pro Blogger Challenge. 

Things accomplished in 2014: A Recap

This was a post that has been lying in my draft for some time now. 2014 was not such a great year for me. It gave me a lot of highs and lows. But I guess it has made me who I', today. I'm not editing anything here. Just posting what I had scribbled.

 

Image courtesy: Google

2014 is almost over and what a year that turned out to be! Here are some of my top moments:

# Got published in 2 books

# Blogging (started blogging more frequently)
# Got some great friends in the blogosphere
# Gift of writing
# Reading 
# Closure
# Escaping a dreary desk job 

# Took part in blogging contests and won

# Made new friends who are now dearer than family

# Found out my passion 

# Lost weight

# Turned vegan

# Working out

# Gave up on junk (almost) & fizzy drinks

Goals for 2015

# Write a book (or at least start with one)

# Travel someplace new

# Learn swimming

# Get driving licence 

# Write more- get disciplined

P.S. Shitty post, I know. Hoping for a better 2015. Happy New Year, you guys!

Solace

Image courtesy: Tumblr

I spent my whole life 

Searching for the one thing

That would make it whole

In people, places, things

But now I know that 

Happiness comes from within

And the only person that can 

Give you solace is yourself

Second Birth

Image copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

We looked at each other across the camp fire. It was a full moon night. I can feel the warmth spread across my face. Was it just because of the fire? Or was it because of the passion that threatened to burn me down, reflected in your eyes like burning embers?

The fire has almost died out. The cold wind blowing our way adds to the chill. You come closer, hold me tight and nuzzle my neck. I'm apprehensive. But the pain is sharp; instant. You draw back and I can see your fangs that are tinged with my blood. 

This drabble is written for Friday Fictioneers- 5th September for the above photo prompt. 

Pickled

Image courtesy: Google

He was a regular customer at the local supermarket where he battled his conflicts about the purchases he made, so often did he shop there that the shop assistants were on a first name basis with him. Maybe it was gentle demeanor or maybe it was that he poked in nobody's business; the children in the neighborhood always looked forward to those days he went shopping as he always bought them chocolates and other little treats. The old ladies blessed him for his kindheartedness for he offered a helping hand around their homes. 

Each week he went and bought large ceramic jars, the ones that are used to make pickles for it was his hobby and people always wondered among themselves why such a nice man chose to remain unmarried. He shrugged off their inquisitiveness with a smile and went back home to his secret- the dozens of female brains that remained pickled in the jars that were arranged neatly on the shelves in his basement, one for each of the women he had dated.  

This post is written for Five sentence fiction for Conflict  at Lillie McFerrin Writes.

P.S. I'm not a psycho! It can be partly blamed on the numerous Dexter episodes that I have watched in the recent past.

The 'Selfie' mania

Okay, I will go crazy if I don't get it off my chest. What is with the selfie mania that seems to be going on? Or is it just me? I do get it that some of us love to flaunt our glamorous/ cool selfies. But what is it with the pathetic selfies that I see sometimes mostly on Facebook? 

According to Wikipedia, "A selfie is a self-portrait photograph, typically taken with a hand-held digital camera or camera phone. Selfies are often shared on social networking services such as Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and Tumblr. They are often casual, and are typically taken either with a camera held at arm's length or in a mirror."

And this what Google had to tell me - "Occasional selfies are acceptable, but posting a new picture of yourself everyday isn't necessary." Google, I couldn't possibly agree with you more on this one. 

The other day, I saw this girl on my friends list (don't ask me how she ended up there, long story) has posted this weird selfie. Where she looks somewhere between confused/ weird/ constipated. And for this she gets a lot of likes and few comments! 

I would get it if it was a nice click or even an average selfie. But this one was downright oh-I'm-so-trying-to-be-cool kind of a selfie. What is it with people? Can't they just pose normally for one? Or even smiling for it would not have looked half as bad as it did. 

I'm sure she is a friendly girl and has a lot of friends. But selfies like these are simply taking things a bit too far and testing the patience of those viewing it. 

Oh yes, I can imagine what you are thinking. Why don't I just remove her from my list? But sometimes when I feel down, I take her profile, go through her selfies and remind myself that life could actually be a lot worse. 

P.S. This is just my opinion and I have nothing against selfies in general. Well, as long as it doesn't hurt my eyes. 

P.P.S. I'm generally not this rude, but this one was simply asking for it.  

This post is written for Day 21 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge for July 2014 and NaBloPoMo. 

Does it really matter?

Images courtesy: Google

Today, I ask my self whether it really matters. Does it matter what others think of you? They will judge you anyway, no matter what you do. Is it really worth sacrificing your dreams for what others think? Does it really matter that you will be subject to scrutiny for every decision you make? No matter how small. Is it really worth letting those thoughts slip away simply because you didn't have the courage to listen to your heart? 

Most of the things may not be making sense to anyone reading this. But today, as I was archiving all those old Orkut memories before it gets wiped off got me thinking. What that has to do with this post, I have no idea. Probably due to the fact that it has taken me back through time when I was a lost soul in my teens, leaving me nostalgic in the process. I have come a long way. And today, I'm simply glad that I listened to my heart. 

I guess, it would be better to end up with even not-so-fond memories rather than crushed dreams. Go ahead and follow them. Don't let the guilty voice in your head dampen your spirits. May all your dreams come true, at least the worthwhile ones!

This post is written for Day 8 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge for July 2014 and NaBloPoMo. 

Ferris wheel

(Image courtesy: Tumblr)

Lanterns afloat

Twinkling beneath us

Like little stars

Round and round we go

In the Ferris wheel

Music from the rides

Drift into the air

Laughter of children

Reminds us of innocence

And a lost past

The Ferris wheel

Goes over and over

Taking us with it

Allowing the wind 

To cradle us in its arms

And we float above

In the Ferris wheel

Not thinking or talking

Just drinking the moment in

On the last day of the carnival...

Something about her

(Image courtesy: Google)

I still remember the day, the sun was ablaze tanning my skin a deep brown. The air was crisp and I hoped the saline breeze would not cause much damage to my camera lens. Being the amateur photographer, I was experimenting with my new SLR on the beach. I captured a lot of beautiful images that day. At least, I like to think so. But what captivated me the most was a picture that I shot at random. A pair of legs, the left one adorning an anklet. The sound that it made when she moved her feet were music to my ears. The owner was lost deep in thought. It appears that she has not noticed me clicking pictures of her dainty feet. The water lapped around her ankles. She seemed distant, far away. 

The wind blew her auburn tresses over her shoulder. There were deep red highlights in them that shone through when the sun kissed it. She wore a light blue dress that stopped short at her knees. She must have felt my eyes boring into her back for she turned her eyes and looked at me. I saw a look of surprise on her face, which soon turned into indignation when she noticed my camera. Perhaps she knew that her memories are already mine.

She took a couple of steps away from me. But I was not ready to leave her. At least, not yet. 

"Do you mind if I click some of your pictures?", I asked.

"And what if I do?", she answers my question back with another one. This one was going to be tough, I realized.

"Well, I won't click any more of your pictures then." , I replied.

"So, that means you have already clicked me without asking." There was no mistaking the mild annoyance in her tone.

"I'm sorry. If you want I shall delete them right now. But the snaps are beautiful. You can have a look if you like." A look of uncertainty crossed her face before she agreed.

I could see the delight that she was trying hard to mask on seeing the pictures. Like me, the shot of her legs in the blue water, with her anklet peeping, held her attention. 

"I can mail it to you if you like." I offered.

Surprisingly, she passed me her email ID. Tanya, that was her name. 

And that was how she came into my life.

I transferred the files onto my laptop the first thing I did when I reached home and mailed it to her. I waited the entire night, but there was no reply. She seemed to be taking her time, though I was sure that she had seen it. Sometime after midnight, I slept off. The next morning, I woke up to her Thank you mail on my screen. Somehow, that made my day. I couldn't wipe off the goofy grin on my face all day. 

That evening, I caught her online and started chatting. It was mostly monotonous replies from her side and you could say it was more of me doing the talking. But the more she resisted, the more I felt drawn to her. She was reluctant to tell me anything about her. But somewhere along the way, the ice melted. 

Maybe it was my reluctance in giving up. Or maybe she simply took pity upon my desperation. But whatever the reason, I was happy. Not talking to her, made my day incomplete. Like a love lorn puppy, I lapped up all the attention she threw my way. In spite of talking to her for over six months, I could still not figure her out completely. She was aloof, immune to my charms. And maybe that is what fascinated me. She could not be termed my girlfriend, she was certainly not that. Maybe the word that I'm looking for is obsessed. Yes, she was more of an obsession for me, that had me hooked. There was something about her, something for which I always went back for. 

The very rare occasion, she decided to come out for a coffee or a movie, after a lot of cajoling, my heart sang with joy. She would sometimes hold my hand, stroking it softly, as she spoke to me. A whiff of fragrance when she tossed her hair or leaned across me would waft into my nostrils. Vanilla blended with honey. That is the smell that would always remind me of the time I spent with her. 

The truth is, I have never been able to figure her out even today. There are days when she would ask me to click her pictures, posing for me without inhibitions. With a careless abandon. Other days, she would snap at me if I did as much as click her picture on my mobile. 

And so, when she told me out of the blue, that she was moving away from the City, I was not taken aback by her decision. But that didn't leave me any less heart broken. She appeared not to be bothered about my sensitivity. But deep down, I knew that she was deeply affected as well. Had I played a role in driving her away, even unconsciously? I will never know. Some people come into our lives and leaves an impact. A long lasting one. For me, it shall always be hers. The stay, however short it maybe, gifts you memories to cherish for a lifetime. They shall remain locked up, fiercely guarded like an intimate secret, that you dust and look at when you are alone.   

And today, three years later, when I hold my first photography exhibition, my showstopper is still a peeping anklet. 

Sound of silence

(Image courtesy: Google)

I have never been a fan of silence. In fact, I could not stand it. I needed sounds, life to be felt and heard, all around me. Silence was deadly, it smothered me. I love to hear people talk, to make their voices heard, for the need to belong. Somewhere. I never thought there would come a day when I can actually feel comfortable with silence.

I hated being alone, with my thoughts. And that was a bad thing. At least, it used to be. I needed the constant bickering, the music or even simply a television droning in the background. Somewhere along the way, I learned that silence is not so bad. Sometimes, you just need to be alone. With nothing but your thoughts. Tackling your inner demons, making peace and moving on. Scared me initially, but now, I'm getting used to it. Of learning to fall in love with it. 

In the nothingness, I learned to accept me for who I am. I have learned to love me the way I am. Silence, is not so bad. It can be the guiding path to discover who you really are and want to be at heart. Silence, you finally win me over.

Tainted red

(Image courtesy: Google)

She was trained for marriage from the time she could remember. To cook. To make idlis soft and fluffy. How to make sambhar, just a bit on the tangy side. To roll the dough just perfect so that it doesn't stick. The perfect way to fold clothes. To iron them. And so, when they found the perfect groom, soft spoken and handsome, well educated and settled abroad, she was confident. 

How hard can it be to do all those little things she was trained for, without supervision? A week after marriage, she flew with him to start her new life in an unknown country. In a strange place, filled with strange people. She got stares walking around in a saree and the bright red vermilion parting in her hair. And the one time she attempted to blend in with the crowd in a blue jeans and tank top, she felt strangely naked without the red tainting her forehead. 

Her husband never said anything. It was like she had ceased to exist for him. He was immersed in his research and that was all she knew. How on earth would she make friends without even learning to speak English fluently. She felt lost in a sea of people. Even when she went out for long walks in the nearby park or simply stood browsing through the local Indian provision store. 

Till the day she noticed the young guy in black. He was young, maybe in his early twenties. Probably just a couple of years younger than her or maybe her same age. But she felt old in her saree. And she looked old as well. 

At first, she pretended to ignore him. What she noticed first about him was the way he stared at her. With such intensity. What did he want? For the first time in a long time, she felt nervous. The next time she saw him was in the park. He sat by the bench, nursing a cup of coffee. Was he waiting for her? 

She continued seeing him, daily on her walks in the park, in the public library that she frequented often. But they never spoke. Merely walked past each other as strangers. As they rightly were.

Till one day, he took the plunge and asked her out for coffee. Her shock must have shown on her face because he smiled as though he knew what her reaction would be. 

Don't worry, it's just a cup of coffee, he assured her. But still she was scared and nervous. What was she getting into? With a stranger. With someone who could be much younger than her. 

She needn't have worried. She felt at home with him. She could talk to him and he listened. And for now, that was all that mattered to her. Talking to him was like her addiction to coffee. She could not stop.

They started meeting regularly now. It was always in those tiny coffee shops where they would pour their hearts out and seek each other out. Turns out, he was not that young after all. Just twenty four. A year younger than her.

One day, she decided to take the plunge and ask him what it was that he noticed about her first. The reason behind the stalking, if it could be called that.

He smiled. The smile that made the eyes of his brown eyes crinkle. The smile that melted her heart each time she saw it. The smile that lit up his whole face when he saw her. 

It was the red in your hair. So beautiful. The fact that you wore your marriage with such pride. The way you held on to your marriage with so much optimistic hope. Despite the sadness in your eyes. Something in me awakened. Something that I had not known existed inside me. With this he took her hand in his.

His words fell on her like a cold shower on a warm day. Married. She was married. No matter how much she felt attracted to him, she couldn't do this. She could never cross the line and take the next step. 

She withdrew her hand from his. Kissed him on the forehead and walked away. This would be the last time. She knew it. He knew it as well. His eyes pleaded with her one last time. She pretended not to see it. 

The next day, she went to the hairdresser's and got her long black locks chopped. It now lay in a chic layer framing her delicate face. Traded her saree for jeans and a thick sweater. And the vermilion? It was washed off. 

She did continue her walks. But never saw him again. And her husband? The only acknowledgement he gave her change was a mere nod of his head that evening. And her? She never took to wearing marriage on her forehead ever again.