The Lucky Star

“Twelve”

She counted on her tiny fingers, tracing the paths she had just taken in the villa. It was the most spacious thing she had come across in all her 10 years of life. The rooms were like cities, wide, alarming and drool worthy in all its architectural status. She called the big villa as her castle.

“Twelve, it is” she reassured herself and said it aloud, biting her lips, crossing her fingers and anticipating a broad smile from her new teacher.

“Are you sure, young lady? For If you must be wrong then you need to write 21 horses and their talks a hundred times.”

An old man with the receding hairline and graying beard eyed her with a hidden smile.

“Yes Teacher, it is 12, 2 in the hallway, 4 on the way to the biggest rooms in the castle and one each in all the six rooms” She had to be right. She shuddered at the thought of the 100 times she was to write the 18th-centuryfiction, short story, inspiration, writers, authors, oneshots poem.

Mr. Goving Aarya rose up, towering the tiny girl. With his glazing brown supporting stick and a well-tailored suit, he tried to look young but none of them did the charm except the pride that was now dancing on his face.

He had caught her.

“There are thirteen turquoise blue Italian jars dear, you forgot the one in this very room, there on the highest shelf” He held her towards the expensive jars and found her face drop in a second.

” A hundred times it is” She sighed.

“A hundred times it is, dear” He smiled.

Heaving a sigh of relief and studying the retreating shadow of the girl, made his face glow with a shine, a kind of shine one gets to see when someone knows their bright future.

He was preparing a gem for the literature world.

Having published 20 books and a few accolades in his name. His skills had only sharpened as he had outlived his peers. A divorcee at 30 and kids in far away lands, none had inherited is writing skills. And deep down he knew he was the reason for it all.

His fame had him under its spell and that is why commitment was just a fun word back then.

But the raging time promised him the graying hairs, weakened knees, shivering lips, trembling fingers and sleepless nights.

He would barely write now, with creativity at bay, he longed for his family but it was too late. That was when he met her.

The girl on the streets, begging, trying to read articles out of scrapped papers, stolen glances to the textbooks of the wealthy school going kids. Govind had noticed her on his way to the park for his morning walk, intrigued by her commitment and interest. He once took her to the library and her sparkle in the eyes assured him of the hidden potential in her.

From then onwards, there was no turning back. He adopted the orphan, fed her with literature, put her to sleep singing Shakespeare and triggered the writer in her. He was on a mission., to carve out the best diamond from the nugget.

“She would remember me for this or maybe she will forget me one day like my kids but my heart is finally at peace.”

He retired to his cane chair, lost in thoughts while the future writer crooned on the long chair writing the poem a hundred times, savoring the intelligence of each line, lost in a world that her young mind imagined!

“I will always remember you for this punishment teacher” She yawned…

She just didn’t realize how her lucky star had brought her to her bright future, YET!

The Forgotten Window!

It felt fresh as the long night descended with a crisp of winter morning breeze. It whooshed its way through the broken glass of the forgotten window.

With my withdrawn eyes from the habituated look at the Ganesha idol on my table, I drift to the old teak cupboard situated at the north corner of my dim room. It was flaking brown, a bit of dampness at the back of it spoiled the edges of my neatly ironed shirts.fiction, one-shots, inspiring story, old-age, generation gap

A smile lit up as I knew they were never to be worn again, I was going back in time, flooded with memories of my childhood as the stream of morning light hit my light brown eyes.

My grandfather was still alive and healthy until I was seventeen. With the budding new mustache, there was a new love budding in my heart. Back then, every girl sporting long hairs and a bright smile were meant to be made for me. I smile at those days of daily crushes. And my grandfather was my guardian!

He was more a friend than the generation gap could define. He wrote letters and had me cycle my way near her house. He knew the art. After all my grandmother had fallen for all his efforts and still used to blush whenever she was reminded of it.

The cycle was a priceless possession for it came to me at the age of thirteen and I had cycled my way through the dense forests and roads bereft of people. The clink of the cycle gave me a strength that could have me face the fears of the silence in my world.

He fulfilled all the duties that my father thought was unnecessary. The same cycle took me to the barber shops, it took me to the Gemini circus where the monkeys had snatched my popcorn, it had taken us to the river banks that had crocodiles. My grandfather was an adventurous boy. Yes, a boy.

The best were the crisp night walks that we took after our dinner. He helped me break window panes and run like the little kids would. Even at the age of sixteen.

Then at the age of eighteen, I lost him and it was never the same again. I grew up and married. It has been so many years and he still stays alive.

As I look into the mirror, I smile for I resemble him. My grandson is sixteen now and it was time to meet him. For the first time.

They are settled in abroad and my son along with his family are to be here tonight. My wife departed a week ago and my son is arriving tonight!

I sigh, deeply hurt by the raging timeline!

But I promise that I will give the rest of my days to the grandson who has never met me. I will let him feel what it feels like to be adventurous and happy. I will let him know that the broken window panes give much joy than the seamless streaming of games online.

I will show him a new world through the forgotten window and things are never going to be the same.

I took my old camera, this will do the rest! I smiled as I drifted to a new dream!


photo credit: akigabo Longing via photopin (license)

Sparkle- A Shade Of Narcissism

Sparkle.

I named my new dog Sparkle. When my brother grimaced at my choice of the name for a ferocious looking german shepherd. There was a grin on my small face!

After all I had a reason to name him that. As I stood in front of the long mirror examining the woman I have grown into. Well defining features, authenticity in my being, the absence of the usual dove-like feminine features. A smile that could conquer a crowd. A perfect height and a dusky beautiful Indian skin-tone.fiction,one shots, motivational post, inspiring post, narcissm,

I might sound a bit narcissistic but hell with the society norms and the ideal pages from history. It is time to rewrite how we look at ourselves. Yes, we need to appreciate the beauty and we are skipping all the skinny, fair standards the magazines and the glamor world defines. I want everybody to look upto themselves for the beauty is authentic, it is formed and defined by the fights you fought, the tears your pillows embraced, the punches your punching bag silently took, the bruises that faded without notice, the smiles that enriched your life, the falls that taught you to pick yourself up.

Yes Everybody should have a shade of narcissism in them when it comes to how you look to the world. Create the world you want with whatever you have, however you are. Because you are not mere bones and muscles and skin tones, you are made of experiences and survival stories.

My survival through my ordeal had come by as a present in the beautiful package, yet there was something missing in the perfect reflection.

Yes.

The sparkle.

The bright sparkle in my eyes was lost surviving the ordeal. Hence I named my dog sparkle to remind me to embrace and regain the lost sparkle in my eyes and to light the world around me.

I was sure of the birth of the sparkle in my eyes as sparkle came running towards me and licked my legs!

Such A Thing Of Beauty

Every heart houses a story,

Nurtured and Beaten and Loved;

Part of them are perfect,

Much more lay there with scarred histories.

Perfectly imperfect melts millions of hearts;

Such a beautiful thing, the heart!

 

Every story houses a heavy lock,

The key lays with the people who left their footprints!

Some keys are treasured,some are buried, some more are lost,

Sometimes battered egos win in broken bonds!

Still, all the stories are worth a read, a perfectly imperfect comic.

Such a beautiful thing, the game of locks and keys.

 

Every Lock has treasure of memories, so languid;

Of maelstroms and broken promises,

Of sunshine smiles and hearty laughs,

Not often spoken are the bygone days!

Perfectly imperfect are those memories hidden

Such  a thing of beauty, the warmth of the memories.

 

Every memory is a priceless possession

None can own, none can destroy

In this vortex of life, they guide you in the lost path,

Meanders again, the little heart;

To the heavy locks, cherished memories and priceless possessions.

Such a thing of Beauty, this life.

 

‘E’…#AtoZ Challenge

So the upcoming word in the challenge was ‘E’, I pondered on what topic I would write about.  my thoughts were rummaging through the vocabulary in my mind. As there was a power cut at my place yesterday night, I had quite some time to think over it. My mother kept a close eye on my lost senses.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked me with not much of interference. Probably she would have been fine even if I wouldn’t have answered ,but I don’t like her questions unanswered.

Mom, remember the word building games that I used to play. I always find ‘E’ to be the most complex alphabet to find words. I always used to lose points because of it” I explained, no, I much blabbered.

Well, you have… Engagement.” 

I gave out a sarcastic laugh, obviously with the talks of it very pertinent in my phase of life; it still helped for the word!

Mom, we do have emblem, engross, ephemeral, enigma, enthrall,

She was fast

Entertainment, enter, exit, ego, element,”

Exercise, engulf, exotic, entity,”

Encourage, economics, emphasis, establishment,

And the word game was fascinating after-ll, . It was the semi-darkness that was engulfing us with all it’s might while our enigmatic minds were so engrossed in listing out the words from the alphabet ‘E’. With the light so inclined towards the clock, each moment was enthralling. Later I was left to be alone, lost in my own thoughts

My train of thoughts often mulled over the enabling of symbolization of the four Asiatic lions in our emblem when I declared the word stopping the time. The Indian Emblem was a  symbolization to power, courage, pride and confidence; the four enriched words were the most coveted traits in me. I still long for them. Then the thoughts take a different route. The route to tone, not that I’m racist but I think the enormous sensation of being fair isn’t much needed. I wish if we were to see the beauty of the souls instead of the skin-tones, the whole emphasis of beauty would have been a lot different.

Brown and different shades of it, I assure you, gives the most exotic looks to a person. Hence the entry of a narcissist and hypocrite into their lives would be estimated to be a loss. Each person is beautiful and unique with their enchanting charms neatly wrapped in the societies most eyeing situations. It is at these times the esteemed lions play a role, looking into the exhaustive repetition of the long lost tradition of racism, we could entertain our own thoughts and be as esteemed as ever , for what is a life without a trace of ephemeral feelings that can make us laugh and cry, to stand in pride and to bow down in humbleness, entreating and engrossing, everything around you would make you feel beautiful if you were to feel it’s beauty.

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Well , a simple game of words brought the most deep rooted insights in me and am I still looking for a word that can enlist the “E” in them. Well, I had to rush to relish my dinner. And yes the simple thoughts were an engaging talk with myself. We all should often talk to ourselves, for deep inside us lies the most brilliant person and the silliest of the lot. You’ll get the honor to meet them both:)

Happy talks folks:) 

 

‘D’reams…#AtoZ Challenge

Dreams are as mysterious as life itself, on the context that it is over-whelming real life experience. People can dream about flying and falling, movies and monsters , horrors and hell and still go completely unaware about the granulating details of the most important dream. Some other dreams stay and repeat, sometimes filling you with a surge of energy and sometimes depriving you of the little possible peace in you.

Are the dreams that important to life? Wouldn’t our lives be better when our mind could actually slip into a semi-coma state with nothing but satisfaction of the long rest after a hectic play of emotions and physical strains that you have to endure.

Is it for the happy dreams that make us smile or is it for the frightening ones that warns us of an impending danger else is it for the pattern that you draw to know yourself. Still in a haze?

Do you know why we still dream?

Let me take you through figments of people and their lives!d2

A young boy, no more than four sits across the street in ragged clothes and an emaciated body but he smiles for he dreams.

A thirty year old lady, after having lost her hairs due to cancer but before that she had a beautiful family, a loving husband but all that she is left with is an estranged relationship and a rough fate yet smiles, for she dreams.

A sixty year old man, completely weak from all the diseases known to mankind, but his heart aches for a treatment from his family. He is alone on a torn sheet, succumbed to death in an Old-age Home yet now and then the nurse finds him smile in his sleep for he dreams too.

With all the problems and conundrums we endure through the day, the night comes as a knight with hopes, some gives us strength, some others warnings and something more the very source of energy to carry on.

The young boy smiles for he dreams of better living that he is adamant to achieve. He wants to live for a better tomorrow.

The lady with the cancer smiles for she just has heard of people getting cured of cancer, a hope to live and make a living of her own. With no strings attached. She wants to live for a better tomorrow.

The old man smiles for he dreams of the people around him as a family and he has realized that home is not a physical entity but  a place where he feels that he belongs there and the old-age home has given him a family of friends to share his feelings. He wants live for a better tomorrow.

And that is why we dream, for that single ray of hope that bestows from the darkest tunnel convincing of the brighter sun at the end of it.

We dream because we believe that tomorrow can be better.

We dream because we know what it is like to not have any dreams and we would better be dead rather not having to dream.

We dream to realize what we are and what we are supposed to do.

We dream to live in a bubble and smile about it.

We dream to forget it more often for they are not that necessary.

We dream to live another life in hundred different forms. 

We dream to know the answers to many forbidden questions.

We dream because that is a way for a new perception to be born.

We dream for it to come true.

We Dream to Live Again.


 

Happy Dreams:)

 

The Little Guy From Your Heart

Moments there are ,weaving your story

A way of telling you ,

“This is how it will be, a life of struggle

This is all it was and will be, you are no exception”

But then there is a meek little guy

Voicing from inside your heart

Telling you to sail your own ship;hw

Never to bow your head to the unknown future.

To Create it on your way,

From the stones pelted,

From the dripping little dew drops,

 Don’t leave behind the dusty roads either,

For You will build your mansion with those,In there

Dream of your life, the laughs ,the peace

You will create them,Yes you Would IF

If you are brave enough to listen,

Listen to that little guy in your heart

He is true, residing so deep !

Reach out to him and he’ll hold you

With a promise to never let go….

                                     to never squash your dreams….

                                                to never let you lose yourself…..

In the life of doubt and fear

Go on, hear him once!


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