Memories

Image courtesy: Google

His lips quivered and tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks as he held the yellowing piece of paper close to his heart. The fondest of memories with the love of his life, his better half, flashed in his mind forcing a ghost of a smile to take shape on his face. He read once again the note she had given him on one of their marriage anniversaries many years ago.

 “I may forget days and nights, the world and beyond but I promise I’ll never forget you; you will be in my thoughts and dreams forever” it said.

He walked up to her and stroked her hair as she stared at him, her thoughts muddled and memories faded, unable to recognise him or his love. 

This piece of Five Sentence Fiction was written for the prompt Memories at LillieMcFerrin.com

Linking to http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Zestful

Image courtesy: Google

Rohan carried the tray with crispy, buttery masala dosas and filter coffee to the table where Tara sat waiting. “I can’t believe we are catching up on our lives after almost a decade!” He found it strange that he felt immensely happy to bump into his long lost friend who had meant the world to him not too long ago. He felt a pang of guilt for letting their friendship fade with time.

They talked animatedly stopping in between only to savour the delicious dosas and piping hot coffee. Tara reminded him of those days when they had been extremely eager to do many things in life. “Do you remember the promise we made by the lake?” When he seemed puzzled, she reminded him.

“We had vowed never to lose the zest to live. We had promised to keep in touch with our silliest of wishes and passions and to never get bogged down by hurdles. You remember?” Tara was bubbling with an excitement and energy level that he felt he couldn't catch up with. He learned that she had followed her heart living all her dreams, taking up challenges with a smile, never belittling her resilience.

He felt tired to chase those dreams now. He felt old. Having settled for a comfortable desk job he had seen everything else in life as a burden. He had always chosen the easier route and compromised on his dreams. Every situation had been just a problem to be solved.

But now in a little coffee shop talking to her, he wondered if he had lived or just existed. Tara, the bubbly teen who he had once loved secretly, who he had rejected for fear of her optimism that he thought was blinding, had just made him fall in love again. With her, with life and with himself.

P.S: Today I have successfully completed the Ultimate Blog Challenge and A to Z challenge. It has been one hell of a journey with crazy moments, a true roller coaster. More than the destination, I enjoyed the happiness that the journey brought- the tiny ups and downs, the friendships that it fostered, the lessons I learnt, the confidence I gathered and some amazing blogs I read. A big thank you to my fellow bloggers and my readers :) Cheers to zestful living!

Linking to 
 http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/
 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Vacant

Image courtesy: Google

Anita stole one last glance at the beautiful cottage that had been her home for the past seven years. Her gaze lingered on the French windows that opened into a small patch of velvety grass adorned by brightly coloured bougainvillea bushes with mangled branches. She had spent so many days enjoying togetherness and long conversations with her husband over cups of tea and freshly baked cake in that very place. That was many months ago, before he played a game of hide and seek with her, vanishing into a secret hideout away from this world, never to return.

She would miss the ivory coloured walls that were a collage of glimpses of their life together. She remembered how the wooden floor boards squeaked with joy at their footsteps, the cool breeze that carried with it the scent of the coral jasmines and the cool stretch of white marble on the kitchen counter where he always sat to give her company while she cooked.

These had been symbols of joy until a few years ago, but strangely turned into painful reminders of the emptiness in her life. What had been their home for many years was just a house now, waiting for new inhabitants. She drove away to a new life in a new place, hoping to get away from haunting memories. Another family would move in soon and the house would no longer be vacant. She realized with a pang of sorrow that it would not be the same of her heart.





 Linking to 
 http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/
 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Now

Image courtesy Google

In this journey

together bound by love

Where hope steers us ahead

and memories leave a trail

Now is all we have my dear

to live, laugh and love

And do it all over again

like there’s nothing after

Let’s celebrate life

the journey we embarked on

The beauty around and within

to be savoured, nurtured

Moments lived fully

make great memories

And ignite the flames

of happiness and peace.

 Linking to 
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/

 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Nostalgia

Image courtesy: Google

After spending fifteen years in the Gulf, we returned to our native village in Kerala. The naalukettu looked exactly the same, though the surroundings were now dotted with new buildings and houses. I walked over to the swing that hung from the Gulmohur tree. It was wet from the early morning showers.

I sat clutching the sturdy coir ropes enjoying the gentle swing back and forth. The bright red flowers let go of the cool drops of rain they held. They awakened within me a feeling of nostalgia, a sudden longing for my past that now seemed  to be so perfect. It was as if each drop wanted to remind me of a story long forgotten. Under my feet lay a thousand red petals of the Gulmohur on a carpet of green grass.

It was many years ago on a similar morning that I met Madhavan. He used to walk past our house every day wearing a crisp white mundu and checked shirt. An occasional glance gave way to smiles and soon we started meeting at the nearby temple, spending endless hours under the sacred Peepal tree. Life seemed so perfect, with Madhavan as the hero of my love story.

I was jolted back to reality when he waved from the other side of the brick wall. “How have you been?” he queried with a smile.

“Fine.”

There was an awkward silence before I headed into the house saying “It is going to rain.”

How could I face him, having given in like a coward to the pressure from my family to marry a rich man working in the Middle East? I drifted back in time to sweet memories untainted by the bitterness of my marriage.

Naalukettu - Traditional house in Kerala

Mundu - A garment worn by people in south India

Gulmohur - A flowering tree

Peepal - Sacred fig tree




Linking to 
 http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/
 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Love

Image courtesy: Google

Being in love is the most amazing feeling I have ever known. Just a fleeting thought of my loved one brings so much joy and hope that I feel I’m living a dream. I have heard of love at first sight, friendship that turns into love, love that blossoms during adversity and so many other kinds of love. But this, it is so very different. Can you think of being in love with someone you have never met or known?

Well that’s the kind of relationship I am in. Love that took just a few seconds to happen. And once it did, I fell headlong into it. Love that grows day by day. Love that needs no words or gestures. Love that needs no proof. Love that keeps hopes alive. Above all, love that is truly unconditional.

My heart beats for him; he fills my thoughts throughout the day. He is in my dreams at night. He fuels me with optimism. He knows each and every breath of mine. I am his world and he is a part of me. Whoever said that falling in love makes you fluttery inside was not lying.

I am in love with the little one I cradle within me. I am in love with this journey to motherhood. I know for sure that this love will last forever. 





P.S:- All my posts for the A to Z challenge are works of fiction. Please don't congratulate me after reading this post!! ;)

 Linking to 
 http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/

 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Impure

Image courtesy: Google

She was a busy woman. Her youth and impeccable looks made sure she never went out of business. She had been initiated into the flesh trade by her mother when she was barely twelve, when all she had wanted to do was fly kites and feast on flavoured ice. But five years into the business, she was adept at fixing rates, faking her feelings and sweet talking her clients into showering her with gifts. She had even mastered the art of lying to herself about the pain, the disgust, the helplessness and the anger that she felt.

During the initial years her mother had warned her, “Never fall in love with a client. They are not here to give us what we want but to take from us what they want.”  She had believed every word of it until she was swept away from her feet by a man who visited her every Friday. He was in his thirties, fairly good looking, with a streak of gold encircling his ring finger. They spent many nights enjoying each other’s company, talking endlessly until dawn snatched him away from her embrace. She realized that she was deeply in love with this man. She felt trapped between two worlds that could never meet and decided to confess her love to him, convinced that he too felt the same. He was different from the other men she had been with.

His words echoed within her, filling her eyes with grief. “How can an impure one like you even dream of a life with a gentleman like me?” She thought it strange that it was always the woman who was made to feel impure and not the man who was equally involved, even after having betrayed his wife.





Linking to 
 http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/
 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Matchmaking

Image courtesy: Google

Parents frantic, seek a match

people applaud as a good catch,

squeamish about qualifications essential

probing if incomes are substantial.

Essential is a job quite decent,

 with no stage in life quiescent

height and weight just perfect

complexion that doesn't deject.

Family name, fame and wealth,

education, hobbies and health

supersede matters of the heart

for a secure married life to start.

With the essentials in place

man and woman see face to face,

the best of them they showcase

lest they fall behind in the race.

In lightning speed vows are made

elaborate plans are then laid;

a game of luck has just begun

hope it turns out to be some fun.

P.S: This poem is written in lighter vein about the Arranged Marriage Market in India. It is in no way intended to hurt any one’s feelings. The debate over Arranged vs Love marriages is never ending. It works differently for different people. Ultimately all that matters is one’s happiness in life. Happy Holi!

Written for the prompt "Essential" at B-A-R
 Linking to http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

A Friend For Life

Image courtesy: Google

A new found friend

you stepped in to blend

with my life, to win

my heart and reside within.

Over cups of tea

our thoughts flowed free,

occasionally trapped

within love notes wrapped.

You came to my door

and offered nothing more

than a tender stroke of my hair

promising a lifetime of care.

A man of words very few

a heart full of love so new,

you rarely needed words

to bridge our different worlds.

In simple silence you waved

a magic wand I craved

to create new cheer

with someone so dear.

Akin to sky and land

sometimes, water and sand

different we may be

but so are lock and key.

At every day’s start

I seek a promise from my heart

for a special place to keep

this friendship so deep.




 Linking to http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

A Cup of Love

Image courtesy: Google

She was woken by the clatter of utensils, the opening and closing of cabinets and the sound of water gushing out from the tap. She headed towards the kitchen rubbing away sleep from her eyes and suppressing a yawn, surprised that someone else in the house had risen before her. 

She was touched beyond measure when a pair of tiny hands handed her a steaming mug of tea and warm buttered toast, wishing her a happy birthday. As she took a sip of the gift from her son, she realized with a smile that he had forgotten to add sugar. However, she relished her morning cuppa to the last drop which was sweetened by his love for her.

This piece of Five Sentence Fiction was penned for the topic Forgotten at Lillie McFerrin Writes

Linking to http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

In love

Image Courtesy: Google

Dear Me,

I wish you a Happy Valentine's Day!

Love is in the air says the blushing rose

and the young couple striking a pose.

So this is the time for me to say

that I love you for whatever you are;

I'll gather your dreams in full embrace

and say that I love you in many ways.

In darkness I'll be your brightest star-

this is a promise for a whole lifetime

of true love, pure, forgiving, unselfish

that I bring you, and I fervently wish

you find truth in this heartfelt rhyme.

Happy Valentine's Day to all of you. Whether you believe in it or not, isn't it nice to have an excuse to express and spread love?! Cheers to falling in love with oneself and then to invite others to share the love and happiness of being complete :)

 Linking to http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Unspoken

Image courtesy: Google

When I say I am glad to meet you
and share a handshake too
I often do wonder
what I really want to say.

When I say I feel desired

by your heart so admired

I often do wonder

how I really want to feel.

When I join you everywhere

like a cute little teddy bear

I often do wonder

what I really want to do.

When I seem so flattered

by words that hardly mattered

I often do wonder

what I really want to hear.

When from my memory I fish

out your most favourite wish

I often do wonder

what I really want to remember?

When my love for you wanes

like the dryness when it rains

I often do wonder

what is it I really want to say?

This post is written for the Wordy Wednesday prompt “What is it that I really want to say?”  by Blog-A-Rhythm:

Linking to Ultimate Blog Challenge

and http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

                                           

Queen of my Heart

Image courtesy: Google

The balm to my soul, my mother

like your soothing presence, there’s no other,

your loving smile and precious tears

string together memories for a thousand years.

So special is the love we share

that with ease our hearts we bare

to each other, lifting heaviness

wiping weariness, ushering happiness.

A child again cradled in your arms

absorbed, enchanted by your charms,

I want to sleep undisturbed once more

loved, caressed, wanted like never before.

The world may change within a blink

snapping apart many a strong link;

do remember, queen of my heart

even death cannot make us part.

P.S: I fall short of words to express my love for my mother, the woman who taught me to be soft yet strong, simple yet beautiful in my own way. The miles that separate us physically is a painful exaggeration of the distance between our hearts. She is the definition of pure, unselfish love.

Participating in the Ultimate Blog Challenge

Unscarred

Image courtesy: Google

I watched you walk away jilted

your face hung low and wilted,

I chose to keep you away

setting your thoughts in disarray.

I believed I had a choice

I was polite and made no noise,

it was my life, my decision;

that upset your planned precision.

But you came back unexpected

to show me you were dejected,

with a few drops of acid you spoke

and burnt my dreams down to smoke.

Brave, the warrior in me fought,

you thought I’d give up, distraught?

I battled the bruise and the blister

unwilling to succumb to the disaster.

I am not the body you scarred

whose features you savagely charred,

survives my spirit, strong as ever

keeping me bold and beautiful forever.





Linking to : http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/
and http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/ 

The Special Gift

Image courtesy:Google

The joy of holding gifts unwrapped

faded soon and left me trapped

in a cluttered cage of useless things

I’d fly away from had I wings.

Toys and treats, cards and games

Books and stuff with confusing names.

Parental love made the list endless;

what I truly wanted none did guess.

Did you ask me for a clue

before concluding you knew

what would truly give me joy?

No, it’s not the market’s latest toy.

Next time you wonder what to gift

I hope your attitude sees a shift,

it is clearly your time that I need,

please do pay this wish some heed.

Hold my hand, let’s have some fun

as we play and picnic in the sun,

tell me stories, join me in a race;

say you love me in better ways.

I’ll grow out of all things money can buy,

pleasures of possession will soon turn dry.

But the time you shared I’ll always cherish

like our mutual love that will never perish.

This post was written as part of the Ultimate blog challenge and the Write Tribe Pro Blogger Challenge
http://writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Aftertaste

Image courtesy: Google

The echoing silence told me
that I was now alone,
his empty chair offered me
its lap where I could moan.
Friends wept, family too,
before they parted.
And without much ado,
I waved and nodded.

But his face lingered,
framed, on the wall,
his voice I heard
as I waited for his call.
His scent so familiar
still hung in the air,
making me shed a tear
at our incomplete pair.

Love birds and butterflies
resumed their part;
mesmerising with their lies
many a young heart.
The aftertaste of lost love
they kept a dark secret,
so surely tomorrow
love, all will tread.

Real love

Image courtesy: Google

The soft click of the door was music to my ears. Music that liberated, music that ignited hopes and desires, music that prophesied the much awaited shuffle of feet along the cobbled garden path. It was such a great relief to have him by my side every day, soon after my husband left for work juggling his bag, a huge file that was too big for his bag, his coat, spare house keys, mobile phone, and a sandwich half wrapped with foil that he ate in the car. His presence was infinitely comforting like the warm sun rays that caressed me in the cold December mornings, the warmth having survived the double barriers of the painted glass window and silky soft curtains.

He came every day without fail. No cards, bunches of roses, perfumes, jewellery or tickets to a surprise luxurious holiday in one of those boringly similar resorts that my husband treated me to. No formal dinners or romantic dates or packed movie halls with buckets of popcorn. No passionate nights that people thought to be the cherry on top of the cupcake of love. No elaborate words of love to impress me. Just his loving presence when I needed him, plain love without the fake frills. I am glad it is this way with us because sometimes these frills are so breathtakingly beautiful and intoxicating that even a fleeting moment of deprivation throws us into a loveless, lonely abyss powerful enough to shield out even the brightest rays of hope.

He had no business empire to keep him busy, nor did he have a passionate inclination towards the share market. He would rather preoccupy himself with my emotional ups and downs than the rise and fall of share values. No mobile phone to distract him during awkward moments or when he was bored. He enjoyed my company and whatever it gave him- interesting conversations, talks about mundane stuff, my lack lustre marital life, problems to ponder upon, promises to be given and kept and many other things. With him I could be my very own self, the naked truth in stark contrast to the mirage I was to my husband.

This was my deep dark secret, a strange love that I sought outside wedlock. My husband would never forgive me if he knew. He could never be expected to fathom my need for such a grave infringement of forbidden territories. To him I was a mere responsibility, a wife who had to be sheltered, clothed, fed and infused with his overflowing passion that trickled through his bursting seams. In his view, he was doing a great job keeping me happy and content within the cruelly confining walls of a massive bungalow only that accentuated its emptiness.

“What more could a wife possibly wish for?” his friends would exclaim whenever they came over for dinner. And to this my husband would reply with an unnatural laughter, feigning humility. All the things he showered me with were the very same things I just did not want.

What I wanted was a companion as real as my heart full of love, as real as my hatred towards my conjugal life, as real as the fear of my bold venture out of marriage being exposed by the person fate had forcefully bound me with. But I prided myself in having made a perfect plan to keep both of them from meeting. We met only when my husband had sped away to sit at a desk in a faraway office, flirting with computers as much as he did with his secretary.

On my birthday, we lovers decided to hold hands and talk a little more than our daily quota. As we laughed till our stomachs hurt, threw pillows like lunatics and teased each other, I was oblivious to the click on the front door. Soon he was there, my husband, looming in front of us with a baffled expression that I thought was smeared with jealousy. Too horrified at being caught red handed, I now could only think of our safety, how to escape from the beast.

“Run my love; go away before he hurts you!” I screamed. I kept screaming, howling and crying out of fear of the unfamiliar events to unfold and the nagging possibility that I may never again hear the much awaited shuffling of legs at the doorway.

“I hate you! We are in love, leave us alone you bastard! “I spat at my husband who suddenly looked so concerned. To insult him further, we hugged each other for the first time, determined not to let go.  I was drained by the end of it and swayed unsteadily. I must have fainted because when I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital room. What had happened? Had he tried to kill us? Or just him? What story had he cooked up and served to all the relatives who had gathered? Did he want a divorce? My head was throbbing. Was it my cruel fate to weep all my life over lost love?

 My husband came in with a doctor. I listened to their conversation while pretending to sleep.

“She has deluded herself into thinking that she has a lover. When I went home today, earlier than usual to give her a birthday surprise, she was talking to the walls, laughing insanely. I am really worried about her. There was no one else in the room!” said my husband. Liar. He had caught us both having a nice time and now he was trying to make others believe I had a problem. I couldn't believe this was happening. Had he gone blind? Or was he losing his mind? I had to tell the truth to someone. But who would listen to me? Who would believe me? I cried at my fate, for my lost love and the desert of a life I would be forced to lead with a person who I never loved.

When the doctor left with my husband, I opened the flask to pour myself some milk. As I unscrewed the lid, a tiny face bobbing up and down peered back at me. My happiness knew no bounds. I hadn't lost my love after all. He had been hiding in the bottle, waiting for the chaos to die away.

“Come out, I've been waiting for you!” I whispered. As he came out from the flask and sat beside me, everything felt normal again. He held my hand and we talked. My love was real indeed. It was ridiculous of anyone to think that I had delusions. They would never see or acknowledge the real love of my life. 

Rightfully yours

Image courtesy: Google

Dear children of my cursed womb

I beg of you from my newly dug tomb,

to see how senseless was this fight

among tender hands that once held tight.

Those endless days of joy and laughter

veiled so well what was to come after,

that I prided in the perfectness

of the happy family I would witness.

 But age and ailment suddenly pranced

and wore me out as they advanced,

snapping the threads of brotherhood

I’d woven you with since childhood.

When you sought a fancied treasure

my grief and rue knew no measure.

This life of numbers that you lead

can never count the tear drops I still bleed.

When you surrounded me on my bed

I saw hungry vultures wanting me dead.

To the pain and grief I was ready to succumb

when I saw no love in your eyes so numb.

You abruptly had ample time at hand

to sever a precious piece of land.

With great passion you contemplated,

discussed, debated till you felt elated.

“The house for me, the shop and jewels for her.

The other one deserves not a single acre.”

The echoes of your heartless words

will haunt me even in other worlds.

I have only one thing to say

To the bits of my womb gone astray,

By claiming what you thought was rightfully yours

You have lost pure love that was truly yours.

Attention please!!!

Image courtesy: Google

Yesterday was Children’s Day. The numerous posts on social media reminding everyone about the importance of the day made me close my eyes and dream a little. My students in their blue and green uniform. Laughing, chatting, playing....... Then a petite girl in a pinafore with checks of black, white and red, a crisp white blouse and a red tie. She walked along the school corridors, the fingertips of her outstretched hands caressing the walls, leaving an invisible mark of her presence. She stopped and turned towards me. It was myself! Minus two decades. It was a refreshing vision, in the cozy comfort of my closed eyelids. I couldn't help letting out a childish giggle recollecting fond memories of childhood…much before the turbulent teens that would accelerate my metamorphosis into an adult.

When I was in second grade, once for some strange reason I fail to recollect, my friend Vinaya and I decided that we wanted to die. So we kept chewing our pencils, swallowing the lead that painted our teeth a powdery black. Our teacher Mini Miss spotted us sharpening our pencils with great focus, chewing endlessly at their sharpened ends, while the rest of the class paid attention to the lesson. She immediately demanded that we leave the room and wash our mouths if we wished to sit in her class. As we walked to the restroom, we asked each other why we hadn't died. Strange!

The entire class watched us (in awe, I liked to think) as we quietly occupied our seats. We felt like war heroes. So what if we had been caught and scolded. We had “dared” to try and kill ourselves with pencil lead. Now when I think of it, I guess I hadn't really wanted to die. May be just fall a little sick to gain some attention from friends, parents or teachers. An extra helping of love and care, some favouritism I thought I deserved!! May be that’s why when I oooh! and aaaahh! over small cuts, burns and bruises even now, my husband calls me a drama queen. A little bit of drama to feel like the queen of his heart. Yes, the child in me is alive and kicking!

Image courtesy: Google

Dawn at Dusk

As we stroll hand in hand

along the coarse beach sand,

our foot prints fresh and wet

witness silently each new set

while they fade away

with neither fuss nor delay.

A clean slate of sand

so golden, so grand

awaiting bare feet

of new people to meet,

each leaving their mark

some faint others dark

The whispering breeze so restless

loosening my curls into a mess

impatient, eager to share its tales

as we inched ahead like snails.

The swaying palms painted green

lean low to savour sights unseen.

The mighty giant deep and blue

weaves foamy frills of a different hue.

The golden sun now dons pink

a bright fuchsia before the sink

into the horizon so very vast,

bright daylight will soon fade past

Nestled in nature’s arms,

truly mesmerised by its charms

we feel the passion we always kept veiled

and caged within our tender hearts.

At twilight your words of love

seem like blessings from heaven above.

This love is meant to be

nurtured and celebrated for all to see.

Should silver hair at life’s sunset

strangle our feelings in its net?

So here it is, “I love you.

Let us begin a life anew.”