Hope

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On some days he was at the café, staring at life outside the window, downing endless cups of coffee. Black, strong, sugarless and piping hot. Crumpled sheets of paper were strewn around the table, proof of his failed attempts. He snapped at the waitress if she tried to clear up the mess. When he could take it no longer, he would walk out into the open and roam the streets, his senses taking in even minute details of the world around.

On other days he would sit by the beach watching the waves crashing onto the moss laden rocks bathing in the golden rays of the setting sun, wondering if the scurrying crabs and the flying birds had a story. He was lost within his thoughts almost all the time, forgetting to eat, sleep and change. His stubble and unwashed jeans were silent witnesses to his growing agony. He hardly spoke to anyone but himself, which made people stare at him and exchange glances that declared he had lost his mind.

 

But he was a writer, not a madman. He cradled stories within him that tossed and turned impatiently, waiting to find expression. He did not want to give up. His resolve to pen a few words became stronger by the day. Every day he set out with a pen in his hand and hopes in his heart, positive that the silence of words would end soon.


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

Disgust

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Around her the crew members were buzzing with activity fixing lights, testing the sound system, shouting, giving and receiving instructions. The choreographer ran up to her panting “Let’s try the new moves for today’s song Ma’am. She sipped some juice, swept up her hair in a ponytail and took her position. She watched the steps being demoed. Now it was her turn.

All eyes were on her, the beautiful supermodel tuned actress. “One, two three….” Loud Hindi music filled the entire set. The lyrics and notes blared into the cool morning air. The song went on to describe the heroine as a piece of tandoori chicken, one whose snap was worthy of being glued to one’s chest. The crowd that had gathered to watch whistled and hooted, pleased with the flowing words that objectified women, depicting them as just an easy means of pleasure.

She was horrified upon seeing people laughing and cheering at the cheap lyrics. She didn't find it amusing at all. In fact, she found it disgusting. For the first time in her acting career, she found herself reflecting about the roles she had portrayed so far. What was it about the twists and turns of her hip, songs with repulsive lyrics and women in arm candy roles that attracted such a fan following?

She was in a fix. But ultimately she decided to bow out of the assignment. She knew of the risks. The labels that would be slapped onto her. Betrayer. Arrogant. There could even be legal issues. Worse, offers to do films would dwindle. But she was sure she didn't want to be a piece of chicken or jalebi anymore.







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

Emoting A to Z

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“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart”
               - Hellen Keller

Emotions and feelings are better experienced than explained. I have always found it intriguing, the myriad of emotions we humans are capable of going through. They add a lot of colour and layers to an individual. Though most of us are capable of experiencing various emotions like happiness, love, sadness, anger fear and so on, the triggering factors, their depth, our understanding of them etc greatly vary. Their expression too differs from person to person.

I am an emotional person and I can almost feel myself plunging into them at all times. At the same time, I like to believe that I am very much in touch with my emotions or in other words I can name the feeling I'm going through at a particular instance most of the time (of course there are times when I have mixed feelings or unidentifiable feelings). I think that being true to one's emotions makes me authentic and real. It also helps me express them better.in a manner that benefits the situation.

What remains now is the Theme Reveal for the A to Z blogging Challenge in April. Let me put it simply, it is Emoting A to Z. Since I am a novice blogger and this is my first A to Z challenge, I wanted to select a genre of writing outside my comfort zone. I have penned a lot of poetry and reflections about social issues but have very few stories to my credit. I want to change that by the end of this challenge. In April, you will find short fiction (within 300 words) dealing with emotions, one for each letter of the English Alphabet.

I hope you join me in this emotional wagon from A to Z. You can be assured, these words are straight from my heart and head. I would love to pull in at your station. Do drop in your comments and links to your blogs. We are together in this!!

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

A Friend For Life

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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/

The Open Door

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The jingling of keys and the hesitant creaking of the iron gates herald the arrival of the freedom that I have been longing for all these years.The reasons that drove me into committing that ancient crime seems smudged from memory but the moments of solitude and contemplation I spent within the prison walls remain as fresh as wet ink on paper.

The door opens to a whole new life ahead, but strangely there is no happiness or relief but a looming grey cloud of fear and uncertainty. Thoughts flowed incessantly within the four walls propelled by hope; the padlocks never attempted to confine them as I inked shreds of yellowing paper. But today as I walk out of the open door and merge with the madness outside I hear the click of a lock from somewhere within.

Written for the topic "Open" at Lillie McFerrin Writes

Poisoned Pleasantries

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Any social gathering, be it a wedding, a party or even a small family get together has a dangerous tendency to turn into a buzzing hive of gossip as long as there are enough people and delicious food to fuel stray sparks caused by snide remarks and incessantly wagging tongues that seem to have snapped free from the wiring that links them to the brain respectively. These meetings are the perfect times for people to catch up on each other’s lives, being “busy” at all other times. So it is quite natural that questions that prod, pry and probe into others’ lives are shot off at random, amidst the zillion interactions that happen over food and drink.

What I find absolutely amusing, is the ability of people to spice up even mono syllable answers and comments of others into emotional epics of melodrama and serve it to others. For example, a “well-wisher” asked me if I was pregnant, to which I answered in the negative. News spread that we as a couple had decided not to have kids and soon every other person in the crowd wanted my mother to “speak to me (and my generation of selfish youngsters)” to throw light on the folly of our decision. Talk about (bungee) jumping into conclusions!

At another function, someone passed a “well meaning” remark that my husband and I were saving money by eating less (both of us happen to be thin). Some others went to the extent of judging my culinary skills. Such remarks filled with malice defeat the whole purpose of getting together. Instead of going home with pleasant memories, one is often left wondering whether theses forced relations hold any meaning at all. Why make an attempt to keep in touch with people who eagerly try to bring you down all the time, no matter what you do or say?

Once, during a wedding someone went on and on in loudspeaker mode about how ugly the bride looked. I could only pray that she hadn't heard those rude words, for doesn't everyone want to think they look nice on their wedding? If only it is possible to press “mute” when some people talk! Now when I think of it, more instances surface to my memory. People commenting on the colour of your skin, your attire, your diet, your lifestyle choices, career (or the lack of it), how you choose to celebrate, where you go on a holiday, how you spend your wealth and so many other matters which I think are too personal to be dissected in public. People have their opinions, I know. But why air them all unnecessarily? Why is there a deliberate lack of connect between the tongue and the brain?

Of course, one way out is to shut these people out by giving them and their comments a cold shoulder. Sometimes it is not that easy, especially if the person is a close relative. Some people are sensitive and can easily get hurt by these bullets from mindless mouths. I don’t mean to say that we should be hypocrites and shower praise without meaning a word of it. But if we don’t have anything nice to say, isn't it better that we keep quiet. That’s what I do. Remembering the words of Mark Twain: If you have nothing to say, say nothing. How true- if you don’t have anything nice to say, golden is the colour of your silence.

Unspoken

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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

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