My heart is available for accommodation.*

*Conditions apply – It’s a guarded space where you are welcomed only if you ensure that you will not litter dirty words, stain it with wrong deeds or demolish by cheating. When you meet other occupants you will understand that you will remain the main occupant. Also, I’ll remain the main occupant of your heart too.

                                                         ------------------------

55 Fiction for Write Tribe. Based on the prompt - Conditions apply.

Of what I didn't see

She had made me promise that I will not turn back and look at her one last time. I was leaving her and I didn’t know will I ever be back or not. I felt sad to leave her so soon but she displayed amazing strength. She smiled and packed my bags, proud of me and my duty.

I remembered her to be teary when my dad went for his postings and I felt a little jealous at her zeal to pack my things.

I hugged and left. Had I looked back, I would have seen her wiping her tears.

                                                             -------------------------

I have always been proud of our Army men. Although, I do not support wars, I have always admired the courage to take lives and give lives for nation. The hostile weather, rigorous schedule and distances from loved ones. I admire the mothers who let their sons join army. Salute to all those mothers who put up a brave face for the sake of their nation.

Based on prompt "Had I looked back"  for 100 words on Saturday by Write Tribe. The prompt this week has been provided by Nischala Murthy.

Coming back to the books

The smell of old books floated in the air. She stood there, inhaling the thick air that filled her thoughts with nostalgia. The room was locked for over three months, awaiting her arrival. Her grandfather’s will demanded that the key to his library could be handed over only to his only grand-daughter.  For, in the family of business tycoons, she was the only child who loved literature.

Like her grandfather, her paa who had majored in English and had scripted many popular plays and prose, she dreamt of becoming a popular author.  However she was still struggling with a couple of her work under print. They were critically acclaimed but never popular.

Now that she was there, she re-lived many years that she had lived in this house, away from her parents to be groomed into a sensible young lady at the convent she attended. She stepped ahead and felt the arms of rocking chair and recalled when she would wait for him to settle down in that chair so she could wrap herself around his legs and not leave till her demands were met. The strong mahogany wood table, reminded her of her duty to arrange things up on that table. She felt the leather back of his chair, where he would sit through the long evenings, furiously typing away a novel or immersed in his thoughts while he created a plot. A half typed page on the type-writer, a tick sound when she pressed a key reminded her of how this would be the only voice in the room while she finished her homework.

She then saw that smaller chair and table, made for her to sit and study, while paa worked. It was this place that introduced her to fairy tales and horror stories. At this very table, she learnt about Jesus and stories of Ram and Buddha. Although, she learnt her subjects in her school, this was the place which gave her the world of her dreams of being a writer and made her who she was. It was at this table where paa told her about his will and she had innocently asked, “Will these books will be divided too?”  He told her that she will know eventually.

Standing there she remembered the day when she had to move out of the house for her graduation. Just over there, she had hugged paa from behind and cried. She promised to come back in holidays and he laughed. He held her hand and pulled her to face him. He then asked to promise that whenever she returns, she will finish the pending piece of work. She thought he was mocking and said, “Paa, you have never let me read any till they get published, how will you let me work?” Tears welled up in his eyes and he said, “When you come back, I will be able to trust your ability to write.”

Fifteen years, yes that’s the time she took to return back. Every holiday, she planned and postponed. Sometimes it was for summer school, then internship. Eventually it turned into excuses like too short breaks to travel, then family, marriage, kids, holidays with them, etc. Today she understood, why paa laughed when she said that she will be back soon.

She saw on the table, all her books were lined up. She picked and opened one. Corrections were made, appreciations were written, and comments were scribbled with a pencil on almost every page. Each was dated differently, as if the book had been re-read several times.

She opened the first drawer. There kept his unfinished book and a note. A biography of their lives, which he had left for her to complete.

The book was later published as her first non-fiction, a bestseller and an award winner.

Based on Write Tribe Wednesday prompt - the smell of old books

The way you ditched me...letter unsent 5

I have an acquaintance. For introductions I’ll call her Miss C. I wanted to write one letter to someone too but since she was in a lot of pain, I let her use my blog space to write for Write Tribe letter unsent series to “someone who has caused you a lot of pain.”

Without taking any more space, I will now leave you to read what Miss C has to say.

-----------------

Dear you (you know I am talking to you),

Although I have learnt long ago to not complain, but I am tired of listening to your continuous rant on how I am behind all this and your present condition.

Do you remember your days back in college, when you took me out with you because you wanted to look “Cool”? I myself, back then warned you to not come so close to me. However, you wanted me to be by your side so that you could show off.

When you entered corporate world, you still dated me for your mean reasons. You used me to “network” with your colleagues outside office. You took me with you to parties and dinner and showed me off like I was a prized possession.

Frankly, by your mid age, I was as addicted to you as you were to me. Although, you got married and settled down, you couldn’t leave me. We continued our affair even after objections from your wife and then your children.

Our relationship was on its prime back then. We were seen together all day and night. You kept me in front of you, refusing to let go. You felt me skin several times a day and kissed me every now and then. Be it happiness or tension, you needed me to calm you down.

 Only when you fell ill and entered the hospital, your wife and your kids got their chance to keep me away from you. I know back then you tried to reach me. Of course you knew that I was unable to approach you. Those six months of your time in hospital were most difficult time for us.

When you returned, I thought you will turn back to me, but I didn’t want to impose myself on you, thus I let your family keep me out of your sight. I was happy seeing that you were no longer dependent on me. You had a new resolve. You wanted to live for your family.

What shocked me was when one day you sat there, telling your friends our story and you simply said, “It almost killed me.” Since then you have been saying it every now and then and thanking god that our relationship was over.

In one instance you forgot the warnings that came with me all along. I had warned you ample number of times. In fact I always came with a tag line. Didn’t you ever read in all these years that it read on a corner of my clothes, “Smoking is injurious to health.”?

No longer yours,

Miss C

You can never know it all

“So, you think you know it all?” He asked as he led us down the dark lane.

“Yes I do” I barked, getting irritated at this entire expedition to see a mysterious “bhoot” palace. I was more irritated at my friends who were scared and excited at this entire thing.

His instructions to be silent and walk in a single file were annoying me more.

“Are we going to play cricket?” I shouted. But he gave me a “Shhhh” look and pointed.

There stood a poorly lit huge red brick palace at the cricket grounds that we often played at.

*************************

So, you think you know it all? She asked.

I, completely sure of my belief in non-existence of spirits, replied, “No I don’t, but certainly that there are no spirits.”

She invited me to sit and placed a pre-prepared chart and a coin in the center.

She asked me to keep my finger on the coin with as much force I can and stepped back. She then asked me to ask a question, answer to which could be a yes or no.

Feeling rebellious, as soon as I did, the coin moved against all my force and stopped at “yes”.

 The above stories are based on Write Tribe  "100 words on Saturday." prompt  So, you think you know it all. This prompt has been provided by Jairam of Mahabore Mumblings. Do check his blog for knowledge, recreation, humor and more.

Because books are our best friends

Children are like buds in a garden and should be carefully and lovingly nurtured, as they are the future of the nation and citizens of tomorrow. -  Jawahar Lal Nehru

When I was in school, I remember we would celebrate Nehru’s birthday with pomp and show and had big community lunch. Teachers and headmasters who were strict year round served us our meal and we would feel really special. Even today, we get SMS and messages wishing us Children’s day.

The idea of this celebration is to honor children and the first Prime Minister of India. This is the day to celebrate childhood. Celebrate those who are free spirited, loving, hopeful and the future.

It is extremely sad to know and acknowledge that there is a major group of children which is being pushed in darkness of slavery and child labor, missing their growth years due to poverty or illiteracy.

However, today isn’t the day to be gloomy and sad. There are many organizations, governmental or NGO, registered or non-registered groups that are working to re-kindle the light of education and hope in these children.

 I came across one such small group of volunteers through a Self Help Group, who help children continue their education after they have finished their primary schooling.

In the absence of mid-level schools (1^st to 5^th grade) in the village, these kids, especially girls are forced to discontinue their education because they are unable to go to a school which maybe two-five km away from their homes. These kids are eventually fed into the world of household chores or support parents as labor. Soon, these kids forget their dreams of being educated and start taking independent work as a labor or artisans. Worse case, they are forced into early marriages or become the unemployed uneducated unruly lot.

This is not to sham the government initiatives, but a bitter reality.

“Hands” a Self Help Group formed in the community of adda workers in a village called Faridpur in Bareilly, Uttar Pradesh, decided to not have their children the same fate as theirs. The members of the group, with support of a local NGO run a community school in villages so that the children can continue their schooling till 5^th grade and then go back to a proper school nearby.

On 12^th November, I got a chance to visit them and interact with the group. What I heard from them was wonderful. There are two schools in the region. They are run by volunteers and paid teachers. Volunteers, on their weekly off day collect funds from local society to purchase books, furniture or pay teacher’s salary. The education in these schools is free of cost and most of the children are ex-child workers.

“There is no friend as loyal as a book.” Ernest Hemingway.

Therefore, a group of Write Tribe members decided to donate books to the school in case we all agree.

We can also look at the possibility of donating some furniture for these children, since winter fast approaching it gets tough for them to sit on floor and study.

I am leaving you with a few pictures and an invitation to come forward and donate a small amount if you may please. Feel free to contact me for suggestion or inquiry. If nothing else, do drop a comment to let me know what your thoughts are

wondering words - a nonet

Wondering about inner feelings,

I sit to write them over here.

While I maintain to wonder,

Count and recounts under.

Almost missed the point,

Confessed in time.

What love is,

To write,

Words.

Above is my first nonet, thanks to the tutorial I received from Preetilatha Sarkar on write tribe. I hope it makes sense. 

Photo courtesy - Google

My love...

Oh those horses were so beautiful. And those landscapes, they were breathtaking. There I was, I was that horseman and fell in love with him. I extended my hand and touched him, traced his smooth jaw and patted his horse.

And then I turned the page and fell in love with a new page again.

The 55 fiction is based on the above photo prompt provided by Vidya Suri on Write Tribe.

Party - 100 words on Saturday

They had called for a party. All dressed up in best clothes, wore party caps and gathered there at sharp eight.

I looked at each of them and saw how nice they looked. They smiled and nodded when our eyes met. Some of them I saw for the first time, maybe they were new comer, or I had simply not noticed them. There were few who were missing.

I knew it was my last day there. My doctors had given up on me and as per my last wish; the hospital had organized a party for all fellow cancer patients.

This post is written on the prompt "I knew it was my last day there".

I intended to write a happy post, but in the end, dedicated it to young cancer patients. This is a piece of fiction.

Berries - Haiku attempt

berries o berries

you grow so beautiful

teach us to be purposeful 

This is my first Haiku attempt. I am not sure if I have understood the rules of a Haiku completely. I'd really like to hear the feedback and your inputs.

Letter unsent - Feelings I never penned

Dear R,

When exactly you came in my life, I don’t remember. All I do remember is how slowly, eventually I started admiring you. Every time I saw you, you were in those same clothes inside that same box.

I started to admire you as I began to understand your work. There were many who admired you back then, and there are many now. People talked about you fondly. They had respect for your job and your excellence at your work.

You did falter at times, but I always believed that it was just not a good day. I captured every glimpse, kept a part of every appearance in my small note book. Your silent face and subtle smile, had captured my heart.

When I grew a bit more independent, I attempted to get into the box to have a closer look. But you were in center of the box and I realized that I could probably not be inside the box.

One morning I read that you were getting married. My heart shrunk. But what could I do, I couldn’t have stopped you, I was a child and you were out of my reach.

My best moment came when I met you. Just for a moment, when you appeared amongst all the lights and camera and shook my hand. An autograph from you made me day (actually week).

Slowly, eventually I understood. Probably that’s about growing up. You reduced your responsibilities, resulting in lesser appearances.

A few days back you were in discussion once again. They said that it was your last appearance. The discussed your clothes, that blue jersey of Indian Cricket team. They call you “The wall” and they cheer for you “Dravid”.

All I want to tell you that we will miss your appearance in that box, the so called “idiot box”. Many of us really had a big time crush on you.

This post is written as a part of Letter unsent at write tribe.

Every once in a while - 100 words UBC Day-6

Every once in a while

I look around and smile.

Think of times we spend

And nights that went

Every once in a while

I sit down and write

Small sentenced poems

And jumbled up proses

Every once in a while

I just think of you

My mistakes and wrongs

How you made me strong

Every once in a while

I like to reflect

Jot down experiences

And a few dreams

Every once in a while

I like to explore

Sit and decorate

And modernize you.

Every once in a while

I open my heart

Here is a secret

I love you my blog.

Above poem is based on prompt - Every once in a while, and I don't know why I linked it up to my blog.

Linking it to UBC Day 6. For those, who have been following my story, sorry - it will come up tomorrow.

If only you were here...

So many stories untold,
So many sagas unheard.
So many songs unsung,
So many minutes unloved.

If only you were here,
I’d tell you what you mean to me.
If only you were here,
I’d share my dreams and fantasy.

Each day I miss you,
Every night I cry.
If only I knew,
While I continue to try.

The distance between us,
Cannot be measured in miles,
Life and death did not part,
But I couldn’t control your heart.

If only you remained,
I’d tell you no lies.
If only you were here,
I’d give you my life.


(My first attempt at a poem, written in one go without editing, ending only at 99 words...written for Write Tribe 100 words on saturday. Based on the prompt "If only you were here"

Am I Truely Alive?

This question here is- am I truly alive?

When I hug my mother and feel her warmth seeping into mine, I am truly alive.

When I kiss my niece and her baby smell fills in my nostrils, I am truly alive.

When I sit in meditation and the chant of Om fills my mind through my ears, I am truly alive.

When I am lost in the taste of a delicacy I am especially fond of, I am truly alive.

When I dress-up and someone admires lovingly, I am truly alive.

In these small moments, yes I am Truly alive.

This post is based on prompt "Truely Alive" by Write tribe.

Teenage suicides - can we help?

“As soon as she woke up, her father slapped her. That was the first and the last time her father slapped her. Immediately after that he broke into tears which he held for so long. Why? Because she had popped handful of pills in an attempt to end her life and had woken up after 22 hours of semi-coma.

Why slap? Because in that 22 hours, her father and her mother had died a thousand deaths thinking of all that could go wrong with their daughter.

Reason of attempt – fight with her best friend and depression.”

Why I am narrating this story? To remind every teenager, not to forget his/her parents at any given time and to every parent to have an open ear. How and why?

Seven unique characterstics of Delhi

I am quite upset about the end of this festival. I have had a great time writing and reading. But today, I don’t feel like writing at all. Keeping in mind that this is the last post for the festival I decided to go a little expressive about the city I have come to love even after its unique characterstics that amuse me.

This is a personal list, so I hope I am not offending anyone.

Seven blogs bookmarked on my internet browser

Now that I have established that my attention span is very small, I guess it also gives me right to establish that my mood to write changes… therefore, I am not writing about one of promised topics but today I am celebrating my favorite blogs.

I have a practice. If I like a blog, I follow. And when I really like a blog, I bookmark it. I suddenly realized yesterday that I have full seven blogs on my favorites bar.

Seven super - teachers in my life

My original post planned for the day was seven people I love the most. But keeping in mind that today is teacher’s day celebrated in India; I change my post to seven teachers of high importance in my life.

Since everyone we meet, knowingly or unknowingly, whether we like or not, teaches us something, my post is categorized into groups who taught me a certain thing. This isn’t a first or second list, it is in the order of when I met them in my life.

Seven things that I hate in myself

Or I’ll put it like this…seven things I am trying to change in me.

More than once, I blame my nature and behavior to my zodiac sign. I am a Leo and being one I have certain good and bad issues with my personality. There are a few without which my life would be happier. Probably listing them down and getting to read will help.

Seven arguments for and against my country

In light of the recent debate upon depreciation of value of rupee, corruption, lack of security, etc. I often found myself loathing the nation that I was born in. I no longer remembered the moments of proudly singing the national anthem and saluting to our national flag. I started comparing my life to those who are settled in developed countries. But then amidst all this something happened – a discussion with a friend who is totally anti-India made me think that somewhere within me is someone who still believes in the greatness of this nation.

This post is a mere reflection of turmoil that goes inside my brain and maybe yours too.