Phoenix

Photo prompt by Ermiliablog

Photo prompt by Ermiliablog

I was late for the show again. Not that it mattered, as without invitation, I was not very keen.

My neighbor had sought me out. Handed me the card and asked me to keep the date in the evening. She was convinced that I would like it.

It was one of those melodramas, which was prevalent widely, and made little sense to me. But the protagonist had been a rising star. And what I knew of her, was enough for me, to honor the word.

I took the seat.

The curtains were drawn, amidst a round of applause. I followed the story as it progressed, and  soon, was lost in a conflict.

If it was about a sprightly young girl, I was seeing shades of an old, broken woman- surrounded by people who lay big claims on her – by birth or of love, but had done a mere lip-service to its meaning. People who knew to sit and talk and mourn and sing and rule and do nothing. And she – ever adventurous – had taken many leaps of faith, for one or the other! Disappointed, but ready for the next.

For the first time, I knew what it was to have a mother’s heart, without being one. With every turn of the event, something made me say – ‘Strength to you, my little one!’

It was queer to forge such an association.

This scene had begun with her standing on the mountain top.

Has she broken the shackles or would she nosedive into oblivion?

I couldn’t take it anymore. I like happy endings. She would rise for her much forsaken self, I believe, and I leave for the exit – ‘Brilliant Performance!’

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Write this after some deliberation with myself. This much for my creative freedom.I would wish this to be perhaps my last post on a certain theme. And yes, I know I’m talking to myself!

Inspired by Picture it and Write

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Flipside

Photo prompt by Ermilia

Gosh! I shouldn’t have been here. Such a grim lane, so dimly lit by the moonlight! I can barely see. And this drizzle isn’t making anything better.   Don’t know what made me stay at the ball, for so long. And this robe, that I HAD to wear today. I can imagine my laundry bills, once I get back home – or if I get back home. I hear the silence so loud, that I fear my thoughts can be heard. Will I manage to make it to the main street… God! Please help..and my car, Really! HAD to breakdown in a sordid, dinghy place, like this! And I HAD to take this byway – just today.. Boy! I’m so done with this spooky place, should I run ??

Just as she paced, she heard a vehicle, drawn in behind her, with a shrill noise, slowed down at some distance.

Headlights dip. She feels a rush of anxiety down her spine. Should she stop, or run to safety?!

There in the car, a half-drunk man, anxiously whispers to his zonked-out friend, shaking him up – “Bro! do we see a witch ….??”

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Inspired by Picture it and Write

After Life

“….My thumb-size self hung from the fan, saw my larger physical body surrounded by doctors, taking stock of life, left in it.. I could see colors that I had never seen. I could see beyond horizons, at such a magnificent universe, that I was spellbound. I had not known such peace, beauty and vastness, in my entire life..

Plop! And something dropped into my body. I lost the vision and my physical body was declared alive..”

I was feeling incredibly lucky to be an audience to someone who’d seen death so intimately, and had been in advanced stages of self-realization. His explanations were vivid enough to entice one onto the journey. He egged us on.After spending a couple of days with him, I decided to write down my problems and questions, as I felt assured of getting an answer.

I went to him with my little paper, and he looked surprised.

“Oh! So, you still have them ?”

The look in his eyes told me that he’d been trying to put lipstick on the pig, all this while. But such people, fortunately, are blessed with a lot of grace. I gave him my sheet.

He looked at it and said – “I don’t have answers to your problems. They are your creation or your legacy. All I can tell you is to go through and beyond them. One day you’ll lie stiff, with no pain or heartache or ebullience or even memory. You’ll just be love. If not this time, you’ll be that thumb-size suspension in peace, waiting to fulfill your cravings, and be born again.. You sit on a powerhouse. Waste it, if you wish to. Better would be to use it and help others in doing that. You don’t know what possibilities lay before each one of us. If your wishes have a merit, they’ll get fulfilled, if they don’t, they were not a part of your development plan. Make your senses, emotions and intellect, your enablers..”

“And what about the meaning ?”, I asked.

“Don’t bother, I myself haven’t found that yet! First do what you can do and be honest “

They say, after astronauts have made a journey to the outer space, they invariably do something for the earth, because the planet looks so beautiful from up there.  Similar is the journey of life and self as well. Small glimpses of profundity can give a largeness of spirit.

Although, my little cup was brimful with concepts and ideas, I felt a little empty to accommodate something new.  Faith – was the new challenge, and possibly the holy-grail.

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I write this with a lot of reverence,(and perhaps its relevance for us), though not verbatim or with complete exactness.

Sharing a couple of beautiful songs by Josh Groban and Enya.

You Raise me Up

Wild Child

Confession

My fiction is an inspiration,

From pleasure and perspiration,

Some tears and exultation,

But it is only an imagination.

I swear by the limitation,

Of my mind, its interpretation,

Of every lovely creation.

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Inspired by Trifecta Writing Challenge

This week it says – ‘This weekend we are asking for a thirty-three word confession.  You’re free to write non-fiction or fiction or to blur the lines in between.  We just encourage you to get creative and give us your best.’

This piece is almost a non-fiction. All the moods and their exaggerations, that I try to capture through my writing, inspired by a complex called our world, almost dazzle me sometimes. I, for one, thankfully, have met very beautiful individuals – those who have mattered to me, even once. Write this as a confession and a wish that may they have a great life 🙂

Like they say, Wishes have a power too !

 

Trudge

Photo Prompt

I don’t know how I had missed this virgin spot, while zipping through the countryside, visited often. I took out my favorite book and ventured straight up to the platforms’ edge, at the heart of the lake.

This would be one childhood wish,  that I would fulfill.

I lay there, reading the bookmarked chapter, till very soon that I realized, the discomfort of the position. There was nobody to notice me and I felt easy.

Alas!, I had envisioned things through the crowd’s eyes.

I sat up to devour the site of such natural opulence, that I felt a little lost. This oneness was something that I missed often.

To be able to run to a long lost friend, give and have a long warm hug, but for the hurdles of social upkeep, questions on orientation-sexual and otherwise, pride and perception and every other insignificant thing, made significant with time and circumstance.

I had learnt to miss them – for I was wanted, but little.

To have a hearty laugh, at silly stuff, with people whom I grew up with – but for the emotional wreckage, the world had gifted them with.

We had learnt to laugh and sing and dance, nonetheless.

To enjoy beauty, youth and carefreeness – but for the scars that had etched my skin.

I had learnt to overlook.

Little did I know that there’s little truth in the paradisiac innocence. But, without pretense, here it was only peace. The child in me clung to her mother, who’d seen it all and loved her back.

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Inspired by Picture it and Write