All posts by Pratibha

Presence

The cardinal rule, she repeated to herself, was never to forget his kindness.Even if it came attached to an arrogance that scared her.
Some relations, for the sake of a name, are built on rules, which are expected to be adhered to at all times.
In his case, she knew better to test those boundaries.
So years passed, but she dared not to ask if he still remembered the stories they made together.
Somewhere far away, he opens the old emails; taking strength from her words and presence; even if it was something he never deserved.

***

Written for Six sentence Story

**
[I am taking part in this month’s #MyFriendAlexa campaign by Blogchatter ]

********
Check out my weekly newsletter here

Delightful

This week Reena shared this video [Delightfully Disorienting Dance of people going places] for us to take inspiration from and write something. I was immediately reminded of the song Mad world as I was watching the video –

Delightful in what way,
this rush of cars and feet,
the tap, the honk, the race,
madness now has a busy face;
why not gather to hug and talk
stop a while,watch sunsets,smile;

From my window, I see only roads,
endless stream of traffic to & fro;
I plot stories for some of them –
people going places to create memories
a date, celebratory lunch or movies
with loved ones; hopefully not alone.

Show me a garden with pretty flowers
kids playing games after games,
picnics – food, drinks, ice creme
kindness and love taught in shared space;
that I would say, is the delightful event
when we never fall short of helping hands.

**
[I am taking part in this month’s #MyFriendalexa campaign by Blogchatter ]

********
Check out my weekly [almost] newsletter here

Spirits

CCC#43

The detective was called in the end.

It turns out, it was actually “the end” of the good winter in their zone, when food and wine had been enough to keep the people happy inside the houses.

Things were about to change and no detective could stop it, or even have a clue how it would start and where it would lead the people of the town.

None of the residents were old enough to understand the significance of the coats found hanging on the edge of the forest.

But the detective, whose father and grandfather had been from the town knew – he had been told the stories in preparation of similar event.

“The forest spirits have come to collect their dues “, he said, crossing himself as he walked back to the town, to confirm their worst fears.

**

Inspired by Six sentence Story & Crimsons Creative Challenge

**
[I am taking part in this month’s #MyFriendalexa campaign by Blogchatter ]

********
Check out my weekly [almost] newsletter here

Labor Day thoughts

Today I spend the long weekend Monday off in bed with books and tea and catching up on some blog hop. Today Canada celebrates Labor day in celebration of the special significance for the labor movement in the country. It is a public holiday and the unofficial end of the summers as students return from the summer break tomorrow.

Labor has always been quite a confusing term for me, which first started with the question: Am I a part of the labor? the obvious answer was No if you consider the definition for white-collar, blue-collar and pink-collar jobs. Traditionally, the blue-collar jobs, which are of manual labor were the only jobs known, hundred years ago, we owe most of our labor laws to these folks.

When I was a kid, with no reference or clue about this day, I still knew the importance of labor and how we owe our smooth lives to many of these workers who work hard from earliest daylight to the late-night, much after we have put our work-life behind us. I remember the lessons my parents gave me on always being grateful and appreciative of the workers we encountered in our day and how their effort benefitted us and we needed their assistance always.

For years, I never understood my dad’s roles and responsibilities at work except that he always had a line of workers outside his office whenever I visited him there. Many of them visited him at our home with gifts from their hometown – especially fruits and grins from their fields and farms back home. It amazed me to know they always maintained one job in the city and also went back home to manage farms regularly whose produce was exported or consumed within the village. It taught me the importance of passion and hard work by looking at how my father was always understanding of their situations and helped them as he could. He worked along with these folks as much as he could – being available and guiding and managing operations of the factory he worked in – traits all three of his kids have learned by following his example.

dreams linked to pay checks
mouths to feed, new life to make
parents show us way

******

Inspired by Haibun Monday Prompt

[I am taking part in this month’s #MyFriendalexa campaign by Blogchatter ]

********

check out my weekly [almost] newsletter here

Passion

I liked the rush, I liked the crunch. Never did look back at the fallout. I knew I wasn’t alone in the vast desert road as I frequently heard the howling animals follow my trail, while still hidden in the shrubs. I was not scared or worried, instead, I felt alive for the first time in years.

He hit send on the latest entry for the blog he was maintaining to record his daily progress and thoughts he had on his last adventure.

A thousand miles away, sitting in her bed, she read the blog as soon as it was published. This was her only connection to his world since he walked out if it to follow his passion.

Inspired by First Line Friday and Six sentence story

Welcome

Amidst a sea of faces,
I wandered alone –
politely nodding hellos,
avoiding unnecessary attention;
till she came visiting –
stretched on my bed,
she lazily looked at
the truly inconsequential ME!
knocking a few books off,
she declared her territory
(as if anyone had missed)
as she left me giggling
and responding to her welcome.
MEOW i said,( little one, come again)

Reading the Poetics Tuesday prompt brought back a memory from my graduation days. In college, when I was so utterly bored in a class, instead of yawning, I said “meow”. It wasn’t too loud but neither too low that it could escape a few of my classmates around. The girls who lived in the same dorm as me of course immediately knew it was me. I realized later that “meow” had become my standard reply to anything amusing, including daydreaming of my bed in the middle of a boring lecture.

Human

CCC40

“Why do you keep going back to that forest? “
“It just feels right to go home to rest”
“There used to be your home years back. Also, do you feel tired? “
“No. I just feel that nights are to go home and rest.”
“Uh Uh, There is something wrong in the code. You can not be showing ancient human symptoms. It has been ages they slept in the night. The Internet ruined that.
“Am I not human, then?”

===

Inspired by CCC40 [image] and Six sentence story [word: code] 

Birds

The idea of the poem below started with the poem Migratory Birds as Laura on dVerse Tuesday Poetics asked us to use one of the translated poems as an inspiration for a poem. It made me remember another song that has opening lines that birds , rivers and winds are not bound by borders, so what really did we gain by being the way we are.

https://pixabay.com/vectors/migratory-birds-birds-sunset-sun-157638/

It was another era,
when my stories had wings
riding on the clouds across time and space;
It was folly of youth –
to tie wishes to trees,
praying for impossible outcomes;
like birds flying
across oceans, leaving home behind
only to return later;
always a stranger to lands
and the trees that promised to nest.