Destiny...

"Destiny" they called it. "Like Mother, Like Daughter" others sighed. But all Latika felt was lightness as she signed those divorce-papers.

Well who was she to argue with destiny... She was just glad her "Destiny" didn’t include putting-up a facade of a "Happy-Married-Life" even as she suffocated within its walls...

 Linking this to Fiction challenge 15-50,Moving Quill.

There was no way we could let our blogs just sit and rot, while we blamed everyone but ourselves for not writing. Deciding to put an end to the hiatus on writing, me and Ishithaa have decided to write on every day of November on alternate days. Today if the post is on my page, tomorrow it will be on hers.....   

The Perfect Wife.....

There was no way we could let our blogs just sit and rot, while we blamed everyone but ourselves for not writing. Deciding to put an end to the hiatus on writing, me and Ishithaa have decided to write on every day of November on alternate days. Today if the post is on my page, tomorrow it will be on hers.....  

 I pottered about doing the final touch-ups for tomorrow's early morning pooja. It was the start of Mandala-maasam, an auspicious day in Kerala's religious calendar. I cant help chuckling  at the expression on my children's face when I declared there would be no non-veg or cakes for the next 41 days. Ha, after all they are too young to realize its religious significance....

Unconsciously,  the mind drifted back to my childhood. Indeed how different was my upbringing.... I couldn't remember my mother ever undertaking a religious fast or banning non-veg from our house! How our neighbors in that small town in Kerala disapproved of my mother - Indeed I and my little brother struggled to be accepted by the society! Maybe this desire to be the "Perfect housewife" was sowed then.....

Now only if she I could wipe the frown of disappointment that clouds my mother's face every time she meets me !

"Did your childhood rebellion with your mother, take the shape of this conformist that you don't even identify with" asked the Satan in me as I slipped into snooze-land.....

The Coin....

As Monish stepped into the church yard, his eyes fell on the water fountain at the center. He had no idea how the memory came unbidden and he silently flipped a one pound coin into the fountain.

Ahh, those Sunday afternoons by the Hooghly river - as his 'gang' frolicked under the railway bridge, strategically poised to dive and collect the 25 and 50 paise coins that the train passengers dropped into the holy river as the express trains zoomed past. the very thought of those puchkas and kala khata golas that they relished later with the collected 'bounty' made his mouth water

So lost was Monish in these thoughts that he didn't  see the church cleaner walking up. The next moment a five dollar fine receipt was thrust in front of his face for vandalising the premises!

This piece of fiction is in response to the below pic prompt at WT

Linking this to last day of WT  write fest. Task of the day is to tell a story

The Wonders Of Childhood!

“People come from far-and-wide to see my father! You won’t believe how they queue up to take photos with him” boasted little Raju who was just back from Mumbai.

So what if his dad worked as the “Man-on-Stilts” at a neighborhood-mall, for Raju  he was nothing less than a super-man.

The wonders of childhood :)

Linking this to WT 55 on Friday as well as Day 4, 5 of WT write Fest. The task of the day is to write a link post(day 4) and Write a tip post. And this my friends is my tip of the day – if you seem to be stuck with a writer’s block, do drop in at WT and you’ll indeed a post that will  inspire you to write

                                                                                                 

Deceptive Appearances....

I grinned when I saw Manasvi squirm as she glanced through my essay. Did she think she'd get away with insulting my grandmother...

I remember it like it was yesterday - it was Manasv's birthday. There she was the picture-perfect Indian girl - in a sari, braided waist-length hair falling at the feet of elders! That was until she silently sidestepped my grandmother - simply cause our bank balance wasn't fat enough to awe her!

The sadistic-pleasure I had in penning this essay on "Appearances are deceptive"  manifolded as I saw Manasvi turn red as my classmates ripped apart this "anonymous-cousin" of mine.

I’m linking this post to Write Tribe’s 100 Words on Saturday prompt – choosing one of the writing quotes in the post and using that as a prompt.

                   If you can’t annoy somebody, there is little point in writing.
                                                                                            ― Kingsley Amis

PS: Now to get this anonymous-cousin of mine to read the post! Sadly, this is a true-life incident.

Why the Caged Bird Sings...

"We are privileged to have the great danseuse Sarka Bai in our midst today. Even today at the grand old age of eighty, she is relentlessly training the younger generation in the dance form of Kathak. Indeed her “Kathak For You" program has demystified this complex dance form for common people like you and me”. As the entire podium full of my students and friends rose up to give me a standing ovation, I felt a wave of sadness course through me.

The next day during a session of “Kathak for you” at my studio, I couldn’t help the same sadness coursing through me - These students just didn’t understand even the basic nuances of dance. I couldn’t help flinching - Until few years my students were world class danseuse and today…….

But with a bed ridden husband and an alcoholic son I now know “Why the Caged Bird Sings”

This piece of fiction(Inspired by a friend's life) is in response to WT prompt of  "Choose your favorite Maya Angelou quote on writing. Use it as your prompt to write a post.".

"Why The Caged Bird Sings" is Maya Angelous's autobiography about her early years. This is been on "To Read" list for sometime now.......

Chinnu....

I just finished making my Chinnus favorite cham-cham**! Poor boy, he’s been moping since he came from that darned birthday-party.

I wonder why these ladies cannot understand boys will be boys - the only way Chinnu knows to show affection is by falling all over you! Those dirty brains were telling me that he was trying to pin down a little girl!! Only if they understood he was just was aping his favorite “Emraan Hashmi”** - @#%$$#$#!%$!^!&!(*

But today fifteen years later, I wish I knew then what I know now – maybe then Chinnu wouldn’t have turned into a porn-addict…. 

Linking this piece of fiction to WT  100 Words on Saturday Prompt - s/he wished s/he knew then what s/he knew now

** Cham Cham - A Benagli Sweet

** Emraan Hashm - A Bollywood actor known for his "Kissing" scenes. "Serial Kisser" is what he is been nicknamed

PS: Cory Thank You for (not so gently) kicking out the writing-block :-D

Veena......

Today was the 11th day death ceremony of her dearest Ravi. She couldn't believe that it was just last week that they had a four hour long Riyaz** - Ravi as always on his beloved Veena**! Despite the heart wrenching grief, Latika was thankful for this companionship that lasted more than seven decades.....

Indeed they had both come a long way from the tiny hamlet in interiors of Tanjore where they received their first lessons in Music.  Now the house was filled with dignitaries from the world of Music who had come to pay their last respects to their beloved Ravi. As they stepped away, most of them silently bowed in front of Latika.

She jerked her head at the loud wails coming from the house backyard. As she strained her neck, she saw a few lady relatives gathered around Menaka - breaking her bangles**. Unconsciously, Latika's hand tightened over the pedant dangling on the chain around her neck.

Latika's  mind as usual went back to the question that haunted her life for the last fifty years. What was she in Ravi's life? A friend? A Companion? Lead singer of his troupe? Or as Menaka accused her was she a Whore? A mistress?

Latika sighed and realized its time she made peace with it - Indeed as Ravi always told her, she was all this and more in his life! Mistress or not, she was thankful nobody could seize her Guru or his beloved "Veena' pendent from her .. A priceless family heirloom  he gifted her on her sixtieth birthday!

This piece of fiction is in response to WT prompt of Dangling on the chain was………. Linking this to AtoZ challenge - V is for Veena. This story is highly inspired by the plot of the book - Mistress Shakespeare.
 
**Riyaz (also Riyaaz) is an Urdu language term used for music practice, for honing of Hindustani classical music vocal as well as instrument skills.
**The Veena is a plucked stringed instrument originating in ancient India, used mainly in Indian classical music.
**The widow will break her bangles and remove her bindi as well. Many Hindu women will remove their nose ring and toe rings as well on her husband's death 

Love....

"My pretty doll - how pretty u look today" laughed  Rajeev as Pia twirled around in the new range of "Princess" skirts they had bought over the weekend. "Be my little gal always"…

No sooner did Rajeev  step out to office, Pia rushed  into their bedroom and stripped her Salmon-Pink Skirt! The gaudy "Love" sign splashed all over the skirt filled her with distaste. But Pia knew as long as she acted the clueless pretty girl who was helpless without Rajeev, he would be the perfect husband…..

Only if somebody had told her every marriage was built on “Conditional Love(s)”….

"Conditional Love" is the prompt for 100 word fiction at Write Tribe.

 Linking this to AtoZ challenge - L is for Love.......

Lalita's Guruvayoor

Lalita sat in the courtyard picking stones from rice when Nair saar walked in along with next-door Venu who was visibly seething in anger."Lalita Chechi, did you hear supreme court has decided to legalize live-in relationship! Am I glad I didn’t give into Geetha’s vain arguments and settle down in Guruvayoor before little Shalu started her high school. At least here she will be far far away from live-in and other urban maladies" Venu went on. Lalita smiled indulgently as she silently offered him a glass of kattan that brewed through the day in her kitchen – ready for Venu and many other young men who came in at all hours of the day to have a word with Nair Saar.

It was a visibly relaxed Venu who stepped out a few minutes later! As Lalita locked the gate after him, she saw Nair looking out with furtive glance. She knew exactly what Nair saar must be thinking now – a thought that had been troubling Lalita since this debate of legalizing live-in has erupted. Would this Venu and other minions in this temple town look up to Nair Saar if they ever knew that this octogenarian couple was never ever officially married!


Saar - In many parts of Kerala, "sir" is colloquially referred to as "saar"
Chechi - elder sister
Guruvayoor - A temple town in Kerala. Off late its been a haven for retired couples
Kattan - Black tea\coffee

This 9 sentence fiction is for Day 1 of WT fest of words 3

Go further to get closer....

Latika looked with unseeing eyes through her office window that opened out to the sprawling gardens of "Kuteer" - the guests were basking in the winter sun as they relished the resort's acclaimed "English Breakfast".  She chuckled every time a travelogue mentioned her eatery as "Best In The Town" - the truth is though "Kuteer" is just a stone's throw away from the famed Khajuraho Caves there is no decent eatery or hotel for miles together!

Even today - after decades - she could recollect the dread that filled her at the thought of spending her boarding school breaks at "Kuteer" -  in the midst of this wilderness far far away from urban luxuries! Latika could never understand what made her parents chuck their well paying advertising jobs in Mumbai and make this resort their home! How she plotted from when she was a mere ten year old to fly far far away from "Kuteer".....

Maybe she was too late -  It took her years before she realized she had to "Go further to get closer" - The distance away from "Kuteer"  bought her all the more closer to it! Today in the sunset of her life -  this was her sanctuary where she recuperated from the scars life had inflicted on her. The wilderness filled her with  peace, the absolute quite calmed her, the stone walls secured her.... Indeed she was grateful for "Kuteer" that as always nurtured her.....

Linking this to WT Prompt of  "She was too late" as well as British Airways hosted IB contest "Go further to get closer". Have you seen the new ad of BA - such a heartwarming one!

Stranger In The Night

Kajal in eyes, Mallige-poo in her hair and elegantly draped in the Pink Sari that anna had gifted her last Diwali, Roja was pleased with her reflection in the mirror. Unlike the early days, she now looked forward to an evening in the city - The promise of a ride in the taxi, her favorite biryani for dinner kept her spirits high. Roja was hoping, anna would be generous with her "pocket-money" this time...

As Roja approached the bus-stop, her eyes looked out for anna - yet  another "Stranger In The Night" whose bed she warmed to make a living!

This fictitious post is in response to Write Tribe's 100 words on Saturday for the Prompt “Stranger In The Night".

**anna - respectful address to an older male, affectionate mode of addressing a man

Music – Festival of Words – Day 4

Started from Memories – Festival of Words – Day 1 
Contd from Here 

 

"I Swear"

I swear by the moon
and the stars in the sky
and I swear like the
shadow that's by your side........

Aalina sighed as she finished another rendition of this soulful song -   her Dad's favourite - to a room full of hooting crowd. She was thankful to her father whose love for music she had inherited. Also it was her only source of bread and butter after her parents tragic death in an air accident a few months ago. Soon she was swindled off her inheritance by "well-meaning" relatives. Thus at the ripe age of sixteen, Aalina had to fend for herself and her old Nanny.

A cafe down the road which was  favourite haunt with the backpacking foreigners offered to pay her a decent amount for evening musical recitals. It seemed a God sent opportunity then - she could do something she  loved and make some quick buck out of it! And the crowd loved her right back - what was not to love about a young chirpy girl whipping out their old favorites........

Haa those long soirees of never ending music and beer with audience joining in for impromptu jamming sessions were strangely liberating.....

Contd Here...

Linking this to  Music – Festival of Words – Day 4

Books – Festival of Words – Day 3

 Started from Memories – Festival of Words – Day 1
Contd From Here....


 It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

 Nathan looked up from his desk, as Aalamma all of a sudden started reading out lines from a random book(or so he thought) she picked from the adjoining book shelf. He was pretty sheepish, when earlier in the day he explained to her that contrary to what was in the brochure, this home-stay did not really have a library so to speak. It was just a random collections of some sleazy magazines that the customers randomly left behind and a few classics which seemed to be older than the home-stay itself!

Thus Nathan was pretty flummoxed when he saw Aalamma's eyes brighten up as he walked her to the partly hidden book aisle. Her eyes almost glossed over as she picked one of the books and started caressing the book as if it was some long lost lover!

Nathan didn't know what to make of it when she almost hugged the ancient copy of "Pride and Prejudice" to her heart and offered to pay him whatever price he quotes.....

Contd here...

Linking this to Books – Festival of Words – Day 3

Memories – Festival of Words – Day 1

Holiday and 'Memories' ought to be synonymous.....

Those long walks in midst of tea estates, sprawling around your own 'private' waterfall, walking hand in hand with your sweetheart as the light mist caresses you, trekking up to the hill top for the sunset, curling up with your favorite book at the nook-corners of the gardens , Cold beers to warm you on the crispy cold nights and the delicious local cuisine which spoils you with choice!  Life doesn't get better than this .. does it?

  Thus read the brochure of 'Memories'. Despite the tall promises in the brochure -  the place was  in reality a rundown home-stay tucked away in the heart of Niligiris. Nathan, the manager had his hands full during the weekends when this place was crowded with backpacking youngsters on a shoestring budget. Nathan looked up as yet another tourist walked into the reception door - for a moment he was nonplussed to see a middle class Indian lady in her 60s travelling solo ! He was all the more dumbfounded when the lady requested for the "Pent House" - Nathan rushed to explain that this was located right next to their open-air disc that was open until wee hours of the night and may not be the best of the choices. He even tried coaxing the lady to book into the next door "Murugan Guest House" which he assured her was a better choice for err... a senior citizen!

But all Nathan could do was shrug and complete the check-in formalities for Aalamma, as she was very firm in her choice of room! As she walked up the creaking stairs, Nathan couldn't help wondering why this old lady was so insistent on choosing this rundown home-stay and that too a room on the terrace when he had given her a choice of much more comfy room on the ground floor.....

Contd Here....

This is submitted as a part of Memories – Festival of Words – Day 1

On The Last Day...

I had woken up with a light heart for I knew it was my last day there! The admission with scholarship at  Ismalia university seemed God-sent opportunity to escape the physical and mental trauma at my in-laws place.

But my hear skipped a beat as I absently leafed through the medical report – a mandate for my admission! The “positive” against the “Pregnant” column was all it took to change my heart… 

Its only today – five years and three children later - I realize that all these “pregnancies” were premeditated by my MIL and husband to stop me from flying away…

This is my entry for "100 words on Saturday" for the prompt "I knew it was my last day there"! I have always wondered how a school acquaintances pregnancy announcement always came on the heels of her wanting to break out from the marriage...

Colors of Aarthi.....

Aarthi was dressed in a peach sari that perfectly complimented her toffee brown complexion. The simple string of white pearls added to her delicate-feminine look - a far cry from the tomboy she is known to be!

She knew her attire will win over the nerdy Venkat – her to-be fiance she was meeting for lunch. But as Aarthi gawked at herself in the mirror, she realized she hardly recognized the girl staring back!

Few minutes later, Aarthi felt truly alive as she stepped out dressed in her favorite Orange tee, blue jeans with a sling bag to complete the look.

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

This fictions post is in response to two prompts 

The prompt of "Colored" at WOW  and the prompt of "Truly Alive" for  100 words On Saturday at WT

 

What happened at Midnight? ** Day 7 - Festival Of Words **

"Write Tribe" the amazing write club am a part of  is hosting its first festival of words from 1-7 Sep on the theme "Seven". You could get more details about it here....

Am choosing to write of the seven loves of my life....
 
Today on the last day of the write Fest, I bring you a piece of fiction simply cause it was at WT that I realised I can write fiction(!). Today I enjoy it so much, that every time I "people-observe", my mind goes into a overdrive trying to weave a story around them :)

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

Mukundan - the SI of Kulmee rural police station - has been hiding amidst the bushes for last three nights. There has been a spate of serial murders in the village for last few weeks and everytime the police  had fished out the body from the lake on the village outskirts.

 It was the middle of the night - The entire village was fast asleep. Mukundan struggled to keep his eyes open when he suddenly heard a rustle. As he looked up, he saw a young man stealthily  moving about like a ninja with a bandanna tied across his head. Mukundan ducked deeper into the bush and kept him within his sights As he looked on, the young man looked furtively around and carefully took out a wrapped package. Just as he was about to throw it into the lake, Mukundan pounced on him and ........

The next morning, police woke up to the news of yet another dead body found in the lake.... the police divers went deep into the water and bought to the shore the body of a man  with a bandanna around the head.....

Food For The Soul!

Rajiya rued the day she fell for lure of free food. All she wanted when she enrolled her children for “Food for the soul”** program was to ensure that they get one square meal- education was just an added bonus. For, Rajiya had four young mouths to feed and it was a struggle to make ends meet with her paltry daily wages!

What she hadn’t anticipated was the respected “masterji” of the village serving school children sub-standard food to make some quick money! Rajiya had to pay the price for his dishonesty – she lost her precious children to food poisoning…

This was written in response to 100 word Saturday prompt of  "Food For Soul" on WT... Err this prompt is courtesy yours truly :)

 ** “Food for the Soul” is the term I coined for the “Mid Day Meal” scheme, signifying “food” not just for the hungry body but for the mind as well(education).  This post is a fictional take on the recent food poisoning tragedy in Bihar.

The Cardinal Sin!

A true ascetic priest, he rued his lack of self control that made him indulge in”cardinal sin” right at the altar! He couldn’t deny himself the pleasures that filled his body as it made its way down caressing his senses. Until one day, he was caught with his hands in the….

… the cookie-jar ;)

My first attempt at a 55 word Fiction. Linking this to 55 word fiction at Write Tribe hosted by Vidya Sury