Apr 20, 2012

Every afternoon..

I sipped tea while she sipped coffee as the music of rain pouring down upon the asbestos sheeted roof filled the room.

She looked at the rain drops clinging onto the glass pane while I looked at the tear drops clinging onto her cheek.

Her heart wished to see the beautiful patterns of the drops of rain on the glass pane while my heart wished to see her flawless cheek dotted by drops of her tears which, she never wiped away.

She looked beautiful especially, when she smiled. But, she looked amazingly beautiful when she cried. 

The tear drops, like pearls added beauty to the long eyelashes that cradled her big black eyes.

Each drop that fell from her eyes was a unique gem containing her essence in their purest form. For, tears are pure, purer than the fake smiles.

Each afternoon, she would come by, walking across my lawn, stumbling against pots, apologizing and grinning sheepishly. The grin reminded me of my childhood. It was the same grin flashed by a kid who had bullied me.
I hated it.

So each afternoon, when she came by, I narrated stories-tearjerkers. I made her cry-out of happiness! And when, I couldn’t tolerate her smiles, I made her cry-out of sadness. But, she came every afternoon without fail. A routine, formed for life.

I just made her cry every single afternoon when she visited a wheelchair confine that I am, without ever reminding her of my disability, without ever reminding her that she was the one who ran her car over me in drunken rage !


Image : A pic clicked by me

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Apr 18, 2012

Captivated - 55 Fiction #4



She looked at me with sad eyes even though her lips were half smiling.
The same look which had captivated me for years, which had me tethered here. 

But now, I wanted to leave, had to.

I stepped out of the house, while my unfinished painting of her, turned to embers along with her memories.

Image courtesy : A travelogue in http://convassor.info

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Apr 1, 2012

Tattered !


Surrounded she was by sisters and brothers of her kind. 
Yet, her heart yearned for a company, albeit of a different kind.

Bored of the same old conversations with her siblings, she sighed loudly “I wish for someone afar, who would tell me the tales of a different life, of a different existence.

Wishes and dreams, they say come true eventually.  And one day, when she heard the stranger approach her slowly, she knew her dreams had come true.

His initial apprehension ebbed away with her willing submission.

She heard, all that she wanted. Charmed she was, by his ways. His caresses, she enjoyed.

Over the time, she swirled into the breeze, whiffs of mistrust, if there were any.

He was so very gently, so very tender that she did not even notice that he had started devouring her essence of existence. Scars, she oversaw and holes of abuse, she neglected.

"What is a bit of hurt when you love someone truly", she thought.




Warnings, she dint pay heed to. And one fine day, all that was left of her were just threads of tattered dreams for him to walk over.


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Inspiration clearly were from the pics clicked by SmartAlec. Thank you for clicking wonderful pictures that almost always tell a story which inspire deep thoughts and make me pen down a few lines from time to time :). Keep clicking !

Even though the story seems to be of a leaf and snail, the occurrence of dreams being ripped off in real life is not uncommon; though in real life, grit and strength to hang in there shall help one recover and emerge stronger to live dreams in spite of the hurt. Hail the undying spirit of human will !


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