Heart Cow to Flower Cow "Hey F, I know its Halloween but Is it a coincidence that we look similar?"
Flower Cow to Heart Cow "There are no Cow-incidences. And we aren't similar. We are just Awesomoo" This post is written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers - 29th March
I was a part of a beautiful house some day. Then they
renovated their house and brought in a shiny new commode with some button
features & poor ol’ me is forgotten.
I have seen them grow from kids to adults, I have flushed
every crap this family and their friends have put on me.
Today, here I lie
abandoned but happy.
Today, for the first time in life, someone has given me
flowers instead of crap.
I always say “Treat me well & Keep me Clean, I will not
tell anyone what I have seen”
A city boy and a town architect Keith gets transferred to a
village that is populated with just 2 families.
Every night Keith hears strange
sounds coming from the abandoned photo booth that is right opposite to where
Keith has been put up.
Keith wanted to run home the first week itself.
But, he
resolved to find out the mystery. He couldn’t talk to the villagers, he assumed they
spoke only their native language.
So, that night, a dog howled far away. The crescent moon was
dim in the sky.
Keith walks up to the photo booth and sees
That the villagers are not villagers but a shooting unit
& this is their set for a horror movie. Keith actually is in the wrong side
of the river. His original village is a bridge cross away.
I go to this park where people play chess.
I stand at every table and request them to let me play
No one let me play though
Little do they know what they have missed by not playing with me
They take an hour to make a move,which is at times wrong and silly too
How can I, a little girl tell?
I am the youngest chess champ, the child prodigy.
I am the "Golden Girl" in the chess world
I
am from Mumbai. And Holi has grown up with time and changed quite a lot.
Holi
has always been everyone’s favorite festival. Kids are ready with water balloons
and water packets to throw on each other almost a week before Holi. This used
to annoy the elders, we never realized why until I started working, and hated
my laptop, phone, formals being wet.
So,
the day before Holi, the kids were assigned a task to collect, dry grass,
twigs, dry empty coconut shells, and the ladies of the building would light the
Holi fire and give us kids’ sweets.
And
there the kids would plan for the next morning.
We
used to be up early morning, wearing the oldest “Holi dress” and filling our
little pockets with gulaals and water balloons and stuffing our mouths with mouthwatering
freshly made ghujias and non-alcoholic thandaais.
We
had this small open tank behind our building where we filled water with every
possible color we could find and it was a mandate to put every kid in that tank
before starting the actual play
We
used to stay in a society; we had a building that shared the compound wall with
us. Holi, was no less than an India-Pakistan match between the two societies.
It was all perfect planning and delegation. The tall guys take on the center
lot, the tinier one back the tall ones, the sides to be managed by another lot.
Proper strategies were planned. A perfect guerrilla warfare was organized, with
three kids hiding in trees and attacking them. Of course, it was a no-win match.
And
yes, how can one forget beautiful pichkaris, that has evolved with age. It
started with a small pistols, got promoted to the long tube like pichkaris and evolved
to a backpack filled with water and connected to the pichkari.
After
the kids were half done with the playing, our parents would come and put
gulaals on each other and the whole society had a pot-luck lunch made by all
the aunties of the building.
Then
a major task scrubbing off the color, finishing every available soap in the
bathroom including the clothes washing soap, the shampoo was a norm for us. It
was given that one is going to spend at least 2 hours in the bathroom.
The
next day, you know which kids have played Holi is with their pink palms and
pinkish scalp.
Then
we grew up.
The
gulaals became, pakka colors of silver, black gold, boot polish. The thandais
became bhaangs. Friends in the society, started to vanish on bikes and cars
with loud music. Colors became toxic.
Somewhere,
in the growing up part, the pure charm of the festival got lost.
I’m pledging to #KhulKeKheloHoli this year by sharing my Holi memories atBlogAddain association with Parachute Advansed
I have a person. His name is Ron. He brought me home when I was a pup. He cried to me when his girlfriend broke up with him.
He hugged me and danced all around the room when he joined the army.
He said he would miss me, the day he was to be commissioned to Afghanistan. I don;t know where it is, but I hope my person is safe.
I haven't seen him for 18 months now. I stay with the pet care.
Then today morning, I could feel him, his presence, his smell around me. I barked all day. I was tied to the porch outside, but I knew my person is somewhere around.
And then I see him come by, in his uniform looking smart.
I break my leash and dash to greet my person, he sees me and breaks down.
That day, is the day we I realized that Ron is not my person, he is my reason to live.
For the past one year, I have been a lot in DIY's and off late I am quite obsessed about Japanese paper lanterns.
They always fascinate me. Simple paper mesh looks so pretty when its hung with a light bulb in the corner of a room.
I did try to make one for myself trice, but it was a failed experiment. Nonetheless I am going to make one for myself soon.
Putting up a few pictures from Google for inspiration
This post is written for ABCW - J PC: Google Images/japanese Lantern
When I read the three words for this Wednesday, the only thought that came into my mind was Fifty Shades of Grey
"He commanded her to strip herself naked, under the close scrutiny of his piercing eyes. And as per the clauses. she had to obey for she was his Submissive" This post is written for Three Words Wednesday - 469
