Archive for collection of short stories:

November 16, 2017

Walking down my street noticed droopy flowers and trees delightfully preening putting bounce in my achy steps that were sighing as man and his friend several times over… zipped past yours truly

Boarded bus sweeping 7th ave with twin eyes noticing familiar faces now in various states of progression …pounds heavy lighter as case may be … hair too had receded disavowing ridiculous faces and I took heart at my own sorry self … time’s brush of my hair in generous grey daubs with horrific thinning

tis the thinning of family herd that I take umbrage to…time heavily tolling
…rest is easy to come to terms with

Cooling heels in waiting room ..one test done with flying colors.., waiting for 2nd…

morning rituals


rising later than usual my walking fingers lightly press TV remote for morning chants to gently funnel into my space filling it with energizing vibrations accentuating gentle snores emanating from resting life partner..
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unhurriedly I put tea kettle on boil and as water simmers I let my thoughts emerge from foggy half wakefulness to awareness of day time place et al…
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tall trees’ framed lofty bay windows are still weeping yellow leaves intermittently unlike heavy autumn leafy showers from few days ago…

patches of weakly tinted light have formed geometric patterns on the ceiling …
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chai now ready and steaming I sip tea and my now time dunking biscuits while ruminating on how am going to let my today pan out making plans, discarding, remaking..

have been dwelling on “lines” where and how to draw with regard to sense and sensibilities …lines have always peaked my gypsy soul especially when looking at the horizon on the beaches at dawn and sunset …the push back of lines by waves on sandy beaches …the imaginary equator and the celestial spheres circling our earth …

there’s lot to be gained and said about vivid imaginations …ask any writer ..poet …

journaling….fetters …

mind truly baulks at being tied to anything yet I feel like a fraud when I do want the strength of a firm back to lean against and not feel frightened at night… a firm pillow simply doesn’t cut it… .. spoon fed most of my growing years and later after being holy-knot-hogtied to another for the first time … I never knew what true freedom meant… even my thoughts seemed as if they were in bondage … there was no sense of being absolutely free …like we did in our childhood ..running barefoot ..screaming like banshees and scaring one another …jumping off from high ground on dares…whatnot… ..
Now in my 2nd innings… since past 17+ years or so I’ve finally come into my own..doing what I please save for those working years which were a typical admix of awful to good … for in real estate you spend time swimming with sharks and if you’re a minnow…only god can help you… lol…mercifully am retired now unequivocally .. ..
being answerable to none except my conscience is a state to be in and I love this total immersion …finally allowed me… .. life is truly cyclical and now for me magical …
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journaling…telepathic connect…

I’ve been meaning to write about this inexplicable longing to reconnect with a dear friend whom I’d lost touch with since we left Bombay in 1972
….this acute longing suddenly occurred about a month or so ago quite inexplicably and was stridently persistent …so much so that finally to appease the voices in my head and heart … I scoured Facebook with possible name matches etc. hopefully relying on my erring memory
..Luckily I found my friend’s two brothers on Facebook … their dad being a famous much respected lyricist from the golden period of Hindi cinema from yesteryears …
I sent them private messages asking the whereabouts of their sister…
no response for a few weeks… I was feeling rather forlorn and down in the mouth and then suddenly I got a reply from one of them..
He gave me the info I needed and I was immediately in touch with this dear friend from college days… we’d had some great times together and were quite close …
oddly enough my friend Adarsh ..pet name Pappu was also remembering me as longingly as I was …it was definitely a Telepathic connect ..otherwise why would I remember her out of the blue after 45 odd years?
strange coincidence to say the least ..we have this saying in Hindi “ dil ko dil ki raaah mil hi jaati hai” meaning heart finds it’s own way eventually …
After connecting over the phone via WhatsApp the first words of a very petulant Pappu angrily came at me were :
“where the hell did you disappear to” I cherish her anger as she cares as deeply as me … and then we filled in the gaps of our separation in retelling and I was deliriously happy ..
one thing that she said repetitiously was how she’d visited our home out of the blue without prior messaging and had met our gentle otherworldly mom ..whom she still remembers distinctly…
.. I think she merely reaffirmed what everyone has said to me so far ..about mom being a very gentle and pure soul.. and I simply miss mom so… to this date..
footnote: I received another message from Pappu’s brother saying “She was really happy to speak to you. Was so animated as she described ur meetings” …
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mysterious are the ways of nature.. telepathy and love… Thank you Facebook…images: google

Journaling…mulling over certain words…

August 16, 2017
Lillian Hellman : Julia
“Old paint on a canvas, as it ages, sometimes becomes transparent. When that happens it is possible, in some pictures, to see the original lines: a tree will show through a woman’s dress, a child makes way for a dog, a large boat is no longer on an open sea. That is called pentimento because the painter “repented,” changed his mind. Perhaps it would be as well to say that the old conception, replaced by a later choice, is a way of seeing and then seeing again. That is all I mean about the people in this book. The paint has aged and I wanted to see what was there for me once, what is there for me now.”
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these words quietly resonated as I rolled word Pentimento on my mind’s tongue while enjoying the sound of it … upon retrospection correlating events “as is” when they occurred and my reaction then and now after countless years… and underlying reason’s big “why” for my reactions at that point in time being in the very heat of the moment …..like Pentimento I wonder about the underlying reasons now and my resultant state of bewilderment admixed with anger and my unforgiving state despite my inner serenity ….have there been subtle changes in my views as I’ve weathered and juiced life to the nth degree enjoying it’s rollercoaster ups downs accepting all for what’s it’s face value and/or intrinsic worth..
have I changed my perspective in retrospect?
… some words simply grab mind’s throat and make you confront your pet peeves…
Let yourself be drawn by the strange pull of what you love. It will not lead you astray
~ Rumi
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he’d said : I feel the sea in you and I rather liked it
color blue being my favorite color as my adored Blue Krishna is my soul’s sky with it’s delightfully pervasive blueness leaches into the sea spread that is my being
I further mulled over this thought “my being a sea”
rolled it on my tongue…
took tiny sips of it with my morning chai…
bit into it with my dunking tea biscuits …
a daily ritual
……
and then I remembered sea glass
shiny iridescent pieces of glass thrown by passing ships and beachgoers and as these manmade bottles smash into pieces …nature takes over in shaping and crafting them…
the waves sometimes angrily and other times gently nudge and heave over these pieces smoothening out the sharp rough edges and in conjunction with time gradually soften and round them into things of beauty …
tis a role reversal in a way … bottles to sea glass
At first.. bottles are crafted by man and in their second avatar it’s glass pieces are crafted by nature … unlike fully nature made wonders…often undone by man….as in environmental catastrophes..
now am wondering about the kelp and seaweed and the shimmering awe inspiring life in sea’s belly and it fills me with the wonder of it all…
I quite like being called a sea… thank you …
I’d even be happy being just a piece of sea glass found by simpatico beachcombers and lovingly cherished in their home on the mantel as one of their many personal favorite objets d’art
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images : google

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