Short Story Archive for Contemplative:


Intense joy, grief no longer etch inroads in a heart that stays a mere pump as at this point in life
I stand dead centre of emotional highway’s crossroads –
untouched in my core –
is this detached state a leg up to the final turnstile of this life’s fold?
know not, this subterranean river serenely babbles other notes-
I stay engaged, detached player, spectator, sport



Waterfall by Henri Rousseau
have experienced with awe many Falls cascading from great heights
from Niagara Falls to others in Hawaii and various countries around the world including India.
Since I love playing with words in different contexts –
Have had close acquaintance with a fall when I had to hug the ground
and messed up my right leg badly during heavy snow in winter.
This mishap is acceptable.
What will never be acceptable is if I fall in my own eyes –
that would be worse than croaking …
as long as I am in my right mind …it will not happen….



mage is via Kolory Indii
” she does not know how to give back what she has taken “. – Caitlyn Siehl
Some words burn a trail, make you fall into reveries replete with remorse and guilt.
Speaking for myself, I’ve hurled hurtful salvoes containing choice epithets in childhood mostly in self defense. Other times, as a grown up, perhaps out of thoughtlessness due to an overly impulsive nature. 97% of the time it would’ve been unintentional. 3% honestly speaking must’ve been with intent to shrivel my victims with self perceived brilliant, biting repartee.
Context is important and generally speaking I am not hurtful by nature unless goaded with back to wall.
Circumstances being what they are – just as ocean waves are constantly eroding rocks but hugging beaches without giving up – its a dichotomy of emotions, in this case of the ocean.
Us humans are like this too. Those we love, we often take for granted, perhaps hurt without meaning to, all the while loving too
Question is how to make reparation, heal what got scarred ? Firmly believing in reincarnation – when old scars haunt dreams I often wonder about those culprits who’ve since crossed over – who must now be in turbulent teen years – do they toss and turn in their sleep, cluelessly?
Do they visit psychotherapists – hypnotherapists ? Do they ever repair damage done in previous birth and become whole again. More importantly, when will old hurts cease haunting my dreams?

this and that – why not?


image is from internet

Image is via email
This and that, why not..
Confined in a pleasant longish room i’ve been provided with the following mobility tools: wheel chair, walker, gopher to reach fallen or out of reach stuff and a leg lift tool which is quite handy. Leveraging my right knee on the bed has been a horror ridden near sobbing experience and in the process I’ve developed skinned elbows and overstretched muscles that are so taut that it hurts to giggle. Hence this leg lifter has proved a blessing.
After knowing an office colleague for over a decade one’d guess i’ve a finger on her pulse or what. I received a solicitous email displaying concern and love and soon on its heels, a work related email followed.. Luckily she did not botch it up by putting cart before the horse. Such predictable behavior kind of amuses my virgo persona.
The idiot box provided with the room comes with a dozen preset channels and its take it or leave it kind of deal. I take it in sips only.
The in-charge director of this facility sort of indicated that I could be here for rehab for a month at least.. I immediately countered by saying as long as its medically covered, am okay with that.
This confinement provides a whiff of what great thinkers of their time had to undergo in order to speak the truth sans fear. Its a kind of house arrest even though am here by choice. My right knee sports twenty odd stitches appearing as a garish mouth of an ogre that has been stapled shut . These staples will be removed when knee has more or less fully healed.
My gypsy vagabond spirit feels helplessly tied down but never KO’ed – mind continues to roam at will creating, recreating various scenarios and its permutations laconically.
To be contd.. If I feel like it…



Need no soapbox, pulpit stands.

Scrupulously scrutinizing innards often emerge, wanting.

Have made peace with what is.  why the heck not.

It’s always been about the journey never destinations.

Measuring of self by self is tedious activity and am the queen of lazybones a sobriquet given by dad long time ago.

Life, ultimate teacher helps develop thick skin, stiff upper lip, clear eyes, bright smile and a tongue often teetering on the acerbic ready to fall off the wagon, honed by growing years’ litany of fending off wounding words drawing first blood and so forth…

I am no teacher, merely a ticking time bomb ready to go off in eternal sleep to awaken in a gentler world filled with kindred spirits, goodies of my choice.

Why ever not? no harm in there?

Bina Gupta
age : years 59.99 + shipping and handling

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