Short Story Archive for General:

wistfulness

there is an inexpressible sense of cozy comfort knowing that you’ve fully loved someone who even though no longer a physical presence in your life, still thrives as a crucial part of your mind, your soul and continues to lend impetus to your imaginatively woven scenarios of “what ifs” “if only” speculative tangential wanderings giving daily life an intriguing twist and turn – an intrinsic part of life’s fabric of you as a whole ..in a gamut of speculative permutations ..

renoir

 

sensual memories

sensual memories be it tactile, sound, visual, taste et al usually embed in brain’s synapses and triggered by relatable phenomena surface for pleasurable second helpings

… this morning as I was toasting thin slivers of pumpernickel bagel and olive roll I remembered the time when fresh off the boat in 1974 winter in Cleveland Ohio … I was driven to my first job by a co-worker on cost-sharing basis.

It was either late November or December. Snow was falling rather heavily…chilled to the bone being unaccustomed to such foul weather I was hastily bundled inside the toasty office and Leslie my kind savior took me to the kitchen corner of the office and toasted english muffins in the office toaster and made a fresh pot of coffee ..then she offered me a generously lathered hot english muffin followed by a mug of piping hot java joe…they were an absolute godsend and tasted like heavenly manna…..

hence this memory got imbedded in my head … on thinking back … I would relegate it to second place giving first place undoubtedly to mom’s freshly made paranthas just the way I liked them and later at grandparent’s home …the stuffed tandoori paranthas roasted to perfection in clay tandoors truly tasted heavenly with gobs of churned butter …aroma of freshly roasted breads intermingling with simmering pickles in the winter sun … all conjure a wonderful childhood with homemade lassi and/or
thandaii as the case maybe …. they take first place hands down

* lassi : churned buttermilk and thandaii : cold milk with crushed almonds, poppy seeds, cardamom and saffron etc.. .it is delicious
..

 

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” …
..
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.”
..
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
..
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
..
images : google

journaling…mainly about my first love…

…mind has finally quietened …
no longer hankering for what cannot be had… departed can no longer return…. am now into celebrating with whatever’s in hand …
my love of books hasn’t waned even though I am not reading much these days… however, I do sleep with books around me… they provide come home feel and a comfort level for me…
books carry worlds between their covers and will never kick the bucket on me as I can reread them if I want to…no one can stop me from doing that … not even time unless I deplete my life’s hourglass in a final run through…
only hindrance ..perhaps are my tired eyes …
…I do adore books though and
maybe am being fanciful but sometimes I hear querulous voices escaping my loved ones from their dogeared corners chiding me about my callous abandonments …
I do have good intentions and mean to read even turning into that voracious bookworm of younger days all over again but this perfidious arthritic body and a quicksilver mind have such a hold over me…
I wish for one thing and end up doing something else … and those wheels under my feet and my gypsy soul won’t let me rest either…last month we were in England …next month we go to New Orleans and the south…but my feet are already afflicted with that restlessness syndrome and are raring to up and take off….but Ganesh is inclined to stay close to home and do mini day trips… que sera sera …
I’ll keep you updated when I finish one of my new books lying next to me with my favorite mug of steaming chai…

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