Quite legit, eh?

Prompt: Holy

white foaming rush

shunning aside sins

a holy dip

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4-5-4 pattern

Written for: Haiku Heights

Happy New Look, Dear Blog.

And this is happiness to me.

Lazy Saturdays, this blog, its makeover, the aftermath, the urge to write more every second, Billy Joel's voice reaching to me like never before, light-headedness and not a single worry to entertain.

It is one of those days when everything, gradually begins to fall to place and you are just at peace to see the picture unpuzzle itself.

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Yellowed Chapters and That Withered Flower.

For one more time, I saw myself standing there. It was quiet, still and I was alone. The place was familiar, a lot familiar. I have grown up here and I knew this area by heart. But I couldn't comprehend the mystery why I failed every time. It was supposed to be there, I thought. I walked closer. It clouded more. I couldn't see clearly but I was sure it was there. And with the last step, it vanished completely. I ran again, not losing the verve. But I couldn't find the bridge, that small open bridge, which I never knew would be so important to me that I would crave to walk through it once again.

There is this tiny, little, petite part of me which yearns to go back, particularly to the years that I have spent in Kanpur. To my old junior school, to those grey colored pavements, to those big corridors and narrow aisles where we raced in the afternoon with a heavy bag on shoulders to reach first to the swings' section, to the place where that mysterious foot print on the cemented floor was, that place where one of my classmates had thrown sand in my hair. Uh! how much I hated that boy. And then there was this graveyard beside my school, and how we cooked up stories about the dead, and the small botanical garden with just one special attraction: touch-me-not plants.

Then maybe, after a while, I would visit my old home too. That calm old street, Ektapath, that's what it is called. My home, it would be where I had left it but not how I had left it. It might have shrunken by now. But the younger me, would still be embalmed cozily. And I would long to be that girl again. At one moment, she would walk past me with a piece of cloth around her big eyes and hands stretched in search for her friends and then the next moment, I would watch her trying to get to the secret room without any help. My room had a smaller room which ran up the wall adjacent to my bed. Ma used it for storing random stuff. I was short so I had to put up a chair and a stool and a shorter stool to get to that room. And yes, at times I had spunk to do it all by myself. I liked those pink walls. They were mine. Only mine.

Then a noise of laughter would snap me out of the moment. I would rush out and watch the girl playing golf with a random stick and her older brother standing nearby waiting for his turn, probably. The lemon tree would still be there, on that corner. But it might not recognize me. It might not remember how I rejoiced at the sight of so many bright, big lemons falling on wet grass whenever it rained. Neighbors dropping by our place, having an extended chat with ma (she was the charm of Ektapath) and grabbing some lemons from the garden: this had become a routine back then. We had this long stick with a hook on one of its ends. My father had designed it to reach the higher branches of the tree and get lemons by pulling them down. But Bhaiya and I cleverly utilized it as a golf stick. Thus, the game.

After quenching my thirst by replaying such beautiful episodes, I would step out and take a stroll on the old street or I would just sit on that unkempt grass of my garden. I think that would make me feel sanguinely good. That feeling of being finally back home! But what if I would just want to turn around and leave the episodes untouched, unadulterated and pure...like an abysmal part of the lost pages...like snippets of memories hanging loosely, somewhere in my mind. Just like they have always been.

I am not sure whether I'm ready for an answer yet. But I would like to know the answer, sometime. And when the time comes, I would walk through those grey pavements once again, through those narrow aisles of childhood! I would reach the fogged bridge and cross it without losing it into nothingness. I know the little girl with that piece of cloth around her eyes, may not see me but I think she would be happy to know that I am her older self. And maybe a little proud too.
:)

Even if the chapters have turned yellow, the story residing in them shall always be vivid. And that story belongs to me. Only me.
________

Picture Source 1
Picture Source 2

August to Me: In a Nutshell.

I wanted to write about so many things which happened in the month of August: how beautiful it was, the dark clouds, the happy hair days, the good health and workout sessions and how I looked forward to feel the monsoon kisses every day. But sadly, the month ended up giving me a very disgusting and severe skin infection. It wrested my confidence and grounded me within the four walls. Though the receding phase has begun, the risk has of it getting worse has not subsided and I'm yet to discover my pretty old self again. Uh...how badly I miss my geeky face.

Anyhow, this post is not about the disease. This is about the things I wanted to share on Mirage, a week back.  A little late I am and it is September, already. Gosh, we are in the 9th month of the year. Where was I  during the whole time?

Busy growing up, probably.

________

• After yearning for months, I finally purchased a charming dream catcher with sea green feathers. For those who are not aware of what a dream catcher is, let me give a brief insight. It is a handmade object adorned with a thread in a web like form along with some beads and feathers. As per the Native Americans, the night air is filled with dreams both good and bad. The purpose of a dream catcher is to trap the bad ones in the web and filter down the good and happy dreams through the feathers, to the sleeper. Since, I have a strong connection with chasing dreams of all kinds (from serial killers to savages) I dearly needed it. Also, because it is such a beautiful thing. Here, have a look:

(This is not mine, but yeah you got an idea, right?)

(Picture Source)

• One fine day in August, I decided to give my room a fresh look. And this is what I did:

(Creative much, eh!)

(Oh and this too)

• My dearest brother gifted me a brand new sexy DKNY watch this Rakshabandhan. Eeeeeeeshk!

• Oh and I bought a pair of 3kg dumbbells. I'm gonna be a strong and pretty lady soon. ^.^

• It's been more than a month since I earned my first pay check, and I have not yet thought of anything to splurge on. Damn! There are nth number of things which makes me greedy and still I always end up with nothing. Suggestions please. (No party-with-friends suggestions accepted)

• Hey, I got published AGAIN!!!! The good part is that the magazine shall give away a surprise gift to each published entry. Eeeeeeeshk! Guess, I should make a new page for the whole list of my published work. xD

• This reminds me of a very important news. One of my blogger friends Phatichar (Sadly, this is what he calls himself in the blog world.) got his own book of spooky tales published by none other than THE Harper Collins publishers. Can you believe it! =)  I have ordered my copy and you guys must do it too. Right now! Here is the link which will help you: Frankly Spooking.

• Lastly, a Statutory Warning: Do not watch The Conjuring. Period.

_________

Until next time..

Take care dear you!

A Thought

Before 1947: Ruled by White

After 1947: Ruled by gender bias, corruption, casteism, hypocrisy, inflation and so on

Where exactly is freedom?

Prompt: Ocean

abysmal

ocean in those eyes

lurking life within

_____

3-5-5 pattern

Written for: Haiku Heights

Elaichi Wali Chaai =)

A whisper of velvety wind is secretly curling up around me as I watch the newly bloomed roses in my veranda. It gives so much pleasure, those bright magenta flowers seem to look right at me with a novel smile. I remember how in summers, I feared seeing my plants wither away in sweltering heat. Every morning I would step out with a hope to see them blossoming and return with a dismal sigh. Gradually, it turned into a sad monotonous routine, like my life.

But today, while I take a sip of elaichi wali chaai, I watch my little babies soaking up the Autumn's love with open arms. Like it's washing away the mountainous sadness which lingered over the leaves for a long time and telling them to breathe again. I listen closely. I keep the cup, my favorite black and yellow cup on the table adjacent to my bed and I listen with rapture, a familiar sound wafting by the wind. I smile! It's calling out my name in a soft voice. I step out in the light drizzle, marooning the coveted thoughts and my lukewarm cup of tea behind. Bare feet, bare mind. It is addictive. This love, this sweet sweet love!

I cave in, yet again.

_________

P.S: I don't remember since when it has become a ritual but to enjoy the rains without holding close a cup of hot cardamom tea, is nearly impossible.  =)

Picture Source

Prompt: Time

timelessness

a birthday call

old ties sprout

____

After so many years, I called up one of my closest friends from middle school with whom I had lost touch because of me shifting to another city. It is her birthday today and I, on the spur of the moment, picked up my cell and dialed her number. Had I thought for a few more seconds before dialing, I would have ended up sending only a text message. Yep, that is how it happens. Just a little more use of brain can spoil the fun. Anyhow, her reaction..ah! It was amazing. It took her some time to digest the fact that I was on the other side of the phone. Sigh.. Old ties, after all.

_______

3-4-3 pattern

Written for: Haiku Heights

Haiku Prompt - Sand

unanchored

her pumpkin scarf

sand in eyes

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3-4-3 pattern.

Written for : Haiku Heights