Reverie

  Seth found himself running through mud and slime. Somewhere deep within his dream, his mind tried to justify his relentless chase. “Every person, at least once in their waking mind, has chased glory. The applause, the accolades, the accomplishments - all these make one feel worthy. I was no different. Yet, my attempts to grasp it always slipped through my fingers. Perhaps that is why my desire to chase glory strongly found its way into my subconscious. Night after night, my dreams carried the weight of my ambitions to succeed, to excel, to finally touch the glory that always remained just beyond my reach. But even there, it continued to evade me. And tonight was no different. As always, I kept running after it… in my dreams. It is raining heavily, and I am running as fast as my legs can carry me. I slide under a closing door and reach the other side. But to my utter shock, the gory, tentacle-headed creature phases through to this side of the door. Yuck! The slimy, green, ...

  “Can you not make that noise? I can’t remember a peaceful night’s sleep for such a long time!” Santa grumbles at Anna. Anna is regretful about making that ugly grinding noise but couldn't help it; it was the only way to soothe her itching throat. Yet, she retorts, “Oh, is it? If you had known earlier, would you not have pestered me into marrying you?” “Okay now, you needn’t remind me of those ignorant days of my life,” replies Santa with mock irritation. Anna stares at the ceiling. There he was, casually tossing aside the very memory she had treasured and preserved for the past many decades. After all, it was he, the heartthrob of many girls she knew - who had proposed to her, not the other way around. If she couldn't boast about that now and then, what exactly had she earned from fifty years of marriage? Santa turns his head to the other side of the bed where there is absolute silence now. Seeing the crestfallen look on his dear wife's face, Santa feels apologetic for ha...

  Once upon a time in my village, when telephones were yet to find a place in most households, messages travelled long distances through the post. The roads were poor, transport was limited, and communication was dreadfully slow. The days of kings, sultans, and messenger pigeons had long passed; hence, birds no longer arrived bearing encrypted messages tied to their necks or feet. One could only rely on the humble telegram as the fastest means of urgent communication. A trunk call could be made, but it was expensive and not always easy to arrange. So, whenever a telegram arrived, people gathered around with curiosity and concern, for it usually carried news that could not wait. It was a time when India was at war. Soldiers were either deployed at the front or stationed at various military bases on standby. My grandfather, who was serving in the Indian Army, had also been recalled to duty with immediate effect, along with several of his colleagues who had been enjoying leave at ho...

                                      Who hasn’t chased shadows? As children, we turned around in wonder at that black figure trailing behind us, miming our every movement in silence. The long and short shapes it took under the blazing sun often reminded me of the distorted mirrors I once saw at an exhibition where one stretched me into a ribbon, another shrank me into a balloon. I still remember the excitement of making strange figures with my hands and body, watching my shadow religiously imitate every antic. I loved riding my bicycle fast just to see the hair of my shadow fly in the wind. Sometimes, I would loosen my grip on the handlebars and lift my arms wide, only to watch my shadow wobble and tumble beside me. There were no inhibitions then — no fear, no restraint. My shadow loved following me everywhere, and I loved its company. I never felt alone. But as we grow older, we begin to...

    A kiss that carried all the love unexpressed, emotions untold, and thoughts undelivered in a single moment - that was my mother’s kiss on my forehead on my wedding day, when I bent to receive her blessings before stepping into a new chapter of my life. The impact of that one kiss - perhaps the last she ever gave me, has overshadowed the thousands that came before. Her kindness, brilliance, strong will, and resilience have always mesmerized me. I loved the way she smelled - when she hugged me, her warmth enveloped me in a soothing fragrance I could never quite decipher. It still amazes me that, at times, I sense that very same fragrance when I hold my daughters close or press a kiss upon their foreheads. And so, though I love my children deeply, I find myself hugging them whenever I can, just to feel you near me. Selfish of me, isn’t it? But I cannot help it. Amma, you were so beautiful. When you smiled, a gentle shyness lingered on your face. The slight tilt of you...

  Dreams Virtual Reality Charged With Emotions Unquenched And Unfulfilled Desires Longing   ‘Elfchen’ - I am now obsessed with this form of poetry!!! Try out, everyone can do this…Know what an Elfchen is and go back reading my poem above to understand the pattern.   An " elfchen " is a German poem with a specific structure of 11 words across five lines, following a 1-2-3-4-1 word count. It is also known as an "elevenie" in English, and the name combines "elf" (eleven) and "-chen" (a German diminutive suffix meaning "little"). The structure encourages a progression of thought, with the first line introducing a topic and the last line providing a summary or transformation.    Line 1: One word (the topic) Line 2: Two words (description of what the topic does) Line 3: Three words (a location or descriptive phrase) Line 4: Four words (a metaphor or deeper meaning) Line 5: One word (a new word that summarizes or t...

    Our journey together began More than a decade ago. You were planted with much care, Alongside other fruit-bearing kin. We wished you could grace our yard, To be our mark of distinction. But more than that, we wanted you   To spread your cool warmth into our home.   You seemed to sense our silent feeling, Our sincere longing to call you ours. Your tender leaves swaying in the breeze, Danced with vigour and effortless ease, You set our hearts flutter with joy And filled our eyes with calm contentment.   In time, you grew - strong, tall and wide, Standing stout with great pride. Yet seasons went by without a bloom, A decade passed by, untouched by fruit. We worried, we pondered, But waited in patience. Our love for you never diminished, We stood by you, trusting you would flourish.   Then one blessed day we saw you stoop, As if shy, yet eager to whisper That you were now ready, Poised and resolute...

    Is it my cognitive reality which is now the embodiment of my embarrassment, and deepens into resentment, turning inward, belittling me, because I am drooling, gaping at the country snacks inside the glass shelf of the tea stall !   Gosh, the blush on my face, like the flames of a furnace hot and red, which I dread has attracted many heads.   Those mint candies , lemon candies , rainbow lollipops and little cakes on the owner’s desk lure, poke my pitiful heart, rejuvenate its pace, its rhythm, pull its strings to those, lost moments, the forgotten experiences and enunciate it isn’t a gone memory.   It deliberates my connection, my bond to my childhood, my precious era, laden with mischiefs and innocent altercations.   The bus I proudly steered, my brothers its co-passengers, was my architectural design, made with my Amma’s saree .   That vehemence cascades down further to my ance...