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Showing posts from December, 2014

Leaving behind lasting memories

Sophie caressed her Grandmother Becky’s wrinkled skin as she was being lowered into the coffin. A lifetime of goodness, love, warmth and care seemed to be wrapped into the black case that cold morning.
Sophie knew she’d miss her grandma’s practical advice and infectious smile that belied her tumultuous and difficult personal life.
“Who’d look after the beautiful garden?” lamented Sophie as the yellow bougainvilleas in the backyard, bejeweled with icicles, caught her eye.
Becky loved bougainvilleas and nurtured their attributes-of being in ever- bloom-within her. Like them, no amount of blustery wind or cold snow could dampen her spirit.  

____________ Word count:100 ____________ 100 word story written in response to the photo prompt at Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. You can post one of your own or read the other entries here.  

Can creativity be cultivated?

Two artists; one desires adulation and aspires to be a star, the other wishes to explore the depths of the art; one is a conformist, the other is free-spirited; one is street-smart while for the other, the heart rules the mind; one hankers after and gets commercial success, yet does not find peace, the other performs for the love of the art and thrives in self-contentment and happiness. That's Kaaviyathalaivan in a nutshell for you.While the movie impressed me with its well-executed plot, great performances and pleasant music, it led me to introspect about the one quality, among others, that differentiated the two protagonists- creativity.

Manodharma or creativity is the back-bone of any creative field. It's an art where you bring in a different nuance, twist or dimension to the same piece of work and present it like it were new. A good actor experiments with different genres and styles and pulls it off with equal aplomb. A great chef does not stick to the conventional ingredi…

When you left

When you shut the door on me and stomped out of our relationship, my heart didn't break. I thought we still had a chance because I believed dreams never die; eclipsed possibly, but alive.
I’d always associated our dream with the little green bridge. Remember, we once dreamed about building our own love nest across the bridge? I wanted to run after you and remind you of our dream.
Instead, I chose to visit the place that had seen our love for each other develop; one that had been forgotten in the melee of life. A lot had changed about the place, except for the bridge. Across the bridge, a wall stood, behind which was a beautiful house, like the one in our dreams.
My heart thought it was symbolic. Despite changes at many levels, the bridge-a symbol of our love- remained unchanged. However, there was a wall-of misunderstanding and ego- that blocked access to the love nest.  
My mind thought it to be rather ominous. The wall could well mean that I stop trying to gain access to the he…