The call of the wind

Mira stepped out into the wide balcony on the 12th floor of the high-rise she and Mayank had recently moved into. Their new home had been a joint decision.

Leaning on the railing, Mira circled the outline of the cup she held and thought wistfully. Just a few months ago they had been so happy to start a new phase together. So much had changed since then.

Mira was up for a promotion at work and she had been looking forward to the long overdue recognition after several months' of hard work. The only catch was it came with a stint abroad. Mayank had been supportive of her decision to accept the opportunity while he stayed back.

Yet, Mira couldn't fully rejoice.

Mayank had not been aware of a third party angle to the whole arrangement and Mira felt anxious and guilty as she pondered over the recent developments. It was not going to be easy but Mayank had to know. Mira had imagined the scene in her head with all the possible permutations and it made her dizzy.

The wind hit her face in rapid succession. The cool air felt like a balm. The view from the top overlooked the vast city skyline and the green and brown dots below made a picturesque sight much in contrast to the harsh realities. She closed her eyes to savour the moments.

Yes, the larger picture always puts things in perspective. The two pink lines were not about to cage her. The wind was calling out to her to spread her wings.

She'd show the world that Motherhood and career could go hand-in-hand.

****

Written in response to the prompt, "The call of the wind" at the BarAThon.

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The wedding

Holding hands under the inky blue bejeweled canopy, they swore allegiance to each other. Bedecked in a brown shimmery, the translucent veil flowing away from her coy face, she looked up nervously at him. He replied with an imperceptible nod that spoke volumes of quiet reassurance.

Family and friends had gathered for the ceremony that would bind the two lovers for life. The atmosphere was electrifying and the air abuzz with each of them signaling to the other in a frenzy of activity. A huddle in here, a huddle there, some grouping for a light tete-a-tete, some to discuss an important ritual.

The younger lot broke away from the crowd, not entirely connecting with the significance of the gathering, their individual frames dotting the arena like lost stars.

At the precise moment that would signify the sacred union, the chief called for everyone's unwavering attention. The scattered swarm, even the ones that had strayed, converged obediently towards the altar. Each member of the audience held hands together, sending collective prayer heavenwards to bless the couple wedded into matrimony.

It was pure magic as the fireflies lit up, glowing like a hundred glorious suns, showering their wishes of hope and faith.

*****

Tried to portray a wedding scene in the life of fireflies, who are known to synchronize their signals.

A 200-word fiction written for the prompt "Suns and Lovers" at the BarAThon.

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All in a day's work

Adjusting her beige monochrome overalls, Kaya preened into the mirror. A slim body that was accentuated by a blue belt, she quite enjoyed the smirks of envy from her peers. There were talks that some important tenders came in solely because of her looks. But, she didn't care. She knew she had the stuff to make the cut.

"Oh, come on, will you? We're getting late" pressed Lakshmi who was more down-to-earth, hardworking and a stickler for punctuality. She had butterflies in her stomach. The duo was chosen to give a presentation to the head of the department. And, Lakshmi instinctively knew that only she held the cards to crack the deal.

They charted their way hurriedly through the cubicles that were arranged in neat rows. Heads bobbed in and out of them, urgent calls being placed at some desks, complaints being answered patiently at some, while a few wore an uncharacteristic look of calm as though to mock the ones who were running at a frenetic pace of the office hours.

"Hello, gorgeous girls, what's the rush?" a deep voice called out from behind.

Kaya almost bumped into Lakshmi who was walking a few steps ahead in a straight line. They spun around to face Kimi who was perched comfortably on the white desk. With a body that took almost the entire breadth of the surface she sat on, Kimi looked like a reigning queen that looked down upon the working class who did menial jobs for survival.

Casually swinging her stubby legs beneath the desk Kimi beckoned to Kaya and Lakshmi who were irked for being stopped thus. Now, they would be put to interrogation by the all-important person of the office who simply had to know everything that went about in the workplace.

Even as they regrouped themselves for a quick tete-a-tete, a burly moustached person barged in. Dubeyji was ordered by Ms. Raghav, the HOD, to bring the files for finance, design and the thickest of them all, the one marked as confidential, to her cabin.

He thanked his luck to have found all three at the co-ordinator's desk. He quickly grabbed Lakshmi, Kaya, and Kimi together in one swift sweep and marched away. After all, the Lord of the files couldn't be kept waiting.

****

Written for the prompt "Lord of the files" at the BarAThon.

Would you like to read the other posts in this series?

Outnumbered
A new haven
An irrational dream
The fault lies in our stares

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Outnumbered

She lay crouched in the dark musty nook. A lone streak of light shone in through the small hole in the makeshift wooden door to the tiny storeroom where she hid. The light diffused air particles in the line of her view as she strained to see outside.

The living room windows opened out on the first level just above the storeroom and she could hear their low voices.

She stifled a rising cough in the throat afraid to attract attention. The voices now transformed to chilling war cries.

Boom! Boom! Bang!

Shrapnel flew and came pelting on the tin roof of the storehouse followed by rapid footsteps. She shuddered. Fearing the worst, she flung open the door and dashed out.

A bile rose to her throat as she saw the damage caused and shook with vengeful rage.

Her favourite white bone china vase with indigo prints that once stood proudly near the window lay shattered in pieces all over the store roof and the ground below.

The two culprits jumped out from behind her displaying toothy grins and cried out in unison.

 "Tag, you're it, Mom!"

"Of course, I'm good at playing the bad cop!" she replied with a twinkle.

*****

Written for the prompt "War and pieces" at the BarAThon. 

Would you like to read the other posts in this series?

A new haven
An irrational dream
The fault lies in our stares

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A new haven

"Papa!" squealed the little one, jumping up and down, jabbing his little hand towards the aqua blue clear water.

The father, a few meters behind, smiled wearily. His steps were slow and heavy from plodding through the ankle length snow. He caught up breathlessly alongside his son who was now beside himself with all the excitement of discovering something extraordinarily beautiful.

Despite the fatigue of setting out on a week-long expedition with the 5-year-old, the magnificent sight of the snow-clad slopes all around encasing a glistening water body right in between made the adult smile.

The chill at dawn break was prominent and in spite of being covered in thick black overcoats, they two expeditors shivered slightly.

Releasing the child from a bear hug, the father looked deep into those twinkling pair that shone with pride, happiness, and fascination.

"Papa, this place looks great. Can we move in here?" the voice was thick with hope and expectation.

"I'm afraid not, Son!"

"Why not?"

"You see, there's danger beneath the beauty in here." the father's voice dropped to a whisper

"The water here means the ice is melting," he continued, his snowy white shaggy brows twitching solemnly.

"Why did the ice melt, Papa?" the little voice was now choked with fear.

"Men," the old flightless bird clenched his fist in anger. "And their selfish ways."

*****

Written for the prompt "Ice and Men" for BarAThon.

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An irrational dream

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Pazhaniraja Elangovan trudged his way up the small slope on his rusty bicycle, a hand-me-down from one of his rare kind-hearted clients. A package, a heavy brown carton lay tied to the backseat with several ropes. The chains creaked as he pedaled harder on the slope.

Sweat trickled down his shiny brown face. Tiny buds of fresh acne dotted his forehead and chin area that was also beginning to sprout hair.

"Pazhani, don't keep loitering out in the hot sun," his Amma often chided him gently.

Pazhaniraja would dismiss his Amma's plea with silence.

She had suffered enough bringing him up single-handedly but was still worldly naive. What did she know about managing a part-time job as a local delivery boy, a night school, and a full-time dream? thought Pazhani irritatedly but also controlled his tongue.

His dream. Yes, he dreamed of owning his own business someday and making lots of money. He had many ideas but needed time to work on them.

Today, he thought excitedly. Wednesdays was usually a little free on the work front. His friend had promised to introduce him to someone who was willing to listen to his idea.

Even as he got lost in his thoughts about this meeting, his phone rang. It was his boss who had also given him the phone to attend to the ad-hoc work related calls and messages.

What now!? Pazhani frowned.

"Pie!" barked the voice, "Have you delivered the carton? Now, get to 12th Main, Rajaji Street. Mr. Sarathy will give you a parcel to be delivered to a place in Maruthi Nagar, Hambalipur."

"And, hurry on, it's urgent." added the gruff voice, almost out of breath.

Pie was what his exacting manager called Pazhaniraja because he found the latter's name tongue-twisting and would end up murdering his birth name. In fact, it was Pazhaniraja who suggested the nickname. He was fascinated by pie diagrams. Of course, there was the homophone too. Though, he never understood it.

Pie mentally calculated the distance between the two places and the time taken to cover it on his cycle. It was going to take him all day and he'd have to miss the meeting and will perhaps be late to school too.

Breathing out rapidly, Pie swung his leg over the seat and stepped up on the pedal.

"I think I now understand Pi. Sometimes, even when there's no logic, one must go on!"

****

Late to link up to the second day of the BarAThon. Based the story on the prompt, "Life of Pie". 

Would you like to read the other posts in this series?

Outnumbered
A new haven
The fault lies in our stares

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Letting go

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Nayana pored over the latest muse, her mind quickly conjuring up several images of the final picture. She closed her eyes briefly to pick the one closest to her heart. It was like a jig-saw that needed several pieces to be infused as a whole.

The browser on her laptop had several tabs opened, each opening up a new dimension to her train of thoughts, throttling them to their destination through the route that Nayana simultaneously charted out in her creative mind.

Nayana cherry-picked her words and strung across a lovely tapestry of nuanced writing. She moved her critical eye over it, tying up loose threads, and adjusting the detailing. Satisfied, she took a deep breath and braced herself for the final stage. She had to let go.

As she let her labour of love travel through the digital space, Nayana imagined with anguish her label over it being peeled off, to be glued on with a different name. Sigh, the life of a ghost writer!

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Finding new haven #flashfiction #50words

It's time for the weekly challenge at Shailaja's blog once again. Shailaja of The Moving Quill and The diary of a doting mom fame, hosts an interesting weekly feature, 'From 15-50' flash fiction challenge', on her blog every month. Do visit her blog to read all about it and participate.

I had fun participating at the challenge last month and was also immensely pleased to know that my ambitious attempt to write fiction in 15 words was adjudged one of top 5 posts. I'm a little late in acknowledging the honour here, but, as they say, it's better late than never. :-)

Here's my response to this month's challenge. I've chosen to use 50 words this time, using all the prompts :-)

__________

Finding new haven

The girls lined up, identically dressed. Their peasant parents had just a single cloth to cover them with. They had hoped for a boy to alleviate their misery, but had three girls in a row.

“Blessing or curse is after all a matter of perspective”, said the Adoption center tagline.

Word count:50

____________

Word prompt: Perspective

Phrase Prompt: ‘Three in a row’

Picture Prompt:

______________

Linking this to the Fiction Challenge ‘From 15 to 50′ 

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Reunion #15words

ETA: This post was adjudged as one of the top 5 posts. Thank you, Shailaja! Click on the link to read other winning entries.

Shailaja, of The Moving Quill and The diary of a doting mom fame, is hosting an interesting 'From 15-50' flash fiction challenge on her blog. Do visit her blog to read all about it and participate.

Here's my ambitious and bold attempt to squeeze in a story in just 15 words, combining all the three prompts.

***

Breaking free from curious fingers, she flew into her lover’s fragrant arms at long last.

Word prompt: REUNION

Phrase Prompt: ‘At long last’

COPYRIGHT: Shailaja V/ The Moving Quill

Word count:15

_______

Linking this to the Fiction Challenge ‘From 15 to 50′

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