Tame the wild

“They need to be tamed,” remarked the husband exasperatedly as I struggled yet again to rein in my wayward creative juices.

Epiphany struck even as I heard him cry triumphantly,

"There! Found you!"

Followed by chastened meows from under a thick blanket.

Image credit: pixaby.com

Word count: 42
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Written for 


An Omen

The night was cool and damp. She walked on easily, as though her feet never touched the ground. Her eyes were on the road ahead, but she was not sure where she was heading. A growing, gnawing sense of restlessness was enveloping around her, engulfing her in their grey fumes. And, then, she saw someone ahead. She wanted to call out, but her mouth seemed to be filled with cotton balls. Her voice seemed to have deserted her. She struggled to hasten her pace, but the sudden wind seemed to push her behind. The apparition ahead stopped suddenly and turned to face her. The sight both overwhelmed and startled her.

A loud, echoing sound boomed, shaking the ground on which she stood. The next moment, she found herself on the bed, drenched in her sweat. The alarm beside her flashed mercilessly, reminding her of reality. It was all a dream. Only, it seemed very real. The emotions she had felt seemed raw and fresh. What did it all mean? Where was she going? Who was that person? Did he mean harm or was he a spiritual guru?

To an outsider, she led an enviable life: a beautiful home, well-cared for children, a successful husband, exotic holidays and the likes. She seemed happy, but then, was she indeed? Of late, she was consumed by deeper thoughts. Questions about her true calling and meaning to life itself manifested themselves in various forms. But, there was nothing about her demeanour that revealed what she felt from within. She carried out her tasks as usual, smiling at all, cracking jokes, even. Only she could sense the silence, the vacuum within her heart that spoke when the world outside fell silent.

But, now, this dream was like a wake-up call. Was it an omen?

Image credit: Pixaby.com

Serendipity

The fierce rain lashed against the glass pane, leaving back angry drops to slide slowly away into nothingness. The gusty wind threatened to break down the frames that ensconced the glass leaving it vulnerable.

The outside temperament matched her internal turmoil. She was incarcerated by her own thoughts that pinned her to a single place, mentally. Life was opening up to her in a way she had never imagined. But, the past clung to her; rather she had clasped her fingers tightly over a handful of painful memories that were slipping through the gaps, staining her present.

She was afraid; of not being worthy of what life was offering her; of exposing her vulnerable side to the universe. What if she failed? What if she couldn’t meet the expectations that some people had of her; or her own expectations?

Even as she battled with her thoughts, the rains magically stopped. The sun peaked ever so slightly from behind the dark clouds and a magnificent rainbow emerged. Though not an unusual sight where she lived, this took her breath twice over since a faint second one appeared over the stronger one almost as a reassuring sign of good times ahead.
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"Fear is False Experiences Appearing Real." ~ Unknown 


https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/
 Word count: 200
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 200 word fiction written for the photo prompt at the Sunday Photo Fictioneers

Hope never sets

The day held on to the sun
wishing for light to dwell a bit longer
The dull crimson, but, pulled away,
to a hue of blue; much deeper

A shadow of despair looked within
to bury its weariness; the heart felt empty
The day bid a tearful goodbye,
asking for grace from the Almighty

Elsewhere, a sunflower, mellow
perked up bright at the sun's warm kiss
It was her turn to finally glow;
A happy adieu to darkness

Life's wheel of light and dark
spins at its pace, but, with a purpose
Your time shall come,
Pray, keep alive the dying spark!






Ghar ke side-effects



Statutory warning: The title and the following post can remind you of the plots of many Bollywood movies, but I can assure you that it is purely non-fictional and un-inspired from reel life.

It's been a long four years of having the most coveted milestone of "owning a house" under our belts. Now, if you belong to the salaried class who is constantly trying to climb up the slippery wall of affluence, only to see the wall dismally getting higher and more slippery and your legs and hands weary of climbing, not because you cannot but because you're worn down with the weight of EMIs, loans and soaring expenses, you'll understand what a big deal this is. If you do not belong to this category, I suggest you move on because what's coming next might make you laugh or cry, depending upon how you view this class:-p

The first year of the arduous house hunt involved turning down projects because they were either so ridiculously priced that you wanted to laugh hysterically at the marketing sales guy who sold a mere 1000 sqft flat for "just" 1 crore (not all inclusive), or they were located in the farthest most crevices of the city and just the mere thought of crawling out of the hole and getting to the nearest school, mall or office in the (in)famous Bangalore traffic could make you tired and hungry! So, when at the end of it, when we found a property that didn't burn down our pockets and was relatively in a good location, we carried smug looks around and pitied people who missed the (our) bus.

The second year flew by fast and we didn't realize until much later that our beloved little home hadn't really metamorphosed into that beautiful haven we had been promised over pre-launch talks and welcome drinks. It was just struggling to gain some shape after the cocoon of fraudulent marketing broke. Now, of course, I can choose to think of it as a blessing in disguise because in the process of extracting work from the workers who had brick walls in place of brains, I soon learned the ropes of plumbing, masonry and other sundry construction work. Anybody looking to build their house can please contact me.

Finally, we decided, like many of our neighbours, that we move lock, stock and barrel to our abode which was, albeit a little under-finished, quite literally an effort of our sweat and blood. We began to settle in as a community bonding over the common misery of being cheated. Oh, the human mind! There's so much solace in knowing that you are not the only fool and you have company in suffering.

We prided us on our multi-tasking skills by getting on with our normal life ( as normal as life could get with leaking pipes, broken tiles and ignorant handymen) and taking the builder to task to finish the pending work using the Chanakya neeti of saam daam danda bhed. If only, Chanakya would've been alive today, he could've seen how even his neeti proved ineffective on unscrupulous goons of today who made the Aam junta get entangled in the maze of timelines. Many a times, I did feel like rolling my eyes and bellowing at the goons like our Sunny paji, "how dare you keep giving us tareekh pe tareekh?!" But, I refrained because, sadly, I lacked a dhai kilo ka haath.

Even this was becoming a new normal way of living and it seemed even adventurous to many. I swear none of us said, "yeh dil maange more" but the universe misheard us and gave us more strife. This time with additional villains in the guise of neighbouring landowners. They seem to be influenced by our country's notorious neighbour and claimed a share in our property. We might soon take training in guerrilla warfare. Life is certainly happening here and as things stand we might soon go down in the annals of history for fighting at our LOC a la mini India-Pak border war.

"Har Ghar kuch kehta hai" goes the Asian Paints Ad. In this case, I'd like to add "har ghar khareedne wala bahut kuch kehta hai". If any of you is planning on taking a movie but is at a loss for ideas, please feel free to get "inspired". You could even feature hapless residents like us during the credit rolls singing, "oh paape, ghar khareedke pachtaya." 

A for Anonymously Yours #AtoZChallenge #guestpost

Come April, many bloggers worldwide participate in the AtoZChallenge. (click on the link to know more about it). Given my sporadic bursts of writing energy and motivation, I thought it prudent to give such challenges a miss. However, Blog-A-Rhythm, a blogging community started by a blogger friend and of which I'm a member, was participating in this challenge as a group which meant that we could participate in this challenge as guest bloggers choosing to write on just one or a couple of letters in the Alphabet. This was like having the cake and eating it too. So, I grabbed the a letter for myself too. Turned out that it was the first letter of the Alphabet, which meant I was to debut as the first blogger for B-A-R. Not bad, I'd say for someone who hasn't been writing very regularly, ain't it so? The bonus was that I already had a topic in mind.

So, now, without further ado, I present you my first post for the #AtoZChallenge at B-A-R (short for Blog-A-Rhythm:-)):

https://blogarhythmblog.wordpress.com/2015/04/01/atozchallenge-anonymously-yours-by-itsumac/

Also, very kicked about the lovely responses I got. Thanks a lot, readers, for making my debut special :-) Who knows, if I remain motivated, I might do a full-fledged challenge next year ;-)


Bite sized philosophy!

Ketaki looked down at the dress chosen for the show. It looked elegant and new except for the slight yellowish stain at a corner. She pursed her lips at the thought of not having a new dress. It was always the hand-me-downs from her much older sister, Revathi. 

Revathi was the cynosure of all eyes. She was also dominating and confident unlike her- a puny and shy girl, thought Ketaki bitterly. Fighting all odds, perhaps, came to Ketaki naturally. Born prematurely at 7 months, the doctors had given Ketaki only 3 months to survive.

But she survived beyond that. She survived her birth, the frequent and unfair comparison with her sister and the skewed affection from people. She was not just a survivor but a brave fighter too. She’d show them all someday. For now, she would nibble at what was being offered to her. Life was tough at the circus.

Picture prompt for BAR

Word Count: 151

Linking the post to the Wordy Wednesday at the B-A-R.

To read more about the prompt and link up your posts, click here