Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Poem: Ink and Muse


Moments of solitude, A tinge of blue and strain,
The festive Winter night was lethargic and Cold as ever
Never expected warmth, No, Not until I met you again
Over the labyrinth of Networks, cozily, holding my shiver.
What dawned, seemed to be a breezy, transcribed raillery
transcending into an abstract, of our synonymous musings. 
On my naked canvas, it was anything but just Not tomfoolery,
We scrawled, of realms, of films, of likings and of feelings. 
With my arid, thirsty Quill, and your awe-inspiring, moist ink 
I breath, to dream, to scribble and to sustain through my lyrical notions 
And Whilst you are my Muse, my August stars would never shrink
As you’d forge them to Aurum, with your Alchemy and your potions. 

I embraced two novel Cronies, as the midnight kissed the clock
It was the beginning of a New Year, of another virgin epoch.

-Ashish


Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Poem: Santa was Gone



Innocent minds we had, 
anticipating His thespian arrival.
Seated in flocks, we waited,   
listening to the verses of Bible. 

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” He appeared, 
while jingle bells tolled the milieu. 
We all had our shares of euphoria 
before He bid his final adieu.

Every year, our faith, in Him, faded
as our psyche questioned the logic.
We knew there was no Santa, 
or a flying sleigh or any real Magic. 

An impostor with fake white beard, 
Masquerading, Red attire he would don.
Once we discovered the truth, 
Forever, our Santa was Gone.

We forgot, while trying to capture bliss, 
in building a world, that is Materialistic; 
Our grown-up minds failed to learn,
that goodwill, joy were actually, only symbolic. 

Unadulterated minds we had, 
when we sang along the Carol song.
We believed there is a Santa, 
and now I realize we were not wrong.



Merry Christmas to all the Readers and Fellow-Bloggers.

 -Ashish



Wednesday, December 18, 2013

A Better Companion



“I haven’t seen him so happy in years”, I overheard my father saying this to my mother. 
And, he wasn’t wrong. It was the best birthday gift I had ever got; a brand new Tablet. Nobody had to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce my state of mind. It was crystal like clear that I was over ecstatic. A few times, I had to force my jaw muscles to control my involuntary ear-to-ear grin.

It was my new best buddy. Pets were never allowed in our house. Neither did I have any siblings. Being a single child was always quite boring. But, this new friend of mine had brought colors into my life. For hours, I wouldn’t leave the Tablet alone. No, I think it was the opposite. There were so many things to keep me occupied. My all time favorite books, the kind of music I like and the addictive games were all at my fingertips. Nobody knew me better than my personalized Tablet. It helped me in project works and assignments too. It was a perfect balance to my work and play. And the best part was that it absorbed all my musings and my diary scribbling. 
Was I bored, anymore? 
No! Who had time for that?


It walked with me till the bedtime. Even though, all the lights were turned off in the night, the Tablet kept me awake till late. And then, I heard my mother protesting me to shut it down and sleep. It was hard to follow her orders though.

One day, I decided to take my Tablet on a morning walk with me to a nearby botanical garden. I found a lone corner near a beautiful pond. Wiped the dust off the ground and sat there cross legged with my Tablet and plugged in my headphones. I clicked a few pictures of the colorful butterflies hovering near me, pushing me to write down an ode. It couldn’t have been a better ambience. In all my good spirits, I scribbled the verse. “Nobody can multitask like you, my friend”, I said and took a satisfactory sigh on finishing my work and got up.

I should have been careful about the winter morning and the moist grass. One wrong step and I lost the grip. It tossed up and the waters looked ready to swallow it with zero signs of remorse. And before my eyes, there was a splash of water in the pond and my friend comfortably drowned into it. I felt sick. Closing my eyes tight, I wished that the mishap never took place. I opened back my eyes, but the confirmation made it even worse.   “What am I going to say to my parents?”  I was shivering, of cold or the fright I was not sure.  “I am so dead”, I was ashamed of myself. Far away, I could listen to a pleasant, yet annoying sound. I concentrated on that.

It was my Tablet waking me up from the nightmare. It was right there beside my pillow, where I had left it last night. I took a deep breath, holding my Lenovo Yoga Tablet and realizing what I possess, I laughed to myself, “That was another unrealistic nightmare; I have a better way to never lose your grip, my friend.”



Written for "Better Way" Contest
Thanks to Lenovo Yoga Tablet 
and IndiBlogger for this Idea. 


Friday, November 22, 2013

The Trring Trring (R)evolution



Hello Reader

“3-4-1-7”, I was exuberant while uttering those digits repeatedly until they were carved in my mind forever. I was only a 5-year-old when we said “Hello” to our first landline telephone. And 3417 was our first telephone number; I would tell it all the guests who visited our house. It came into life just after the telephone operator made the first test call and it rang “Trring! Trring!” It was like a child’s first cry.

It brought a sort of revolution into our lives. We no more had to go to the nearby grocery shop to talk to our far-away-yet-close-relatives or wait at an STD booth for our turn. I was enjoying our new device the most. I would call my father’s workplace every day after coming back from the school, asking “Can I speak to Mr. Rao, please?” while playing with the spiral cord and order him to bring for me Samosas or other junk food for the evening.

Also, my mother would be well-prepared before any relatives visited our house as they started informing about their visits which would otherwise be, most of the time, a surprise. Kept at one corner, the telephone was an asset to have those days. And with it, a telephone directory and a ball pen, which was in any case, not to be misplaced, kept just next to it. All the important numbers were alphabetically noted in it.

One day, after returning from my school, I found another revolution was being unboxed at my house. It was a new white colored telephone device which they called “cordless”. I was excited again to know what new features has this one got. “You can carry this to any room and talk” they said. I was like “are you kidding me?” and ran to the terrace with the “cordless” device to witness the magic. And it was working.

Not many years passed and I was learning what a SIM card is. This new device was also cordless and also, smaller in size and I was told that it can be taken anywhere you want to take it all over the country. I peeked into my father’s first mobile phone. “NO SIM CARD INSERTED” it said. Then a small ‘chip’ was cut out of the pack and inserted into the phone. It was as if a heart has been transplanted into a heartless body. The mobile phone woke up that very moment.

“Hi hru?”
“f9 thnk u. hru?”
Everybody was speaking in a new lingo called SMS. 

But people were still not satisfied with all this. They wanted more add-ons. 
To keep up with the technology, we went to buy another new phone.

My father asked the shop-keeper to show the best phone.
“Sir, this has Camera, Video recording, Internet, Music player and Bluetooth.” The shop-keeper boasted.
“All that is good but can we make phone calls?” was my father’s question.

The world was quickly moving to the smartphone era and now, we see every other person holding a touch-screen phone with a flip cover. While waiting at an airport terminal, I overheard two guys conversing. They were talking about the smart phones they possess. “Hey, do you have this app?” one said. “Oh yes, but I think that app is better” the other one was saying. 
“How many mega pixels is your phone’s camera?” was his next question.



Then I looked around, I saw a family sitting together with their individual phones in their hands. Necks tilted down, eyes fixed to the screen. There were many more people in the same position like statues. Some were playing games and making new high scores in temple run, some were typing so fast that I could almost empathize with the screen and others were practically wired with it via earphones. They were all committed to their phones and made no eye contact with another human, lost in their own personalized world protected with passwords, where nobody is allowed to enter.


And then I looked back in time, where each phone call had a value. There was much more to talk about. And, the relations were real. The friends were countable. More importantly, ‘people’ had time for other ‘people’ even though there were not so many apps or smartphones or internet, yet people kept in touch.  

And after all this advancement, that lustre is lost. The price of the phones and the digits of the telephone number have increased in an inverse proportion to the human value. Now, the ‘people’ have become busy. They no more find time. 
Their ‘Hello-s’ have become ‘Hi-s’ and our cordless has become heartless.

 - Ashish

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Fiction 55: Hide and Seek



Horns were honking. The traffic was stagnant.
Holding uniform flags, the swarm was clamant.
My camera’s lenses captured a kohl-eyed beauty.
Our eyes couldn’t stop playing hide and seek.
Then, her obscure gesture invited a loud eruption.
She won. She was lost forever in that unpleasant reek.
The romantic season changed. It was then political. 

The Dawn of Ayurveda



My mother woke me up at four in the morning and took me to the terrace. I have a vague memory of it as I was then a little toddler. But, I do have partial memory of that early morning and the taste of the Kheer that my mother had fed to me. It was unlike the usual Kheer.

As a child, I had asthma and I, many a times, had a tough time at nights, taking long breaths, trying to fill up my lungs with air, opening my mouth. And I am sure, this would have been even harder for my parents to watch me suffer like that and so, they tried every kind of treatments and therapies to cure me. I am not sure, which one worked for me.

The Kheer was one of them. My father had brought some ‘magical’ powder (which, I later learnt, was Ayurvedic). And this ‘magical’ powder was fed to me, mixed with the Kheer. The night before that morning was a Sharad Poornima (full moon night). It is said that on this day as moon and the earth are very close to each other, the moon rays have certain healing properties of nourishing the body and the soul.

So, following this property, my mother kept a bowl of boiled rice in milk, covering it with a translucent cotton cloth, in full view of the moonlight for the night long.



According to the Ayurveda, it is also said that it proves beneficial in pacifying the mind, and keeping the body healthy throughout the year. The mind attains peace through it and it cures the diseases caused by aggravated pitta (Pitta governs all heat, metabolism and transformation in the mind and body). So, on this night, you might just find a cure to all your illnesses.



The following nights, I was pretty relieved and my lungs were happy. I am again, not sure whether it was the ‘magical’ powder and blessings of the moon or my parent’s love and care, which worked for me.

Apart from the healing power, Ayurveda, since ages has proved to be a powerful tool in the healthy growth of children. Long before the terms, Allopathy and Homeopathy were even coined, these ideas were widely used.


I remember when I used to very closely observe how my grandma gave my younger cousin Oil massage and singing lullabies or making the baby laugh doing some childish acts and she’d tell me how I, myself loved it when I was a kid. And then I held up the ‘Dabur Lal Tail’ oil bottle and I could see my cousin was as happy as the child on the bottle.



Seeing my curiosity to know about it, my granny explained to me that during the initial ages, various organs of the body are not well developed. There is tenderness and the baby can’t tolerate stress. And therefore, external oil massage of the whole body is very important for weight gain. Massaging with appropriate oil increases blood circulation and muscle growth. This is a unique method prescribed by Ayurveda which is very effective.

A little knowledge about Ayurveda is always helpful, even during the small ailments we face in day to day life. Here are a few quick tips, which my Grandma, if nobody else, would be the first to suggest.

For tooth aches, chewing on a clove slowly, letting the juice penetrate the affected area really helps. Clove has been used since ancient times. It has healing elements which soothes the inflamed nerves.


For quick relief from cough and cold, taking a little ginger and basil juice with honey really pacifies the throat.

And for muscular pains, make a dressing of heated mustard oil and turmeric with a pinch of salt. Applying this to the aching or injured area and leaving it for about two hours, is a simple home-made remedy. Turmeric is a natural anti-inflammatory and antiseptic. Mustard oil, with its warming nature, improves circulation and is a natural anti-bacterial agent.


I hope that was helpful.

***



Thank you IndiBlogger,

And Dabur Lal Tail for this contest. 


Ashish

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

The Window



The old man’s wristwatch apprised him to get up. It was the most anticipated time of his day, every day. Spurning the early cold winter morning, he got up from his iron cot and briskly wrapped himself in a thin woolen rug. He was eager to know what he was going to unveil, see and hear. He walked, the fastest he could with a walking stick in his left hand bolstering him. The corridor was empty, rest of the people were still snoring. He crossed the corridor slyly, trying not to make any sound to reach the common hallway. It was silent and empty, just as he wanted it to be. Reaching the telephone, placed near the window, he picked up the receiver and dialed the number. It rang thrice before it was picked up at the other end.

“Hello. Is it you?”

“Yes, It’s me”
the old man replied.

She, on hearing his voice on the other end, was elated. “You will never miss calling me, won’t you?”

“Never” the old man said sanguinely.

She was glad to hear that. Clearing her throat, the woman asked, “So - what do see, today?”

***

Malhar’s phone rang beside his bed. Why is a good sleep so unaffordable for me? He thought and lazily picked up the call.

“Sir, Geko here. Sorry to disturb you but there’s a woman at the gate, says she wanted to meet you…”

“Ah yes, please let her in. I’ll be there in a moment”

Malhar jumped from the bed. He was going to meet her after a long time. Looking himself at the mirror, he could tell he was excited. He quickly sprinted to meet her. His first love was just behind the door. He opened it. He was speechless for a few seconds and then he recoiled himself.

“Welcome Alimah, good to see you, again, after such a long time.”

“Thank you. Same here, Malhar”

The excitement was mutual. The affection was mutual.

“Let’s have a cup of coffee?” Malhar asked.

“Absolutely” she smiled. Her eyes were scintillating.

***
The old man looked out of the window and narrated “The outsides look as beautiful as always, thick trees till the farthest you could look, open blue sky and I can hear the morning birds chirping musically and there are butterflies coloring the scene. Everything looks peaceful except this young girl, she is running. Oh! She looks so much like you. And she’s running behind a falling kite. Off she goes into the woods…”

“That sounds beautiful. Can you still see her?”

“Well, I can see the kite, stuck on a tree. And the girl is trying to grab it.”

“Ah! I hope she gets what she loves”

“I think she might, because, now I see a young, handsome guy trying to help her. The brave chap has climbed up the tree. The girl looks completely impressed”

“I am sure, she is” the woman smiled.

***

“Nice coffee.”
Alimah took a sip.

“It’s regular, actually. I suppose, it’s the company.” Malhar gulped, surprised by his own instant reply.

“Ahem! So, Malhar, when did you start this service? Who inspired you?”

“I always wanted to do something good for the society, apart from my routine work. So, I thought this would be a good cause to invest the money my father had left to me.” Malhar explained.

“I really appreciate what you are doing, Malhar. Why don’t you show me around?”

“Yes, I’ll do that and also, introduce you to all the members. But, before that, let me take to the main hall. I want you to see someone very special here and the reason why I wanted to meet you. Follow me”

“I am excited. Let’s go.”

Malhar walked her into hall and whispered, pointing near the window. “There he is, on the phone call, wait here.”

***

“And, what do you see?”
The old man asked, curiously.

“The street looks peaceful as well. There are a lot lesser vehicles today. A lot lesser morning people rushing to their work…”

The old man chuckled. “Of course, who would go to work on a Sunday?”

The sudden realization made the woman tap her forehead. “Oh! Stupid me, How bad my memory has become at keeping track of days…”

“Curse your memory later and tell me something interesting”

“Okay. Let me see. Did I tell you about the new corner tea stall? I heard the ginger tea is really appetizing. The stall is always full of people. And, a lovely couple just walked down there, holding hands, sipping their morning tea, enjoying the ecstasy, said to be hidden in these small experiences. They look amazing together.”

“I wish, I could –“, the old man paused.

“You wish – what?”

“I must hang up the phone now. I guess people are waking up, here. I will call you tomorrow, same time.”
“I will be waiting. Take care”

The phone call was cut. The old man slyly walked back to his room.

***
“Who is that man? Who was he talking to?” Alimah asked.

“I called you here, at this odd time, because, this is what I wanted to show you”

“Years ago, this man and the woman on the other side were in love. But, back then, people were more orthodox. She was married before the old man could even ask for it. And, till today, he regrets what he has missed all these years. After a long treasure hunt, he found her number, only to find out that she now lives with her children and probably serves them. He was also alone all his life, so he joined our old age home.

He calls her every morning and they narrate to each other beautifully crafted stories, fiction of course, which they pretend as if is happing just outside their windows, trying to make each other happy.”

Alimah’s eyes were watery. “Such an Immortal love, just like I wish to have, I don’t know what to say”

“Say ‘yes’”. Malhar prompted.

“Yes to what?” Alimah rubbed her eyes.

“To my proposal. Will you be my Immortal Love?
Malhar was on his knees.

“Yes!” Alimah jumped and passionately embraced him and whispered in his ears, “Let’s celebrate this at my favorite spot.”

“And, what is that?”

“It’s a small tea stall. They serve amazing ginger tea.” Alimah replied.

***
 - Ashish

Written for
A Platinum day of Love contest

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Potholes of Soormapur


Citizens of Soormapur were resilient to the core. They would be satisfied and would get used to anything given to them. Anything. They were very adjustable. In fact, they were not purely Homo sapiens. They were Amphi sapiens. If Homo sapiens have problem with even the puny issues, which bothers them a little, they fight till it is changed. Amphi sapiens are special breeds. They are humans with characteristics like that of amphibians. Yes, they merely look like humans beings. They survive in any hell of a condition given to them. Like amphibians, they sustain living in both water and on earth.

Two weeks of continuous monsoon showers overfilled the blocked drains with joyous waters. They were now overflowing everywhere. And a large amount of that water intruded Mr. Filterwala’s low-lying house one night. Next morning he stepped out of his bed and placed his feet into his own private-bedroom-pool. Furiously, he burst out of his house and straightaway walked to the neighbor shopkeeper, Mr. Lazyani, whom he accused for blocking their common drainage by throwing his shop’s waste. But, Mr. Lazyani talked and understood only one language: Money. Mr. Filterwala and his family had a hard time filtering out all the water whole day.

On the other side, there were a few people who were enjoying this situation. Mrs. Greedita, along with her children was pestering her husband to buy the new low-budget car. Now, they had their own new boat.

Soon people started singing Anti-Megh-Malhar raagas to ward off the rains. And the monsoon finally retarded. The rains not only revealed the real face of the city’s sewerage system but also washed away the low-quality roads leaving behind more potholes.

“We want a new, better sewerage system”, a rare intelligent journalist published in a popular local newspaper. The article became viral and the citizens repeated this after him “We want a new, better sewerage system.”

“Sir, what will you do now? The people of Soormapur have suddenly become demanding”, the Big minister’s P.A. asked, curiously.

“I will give them want they want”, the Big minister said confidently.

The P.A. was surprised. “Are you on drugs, sir?”

“Not today. Do you not know? Elections are near and Soormapur is where votes rain for us.”

“Oh! Good gracious! And I thought your heart melted. Silly me.”

“Talk less and fix a meeting with the Fraudscam Constructions ASAP!”

The meeting took place successfully. The deal was sealed. Fraudscam Constructions were given the project to build the new sewerage system. After handling over the work to the company, the Big minister departed for a foreign trip to Singapore.

“Tell us something about your foreign trip, sir” the rare intelligent journalist asked.

“It’s basically a study tour. To study about their culture and ways and how we can amend our lifestyle. Our party wants to benefit our people.”

“Sir, what is the budget of the sewerage project?”

“Its 30 millions. More or less”

“And sir, what is the budget of your foreign trip”

“No comments” the Big minister ignored and flew.

Meanwhile, the construction work began. Or rather it was destruction. The chief engineer ordered “LET THE DIGGING BEGIN!”
The enthusiastic bulldozers and laborers started the drilling.

Within two days all the important roads of the city were dug and then there was a long pause.

A failed satellite landed on the roads of Soormapur and started sending images of the craters filled with water to the world famous space center JHASA. The scientists were happy as they had finally found ‘life’ in the outer space.

“When will you resume the work?” the rare intelligent journalist asked.

“We are waiting for the Big minister to return from his foreign trip and fund for the rest expenditures” the chief engineer of Fraudscam constructions explained.

“How much budget do you expect will be spent in this project?”

“60 million. More or less.” The chief engineer said confidently.

In another two weeks the minister returned. His P.A. welcomed him.

“How is the election campaigning going?” the Big minister asked.

“Absolutely fantastic, sir. Your sewerage system plan worked. Now people just need a promising new speech. I have already prepared one for you, sir.” He handed the speech to the Big minister.

“Hmm. I feel I have read this somewhere.”

“You are genius, sir. What a memory! It’s actually the same speech you read last year. Just that instead of ‘Happy Diwali citizens’ its ‘Merry Christmas citizens’.”

The stage was set for campaigning and the microphone was tested. “1… 2… 4… Check…1... 2… 4… check”. The front rows of the audience were booked for the sycophants, jobless college leaders and impecunious crowd who were promised free liquor. As the Big minister entered, he was welcomed with their colored cheering. “Hail the Big minister”, “Long Live the Big minister”.

He delivered a promising speech, telling people about the 100 millions that has been sanctioned for the development of the city and that the work is in fast progress. After his promising speech, he felt more confident that the people of Soormapur were now in his fist.

“Sir, digging of the roads is causing a lot of problems for the citizens. When will the work be finished? The people of Soormapur want to know,” the rare intelligent journalist enquired.

“You see, how busy I am with my campaigning as well. Multitasking is not easy. The work is in progress.”

He returned home and slept peacefully. He dreamed about swimming in a pool of currency that he would earn as per his next five-year plan.

Next morning was a nightmare for him. There was a group of people in front of his palace. They looked agitated and were in no mood to calm down.
“JUSTICE FOR MANGONATH”
“WE WANT SMART ROADS”
Fanatic crowd cried out.

“What is all this nonsense?” the Big minister asked his P.A.

“Sir, Last night a common man, Mr. Mangonath had an accident and he died on spot. They are protesting against the bad condition of roads.”

“What are you doing? Go get it stopped right now. All this is not good for our party’s reputation.”

“Yes, sir. I have already called the police to handle it. They will use tear gas and onions to ward the people off.”
Meanwhile, a social activist Ms. Ravenoushri declared a hunger strike and soon became a phenomenon on every news channel. The media people flocked around her house.

“I would not eat a grain of rice or drink a drop of water, until our demands are fulfilled.” She declared on the national television.

Watching this live on television a Bigger minister planned his next step. “I finally have a ground.” He said to his P.A. “Look at those mics and cameras. That’s where we’ll get publicity.”

Without wasting a second, he reached the activist’s house. With folded hands, he sat beside her and entered the camera’s frame.

“In my presence, no one shall be hungry. I can’t see this sacrifice. I will join her.”
Soon the headlines of every news channel changed.

“Sir, but what about the pizza we had ordered.” His P.A. whispered.

“Bring it to the bathroom, later.” He ordered.

People of Soormapur were soon diverted towards the new Bigger minister. He looked more promising and cultured when he recited Sanskrit Shlokas on the national TV.
He became a hero when he, with his own hands, broke the social activist’s hunger strike. Slowly the Bigger minister started his campaign too.

“I would have never used the Palm brand’s materials for construction. Before putting money into something, they should research about it first. I support the strong and powerful Lotus brand. Unlike the Big minister, I would have never let this happen to our Soormapur.”

People started loving their new leader. He was highly followed on the micro-blogging site Quitter by the young generation. The 55-year-old, young and dynamic leader was the new youth icon.

Summer had begun. The results were clear before the Election Day. The Bigger minister took over the Big minister’s chair. To gain people’s confidence, he started the construction of roads. Using the Lotus brand materials, they built thick concrete roads. Mr. Filterwala’s low-lying house was now even lower-lying.

“Sir, the new roads have covered all the holes that were dug for the sewerage system. Now how will the people tackle the Monsoons?” the rare intelligent journalist asked the Bigger minister.

“I have already sanctioned 200 million, more or less, for that. People will have no difficulties.”

Monsoon struck again.
Mr. Filterwala’s bedroom was pool again.
Mr. Lazyani chuckled.
Boats floated in Mrs. Greedita’s backyard.
Ms. Ravenoushri declared another hunger strike.
Only Mr. Mangonath could rest in peace.

***
Written under 'The Nine Flavors'
Flavor: Laughter (Hasya Rasa)

-Ashish


Monday, October 7, 2013

Peace.



I sail, in pursuit of an obscure, overshadowed treasure,
over the colossal ocean, down the reticent ripples.
Into the faraway, remote panoramic blues
I immobilize and latch my perception,
And I ultimately discover it.
In the secluded depths,
I realize myself.
I procure,
Peace.

***

Written under 'The Nine Flavors'
Flavor: Peace (Shanta Rasa)
Your Entries are Welcomed:












-Ashish

Sunday, October 6, 2013

No free cycles



The free cycles were meant only for the minority. Shiksha’s name was not the list, but her friend’s name was. The criteria went over her head. She didn’t understand what minority is. She didn’t know why she was not given a free cycle while many of the other students, who already had a cycle, were given a second one. But she knew that this new scheme will bring no change in her life. She knew that she was a poor man’s daughter. She knew that every day, her destitution will compel her to walk miles from her home to school and back, bare foot. She knew that she has to get educated and work to help her family buy a better life.

***
He was waiting in the queue, eagerly for his turn, sweating head to toe. He had been doing double shifts. The boss finally handed him his daily wages. He walked back home happily. He took out the polythene bag, which he had safely hidden. He untied the bag and stocked half of the money he had earned into it and counted the amount. But he knew that it was not enough yet. He knew that he will have to labour for many more double shifts. He knew that his daughter will have to walk miles, barefoot, for some more days until he buys her a new cycle.

***
Shiksha’s friend saw her walking back home. “Wait!” she called. “Your name is on the list, you get a cycle too! Smile, now.” she assured. The name was not really on the list. She didn’t really know whether by lying, she was doing right or wrong. But she knew that if she offered Shiksha, her new cycle, she would never take it. She knew that by telling one lie, Shiksha would no more have to walk miles, barefoot. She knew that Shiksha deserved it more.


***


Written Under 'The Nine Flavors'
Flavor: Pity/Compassion (Karunya Rasa)


Your Entries are Welcomed:








-Ashish


Top post on IndiBlogger.in, the community of Indian Bloggers

Friday, October 4, 2013

Sacrifice



Relinquishing my child’s chuckles and my bride’s tender serenity
I pledged to imperishably fortify your esteemed dignity
I stood opaque before their pernicious intents
And amalgamated my chest with bullets
But my unbreakable oath prevails
Mother, accept my devotion
Of this Unalloyed
Unbiased, Undying
Sacrifice

***

Written for 'The Nine Flavors'
Flavor: Heroic, Bravery (Veer Rasa)


Your Entries are welcomed:

Top post on IndiBlogger.in, the community of Indian Bloggers