Passion

I maybe a little late for this week’s scribble, but the prompt this week is too tempting to bypass. Smorgasbord; an assortment of prompts. We didn’t have to go far, cos this week we’re allowed to choose one of the 100 prompts that SS has inspired us with in the past two years.

I picked Passion! There’s a world of things one can talk about on passion, no? What I might write about is not so much passion. I would much rather call them simple pleasures. A few things I know I would definitely want to do before I die. And passionately so! :)

So here it is.

1. I want to adopt a baby girl.

2. I want to be able to wear bright stripped knee-highs, a summer dress with satin sashes, bright coloured keds and dress up like an English girl (hopefully before time starts to draw lines on the ‘girl’s’ face or before she loses her guileless smile). I’d like to have a British accent as well for a day or two. You know, talk the Queen’s English?!? I know I’ll look stupid but what the heck; let’s just say… it’s MY passion.

3. I want to visit Paris! Oh, Egypt perhaps. Or, Rome. From what I’ve read, I think it’s the most enchanting place on earth. And then Spain, I’m already in love with the castles and churches of Spain and I haven’t even looked at one. Only what I’ve read about. And seen on Discovery. But if I do Paris, I will definitely visit The Louvre. In fact, I want to do a lot of traveling. Learn a lot about the different cultures and blend all the good from them to live a good one myself.

4. And if I can’t travel, so what? I can still read. Aah, the places books can take you!!!

5. When I retire (did I mention I’m retiring at 30?) I want to go to the country and live near the temple by the temple tank. I already know which temple. Even if not at 30, that's definitely the place I'll find myself eventually.

6. I want to be a Godmother for someone.

7. I want to knit a sweater on my own and gift it to someone special. I know this can’t happen ‘cos I’m terrible at crafts. But just the thought of giving someone special a sweater knitted by me, is super exciting. :)

8. I want to be able to appreciate Irving Wallace and Mills & Boon alike. In the same breath. And throughout my lifetime. Not feel guilty about any part of it during any part of my life. What’s a little mushy romance when you desperately want it. And a little suspense when you need to feel the thrill of the adventure.

9. I want to sing softly with a loved one on a beach and never worry about a note or two going off key. Maybe, we’ll have something to laugh about, years later. **smiles**

So well those are my passions. There's more smorgasbord here!

Einstein has got to be kidding!

Whoever said “miracles don’t happen” has got to be an agnostic. I talked to a friend last week after almost two years. One of my best pals... I was literally elated to hear from him. It was a nostalgic moment for me to have had turned my grey matter over and mulled about the times the three of us wasted every Saturday evening hopelessly lying down on the beach, mostly discussing gadgets and sometimes futile gossip. When it’s about time to leave for our homes, almost always, our topic would take a damping change of course, to the subject of the supernatural; only because one of them would talk about his impending visit to the church the following morning. As if upon reflex, the other one would argue or cast a smirk for a response which would make the two of us upset. Not because we try to make him believe in the Supreme Being, but because he simply refused to believe in miracles, although he has witnessed several himself!

I strongly think that one should believe in miracles. Life is too short to prove every single thing that happens to you through the world of science. I have had many a miracle. And I prefer to call my miracles, God!

The fact that I’m back to blogging after a full 18 day slumber by itself is a miracle for someone that gives little attention to routine. Thank God for me, I still haven’t considered blogging mundane. A stress-buster it is for me. And how I discovered blogging itself is a miracle. :)

But why am I talking about miracles? Because they happen to us in the most bizarre ways at the most bizarre time.

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Nevertheless, since I’ve been away from blogging for quite a while now and now that it’s improbable that I might be blogging regularly, here’s a little poem (?? composition, if you will) in response to a prompt from Sunday Scribblings.

An endeavor for knowledge may sometimes lead to blissful ignorance
Echoes of crude words and ill manners fading through the years
Eccentricity could be a boon, quirkiness a bane, after downing a couple of beers
Knowing the density of the catastrophe
Knowing when not to talk
Knowing when to smile for an answer
Knowing when to respond with a mime
Promises chiseled into the sands of time
Some kept, some broken prematurely, some twisted to suit convenience
Sonnets and tales, never did they seem more delirious
Memories of painted nails and parting lips
Of pale pink, to hot pink, to shocking pink
Eighty can still be an immature age, or so she thinks
A surreal feeling of holding hands
Comforting the blistered palm and hardened heart
Wishful of breaking open the time-capsule
Desirous of traveling back to the good days
When her hands were steadier
When her memory never failed
When promises sounded like music
But then there’s hope, and then there’s hope

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Congratulations to the ladies from Sunday Scribblings on their 100th prompt. You have never ceased to inspire me.

For more posts on time machine, go here!

I’m a Gemini

That’s my sun sign. But why am I saying this? 'Cos that’s the prompt for this week’s scribble at Sunday Scribblings.

I remember a friend saying “If you have one Gemini friend, you have at least five of them.” But oh, exercise care, ‘cos having five of them around isn’t really a boon. Born under a high-voltage energetic sign, it usually takes me very little time to get accustomed and adapted to people, places, and culture. Although the last part is a load of crap and can’t be proved, plainly because I haven’t experienced many different cultures myself. See? That also proves another point about us fickle Gemini’s – we can lie very easily! :-/

I absolutely hate monotony! You let me travel to work by train one day, by car the next, and by bus the day after, I’d be glad to. I’d rather create a schedule today, document some facts tomorrow, and play crossword the day after. But you can’t tie me down with one thing. I want to be e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g! :D That’s probably why I’m not able to last in one job for a long time. We’re great “talkers” though, love to read and love to be in the communication business. That would explain my constant need to blog perhaps.

We’re cheap people and mostly expect favors to be returned. Sometimes, I’m guilty of that myself! :-/

When I asked a friend about the negatives of the sign, he said
“Unpredictable unpredictable unpredictable unpredictable unpredictable unpredictable. There's my contribution!
Marriage...?? nah.. ain’t their style. Can never ever decide, always asks others to make a big decision, takes love as a game, fascinated about the idea of having multiple partners (good or bad??).”

Quite strangely, I’ve not been able to deny any of them. Of course I’m unpredictable; sometimes I wouldn’t know how I would react to a situation at any given time myself. All normal day-to-day functions would seem like a new challenge to me and I’ll end up trying to do it a different way everyday (and sometimes end up developing a headache. Can I blame the sign?). Phew! I guess that is the greatest mystery of the Twins! You never know when the other one would take over.

I could go on and on. But let’s stop it at that and find out about you. What sign are you? What are your traits? Are you big enough to spill out your negatives as well? ;-)

Picture courtesy: Google Images

A Stranger’s Masquerade

This post is in response to this week's prompt at Sunday Scribblings: Masks.

She grew up learning that they all needed to wear masks. She was practically fed with details every single day on what masks to wear and when.

When she was three, her mum asked her to say “please” when she had to request something, or “thank you” when she had to display her gratitude, especially with people whom we grammatically categorize as “third person”; nonetheless she never bothered to say a “please” or “thank you” at home with her parents or siblings.
She was told to wear a mask.

When she was seven, her parents told her to smile and be gentle with relatives, friends (other inconsequential people); people that didn’t mean anything to her, but she had to behave that way so she didn’t eventually hurt anyone.
She was told to wear a mask.

When she was twelve, she was told not to brag about her test scores (the fact was, she was over-confident that she was scoring better than more than half of the students in her class). But no, she shouldn’t! She should be polite.
She was told to wear a mask.

When she was sixteen, she was told to hide her emotions and pretend that all was well, when in reality, nothing was. Again, she was told to wear a mask, or not!

Over the years, she has come to realize that now she’s actually being herself outside home and wearing a mask at home!

Click here for more masks at Sunday Scribblings.

Not dead yet... a second chance

When Emily hurriedly left from home that afternoon, she had a feeling that something was not quite right. She didn’t often receive such premonitions; precisely the reason why she couldn’t bring herself to think that “something was wrong”, instead she just thought that her inner feeling meant that “something was not quite right!”

Her 3:00 ‘o clock appointment on Sunday afternoon was long gone; and not met. She could scarcely remember what day or time it was now. She was barely 22, tall, about five feet eight, slender, had the body of a angel and the eyes of an adolescent. She wore a knee-length fitting black skirt and a beige open neck shirt that vaunted her full bosom. But right now, none of the boasting beauty showed in her eyes. She was unconscious and all that was left of her beautiful face was a gag in her mouth. Her legs haphazardly placed and her hands bound against her back and held together with piano wires. Her cheeks were blotched red, possibly as a result of hours of crying.

She half opened her eyes praying hard and hoping it were all a dream and that when she woke up, she’d be in her warm cozy bed with her dog Patsy excitedly licking at her face. Sadly, it wasn’t.

Oh God, please let this not be true, she prayed.

The harsh reality struck on her when she realized that these weren’t the walls of her room after all. When she finally woke up, her head still reeling from what she thought was the aftermath of some kind of strong drug that would have been induced upon her, it seemed to her that she could vaguely smell the sea, very close to where she was kept. She instantly became fully awake, tried to clear her head and thought of the last dreaded time he entered this same room.

“How much do you love me”, he had asked her. And when she hadn’t answered, he had grotesquely tortured her until she screamed out for help. And then, he had drugged her and tied her up.

She could still see two of everything. Her mind wasn’t clear yet. She tried to wriggle out of her bound hands but her body refused to co-operate; she fell back asleep knowing there is absolutely nothing she could do to free herself from the confinement.

She didn’t know how many hours, or days perhaps, she had been lying there until she didn’t feel the pain anymore. She was in the same room when she opened her eyes once again. Only this time, she wasn't gagged and her hands were unfastened. The man had been here, in this very same room, untied her hands.

The scent of the sea returned, along with the musty smell of the walls. She couldn’t hear it, but she was sure it was close. She couldn’t possibly be wrong on that one. How many many days had she spent on the sparkling sands of the beach 13 (or was it 14) years ago.

All those memories came flooding back to her; her parents and she driving to the beach two hours away from their home, Emily nonchalantly kicking sand behind her while running across the sandy beach, watching her delicate feet sink into the damp sand while the waves left the shore, inhaling the sent of the sea, letting the sea water lap against her hair while she playfully dipped her head into the waves, making the weirdest shaped sand castles with her castle equipment and cleverly asking her daddy if she did a good job (knowing well that she was daddy’s girl and he’d never do or say anything to hurt her).

All this and more came crashing down her memory lane, while lying in the bare bed. Her body was beaten, sore, and numb from the trashing she endured before. She regretted leaving her cozy apartment, leaving her faithful dog Patsy behind, leaving for her 3:00 ‘o clock appointment a little later than required, rushing to catch a cab, jumping out of the cab in a hurry, jaywalking, getting kidnapped!!!

She tried to scream out for help but all that her physical condition allowed her to do was let out a dull croak that merely came out as a whisper from her throat; she finally drifted off to sleep praying again that someone would find her, someone would save her, that in the remotest of possibilities she would (might?) be able to go all the way over and alter her course of actions. If only she had a second chance, to change her plans… Then, she would probably be able to play along the sands of her favorite beach once again, once again, until the next time!

PS: A work of fiction for Sunday Scribblings.

Wings

A few random thoughts that occurred to me when the word “wings” came to my mind:

- The wings of change… I should say is quite apt with the way my life is going on right now. And I’m not talking about the minuscule changes or differences in my current lifestyle. These are copious changes both in my personal and as well as professional life. I’ll just leave it at that.

- Soaring to the heavens…What must it feel like to watch our dear earth from up there?

- From high up there I can see small boats bobbing away on the high waves sailing quietly on the far river below.

- To be able to get over the fear of height (yes, I’m scared of heights)

- Wings of freedom…moving out of our home and living by myself in a different city; of a little freedom and a little flight :) Although only for a brief period, but it did let my clipped wings grow and explore the unseen, unheard, and unsought. It’s a wholly different thing that I had to go through some terrible lonely moments, but I guess it was part of the deal!

- Angels!

- I want to take my parents on a vacation someplace outside the country (and actually let them use their passports before it expires or before I renew it for another useless period).

- I myself want to visit Rome, Egypt, and Paris (very soon, although I don’t know how soon or haven’t planned anything yet). I’ve read and seen sooo many many things enchanting about those places that my need to visit them is growing deeper and deeper by the day! Perhaps I'll use those wings someday!?! ;)

- This amazing song by Roxette!

- Chasing butterflies, or rather butterflies chasing me. When I was much younger I was quite scared of butterflies and moths; I was even bitten by a scorpion once, and my little finger grew as big as my big toe and went pink in a matter of seconds. :| Phew! I still am scared of some creepy insects; I hate how unpredictable they can be!

This post is in response to the prompt at Sunday Scribblings. Not my greatest scribble, but I guess this should suffice for now, since I seem to be sharing this illness with CM.

PS: Congratulations to Liani @ SS on her book release!

Sunday Scribblings: #54 - In the news

This may not directly relate to Sunday Scribbling, but the prompt for this week is “In the news” and its in perfect timing! ‘Cos I've news, AND its BIG, at least compared to the ones from the recent past.

My sister’s wedding is officially fixed!!! :) and I’m soooo happy for her. As of now, only the engagement date is fixed, and right now I know nothing more than that.

However, I might use this space for more ramblings on wedding preparations and details of the actual wedding. Since this is the first big thingy in our family, I might muse, wonder, ponder, awe, etc etc right here! So for those of you interested in this thread, you may follow the Wedding Bells label. :)

Sunday Scribblings: #52 - In the Kitchen

All’s well that ends [at least half as] well!

Having to make your own meal, and knowing that it’s ONLY for yourself can sometimes get to your nerves. Not when you’re 25 and all grown up, you say? *Sigh*

Well! It’s not as if I don’t like to cook. I’m pretty decent at South Indian cuisine. But it’s the postmortem activities such as cleaning up the mess that gets onto me. When I was living alone, and when I DID cook at home occasionally, I used to sit on the kitchen counter and eat directly from the same dish I cooked on, to save the ordeal of washing some extra dishes. :D

The part where I screwed up big time was during one of those days when I decided to cook not only for myself, but for another poor soul as well. It happened a little more than a year ago. I was late from work and just as I was leaving, it started to drizzle. A colleague and friend of mine, offered to make a quick dash and drop me home before it started to get heavy. As luck would have it, just as he dropped me outside my house, it started to pour.

Following a little etiquette, I invited him inside and we ended up bitching about some work people, all the while waiting for the rains to stop. Before long we realized that it didn’t seem to cease anytime soon and I volunteered to make dinner for the two of us. This was my first mistake. But it wasn’t just mine, was it? He should know better than that!!

I used up almost an entire hour to make a simple meal of rice, rasam, and ladies finger curry. Usually, when I cook, the only distraction would be the music from the radio or television. So obviously, with all the talking adding to the pressure of cooking, I don’t have to mention that my concentration was hardly on the stove.

Lotsa talking, very little concentration, lack of a fully equipped kitchen and ingredients! Consequence? Rasam as was good as salt water and the curry was only partially cooked.

If it was a disaster, thankfully, he never reacted to it. :)

Click here, to read more scribblings.

Sunday Scribblings: #51 - Inspiration

Was down with fever these past few days and all that hype about shopping over the weekend, eventually ended with a lot of sleeping and taking medicines! :-/

Anyway, I guess I’m a little late for this week’s prompt at Sunday Scribblings, but not too late, I’m almost there!

This week’s prompt was Inspiration; what inspires me, what doesn’t, et al. I didn’t spend too much time thinking over this one and therefore just about listed a few things that came to my mind right now.

• Lying on my back on the terrace watching the stars on a still cloudless night (away from mobile phones)



• Interesting sign-boards



• Interesting advertisements on TV :D



• Personalized mail (not the email kind, the one that arrives through post; and does not include my bank or credit card statements either)



• Music (absolutely any kind)



• Hot tea and homemade bajji’s on a cold rainy afternoon :)



• Tax refunds (I’ve got this only once in the past, but wouldn’t mind receiving more often. :-P)



• Strawberry milk



• Friends



• Nature photography



• Travel; anywhere



• Major inspiration to write? YOU guys!!! :)
  

There's more, but this is all I can think of right now.
Click here, for more inspirations.

Sunday Scribblings: #50 - Dream Journey

I always wanted to Sunday Scribble. And this week’s scribbling challenge happened to be two of my favorites; Dream! and Journey! :) Actually I’m supposed to write about my dream journey, but I think I’m gonna twist it a little (to suit my convenience) and make it “A journey in my dream”. So go on and read it (if you can make it to the end, that is) and do comment. :)

My earliest memories of a dream journey was someplace in the English countryside. I absolutely hate the Americas and hated everything to do with living there. If there is a journey I always would like to take (either in the near or far future), it HAS to be a calm, serene, country side…umm… alongside the sea maybe. Alright, here’s my first attempt at scribbling.

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Last night …

… I dreamt that I was atop a cliff, more like a last bit of a hill that one could reach to. I was standing a good five feet away from the edge of what could be at least a 200 km drop into the crevice below. Ahead, was another tall rock, which appeared to be much too close to the one I was standing on. This one had a hard, almost round rock above it that looked like it would topple off the edge any moment. The rock looked dark on it base and bright and shiny on top; the result of enduring the stiff hard stormy winds on itself perhaps during the winter and the harsh rays of the sun during the warmer days. Even whilst standing there trying to get an idea of where exactly I’ve landed, I found myself slowly rocking back and forth without my own might along with the wind; my hair ever so slightly caressing my face.

I took a few steps forward to try and get a glimpse of what lay beneath. The sun wasn’t bright enough and I had to squint my eyes to get a clear picture of what looked like thick bushes in a deep green colour or black. I shivered and instantly stepped back to what I thought was a much safer distance from the edge of the cliff, when I realized that I wasn’t actually reeling from the shock of looking down, but had shivered because of the chill. Quite strangely, I was not wearing warm clothes to keep me from the chill. I proceeded thence, to wrap my hands around me in a hug, to brace myself against the winds, still wondering what brought me there. On an impulse, I looked up and found soft cotton clouds being hurried from one mountain peak to another by the strong winds. The clouds, each racing against the other, as though, hastening ahead to greedily clutch the next summit ever so tenderly, with their soft fluffy arms; each time, letting it go, and rushing to the next.

My uncertainty about where I was standing then, remained unsolved even as I turned around with much apprehension to see where the narrow path lead to. The path looked like it had been traveled upon very sparingly. I took it either ways, because I considered that there couldn’t have been any other way I would’ve gotten up here.

On either side of the long winding narrow path were tall eucalyptus trees and thick unkempt short plants of what appeared to be wild rose bushes. I could have stopped by and picked one of those flowers, but didn’t. My mind a whirlwind, I ignored them, even as they appeared to be greatly tempting. Each time I took a turn, I desired to make a fortunate discovery of land, of a clearing, where I should find an explanation. As the road gradually sloped downward, and my disappointment mounting to its peak, I found that the trees started to decline in number and tall grass took its place. Further down, the path had the impression of being taken by many, through the years.

Abruptly, as though someone were listening to my heart’s call, the grass around me cleared and I could see a tiny stone cottage in the distance. I could tell that it is being inhabited by the steady smoke coming from the chimney. I took shorter quicker steps toward the cottage; and as I neared it, I realized that it wasn’t as small as it appeared to be. The cottage itself was buried deep inside a large garden surrounded by white fence. The huge iron gates were kept open, as though telling me that I should get in at once. I tried to ignore the garden once again as did I at the mountain path and hurried through the neatly kept wide pathway; wide enough for a car or two to comfortably steer through. The roses caught my attention once again, as this time the flowers were neatly maintained, watered and looked fresh and delicate. The right side of the garden was filled with bright yellow roses dotted with white ones in between.



As I was standing there taking in the beauty of the flowers, the sound of someone talking brought me back to reality with a yank. I quickly turned around to find a 6 foot tall man dressed all in white blocking the door frame of the cottage. He must have said a little Good Afternoon which I didn't notice. He was smiling at me, almost like a grin and said “Your roses are glad to have you back, Madam!”

My eyes opened wide and it took me a few seconds to realize that he was in fact talking to me. Bewildered, I looked down at the roses once again, not wanting to look him in the eye; lest he might find the confusion on my face. “Your tea is ready to be served, Madam. Would you rather have it in the library?” he continued.

Continuing to feel like Alice in her little wonderland, for the first time since that afternoon at the mountain top, I spoke “Yes, yes I will”. He waited for me to make my move, and when I finally didn’t, he continued “The weather is blustery outside Madam. If I were you, I shan’t stay there. You should perhaps step inside”. Saying so, he stepped aside from the doorway, letting me in.

The hallway was made in grey and I was fully aware of the awkward clunky noise my shoes made against the hard wood floor. I continued behind the butler to the living room stepping into the plush carpet. If he was frustrated of the fact that I was walking on the expensive carpet with my soiled shoes still on, nothing of the disapproval showed on his face. Not allowing him to start another conversation, I quickly stepped out of my shoes and clumsily stepped into the carpet, letting my toes sink deep into it. There was a large ornate coffee table in the middle, with two low long couches around it.

For the first time since that afternoon, the hair on my nape settled back and my neck muscles relaxed involuntarily. Before I could look around the room any further, the butler showed me to the library and stepped away. The fireplace inside the library was set; and thick huge logs were burning inside it. I was grateful for the warmth that lapped on me; which instantly reminded me of the cold winds on the hill top. I brought my thoughts back to the room where I was standing and tried to concentrate, taking in each item, trying to figure out if I remembered anything about this room. I looked around the room in silence; the thick light-blue curtains against the windows were drawn. Books were stacked from floor to ceiling; the carpet a different colour now, I couldn’t remember what colour the carpet was in the living room. There were two comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace; its cushions that looked like it had been recently sat upon. The corners of the room were dotted with ornate souvenirs. At the far end of the room, there was a writing desk and a high straight-backed chair. A man was sitting on the chair and writing something on a paper with a long slender pen on his right hand. His left hand held down the paper on the blotter. I couldn’t see anymore of his tall figure and took a few steps in front to get a better view…

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… and then, I woke up from my dream! Aaah! I sooo wish I were able to see who he was though ;) but hey; what the hell; so much for imagination! I’ve stretched it as much I as I could! :-D

OK maybe it’s not a dream journey; it appears to be a lot like a dream destination huh?! :D

Thanks to the ladies at Sunday Scribblings! :) I’m gonna try and be a regular.

Picture Courtesy: Google