Change

Winter is almost gone and the Spring is coming. Seasons change and they leave us sick. Maybe because we get so used to some things that their absence makes us restless. And this is true with people too perhaps. They change and leave us sick.

The Interview

He was being interviewed at his first book launch.

 

"One last question Mr. Dev", asked the interviewer, "how would you like to be remembered after you leave this world?"

 

"I don't want to be remembered at all", there was a small pause before he continued, "because it'll hurt my people more then".

 

"I want to be remembered now when I'm all alive. If someone loves me, misses me or cares for me, I want them to come to me and say it looking straight into my eyes."

 

"For me, this makes more sense because once I'm gone, I won't be there to know it, I won't be there to appreciate it. So do it now and let me reciprocate what I feel for you."

 

"Because life is too short to be shy."

His answer got more buyers than his book.

The Meeting Point

It's so good for two people to be like two parallel lines. Both will move to the same direction keeping the exact and perfect distance. It's like two people living a life their own way yet complimentary to each other. One's life is independent yet incomplete without the other. Maintaining the perfect amount of space and distance between the relation - not so far, no so close. But then there is a negative point - they don't meet each other. Never ever. This makes their relation incomplete though unending.

And then there are two intersecting lines. They move to their own directions at their own pace. They do not compliment each other. They are free - like wind blowing at its own will. But they meet for at least once. And that point, that intersecting point, is their mark of perfection. At this very point they are in complete harmony and in complete surrender. They lose themselves in each other. At that point, their identity is merged and there remains no one or the other.

This intersection, this meeting point doesn't last for long. But in that one moment they are in perfection. And then they move again to their predefined directions at their predefined pace - never to meet each other again.

I see both of us like those two intersecting lines. And I'm glad that for at least one moment we were in perfection.

Opposites Attract

They thought they were opposites. She liked summers while he felt winters more comforting. She liked sunny days but to him, rains always made him dance though he was not at all good at dancing. She didn't like books but he had a personal library. Also, she wasn't a loner like him, among other things. They were quite opposites you know. And yet they felt the pull towards each other. Like they say, opposites attract, so was their story.

They met couple of times like two random flowers touch mid-air when the wind is blowing. They were like those two random flowers. But he couldn't bear the force of wind and fell on the ground while she blossomed even more.

She was the poetry and he was the poet. For some time, they both were complimentary to each other like a poem and the signature under it. She was known by him and he was by her. Then came the time when signature turned into initials and initials too lost their importance. Like it always happens, everyone remembered the poem and forgot the poet. She was still a poem but he became an anonymous poet. Gradually he lost the anonymous title too.

They thought they were opposites, so as a rule, they would attract. Of course they did, but not for long. They weren't opposites, they were quite similar. They were like same poles of two magnets. And whenever they tried to come close, they pushed each other in the opposite directions.  

Favorites Forever

There are some of my favorite things. Like that restaurant where I have been to only once and it just became my favorite. I have a shirt which I wore only once and it is hanging in my closet since then. But it's my favorite of all the shirts I have. There is a book resting on my shelf, half read and the bookmark is still sandwiched between its pages. That book is my favorite though never completed. I have a collection of songs in my cellphone which I have listened to only once or some of them maybe twice. But that playlist I have named it 'Favorites'. It's been long since I have played it. But like other things, it's my favorite.

It may sound weird. But you know why I follow this practice? Why I don't visit my favorite restaurant often or why I never wore that shirt again? Why I haven't completely read my favorite book and among other things, why I don't play my 'Favorite' playlist more often? Because I want all these things to remain my favorites forever.

If, for instance, I listen to that song again and again, it won't sound as special as it does now. If I complete reading my favorite book it may become part of that stack of books which I once read but never touched again. Not even dusted them off. I just want my favorites to remain as such. And I always want to feel curious about them all the time.

Should I tell you one more thing? You are my favorite of favorites. But I don't come to see you often. And now you better know why?

Tiny Tales - II

He,"You're my weakness."

She,"But I want to become your strength."

He was quiet. Maybe he knew she was wrong. He still stands strong.

***

"Write a thought for me," she said.

He wrote his life for her and she never read it.

***

"Don't doubt my efforts. They are sincere," she said.

He trusted. He still trusts.

***

"I cannot hurt anyone," she assured.

Yes, she was right. She didn't hurt anyone except him.

***

"Your words are really your asset," she told him.

She left and his assets flourished.

***

"Move on," she said.


She turned around and he wasn't there. He moved on before she could do. She was still standing there with the guilt on her soul.

***

Tiny Tales - I

She said Amen! a numerous times.

Not a single one worked. Her prayers weren't strong.

***

He,"I always keep surprising you. But you never do."

She,"Someday I'll give you a big surprise."

And she did. She left, to never come back.

***

He asked,"In storms or in sunshine, will you be my valentine?"

And the answer was yes.

Then rang the alarm and he realized he was dreaming.

***

He,"Just want to say,
in simple old way,
in no time we became
one from two,
don't mind if I say,
I love you."

She,"I love you too."

She forgot to mention - conditions apply.

***

He,"I guess I don't deserve you."

She,"Don't say that. My soul knows only you deserve me."

She lied to him. Her soul lied to her.

***

She once told him that he was a gem.

Little did he know that he was just a stone for her.
A pebble under her feet.

***

The Philosophy Class

He was new to his philosophy class.

"What do you want to do before you die?", professor asked.

"I want to live."

"That's so obvious."

"That's not obvious professor, that's oblivious. Not many people do this, I guess. They just breathe in and breathe out."

The professor learnt new philosophy of life. His questions ended.

P.S. - For other posts of the 55 Fiction series, please click here.

The Necklace

She wasn't looking happy since morning. The change was sudden. And that surprised me. Maybe because the maid hasn't come yet or maybe she is not feeling well, I was wondering over the reason. But I could not ask her as I was busy packing my bags for reporting back to duty since it was the last day of my short span leave. The life of an army man, after all, is like that.

She helped me packing my stuff but didn't utter a word. And I was still wondering how to gather the courage to ask her. I was almost done when she broke the silence, "I need a necklace", she said, quite dominantly. I was shocked and surprised at her sudden wish. More so because she knows that I can't afford it since we had just shifted to our new home, our own, and that all our savings were invested. Women will be women, I thought.

Reading my confused face, she came close, rolled my arms around her neck, leaned against my chest and whispered, "Your arms are my necklace, don't go please". That was another surprise, not shocking, but was a pleasurable one. I kissed her forehead but couldn't say anything. Tears rolled down her cheeks and I just let them so. I had just understood the reason of her sadness.

Her eyes followed me until I was out of her sight. The life of an army man's wife, perhaps, is like that.

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Move On

From balcony, my squint eyes followed her until she turned into a tiny dot and finally disappeared. She was gone.

"Don't lick my mind", I didn't say anything more than that. Perhaps that's how an argument starts. Perhaps that's how a relation ends.

That night, I witnessed Manchester United's win over Arsenal. What a match!

For Three Word Wednesday

P.S. - Jokes apart, breakups are sometimes very hurtful.

P.P.S. - Attempted 55 fiction after a long time. Coincidentally, this time too it has ended in exactly 55 words like my other 55 fictions. For other posts of the series, click here.

Second Chance

I came home like any other usual day. She was in the kitchen, preparing supper, like any other usual day. But there was something which wasn't usual. There was a deep edgy silence on her face. She didn't greet me. I understood the reason but pretended as if I didn't know anything.

But suddenly she broke the silence and asked, "How was your day, honey?" "Good, pretty good", I replied sarcastically.

"She left you for me now?" she hit finally.

I was just staring at her and wondering how did she come to know about her, my so called iconic love, who ditched me. Then she came closer, hugged me and broke down. "Never do it again", she whispered.

Surrendering her lithe body in my arms, she cried aloud. And so did I. That very moment I realized, it's absolutely fine for a man to cry for someone who takes you more important than their life.

Another thing I realized was that not everyone deserves a second chance. I thanked my wife for giving a thought that I deserved it one more time.

The supper was delicious more than ever.

For Three Word Wednesday

P.S. - Extra marital affairs maybe a fun, but ultimately they ruin.

The Other Day

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 21; the twenty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

It was evident from his sad face that something wasn't well. I haven't seen him like this before. But since last couple of days he was looking as if he had lost everything.

"What's wrong grandpa?" I used to call him grandpa because he was of that age and more because I haven't seen my grandpa ever. He didn't reply and walked away. I picked up the paper he forgot on the bench. It was acceptance letter from the famous old age home 'Home Like Home'.

I followed him and brought him back. How could I let him leave like this? He started with a low tone, "Yesterday my son gave me a wonderful gift on my 73rd birthday. A new home, 'Home Like Home'. He says his four bedroom home don't have a single corner for me," he continued, "He says both he and his wife go to work so they can't take care of me. They say they don't want me to suffer in their absence so they have arranged a place in an old age home for me".

I was quietly listening to him. "I said I can take care of myself, you don't need to suffer your work for me but I didn't know my son is smart enough to tackle these questions. So he promptly replied that I'm not safe at home alone when they both are out all day. The incidents of attacking aged people and then robbing are rising day by day. My son had a point", he put his heart out.

Silence took place between us for quite some time. "When is Nitin coming?" Nitin is his grandson gone somewhere outside India to complete his studies.

"I don't know. I don't even know his whereabouts. We rarely talk to each other. He don't call me. He talk to his parents.", there was a considerable pause after every full stop and his tone got slower after every sentence.

"Can I ask you something grandpa?", I hesitantly questioned. I myself was surprised because I never felt a need to get his prior permission to ask anything. He was surprised too, I guessed, though he granted it immediately.

"Can I take you to my home?" was my next hesitant question.

He smiled. "My dear son, thank you so much but I can't. He might be making excuses but I, a father, will always be one", he continued, "Life is an echo and he has a son too". In these lines I learnt a lesson for life.

We bid adieu and he promised to meet me right here in this park where we used to meet everyday. I kept my promise and came everyday. He never returned. Maybe he was aware of it from then on.

I'm here again, knowing that he won't come. The other day, when we met last, is the one I never want to remind nor do I want to forget altogether.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Thorns

In that tranquil moment, sitting on the edge of that river, he altered his thoughts yet again. He couldn't decide his path until he saw a small fish, a very little one, swimming like a no novice.

In the next moment he stood up and walked away, not bothering about the thorns on the way. He had found his fond path.

Sometimes, if not always, all it takes is a little courage to make a small but consistent start. Rest, the journey itself takes care of it.

For Three Word Wednesday

P.S. - King Bruce and a spider story may not have taught him what a little fish taught him. And yes, he became the King of his own story.

Clue

After a long spell of love making, we lay down beside each other wrapping my arm around her, still naked but covered with a sheet. She was playing with my chest and I was constantly gazing at the ceiling.

Suddenly the silence broke. "So, would you still love me", she paused for a while and completed, "once we're out of this bed?"

I grinned. "Is that a question? Of course I love you", I replied controlling myself.

"Love is something beyond just naked bodies meeting each other", she seemed serious. Perhaps she got the clue. I didn't respond.

After a few minutes, I was left alone in jumble full of bed. I lit a cigarette and thought, "Better die of nicotine than love".

For Three Word Wednesday

P.S. - I don't smoke, nor do I hate love.

Blessed

Like a usual evening, I was sitting on a bench in the park in front of my home reading a book. The slow breeze seemed like tickling me and singing some mellow song which I was feeling inside. Suddenly a little boy, just about 7-8 years old, came close to me.

"I wish I could read", he said and walked away.

Before I could realize what he had just said, he was out of sight. He left me thinking that blessed are those who get a chance to be educated.

I lost the page of the book I was on. Breeze, for me, stopped right there. And so did the mellow song. And so did its tickling touch.

P.S. - Child labor and illiteracy are just as bad as any horrible disease. Disease kill the humans, they kill the society at large.

Also for Three Word Wednesday

Wait

It was like any other day. She was waiting for me in the same old park where we used to meet every weekend. And like always, she came before the scheduled time. She always knew that I would be late but she never changed her routine.

I reached. And every weekend her beauty was increasing. I don't know why and how. But I think she was growing and glowing too. Mature women look prettier I guess.

"Hi, sorry you had to wait", and then took a little pause and said,"again". I was using my sense of humour at the wrong time.

"No, I'm used to it now", she replied,"and I've started kind of liking it. Waiting for you on this alone bench, thinking of you in the meantime and weaving the dreams of our togetherness".

"Hmm... that sounds interesting", I was being naughty.

"You know what? Why I always come before time?", she asked and her voice seemed heavy.

"No, tell me", I pulled her close to me and started feeling her fragrance while I closed my eyes.

"Because... because I never want to make you wait for me", she said and her eyes went wet.

And I was like numb. She finds love in every little thing. I hugged her and promised to be on time from then on.

I Fear

"Hey, look down, it is so scary", one of my friends shouted.

"Harry, come forward. See the cars and the people look like shrunk", Oliver said without looking back at me.

"No, I'm scared of the height", I replied looking at the other side. A beautiful Dove was teaching her baby Dove how to fly. I wished some day I could fly without fear.

P.S. - The story may be fictional but I actually fear of the height and this is one of the things I want to conquer.

For: Thursday Tales

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Statue

"Pay the rent or leave this space", his landlord ordered him, "I'm going to my native place to donate some silver statues for the temple. Make your mind before I return."

"OK", he couldn't speak more. Perhaps statues are more precious than living beings, he thought, or maybe God is nothing more than a statue.

P.S. - Well, I tried to speak from the heart of a poor tenant in this 55 fiction but I personally believe and have immense faith in God. He knows what we deserve and He knows how and when we'll get it. He has His own ways. Have Faith.

Nightmare

Everyone has nightmares. Some are forgotten, some are lifelong. I also have them quite often. Most of them I forget the very next day. But there is one I couldn't forget till now though it happened a long time ago when I was a kid. The very thought of those small yet horrible incidents haunt me even today.

"Hey, come on, lets play inside", he invited me to his home like any other day. I couldn't read his intentions at that time.

"Will you get me chocolates?", I innocently asked and declared,"Only then I'll come to play with you". I thought it was a genuine demand of a 7 years kid.

"Yes I do have. Come on, get in", he played his trick.

We used to play for hours together. At some times he was very caring while at times he behaved rude. I couldn't understand his volatile moods.

"Come here, sit on my lap", he would ask me and I'd do as directed.

I thought he loved me. At that time I couldn't distinguish between loving and love making. I thought I was playing with him. But it was him who was playing with me, my body. Though sometimes it felt something was going wrong but I couldn't offend. I could only wait till he was finished. I couldn't understand anything and used to keep a demure smile. I was more interested in the chocolates.

***

"Well, that's a case of pedophilia", my Psychiatrist told me when I finished describing my nightmare to her.

"Pedophilia?", I asked to clarify the term which was alien to me.

"Its the activity of having sexually involved with the children", she clarified.

I was shocked to know the fact that someone sexually harassed me in my childhood. "But how to overcome this nightmare now?", I asked angrily.

"Cool down, there is nothing to worry about now. It was just a phase of time that has passed a long time ago. All you need to do is that never think about those incidents. The more you'll think about it the more it will haunt you", she showed a genuine care and attention.

I walked back to the home and wished I never loved chocolates. I somehow get to know to overcome my nightmare.

P.S. - It is just a piece of fiction but a bitter reality in our society in which innocent children are sexually harassed by their neighbors, relatives or even their own family members. The child doesn't understand at first but never forgets when he does after some time. The nightmare follows to haunt him for the rest of his life.

For Three Word Wednesday

The Innocence

"Can it change my luck?", she asked curiously pointing to one of the toys I was selling in the robust feast.

"Who told you this princess?", I asked.

"My Mom says, to change your luck you need to have a lucky charm", she replied with all her innocence,"so I'm finding one".

I smiled and gave it to her. She walked away smilingly. I knew it won't change anything, but then there are certain things which are priceless, like her little eyes carrying dreams of having living a life she deserves.

Sometimes the innocence wins everything.

For: Three Word Wednesday and

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