The alarm clock buzzed 6 AM as Aparna extended her hands lazily to switch it off. She felt something when she pulled her hand back. Rubbing her eyes and slowly opening it, she found a torn piece of paper beside the clock on her bed.
When she looked at it she couldn’t understand anything though. She looked at it closely and found that it contained some directions. Shrugging off the last vestige of sleep from her eyes, she quickly set out to make sense of the map. She realized after the next reading that it was her own home that had been mapped and there was a spot marked in bright red as well.
Criss-crossing the house animatedly, Aparna was the center of attraction of the house. From her grandmother to their gardener, everyone wanted to know what was up. There were offers of help from her father and grandfather but Aparna was adamant she would get to the bottom of this herself.
About an hour later, an exclamation of delight from her room brought everyone to their feet. Aparna stood beaming with a cute teddy and pair of beautiful earrings. She looked around and saw the person she was looking for.
“Thank you, bhayya!” she ran and hugged her brother Aparajit.
Aparajit smiled proudly as his plan worked to perfection. He knew a treasure hunt was a sure way of surprising his little sister for Rakhi.
Bhayya – brother
Rakhi – a festival which celebrates the bond between brothers and sisters
I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words #6. The theme for Day 3 is ‘Feature a map and write about a place either real or virtual’
This is a tough prompt to write on – not just because of the commonality of resources you could identify with others but because the word resource is so wide in meaning and interpretation. So, after a great deal of thinking, I chose to focus on a resource which not many are likely to write about. It’s also a resource which has been my constant companion for the last several years, so much that I cannot live without it literally.
I was 8 when my life changed completely. I realized that I couldn’t hear things like others and that upset me a lot. From a normal kid, I was suddenly a hard-of-hearing kid. The hard-of-hearing deteriorated into borderline deafness over the last couple of decades and I started using hearing aids a few years ago to make some sense of the sounds around me.
The hearing aids I wear now has been with me for the past couple of years. Before that, it used to be another version. Nevertheless, these hearing aids have helped me immensely, I must admit. Where I was reticent when people asked me what was inside my ears, I’ve become accepting and tell them about my hearing aids. Some understand, some don’t. But that’s the way it is.
There’s actually a lot I want to write on this, but I respect the brevity of this post. I’ll be sure to write more in a future post.
I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words #6. The theme for Day 2 is ‘Share about a resource/s you have or use’
There are quite a lot of things which come to my mind when I think of the word treasure. But the one I chose to write on in this prompt is, perhaps, the greatest treasure I have ever had – my wife and two sons.
I have been married for close to 10 years now and each year has never been the same – we’ve seen our love go through different phases already. I was probably wrong when I expected love to be constant – that’s just an illusion. Love has its way of creating the ripples necessary to sustain the bond that you develop. I’m thankful for the bonds that have remained taut over the last decade or so. I’m also happy my wife has been extremely encouraging about the passion which I have – writing.
When our first son was born in 2009, I didn’t know how to celebrate. I wasn’t over the moon or anything like that but I heard my heart tell me that this one is going to be special. It has been a great experience raising this treasure – he has grown fast and the best thing I like about him is his desire to hear stories at bedtime – I make up stories on the go and without any morals or such, but he likes hearing them. On some nights, he would rather watch videos of different kinds of animals, birds, flowers, plants etc. I’m very proud of his interest in things around him.
By the time our second son arrived in 2014, fatherhood had been ingrained in me a lot that quite a few things came to me naturally. And again, I heard my heart tell me about this one being special. But it was different in some way; I really can’t place it or put it in words. Unlike my first son, my second son wasn’t as close to me when he was a baby but he was extremely close to his big brother (he still is). But over the last couple of years, I found that my younger one likes me to feed him, to bathe him and stuff like that – some of which my elder son didn’t even allow me to do. Yes, my sons are diametrically opposite in behavior but their love for me is a constant – the way they express it is different, though.
With such a young family, it’s no wonder that time flies very fast – a little too fast for my liking. Which is probably the reason why weekends and holidays are that much more important – it helps me bond with them. There’s nothing like the peck on the cheek which my wife and my sons give me – it’s spontaneous but something to live for.
I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words #6. The theme for Day 1 is ‘Write about a treasure you have’
The temple compound was crowded. Being the month of karkidakam, there was a big rush to worship Guruvayurappan. Ved did not feel so. He glanced a dance performance nearby and decided to watch it until his wife and mother returned from prayers.
As he dusted off a seat, Ved felt a hand on his shoulder. An old woman asked him affectionately, “Devansh?”
He smiled and said, “No, aunty. I’m not Devansh.”
The color faded from her face. “Not my son Devansh, are you?”
Ved stood motionless.
The woman smiled weakly and walked off in the direction of the temple entrance.
karkidakam – the last month of the Malayalam almanac
Guruvayurappan – a form of Lord Vishnu, considered the presiding deity of Guruvayur temple
Picture Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
“Slow down, dear!” Meenakshi shouted. She and her son Mukul were walking home from school. Mukul, the naughty 6-year old, had overtaken his mother by several paces.
He smiled sheepishly at his mother and sprinted ahead when the wail of an ambulance jolted him. Mukul stopped in his tracks, raced back to his mother and hugged her tightly as the ambulance passed them.
“I’m afraid of ambulances. What if it’s dad inside it?” he said nervously.
Meenakshi did not know what to answer as she held his hand firmly and walked. The siren of the ambulance was now getting weaker.
Words caught in the crossfire of thoughts,
A long, meaningless stare at the horizon.
The threads come rushing to the mind,
But cannot be unwound on paper.
The hands need succour to write,
But none seems around to inspire.
The heart lets out a solemn wail,
To let the letters and words flow,
Into a small rivulet of script;
But choked into submission,
The threads in the mind still.
Don’t try too hard, says a voice;
Take it letter by letter, it utters;
To overcome the stones of despair!
The morning after she won her first award, Zeba started her next painting. She crawled on the floor, balanced the paintbrush on her mouth and stroked her way through the canvas.
She was incapacitated and did not want anybody to believe she had been awarded due to sympathy. Zeba wanted to carve her own niche.
Written as part of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge – http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/