a thump in the neighbourhood

All of a sudden a loud thump caught Michelle’s attention. Immediately she trotted down to Aunt Lecunia, her next-door neighbour.


An hour ago she arrived home after a long humdrum day, planning to put her feet up. Famished, she padded barefoot to the kitchen. Looking for something to sate her appetite, she ferreted in the fridge and rustled up a tangy noodle soup, her favourite comfort food 🍜 with whatever came to hand.


Michelle stood befuddled on the threshold as the door was wide open with no one in the sight. What if..? Her mind befogged by numerous doubts. On top of that, last time when she ventured Aunt Lecunia’s house she found herself in the middle of the worst fix ever. She blew a fuse and her laying into Michelle stuck in her craw.


Michelle brushed her misgivings aside, unable to quell the frantic beating of her heart, she trod cautiously in but that took the cake! Bang on time for a side-splitting sight to behold. Aunt Lecunia lay on the floor with her another craning neighbour wrestling to untangle her neck!

Written in response to Eugi’s weekly prompt ‘Neighbors’ July 20, 2020

the infection

“Longbottom’s got infected” said Michael pitching the ball across the yard.

“How come? What’s the source?” Bon swivel round and watched Fluffy making a dart for the ball.


“In my humble opinion, newspapers don’t spread Corona. By the way, I read every day, never got infected. I keep an eye for the danger. If a close one is infected I phone but I don’t take infection either.”

“It’s important to keep the infected person at a distance and take extra care for cleanliness and personal hygiene.”

“He’s got a weak immune response maybe.”

“I reckon it’s the hole in his heart he carries since his childhood that lords it over him and all his systems.”

flawed & fragile

Diving in the dark is like arbitrary arrest when the mind switches to autopilot mode. I let it be there for sometimes. I’ve noticed a little improvement, it helps quite a bit. So, when my blabbering and yelling going on in my mind stops, I try to figure it out. Could I stop it this time?

Maybe I need to work more and find more ways to cope with it. Here’s what I have figured out, Hopefully it will help those who are struggling through something like this.

What does it say? We must listen to it, to get clarity. And that entails allowing yourself to express –to yourself. No matter what. It might feel a little uncomfortable but it is important. I have always found that in a certain state there is this immense urge to isolate myself from everything because I feel better when I am by my lonesome. Sometimes it’s the feeling of being stuck. It’s about how I have developed the conditions that are inimical to my growth – to pick up the notions and ideas which are no way helpful for me. Neither productive nor enjoyable and doesn’t even serve any purpose. “You’re weak.” “You’re not capable of doing it.” “You have a weak character.” “You can’t be treated with respect.” “You’re ugly.” Your nationality. Your ethnicity. Your financial status. Your knowledge. Your reputation and whatnot. All those things which are not even mine. Someone opened his window and let me have a glimpse of his mind at a certain moment. And I picked it up when there was a better choice available, only to feel like shit. When there is no need to. That’s fragile and unwise.

At any moment, I am what I feel about myself. That tells the difference between a happy monk and a sad entrepreneur. You’re poor and someone told you the truth and then anxiety pounced upon you and grabbed you by the collar. You had to marry your daughter and you felt so broken that you wanted to hit that person. The truth is, having just a few things inside your home doesn’t really bother you much. Now you need money to carry out something important. But you think you can’t do it. Having more money is not bad either. But poor self-image will still bring you on your knees. It’s not about our possessions or conditions that define our truth but what we tell ourselves about ourselves and others about themselves.

It’s important to pick up anything with a pinch of salt when it comes to what another person thinks of you or what they value in their lives. They are not perfect, neither are you. Life is to be experienced. To make our own choices and mistakes. To tell others that we are flawed, can always thrive to be better but will never be perfect. Life is always new, hence we can always make mistakes and that’s not a crime. And how wasteful it is to go to another person and show him or her a weak and poor image of himself. Sometimes we don’t feel good about the person who consistently treated us poorly and if we find a way to address it, we must deliver it in a clear manner (in my case, addressing anything clearly or efforts to openly discuss anything never ever worked. Things do get twisted). In case the problem persists, it’s okay to disengage, allow yourself to vent your spleen, frustration, not get involved in any games. I don’t know how long it takes to achieve equanimity but we are fragile and flawed even when we are strong and motivated. We must choose what is best for us, regardless.

what if..?

Everyone has something to offer
Everyone will let you have something
A touch, a glance, a feeling or a little space
Words have a hidden treasure buried beneath them
Something more than words
What you accept or reject is contingent upon you
But remember, there’s always a need to explain
For you;
Whom will you allow and whom you won’t?
Don’t you buy everything?
Don’t you sell everything?
Why don’t you watch movies?
Why do you sing songs?
That’s how you should be
That’s how you should act
And live,
But what if I have something different for me?
What if I don’t buy what you have?
What if I know a little about me?
You can give only what you have.
What if my filters are placed now?
What if your gratuities don’t pass through it?
Maybe I am not good enough
But what if I don’t need to?
Maybe I am full of what you can offer
Maybe I am not looking for what you have
Maybe my voice is not in keeping with your song
or maybe it strikes a discordant note
What if…

number four private drive

Mr Dursley, as usual, had a perfectly normal, night-owls-free day or so the story goes. He shrieked at five to eight normal people, made several important telephone calls and a wee bit of normal shouting. He did fawn over those who deserved.

In his normal desire to hit someone he yelled at his mother-in-law, dashed the remote against the wall and stormed out of the room. She stood rooted to the spot with her mouth agape in horror and could see that the present wasn’t perfect. She went to ‘heat’ the alphabet soup to feel a little healthier.

“shhhh…h take the shit!” Father breathed quietly. He picked up the pieces and tried to assemble it.

He was humiliated at Dudley’s first birthday celebration when he brought 38 gifts for Dudley. 160 less than he desired. As usual, Dudley threw a huge tantrum. But father took the shit. He always did. Later report cards journeyed thousands of miles and Private Drive consistently echoed with Mr Dursley’s fierce roars. Father always took the shit and fondled anticipating at the possible cause of blissfulness.

During Mr Dursley’s normal shouting, oftentimes the blubbergum continued to whine and frisk in the mud, in the need of “A fat wad of notes”. Equally adept at giving a frightened look in the time of need. And all needs were shrouded in several layers of normalcy. Sometimes shit went heavy and father said ” Celebrate the shit…”. Harry’s cavalier heart yearned for a breather.

cry over spilt milk

In the land of milk and honey where I didn’t need to shrink. Maybe you map my mind — someone who notices patterns in numbers & elephants in clouds. The pattern can be used as the currency to exchange information. A genius? Not for everyone, you see, but only for the those who have this human thing in their eyes called, love, the respect for humanity. ( Now you pictures a man who is drop-dead gorgeous…!) Knowing that everything, every little incident or just your imagination could be put to good use and could be exploited to create something, to return something to the society that warms a heart, that helps it open up, to grow – is genius in a more precise and truer sense.

I reckon it’s about the environment, the way you’ve learned to perceive something regardless you know anything about it or not. Apparently, wherever whatever whoever you see, read, you try to grab it, claim it, poke your nose into it or spit something here and there — is also a talent. There’s a strange kind of delight in looking here and there, muddy the waters, and spit something, whether it has anything to do with you or not. Maybe it has to do something with your kid’s physics tutorials or is just a tradition you embrace tightly. You can’t stand the sight of a characterless person as your relative or acquaintance! Is there anyone around you who has loose morals, or is rude? Great characters have been built and are building around you! Adept at hurling anything at anyone and cherish relationships with beautiful and sweet burlesque for good measure. It’s a part of your deeply ingrained value system because that’s who you are! You can muddy art, literature, songs, sports, music, lives, anything. Just anything!

“The strength of character is a choice that lies in my desire to keep someone downtrodden when I know that I can’t lay my hands on each and every person.”

Governments shook like dry leaves! Prolly they will stop promoting breastfeeding or use of condom or sanitary napkin. No one will talk about veganism any longer! Because you snicker and gossip! Some call it stupidest of all stupidity. But I think there isn’t much to place our concern here. The world is vast and everything is right. And you pick up anything and morph it to your taste.

“That person!”.

“Phuphs, I also have two legs!”

“Yup Sheens! Do you have a tail too?…or do you lay eggs?”

” Let’s get spliced! Which time, colour and jewellery suite you?”

“Phuphs, I’m counting dots and spaces.” ( I can hear a howl of laughter or maybe I’m just hallucinating!)

I am literally rolling on the floor and my stomach hurts. Actually, Maine Maa ka doodh piya hai! But in most cases during my lifetime, I am quite aware of the history of the – talent shows. I don’t find anything wrong in this regard. This universe is vast and endless and you can find people with similar taste and interests. The best part is I have learned a lot and I am grateful for that.

It happens in the communities where abuse is accepted and nourished at each level.

Now it’s amazing to have this whole world as an audience let alone a single country. Nothing goes amiss but apparently they don’t bother much about how to muddy (mature/adult) something or prove anyone wrong or put someone down to keep them downtrodden. Maybe they have better things to do and relish little things like inside jokes between friends, cherished memories, anecdotes or just a fiction?

“”Why buy a cow when you can get milk for free?”(English Proverb)

as clear as your heart

I could hear your song
as clear as a bell
even in your hushed and vague demeanour

As plain as pike-staff
I noticed, how your shaking voice
belied your words

Stifling my thirst for
those three words
beaded in your soft voice

My cavalier heart cried
at the top of its voice
“You liar!”

It’s highly improbable
that you were unmindful of
my tender sentiments

The post goes to ‘Weekend writing prompt 165’ hosted Sammi Cox.

in quest of an ice-cream

Lying on the couch I swapped my legs, gave a quick once-over to the clock and tried to calculate. It’s around half an hour since I am twiddling my thumbs, watching TV and cooling my heels for his arrival. It’s crazy to wander around underneath this scorching sun just for an ice-cream!

The post goes in response to:

#RDP #ragtagdailyprompt

#watching #calculate #wander


Golden peaks of towering hills glow from a distance. In the evening, when weary sun grazes hills, sky simmers with crimson, vermilion, azure and milky white lights. Slowly a fiery red flush creeps over the valley and sky begins to dim down. The river, the woods, that narrow track along the river leading to woods, leisurely all pass to slumber. Trees become sombre and quieter, hidden and resting for the night.

In the morning, a soft light slowly devours the sky. Trees quietly await the sun to rise and birds trill their flurried chirps. The glory of the pristine mountain, bit by bit, heaves to the sight. There’s a dignity, an incorruptible beauty in the quietness of the robust hills. Pure air perfumed with the scent of pink and maroon whispy blossoms fills the whole valley. The spectacular vista of lush little folds of majestic mountains and the free-spirited river is spellbinding. There is a deep calm and stillness that blooms into an intense and profound peace. An extraordinary sense of life overflows. One can lose track of time and still a tiny whit of life is never missed.

The post goes to #wtitephoto Thursday photo prompt ‘vista’ hosted by Sue Vincent. Thanks for such a beautiful promt, Sue.