Category Archives: Realisations

Before the ink blot dries

What do i write today?
Fiddling the pen between my fingers, looking for an inspiration here and there, the tip of my pen touches the paper long enough to have made an ink blot. I sat on my usual study table which once belonged to my father. There was always an uncanny sense of his presence embracing me in protection. I felt light at heart and mind. A long lost tune reverts back to my mind , I start humming to imitate those notes. Soon enough, I remembered the entire melody. It was a tune the flute seller played while he sat under the great banyan. I , as a kid, stopped by the banyan everyday to hear the old man’s music. He played the same tune everyday, the kind that captivates your senses and leaves you goosebumps. I always felt it had a story to tell of celebrating life and of those little joys. He seemed tired and feeble , strongly evidenting how trapped in the cycle of time he was. His slender fingers wrapped in dark, wrinkled skin tapped the wooden pipe alternatively fabricating a tune that seemed to teleport me to a different world : some days there were lush green fields and endless blue skies; while other days there were golden sand and the sea infront was like a rippling blanket of brochure blue; although the tune remained same each day. Strangely enough, it never seemed monotonous to me. It always rejuvenated my mind like the summer rains. The rains that brought life onto those scorching days. I never quite remember myself playing in puddles or sailing paper boats in the clogged drains after the heavy showers. I was always vaguely distracted by the smell of the fresh rain on dry earth, or sometimes the water droplets clinging onto the grass blades that looked like beads in a row, encapsulating the entire scenery into its spherical envelope;or mostly I would be inside, stretching my arms out of my bedroom window, feeling the drops tickling my palm. That bedroom window of mine treasures many such memories. I often found little kites stuck in the pane trying hard to free itself. The colourful bouyant objects flowing upwind fascinated every kid to their hearts. Few of the unfortunate ones that found way to my window were returned to the owner with great care while there were others that remained unclaimed. And I unapologetically added them to my collection. I never learnt to fly kites but half a dozen of those diamond shaped flyers found shelter in my cupboard shelf. They carried the scent of some distant lands with them. I let my mind wander to those lands looking for inspirations and experiences. It fed the poet’s soul within me and usually I built a story out of those. But today. What do I write today?


The White Rose (Part 3)

Read part 2 here

Chris couldn’t look into David’s eyes. He took the paper weight in his hand and started juggling it. His lips mumbled and his spectacle kept slipping down the bridge of his nose. Continue reading The White Rose (Part 3)

An Overcast Afternoon

Stone grey clouds hung from the sky,
the look of a vindictive angel.
Embraced me in pensive sulks!
Its edges torn, an ice cold pace;
of what I learn the bygone’s in disarray.

It swells and bursts into pit-a-pat notes:
Creating a magnificent poetry of its own,
Tickling the grass and caressing the earth,
Painting serenity over the graphite sky,
Enabling life to the widowed and wild blue yonder.

The chaotic drops danced around,
Sprinkling beauty to what it found,
A crystal clear mise-en-scène;
Which was once a note,now a song.

Copyrights reserved Β© 2017 
Aditi Raha
Photo rights reserved:BMD

What lies across the river?

“Arrrrghhhh!! Captain Yellowpants, here I come.”, cried Ayush with his plastic sword in hand and pounced on his big brother.

“Yo ho ho! Matey, bring it on!”, exclaimed the older one and grabbed his little brother by the waist as they chuckled in the back seat of the car.

The lady on the front seat seemed lost in some abstract thoughts. As the car waited in the ferry line, her husband consolated,” Don’t worry, Ayush will be happy there.Its the best boarding school in town.”

Ayush recalled a line from his Civics book, “Happiness is where family is”.

Word count:100
A flash fiction based on the featured image.This is an entry in the #fridayfictioneers  #photoprompt challenge by Rochell Wisoff. This week’s photo is contributed by Ted strutz. Check out the other entries here. Gratitude, Rochelle.. πŸ™‚

Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt challenge: #writephoto Β ” ILLUSION”

Here’s my contribution to this week’s #writephoto challenge.Hoping to touch souls.Thank you Sue for the challenge and to the photo prompt contributor as well.Click here to read other contributions. Enjoy!

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel
There’s a light they say,
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel? 
I stare in dismay.
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel!
I fear the unknown.
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel,
Hope anchors the soul!

The light at the end of this path,
Castaway the disguise,
There’s the light right at the end,
Invent and recognize!

There’s a light at the end my friend,
The wars will subside.
The light at the end you see:
An amicable world to survive.

There’s a light right there,
The evils shall perish,
A light at the end,
Victory will be ours to cherish!

So there’s a light at the end my dear,
Rise in valour!
Strive till the end,
Break the tunnel through!

But as I stand at the end of the tunnel,
I see no spark or glint,
Cause the light is eclipsed under the facade lies,
The light had always been within.

Copyright 2017 Aditi Raha
All rights reserved.