poetry

Layers

A face: collection of masks
layers of conditioning,
years of bias building
the judgements clouded;
if only one could be blinded
to the worldly sensors –
perhaps we can become
a bit of ourself again.

Inspired by Reena’s exploration challenge # 69

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writing

Love Notes

Photo by Priya Bajpal

***
She wrote all the messages and decided to hide them in his closet between various rumpled t-shirts and unidentifiable mess of his favorite jeans. Perhaps , one in the jeans pocket too !

But at last minute she decided , it was too stalkish for his taste. He would get frustrated to find them at odd times and places. So she gathered them all in a jar – the love notes , the little kisses , and some longer ones to profess her love for him. She would hand him the jar and leave it to him to read them whenever he wanted.

****

(Written for Friday fictioneers inspired by the image )

Prose, random thought, realization, writing

Holding to the old …

The new year celebrations are over for likes of me – specifically for the people of my age. The religious calendar followed at my home differs though. It will be on fourteenth that the month of kharmas ( inauspicious days as per Hindu astrological calculations) will be over. January fourteenth marks the accepted and expected end of winters in my part of the country. This will be celebrated by a bonfire , festive dinner menu and passing gifts to the loved ones , prayers to the local gods for new crop etc

January musings

I have never before paid attention to these rituals in the house , except for arranging gifts assigned to me and making sure that essential snacks are ordered online and delivered on the mentioned date. Me and husband will wait for my mother-in-law to prepare the sweets and once it has been offered to the gods , it will be given to the people in the house. This year it’s not much different but I feel compelled to honor the traditions and to know about them more. I have a sudden urge to be a part of the celebrations of my religion and to make them a part of my own life , without feeling like a guest.

This January came with news of moving away from my family and to have a new start in a faraway city. This month just got a completely different meaning for me in terms of new year , new month , new life perhaps. And I seek to know my roots better , before this shift. I wish I had more time to treasure all that I have taken for granted so far.

new chapter begins

the leaves become the roots

new flowers from old ..

*****

{This is my attempt at a haibun after years so I admit I am way out of practice for the form.}

Linked to Dverse Poets and Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday

writing

The trash cleaner

Photo Credit: CE Ayr

Saturday..

It’s the second day , the trash can has not been cleared. The can is almost full. It will last just one more day before the trash spills onto the corner.

He doesn’t like that , but it’s the only way.

Monday..

The corner started to disappear under the trash. It didn’t stink much as there is less food thrown in this part of the town. The poor never have enough to waste.

Thursday..

The mountain of trash started blocking the traffic on the corner. Calls were made to check why the cleaner on this route to has not cleared the can this week. He doesn’t respond to the calls. Or the messages. He knows no one else would do this job on such short notice. Finally the supervisor visits him to check if he is well. He only wanted his family to know he was needed. He wanted his city to respect him for keeping the city clean all his life. He was proud of his job and wanted to be known for it

Later …

The city decided to dedicate a day to celebrate these silent workers every year. There has never been a dirty corner ever again.

Written for Sunday Photo fiction

fiction

Walk of shame ..

Bestie : Why are you walking like this ?

Me : like what ?

B : Umm.. like different ..

M *obviously panicking* : different .. ha ha .. no , no , not at all.

B: Nopes, I know your walk. This is not you. Oh my god , did you ?

M *pretending hard to ignore*

B: Oh yes , you did. You did it again.

M: I did nothing.

B : What’s the count this time ? How was it , tell now !

M *giving up* : I lost a drunk bet for 100 squats. I can’t wait to get my thighs back to normal now.

B: Don’t. I like your slow walk. I have to run in my heels otherwise to catch up !

M: You are a sadist, you know !

****

This post is written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge. And slightly true event with me 😣