Me: I’ve been trying for almost a couple of hours, but I still can’t sleep. I think I’m in love.
My Brain: Stop kidding yourself, girl. It’s because you slept for four hours in the noon.
Me: I still have five hours of sleep left. Why don’t you stop thinking so much and let me sleep?
My Brain: That’s because you have so much to do. How about we start drafting that apology letter?
I know you all had been anticipating part 4 for a long time, and I realise it was cruel of me not to write yesterday, but you know the problem- time is a resource we all lack. But that’s no excuse for you to skip blogging- everyone’s busy, you’d say. And I agree. So as a kind of reparation, part 4 is going to be as long as two parts combined. There, now you have one lesser week to wait in exchange for waiting an extra day. As always, here’s a link for the previous parts. Let’s get right into it now.
Azar was cooking rice on a gas stove when her hand accidentally hit the utensil of almost-boiled milk on the adjacent gas stove and it fell down with a loud clang, spilling the thick white liquid all over the floor. She gritted her teeth. Her husband would come storming into the kitchen anytime now. She quickly set about mopping the spilt milk, trying to ignore the scalding burn her right hand had suffered. Her left hand wasn’t her dominant one, so it took her longer than usual. As a result, her husband entered the place before she could finish up.
“Spilt a perfectly good kilo of milk again, have you?” In truth, Azar had never spilt milk before. “Do you know how expensive this is? Of course, you wouldn’t- you laze about in the house all day like a Maharani while I toil in the factory all day. Milk comes so dearly, but still, I buy it to keep you nourished and this is how you repay me?”
“I’m sorry, ji. It won’t happen again,” she said, cowering. She knew what would come next.
Me: So it’s blog-day Sunday today, and I swear I’m gonna write something. No excuses.
My Brain: Oh yeah? What about the first chapter of Geography- Resources and Development?
Me: Alright. I’ll write a haiku. It won’t take much time.
My Brain: Don’t kid yourself. You’ve never written a haiku before.
Me: That doesn’t mean I can’t. Give me something, Brain. Continue reading
Hola, readers! Now I know what you guys are probably thinking- that I’m becoming increasingly irresponsible and lazy with two delayed posts twice in a row. But I was busy preparing for my Pre-mid term exam yesterday, so you might have more delayed posts. But I’ll sincerely try my best to schedule posts beforehand, so that even when I don’t have time on Sunday, you guys don’t miss out on it.
So, now I’m starting a long story that’ll be narrated in parts, and naturally, this is the first one. No, don’t worry, it’s not as long as a novel. But it’s lengthier than the ones you might find in fortnightly magazines. It’s inspired by my visit to Bannerghatta National Park in Bengaluru, which was the first time I ever saw lions and tigers, after a host of failed outings in wildlife sanctuaries and parks. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
Yeah, I know I didn’t blog on Blog-day Sunday but calm down, I returned from my trip today and I honestly didn’t have even a spare minute yesterday. So without any further delay, let me introduce you to my latest poem, inspired by the waves at the rendezvous of two seas and an ocean at Kanyakumari, the bottom-most point of the Indian mainland. The said seas are the Bay of Bengal and the Arabian Sea and the aforementioned ocean is the Indian Ocean. It’s a beautiful place which merits a visit. Don’t miss the Vivekananda Memorial if you ever happen to travel there. And yes, the image featured with this post was clicked by me at Kanyakumari.
Welcome back, dear readers! So this time, another one of my random thought processes resulted in a list of names that, when said aloud, result in a bout of laughter. I didn’t have time to think of a story or a poem because I’m out travelling in South India for 12 days. I stole some of the transportation time to write, so thankfully I won’t be skipping Blog Day-Sunday. A useful tip from my side should you ever visit South India- do not eat South Indian food in restaurants. The food doesn’t taste good over there, and they also charge if you take extra sambhar (a kind of curry made with arhar pulses and eaten with almost every food), which you’re bound to, because they give it in bowls as small as a half hollowed-out apple. Instead, eat at roadside stalls or street vendors. Their food is way more delicious, and it’s cheaper. Plus, they don’t charge for extra sambhar.
Well, enough chattering. Let’s get to our list.
First up, A very Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful mothers out there! You all are doing a great job of balancing your life with your kids. A special shoutout to the women who are celebrating their first Mother’s Day. Congratulations!
Now let me be very honest with you- I tried my level best to write a poem about mothers, but I couldn’t. It was as if the words had deserted me. I thought and thought for hours (okay, several minutes) but the page of my notebook remained blank. So I’ve published what I could think of, even though it’s not remotely related to mothers. My sincere apologies to all the mothers and the people who were expecting something Mother’s Day-ey. I promise to try harder next time.
Before I start with the story, I must say it was a challenge in itself for me because my stories are never less than 1000 words long. I always get carried away while putting pen to paper and just go along with the flow. But seeing the abundance of flash fiction and 100-word stories on WordPress, not to mention their popularity, I decided to stretch those writing muscles and take the plunge in the sea of 100-word stories. Let’s hope my first lexiquintal (I made that word up myself; *pats herself on the back*) turns out well.