Saturday, June 29, 2013

Rain Snippets - My attempts at 55 Fiction

"On a rainy day , Incy Wincy spider climbed that water spout. But the rain came down and washed him out. " Chanted my son.

"Will the spider be able to climb up again when the sun comes up?" He asked.

"Oh Yes". I said, smiling, as I kicked the dead spider out of the puddle.

On a rainy day , she got into the bus as usual , and sat on a  window seat.
Feeling the beauty and romance of the rain on her face, she fell into a contented sleep, oblivious of her co-passenger, who got down before she woke up.
She was happy , until she found her umbrella missing.

On a rainy day, he was making paper-boats to sail in the puddles.
He hoped the rains would continue tomorrow , so he could play them with his grandpa.
He didn't understand why his parents were anxiously scouring news and making frantic inquiries.
All he knew was that grandpa was supposed to return from Kedarnath today.

On a rainy day , she saw him . As she did every time it rained.
He offered her his umbrella and they walked away together in the rain.
One day she asked . "Who are you? ". He smiled showing off his vampire teeth.
She reciprocated..her fangs making her wickedly beautiful. And they faded into the rain.


On a rainy day , I saw her for the first time.
It was raining too the day she became mine.
On another rainy day , I lost her for ever.

I was distressed beyond words. I had to think of another excuse for losing my third umbrella in a month.


My first attempt at writing stories under 55 words. And I wanted to stray from the usual Rain/Romance saga.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda


Rain Fury

On a Rainy day, my heart skips a beat
Relishing a respite from the heat
[Source :]
As raindrops on my cheek
Murmur a gushing sweet speak
The wind pulls my hair , teasing
As it splatters droplets ,  adorning
Spring's white  flower bequest
With a pearl ornate chest

As the wind , changes its tone,
From a treble to a baritone ,
Rhythm of the falling rain
Picks up beats, quickens again
Watching the skies rapidly shift hue
Washing a dark grey blue
Colors from my rain speckled cheeks drain,
I try to protect my flowers in vain.

Rain , Wind , I beseech , I pray ,
Do not take my spring flowers away.
Thunder guffawed , mocking me anew
With strength and vigor , the thunderstorm blew.
With vengeance it crushed my flowers to ground.
In to the sea of mud where everything drowned.
"Your flowers are mine" , it seemed to say
"As is everything that stands in my way."

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The Road to Success

If you want the thrill and excitement
Of roads seldom traveled,
Of novelty, ambition ,
May be a  morsel of fame

In paths un-traversed by men.
Foot prints , mark your own
Reach for the stars , the sky,
The end of the blue horizon.

It will be a long journey ,
I must warn you though.
And it is not for quitters
Who stop when things get rough.

May perseverance be your virtue
And hard work be your friend
The fairy tale will come true
You will succeed in the end.

Adulation , admiration , will follow.
Future will , in awe look
But you will be the pioneer
Of a route that no one took.

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Words - A Haiku Trial..

Verse , rhyme I wait for
Why do they take so much time?
From a (writer's) block away.

My first trial  at Haiku. Not even sure if I got my syllables right.. :)

Monday, June 10, 2013

Monsoon Memories - A Thunderstorm Saga

"Sun , it has come . Finally..". Her eyes were shining in excitement.
I looked up from my book and smiled
"Perfect. And it is Friday too".
"Did you ask if it is available?" I asked , slightly doubtful now.
"It is bound to be. If we don't get it today , some one else will and we won't get it for a week."
"Let's go now then. ". I said , discarding my Famous Five on the wicker chair in the porch.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"Amma , I'm going out with Deeps. We will be back soon. ".
"Don't get wet." she called out . "It looks like a thunderstorm is on its way."
"Don't worry Amma , we 'll be back in no time.". I called out, starting to get ready.

We looked for our black umbrellas , but could only find one. The other remained stubbornly out of sight. "Fine , let's just go with one then." I said as I put on my Verlon sandals. We started walking. A cool breeze was blowing . The rain had left the ground wet with an aroma of freshness that made me happy.We walked faster than usual , taking the shortest route possible to reach our destination. We made it just in time before the shop closed.

"I was about to close the store , but here, I have placed it in a plastic bag , take good care as it is the only copy I have."  He said as he pulled down the shutters and got on his bike to go home before the rain started.

As soon as we started on our way back , it started drizzling. Suddenly with the sound of exploding fireworks, thunder boomed , and a streak of lightening seemed to hit a tree  nearby. Rain was falling by the buckets and the roads were flooding. Walking through puddles and water filled potholes, our return journey was slow. And then the wind decided to play naughty and take our umbrella away. Now completely wet , we tried to chase down the umbrella which had overturned and was collecting water inside like a huge bowl. Deeps covered the plastic bag with her dupatta while I chased the umbrella that the wind was moving away from us.

"Got it . "I said as I caught up with the flying umbrella and desperately tried to put it  back in shape. We were almost home now. "Let us make a run for it , We are wet anyway". She said , and I agreed.
Photo Courtsey (
We dashed down the mud road, into our houses , completely drenched , right into my Amma and Valiyamma (aunt) who immediately started scolding us for our escapade in the rain. But we knew that no scolding could take away the happiness of the possession in the plastic bag that
we had so jealously guarded. "Let's go change into something dry first .We'll watch it when the rain stops. " Deeps said. Her words were drowned by the bang of the next thunder bolt . Electric sparks flew from the electric post nearby and then all went dark. "The transformer was hit. It will probably be a day before it gets repaired and power is restored."  Our hearts sank as we heard this oft heard proclamation from my uncle who had gone out with his torch to investigate.

 We looked sadly at each other. For all the trouble we had gone to get the video cassette of Baazigar , we wouldn't be able to watch it after all..

In the candlelight , we sat on the verandah , staring at the dark moonless sky playing Antakshari as there was nothing else to do.

"Oh Mera ...Baazigar O.. Baazigar Tu hai Bada Jadugar". I sang  ."Your turn , sing with Ja".

N.B : This post tried to picture a typical monsoon incident in my childhood.  While all of it may not have happened in one single incident , it happend some time and chasing umbrellas , getting wet in thunderstorms , and playing Antakshari during power outages were part of my childhood monsoon memories in Kerala. Hope you like it.

N.B: This  was written as an entry for discussion topic Monsoon Memories in Darlings Of Venus

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

One Last Game

Come on my friend,
Run along with me
There is still time
For one last game

Short words I catch on
And conspiring looks
I realize that time's less
Before we part

But before we are forced,
To go separate ways
There is still time
For one last tag

Run along far,
Before they call us back
May be we can have
A little hide and seek

Until they find us
And take us back ,
There is still time
For  that one last game

I know they have plans
That have nothing to do
With letting us play
All day today

But may be we can coax
For just a little while
So there's  still time
For some more play

Run along my friend
Let us hold hands too
See who's fast
and who'll be last

Pick up some sand
Pull a blade of grass
Watch the world go by
With curious eyes

Until those adult voices call
Time's up , let's go home
There's still time to run along
For one last game of play

P.S :Dedicated to all the times I saw Manu and  Samyukta play.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

Lost Verses

The rustle of fresh leaves,
The white spring flowers..
The breeze that brushes
my hair against my cheek
With an ever gentle swish

The calm solitude of pleasure
I try to hold on to for ever
As words dance to their 
Sweet melodious music
Across my mind's 
Green windy wilderness

Woken into reality
From my distant dreams
Pleasure turns into anger
As my verses get lost
Falling into the vortex of my 
Tumbling thoughts