postaday

Of friendship and hope

It has been so long since we spoke that I’m concerned. If anything’s the matter I trust that you will let us know so it can be resolved.

You know how to reach me, us or…

Take Care 🙂

Hands shaking, she hits the ‘send’ button and feels her throat close, enveloping the light

around her.

‘Message sent View or undo’?

She blinks trying to get her eyes to focus. Undo… Dear reader,  if only it were that simple, you and I would have found a cure to cancer . If only she knew what the hell there was to undo. (more…)

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The Three Friends Song

The Three Friends Song. That’s the topic I ended up with after scribbling down ten words that came to mind. (Friends, Gum, Water, Tired, Song, Life, Books, Work , Three) This has been one of Daily Prompts most creative challenges.

Here is my article with a haphazard rhyme.

The Three Friends Song

Walking down the crowded street

I smell chaos and decay

The putrid stench of a loveless world

People cowering in dismay

I seek a simple light to turn to when it gets too tough

Someone to cherish, to laugh and fight with and make up

A person who’ll walk with you when others shall point and jeer

To spoil and laze around with, I seek my other musketeer

Cut the Crap Karen picks me up and shakes me up

“You gonna mope all day?” she asks with her damned half full cup

Dusted off polished and primped, we’re feeling pretty good

These two friends set out to live life as properly as they could

The tide of life swept them along, tired as they got

Of pleasing every person and giving everything their best shot

Sit back Jack found us with baggage and a frown

He bid us put our feet up, just let our hair down

Checks and balances are important, but there’s so much more to life

Than being a mother a husband, or some body’s wife

“We need another friend” I said, “to complete this circle”

“Your fierce love and loyalty” they said “round off this miracle”

Message from Beyond…

Weekly Writing Challenge: Mind the Gap

Dear Reader,

Hope you are doing well.

By the time you read this, the tulips planted on my grave will probably be dead. Feel freeto replant them. If you can pitch some money for a few rose bushes as well I would be glad.

My name is Posta L’Ter , I belong to the great family the L’Ters. In my time it was a great honor to belong to the L’Ter family. We ruled the cities and suburbs alike. We were always accompanied by uniformed escorts. People used to gather outside their houses to receive us. The Famille des L’ters  descended from The Royal Family of The Mails of Communesbrugh. You used to see our royal cousins De Cards gracing functions and social events. They always dressed in bright colors, wore expensive coats and their visits were treasured for eons.

Our extended family by marriage were the T. Grams and sons. They were our foot soldiers if you will; running around checking up on people now and then. Courtesy was not their strongest suit. People often lamented over their insensitivity and we would soon follow hoping to soothe their hearts.

We existed with dignity, pomp and splendor. We took great pride in our customs.

Our reign did come to an end. Our great land was invaded by the Netisans. An unforgiving people they were. Their conquests were brutal, taking over by completely destroying the enemy. Few of us escaped and still managed to survive. Some traitors however defected to the enemy. They married into the Netisans and called themselves E. Mails. They were non-conformists, rejecting tradition, deeper and deeper they sank into a muck of identity crisis, getting on with the world and pure disrespect for the people they visited.

They did not bother to speak to people anymore, rather they just chatted, pinged, poked and posted in a devil-may-care way. They turned people away from the joy of receiving our royal personages, treasuring us and our memories forever. They have invented random alphabet clusters that at first don’t seem to mean anything, like they are threatened with a stint in the dungeons if they use vowels.

The golden era seems to be buried right here with me. The last of the royal MS. Ellie Graph of India was buried here this week at the ripe old age of 160. You may think I’m a bitter, pompous old twit for going on about things bygone. We ought to pave way for innovation no doubt, but a present that is built on the ashes of the past will never attain the true glory that the future could’ve had.

 There is one more thing I would like to tell the youth of today from beyond the grave… Pull up your pants if they get any lower they would be called ‘socks’; and ladies, the skirts you wear today were called ‘belts’ in my time. 

 Yours Respectfully,

MS. Posta L’Ter

Dilapidated Grave No 2

Golden Era Cemetery

Home… Dream Home…

Home — that blessed word, which opens to the human heart,

 The most perfect glimpse of Heaven,

And helps to carry it thither, as on an angel’s wings.

– Lydia Maria Child

It was January 2009, my mother’s birthday was coming up in May. There was nothing special about the year or anything. Owing to mortal fear of my soul burning for ever in hell, I cannot tell you how old she turned that year. My younger brother A and I liked to surprise mom now and then.

When I was in the 11th grade, we surprised mom by inviting her estranged niece over, I still remember the pineapple cake – all mom remembers is her niece walking into the living room. She still can’t remember the cake…

She is a single parent. She balanced her job, running the house, us… Completely brought back to the verge of bankruptcy thrice by people she trusted, she never let her children go without food or education. Our small apartment was pristine, we had nutritious food and went to  top schools in the city. We counted our blessings and thanked God every day.

As we sat thinking back on all the things she had to forgo for us, we realised how blessed we were. The people who stood by her were her friends. They never asked anything in return, they protected her, loved her, supported her, told her off, put up with her and were there for her in every step of life. In doing so they kept her focused, determined and strong. In doing so they also had a hand in creating the beautiful life we have. All these thoughts were swirling around in our mind… So… we made a plan.

It was 11.55 pm; we could hear the air conditioner in mom’s bedroom humming. We had this tradition, every birthday at midnight; A would wake mom up and play this movie he makes using all the pictures he took of her during the course of the previous year. Like a photo memoir if you will…

“Happy Birthday Ma!” we woke her up. Excited about the photos as usual, she rubbed her sleepy eyes, and sat in front of the computer… Picture after picture ran past her and as the screen faded to black A said “Surprise”… And there they were all of her friends, wishing her good luck, recounting old memories, telling her how much she meant to them. A and I had labored over the past two months, gathering information, visiting her friends and filming them, friends from other cities had their videos recorded in mobile phones and e-mailed to us. It was beautiful, she was beautiful, my mother sitting there her humble self, only thinking about what others meant to her, hadn’t stopped to think that she had enriched people’s lives too.

When morning dawned we spent the day with her and packed her off to visit a few churches with her mother in the evening. We had planned to have a surprise dinner in the terrace. So we made some paper lanterns and set up the terrace. She came home to an empty house and called us “Come on up to the terrace ma!” we said.

She was over joyed looking at the paper lanterns and rushed to hug us, but stopped in her tracks. She could make out some other shapes in the dark, dull lit terrace and there was a blur of saris and colognes and jasmine… Pandemonium- Friends meeting each other after a long time some of them after decades, laughing crying hugging and talking all at the same time. I would like to believe we found most of them and brought them together that day.

This is my home, built with tough love, some TLC and a lot of friendship. These memories are my dream home and every single person who touched our lives with love and friendship lives there with us and there is room for more…

Dinner was sponsored by my mom’s cousin. There was ice-cream and cake … maybe there was a pineapple cake, but I can’t remember.

 Thank you DP for the writing prompt!

Far from home…

There I was seated looking forlorn and excited at the same time, clutching my boarding pass a little too tight… My flight to Dubai was to board in a few minutes. My whole life (minus the three years I went to college) had been in Chennai, a unique city in South India. Chennai is a potpourri of cultures. She has always welcomed traditions from all over the world while keeping her own alive. I was off to find a job, stabilize my finances and get married to man I loved and in that order.

My mother, I had given her a tight hug and whispered my millionth prayer for God to keep her safe and happy, my brother, my friends, my scooter, my life… It was so hard to bring myself to do this.  Choking and dabbing my eyes that kept welling up, I settled down and tried to get comfortable.

An hour into the journey, I couldn’t help feeling miserable. Like I had left home and was flying to a strange land, suspended between all that I was and a future that I could only visualize in a matter of hours as opposed to the decade long aspirations that I used to have.

J (my husband now but boyfriend then) was supposed to pick me up at the airport. I imagined him waiting there for me, combing a hand through his curly hair falling at his shoulders, a mischievous grin and a twinkle in his hazel eyes. Instead it was his cousin (who was a stranger to me) at the arrival gate. “J was here just a minute ago, where did he go?” he said looking around wildly. Anxiety gripped my already exhausted heart as I fought to keep from breaking down. Tap on my shoulder and I turned around into soft comfortable fabric stretched over a warm chest. There was a whiff of rose, the unmistakable scent of J and the reassuring circle of his warm hands…

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ears he bent down to whisper in my ear “Had to prove to the police that I was not a terrorist”

The laughter that followed has stayed with us till this day… My journey made me realize that the farthest I’m from home is in my mind. As long as carry people I love in my heart, as long as I wake up every day to a snoring J I’m always home…

P.S: This post was inspired by WordPress’ s Daily Prompt.