Category Archives: short short story

To New Beginnings

I was once travelling in a car, I do not recollect what day it was or month, but the scenes I see so clearly. The house, our house, my friends’ houses, our playground, our school, our market, our grocery shop still flashes across, like a happy memory, yet distant, someplace I’ll never set foot again, at least not for long at a time.

There was a time when everything was different, and there soon will be a time when everything will be different, again. As I leave, I try to imprint as much as I can in my head, the blossoming of the gulmohars and the ripening of the mangoes in summer, the harsh and wet rains, the sole fabric of extra layering required in the winters. I think I’ll miss our neighbourhood crows, parrots and pigeons too, for they kept me going when times were dull. I hope to fix up these happy memories in my eyes so as to remember and revisit the place forever and ever, without having to come back. The sad ones can be wiped out, or if possible be burned up, to never be restored again.

A sparrow sitting on the branch of a Gulmohar tree, adjacent to our apartment
(which unfortunately fell during the rains this year)

— Suri

Dreaming

In the last couple of weeks, two of Luna’s closest people have texted her, asking her how she was doing, all of a sudden. After a bit of talking, both of them confessed to having seen her in their dreams – but it wasn’t a good one, in both the cases. Typically, Luna is not the kind of person who goes looking for answers – answers to whether these dreams were signs, that something terrible and tragic was to befall upon her! She believed in none of this nonsense.

These two dreams were seen and experienced by people who did not know each other at all, but both of them knew Luna pretty well individually. When Luna had heard the first dream (God was it sad!), all she did was assure the person who saw it, that she was doing well and there was nothing amiss. What else could she do? But when she heard the second dream, curiosity caught hold of her. “You were chased by a serial killer, with some kind of a weapon in a very lonely street, where everything looked dark; and I stood there helpless and crying” – she remembered her friend saying on call. What if these indeed are signs? What if someone is trying to give her hints via her loved ones, to safeguard herself? Suddenly, she wanted to know more.

Luna’s thoughts were interrupted by the loud volume blaring from the speakers of the television.  Since the past few days, the local news channels and newspapers are filled with news articles about a runaway psychopath. The eye witnesses claim that he always carries with him a very clean, sharp and jagged knife. He’s suspected to be responsible for multiple murders in a nearby locality, but the authorities have found no reliable proof yet. If it were in Luna’s hands, she would never have wasted her precious Sunday morning surfing news channels, but currently the remote was in her brother’s hands, so she didn’t complain. She had to unwilling listen to the psychopath’s tale for like the 200th time since it first started surfacing!

Having a bad dream is terrible, Luna was wondering, but waking up with a bad dream and then REMEMBERING it, is the worst! We have to carry that dream with us the entire day, slogging wearily to ward it off; but instead we rather unknowingly, analyse it and picturize it again and again, on a loop. Slowly, we tend to become so anxious that there’s a constant feeling of dread looming above us, like a silent, floating cloud, she concluded.

How I wish that I could tell the seers of such dreams, thought Luna, that dreams are nothing but fragments of our own anxiousness, forming images and stories in our subconcious mental space. But could I tell them that? she asked herself, No way! But why not? She pressed on, maybe, because, in a way, I too wanted to believe otherwise?

After having their breakfast, her brother turned off the television, finally! thought Luna, to have a late-Sunday bath. After he was gone, Luna turned back to reading her book, which she wanted to finish in time – for her online book club discussions. The doorbell rang. Luna wondered who it was – they had very few visitors ever since the lockdown started. She peered through the eyehole, he seems to be some stranger, maybe a new courier man? Luna wondered. She opened the main door. Standing before her was a man approx. 5 ft 4 inches tall. His beard was unshaven and moustache was unkempt. “How can I help you?”, Luna asked him. But he spoke no words. All he did was point downwards. As she couldn’t see what he was actually pointing at, Luna opened the safety-door to have a clear look. Turns out he was pointing at his right wrist, in which he was holding a clean, sharp and jagged knife, that was glistening with some drops of red on it.


— Suri

Waiting For a Rainy Day

Sitting quietly by the windowsill, I was watching the colony of tiny ants, patiently carrying cubes of sugar, lining up in a queue and walking slow but steady. My eyes follow their path down from the windowsill through the curvy pipes and then straight into the grass. The grass is fresh but in need of water. I went inside to grab a jug of water. As I was pouring water into the potted plants, I broke a sweat. I had hardly done any work! Yet the heat of summers along with the humidity in Mumbai is enough to be soaked in sweat within minutes.

I was longing for the rain. We all do it, right? Towards the end of summers, when the degrees soar up insanely, we all know who to wait for. Especially in Mumbai, where winters are dull and summers are hot, our only saviour is the rain. That’s the one thing which we have in abundance!

It’s quiet tonight. Rains have already arrived in the southern parts of India, slowing traversing it’s way upwards. The thought of rain excites me. Of course, I’m not fond of the thunder which follows the rain.

Our relatives from countryside have already notified us about the arrival of rain at their place. It’s so close now. I can totally feel it. It was breezy some time ago but now it’s even more windy. And it’s considerably cooler now. Signs of rain. It’s night time, so I cannot actually see the clouds clearly, but I’m sure it’s cloudy as no star is visible.

I hope it rains tonight. I hope it lowers the temperature.

Dear Rainy Day,

I’m Waiting In Anticipation. Come Soon.

Yours Truly,

Suri

– Suri

Stuck.

He wanted to spill it all out. But couldn’t. He couldn’t form the words. They seemed to have stuck somewhere on his tongue, struggling to escape yet kept back by some force. Oh how he wished to break his shell and how he craved to be normal again!

– Suri

Memories…

Some memories get etched onto our minds.

They make themselves stronger than diamonds, in the sense that they become so stubborn, they won’t ever leave, not even when you want them to.

Those memories are also lighter than feather, at times they’ll come to you when you least expect them to.

Memories are your assets, but don’t get too attached to them, they also possess the power to destroy you.

– Suri

Roses

Yes, the flower is a bit dried up. The petals are now starting to curl. It’s getting darker around the edges.

Only a day prior, the rose was so fresh and so full of life, without any mark. Today, it still is full of life but with some bruises.

Isn’t life the same? We all are naive and innocent initially. But as the days pass by, we learn new things, we acquire new bruises, we grow up.

We’ll start shedding our petals once we start getting older but till then we have the chance to bring happiness to someone, to someone in need, to someone with bruises. 🙂

— Suri

Declutter.

Mind-3

Everyone expects you to focus;

nobody tells you how to declutter.

People give you tips on how to learn new things with zeal and enthusiasm

but what about the pre-existing things on my mind? How am I to declutter those?

I sure can’t just put a needle through my mind and make it burst like a big, fat balloon.

(I wish I could… )

 

– Suri

A Bag Full Of Confusion!

Sometimes you do things you’ve never wanted to. And those times, when you never try the things you’ve always wanted to. They believe what they’re told. They see what they’re shown. They hear what’s blaring around. I ask, only for once, if you could try to seek out things for yourself; to pull down the veil in front of you; to move away from the commotion and hear from a place where you may find tranquility, do you think the situation would seem the same? I ask, why would you even believe and merely drink in the apparent world? If it was meant to be this way, wouldn’t everyone around be happy?

 

Note: It is an incomplete post. Nevertheless, I am posting it here, as I’m not sure how to end it properly. You can always share your views about it in the comments’ section. 🙂

– Suri