Late Realization

Sam completed his homework as his sister waited patiently with her Math problems. After helping her, Sam organized the table for the primary school students he tutored. He could hear his mom typing away in the next room. She was also training to be a Montessori teacher. Sam thought about their lives a year ago. His mother spent all her time on TV soaps while Sam and his sister fought over petty video games. His father, the sole breadwinner, labored until he fell sick with Covid. Now Sam wished his father had been around to see his ‘responsible’ family.

This was written for Charli’s Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge. The prompt this week is to write a story that takes place a year later.

Flash Fiction Challenge – Before the Call

Maria savored the hazelnut chocolate, eyes closed, as each bite melted in her mouth and warmed her heart. She wore her favorite pink lace dress, which now hung loosely around her thin body. However, she no longer cared about her weight.

She touched the pink pearls her husband had given her long ago. They were as fake as he was. But, she had kept both.

Maria walked around her beloved garden, feeling the twilight breeze on her face.

She leaned back and took a deep breath. Then she dialed the clinic to ask for the result of her diagnosis.

The above is my response to this week’s Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge. The prompt is to write a story of 99 words about deep wishes. Thank you, Charli, for giving us the opportunity.

Unremembered

I sit in the General Hospital, waiting for my turn when I hear a loud wailing. Expecting to see a child, I am shocked to see an elderly lady in a wheelchair, crying with her eyes tightly shut. I am deeply disturbed and could see that the other patients are uncomfortable too. This incident reminds me of an old cleaning lady in our condo whose eyes glistened as she told me how lonely she felt as her children and grandchildren lived far away. There is another instance of a man in our neighborhood who is dreadfully scared of dogs but has to walk his daughter’s dog, as she is too busy to do so. As I walk away from the hospital, I see an elderly man staring into space.

His treble

the language

of wrinkles

The Wooden Chair in CHO

Hi Friends,

The Wooden Chair was the first haibun I had written. This was published in Contemporary Haibun Online’s July issue, 2013, Vol 9. Please find below.

My Wooden Chair

I stroll restlessly in my new house as trees outside are being chopped for construction. Lifeless new buildings are sprouting in the neighbourhood. I wonder mildly about deforestation as I lean back in my chair.

my wooden chair screeches–
memories of a
felled tree

When the Light Barged in

I stood in the corner

of my tiny room,

scared of the light

that followed me

wherever I went.

I pulled my curtains,

hiding inside, holding

on to darkness, taking

comfort in misery

when sunlight crept in

through the tiny opening

in my curtains.

Terrified of the light,

I buried my face in

my hands.

Sunlight colored my fingertips,

pricking my eyelids.

I felt the light

with closed eyes,

flooded by its warmth,

its positivity and grandeur.

No longer fearful,

I shed the comfort of darkness

and stepped on

the path of light.

Touch of Life

Cold cut through her skin,

seeped into her bones,

and clutched her shivering heart

as its icy grip spread

all over her body.



Stacked logs on the fireplace

could not warm her frosty breath

and heavy blankets failed

to comfort her chilled body.



Then it happened.

A tiny feeble hand

touched her heart

and blood gushed

into her body, filling

her with maternal warmth.

Her cold ears melted

in the soft babble

of cooing noises.

Her eyes trembled open

to soak in the warmth

of the tiny stranger and

she forced herself up

with outstretched arms.