Yellow blossoms and Ulysses

This piece of short fiction written by me has been published by Kaani, a bi-annual literary magazine publishing short fiction and short story reviews.

KAANI

Bunches of yellow blossoms hang overhead like delicate chandeliers. I can almost hear the clinking of the crystals as they sway to the tunes of the gentle summer breeze. But death lurks in the shadows that dance on the parched earth below.

And this same flower that smiles to-day

To-morrow will be dying . . .

 . . . Robert Herrick whispers his prophetic verse into my ears. Yes, the blossoms would be history in the days to come. The delicate petals will detach themselves from the stalk and float down in a spiral. The koel, whose melody reverberates in my ears today, will sing a dirge then. But I, oblivious, would trample the fallen petals under my heel even as I tried to imitate his enviable call. I seek him amongst the leaves of the jamun tree – in vain. He is an expert in covert operations, it…

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An Interpretation of War

War, in its several manifestations, surrounds our life today. And although the systems in place prevent an actual war from taking place, there is always that tension . . .we’re always on the brink of all hell breaking loose. Here is my interpretation of War, written for ‘the same’, a blog that encourages women writing for women.

 

Imaginary Debt (1)

Do you remember the day

we entered our new home?

The stark, empty spaces

weren’t really empty, were they?

They were filled—every corner and crevice,

with an air of hope, anticipation

and yes, with love.

The bare walls

picked up those naughty giggles,

multiplied them manifold

and threw them back at us.

I remember riding the waves

in that sea of giggles,

with your hands in mine.

Our excited banter

crashed and banged against each other.

You teased me. I tripped

and fell over you as I tried to stop you.

Me- punching your chest

with a chuckle, you—flailing

your arms in mock anguish;

one would have thought we were at war.

But we weren’t at war then.

It is now—surrounded by

our favourite brands of gadgets,

tables, chairs, beds, cabinets,

pots, pans, art and what not-

it is now, that we are at war.

These lifeless hoards

that fill…

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