The Gift

Words flowed onto the screen, not paper. She used keys instead of a pen. The backspace key became her eraser. Her graceful, wrinkled fingers traced the smooth edges of the new laptop he'd just bought for her. He looked quizzically at her as her lips broke into a faint smile at the sight of her most cherished gift - the golden cross-pen he'd gifted her decades ago; it still adorned her bedside table and ruled her heart.

Love for serenity

The floor beneath her feet shook violently. Hurled stormily to one corner, she tried to get on her feet in vain. The cutlery from the shelf came crashing down and missed her forehead by a hair's breadth. She barely managed to crawl to the edge of the staircase, quickly making a dash for the exit. Once outside, the gravity of the situation sunk in - a giant wave, a surefire killer, was rapidly pacing towards her boat. She wondered how come she'd always been in love with the sea for its serenity...

Take me there…

The string broke, the beads fell apart
Is this the beginning of the end,
Or is it a fresh start?
Is life about the entirety,
Or merely a sum of all parts?
So many unanswered questions
That haunt the mind and heart.
Oh take me where the peace belongs,
Where doubts are weak and love is strong.
Take me where the warmth of the sun
Lights up hearts both old and young.
Take me where I’d like to stay
To be myself, to laugh and play,
Oh take me far away away…
Take me where I’d like to stay.

Music or Lyrics

Music or lyrics – the eternal debate continues… It’s not easy to take sides because both together form the very essence of what makes a song lovely, groovy or even haunting – like the fragrance that follows you when you pass by a perfume store, or the warmth that pacifies your cold fingers on a chilly day or the feel of a kiss that lingers on in your mind for days, months or even years, bringing a sparkle to your eyes every time you reminisce it.

It’s true indeed that when you’re happy, you bask in the glory of the tune – the music simply takes over every cell of your body; on the other hand when you’re sad and lonely, the lyrics seem to hog up all the empty space in your heart and mind, often finding a way out through welled-up eyes. But most often than not, it’s the perfect combination of the two that does the magic!

There’s no doubt that a tune without lyrics will still be music whereas without the music itself, there’s no song at all… it might as well be a poem! It’s the music which sets the stage for what might become a hit number or remain something drab. Haven’t you ever fallen in love with a song that you don’t get the lyrics of? I don’t know why but I’m immediately reminded of the Arabic part in Desert Rose – I don’t understand a word of it (my bad, I guess!) yet, it’s so haunting!

All said and done, a perfect cake gets ready only when you mix all the ingredients together in the right proportion – likewise, a song that sticks on my list is one that packs in some awesome music with words that reach the depths of my heart and soul. What’s more, it definitely makes my day if one of my favourites ends up being my earworm – it’s as good as eating your cake and keeping it too! Well today was one of those lucky days and I hope you enjoy this one by Coldplay as much as I do…

‘Cause you’re a sky, ‘cause you’re a sky full of stars
I’m gonna give you my heart
'Cause you're a sky, ‘cause you're a sky full of stars
'Cause you light up the path
I don't care, go on and tear me apart
I don't care if you do
'Cause in a sky, ‘cause in a sky full of stars
I think I saw you
'Cause you're a sky, ‘cause you're a sky full of stars
I want to die in your arms, arms
'Cause you get lighter the more it gets dark
I'm going to give you my heart
And I don't care, go on and tear me apart
And I don't care if you do
'Cause in a sky, cause in a sky full of stars
I think I see you
I think I see you

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Written in response to a writing prompt Earworm at The Daily Post.

Beauty within

It calls for an abundance of inner beauty

To appreciate the splendour of little things in life,

‘Tis not for nothing that they say

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder… 

To where it all began!

Uprooted from home

Planted into a new abode,

New faces, new places

New experiences galore.

Far from home, adjusting to the place

Every person around a foreign face

Days progressed, but life – standstill

Weeks and months and years to kill.

Children born and raised and fed

Every little need was met,

An emptiness still haunted her mind

Oh won’t the universe be kind?

Life had passed, the end now near

Made a wish, she shed a tear

A journey to home she must commute

Life spent uprooted, in death she’d find her root.

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This is a work of fiction written for a Writing Challenge theme ‘Digging for Roots’.

Digging for Roots

Eat whatever you want!

I was sipping Assam tea while enjoying my favourite freshly-baked walnut brownie made by my sister Simran. The doorbell was answered by her maid and a miniature storm invaded the room as my 6-year-old nephew zoomed inside. He dropped the school bag on the sofa, kicked-off his shoes and socks, got rid of his neck-tie and then with an innocent smile, quietly sneaked into the kitchen.

Moments later, sporting a grin that extended as far back as his ears, he seated himself on the chair next to mine with a big bowl of strawberry-banana ice-cream.

‘Whoa!’ I exclaimed as I raised my eyebrows and stole a glance at Simran. She smiled back placidly at him.

I couldn’t stay quiet. ‘It’s raining outside Adi. Wouldn’t you rather have some hot chocolate milk with a sandwich or something?’

‘Come on mausi’, he made a face at me.

I turned to Simran in hope ‘You must not allow him to eat all this during this weather Simmi. What if he falls ill? My neighbour’s daughter is down with viral fever since a week and she’s gotten so weak.’

Simran teased me with her twinkling eyes, ‘He’s got a magic wand to protect him. Something like a secret potion. Only that it’s not a secret anymore.’

I was beginning to feel as if this was some conspiracy being played out by the mother and son while I was the silent spectator. What’s worse is that I was really feeling worried that Aditya might catch a cold soon. He was close to emptying the bowl of the yummy ice-cream. 

Noticing my restlessness, Simran came and hugged me from behind as she put my worry to rest ‘Didi, I give him Dabur Chyawanprash every day. You obviously know about this time-tested, age-old formulation for good immunity, right?’

‘Yes, I’ve heard about it but does it really improve a child’s immunity?’

‘Of course didi. Thanks to the goodness of a number of herbs and 40 natural ingredients, it actually strengthens the body’s defenses and protects against illnesses.’

I was still skeptical as I recalled my neighbour’s daughter, ‘But does that mean you allow him to eat and drink anything he wants?’

‘Didi. I have seen it work and that’s what makes me resolute about its efficacy. Do you even remember the last time Adi fell ill? Previously, he would keep catching cold every now and then from kids in his school. But now, things have changed. His health his good.’

I slipped my hand over the corner of the table while muttering ‘touch wood’ to myself. 

She continued, ‘In fact, it’s so often that his friends keep falling ill and he has no one to play with. Hence, I even told his friends’ parents to start them on Dabur Chyawanprash.’

I happened to notice that indeed Aditya seemed to be in good health. ‘If that is the case, I totally trust you, Simran. Go Adi, eat whatever you want!’ I tickled him and his peals of laughter filled the entire room with a wondrous rapture!

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This post is a work of fiction for an Indiblogger Campaign ‘A healthy child makes a happy home’