Posted in Fiction, short story, thème

Leftovers

From where I sit, the place looks a little pale, one of those café’s which has kind of lost its race with its neon glittering, over crowded counterparts. I assume, the place must have had its loyalists, but today not many seem to be around. May be it had to do with the hour of the day. The grand clock on the wall, showed a little past 10. It was that time of the day, when it was well past breakfast but a little away from lunch. Not many people hang around the old time café’s during this hour of the day, unless they are one of those who hang out buried in a book or a laptop. But today I can see none around, it is just me.

I lay there, on an empty coffee table, with fresh stains of leftovers around me, living me with a feeling, that may be I am one too, a stain, a leftover stain. 

A sudden gush of wind caught me off guard, turning a few pages backwards, taking me along.

I can see an young man, may be in his late teens. The impatience of the youth eminent in the rhythmic noise his cell phone made, with its every touch, to slightly damp surface of the table he sat at. The morning dew formed a layer of tiny droplets, giving a fresh and bubbly look to the otherwise worn out table of the yesteryear’s. I guess he was waiting for a text or a call, he made it a point to flip open his cell phone, in case his mobile forgot to signal him, when whoever he was waiting for, made a contact. He spent a really tough 90 minutes here, occasionally sipping a cuppa, or a vigorously tapping of his legs firmly onto the ground for a few minutes and then getting back to his monotonous and frustrating wait. Finally, after about what it seemed like an infinite wait, his phone is ringing. 

I am being an eavesdrop today and picking up the eager voice the guy is sporting, 

“I think today is the day, I ought to tell her, I need to come out of the hiding, its been weeks since I have been leaving her gifts, things I am sure she has enjoyed, leaving her with words which she cherishes the most, I have been giving her clues to find a way to me. This has got to end today, in fact this should have ended by know, its well past her time here, and here I am waiting, with no trace of her”

Ah the wind yet again, as though it does not want me to revisit the whole of it. Taking me forward, well past the lunch, right into the time of the day I love the most, the dusk.

I see her, a lady well past her prime, hair crowned with a bunch of gray wisdom. There is something about her eyes, burning red in color, and swollen out of their sockets, indicating sleepless nights or hours of crying. Her face looks void of emotions though. She does not look like a regular here at all, this was not the time the or the place for a person of her age. I surprisingly see a sense of fitting in, as though she has accepted this. I see her reaching to her bag pulling out a plastic bag, it seems to be loaded with things which I cannot see from where I sit. I wait in hope that she pulls things out one by one, just when she is about to get the first item out, I see a young girl approaching her. I guess she must have been here to meet her young friend, I prognosticate.

Now that I can here their conversation, I let myself flow to into her voice

“Oh I am not sad at all, I know she left us happily, after years of struggling, I had given up the hope that I would see her smiling again, but something changed in the last few days, she seemed to be happy, may be it had something to do with this bag I found below her bed, may be this is where she hid  all her happiness, I guess I met you at the right time, I would be really happy to see her last bit of happiness being spread across the numerous children at the orphanage which you guys used to visit, I guess she left us with no regrets.”

The powerful wind at its work again, behaving as though it exactly knew the cue when to turn the pages over, and interrupt my narration. 

I lay there, on an empty coffee table, with fresh stains of leftovers around me, living me with a feeling, that may be I am one too, a stain, a leftover stain.

Posted in 7495217, Taking a break, thème

Attention fellow bloggers

Have you ever seen a girl and felt,  I am sure she will one day be one of the prettiest girls, someone whom you would want for yourself, someone whose beauty you would totally fall for?.

 

Have you ever seen a girl and felt, she will  one day be hell of an Orator, someone who you would be proud to know, speak to, discuss and argue with. Someone who will have amazing control over what, when, how and tone to speak in?

 

Have you ever seen a girl and felt, she will  one day be a perfect blend of beauty and brains, someone who will end up like an ideal personality, someone who would be everyone’s envy, someone who will have brain, beauty but still does not forget humbleness

 

Have you ever seen a girl and felt, she will one day be a perfect homemaker, one who knows how to handle finance, help everyone around, have a lot of patience, even after all this not loose her own individuality?

 

Have you ever seen a girl and felt, she will be the best combination of sensitiveness and tom boyishness, someone who has knows mood swings are inevitable and can take it to her advantage, someone who can understand the mood of people around as well?.

 

Have you ever seen a girl, who has the right amount of imperfection, something you would totally get attracted to, I mean that small dash of vulnerability and a little absense of every thing I mentioned in above lines?

 

Actually I haven’t and am looking for one..so if you have seen …do lead her over to, you know where right?. that’s right ..straight to Rambler 🙂

Posted in "Theory of pursuit", Moi, Romance, thème

September

She

was 

the summer 

of may

And I, 

onset of 

winter, 

The September.

——————————————————————————-

There was a line in the movie “Little Manhatten” where it goes something like “she is may and I am september”, somehow the line caught onto me, and I started thinking so many things it can mean, the line in the movie is used to depict that “she” is born in may, and “he” in september, but I could come up with atleast 4 different interpretations of what the months could stand for. This is one of my versions of the line.

The topic over at Sunday Scribblings happens to be “winter”, and I thought may be this is close to the prompt.

Posted in "Theory of pursuit", poésie, poetry, thème, Thoughts, thoughts to think

History “termed”.

The topic over at sunday scribblings this week is “If I had to live at a different time in history”, this was supposed to highlight which era I would like to go back to, when, why and where. All I could think of was why I would like to go back in history, for whom, and whats history for me. Here are a couple of lines I came up with.

If today,
is not,
what
you want me
to
live in,
I
would love
to
escape,
back to
days
which
you
“termed”
history.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

I guess,
it’s not
what was
“termed”
as history,
that
I want to
go back to,
may be
its
“us”
from that era
I would
want
to return
to.

 

Posted in Romance, thème

Eyes

Manner,
In which,
You,
Close,
your eyes,
the,
slowness,
with which,
you open,
them,
makes me,
forget my,
manners.

——————————————————————————————-
Prompt over at skittles today is “manner”. Pathetic state my mind is in, only thing I could think of, was this.

Posted in poésie, poetry, thème

Helpless God

You sit there,
With my hands around your shoulder
Your head buried between your knees
And you ask,
“Do I have to Look up?”.

You sit there,
With my eyes closed in hope,
A booklet of prayer hidden in your palms,
And you ask,
“Do I have to Pray?”.

You sit there,
With my eyes stuck upon yours
A tiny tearlet, stuck on your cheeks
And you ask,
“Do I have to smile”?

You sit there
With my life depending on yours.
An oxygen mask hanging on your face,
And you ask
“Do I have to breathe”?

It pains to be a helpless GOD.

——————————————————————————

Prompt over at Sunday Scribblings for today is “Do I have to”, I guess I struggled a lot with the prompt working on some sort of a theme, which ended up totally  spoiled. Anyways here it goes, my take on the prompt.