Circles

Could she possibly shuffle along any slower!

I suppose I would get a few minutes to buy popcorn if I ran from the community center to the movies. Assuming Mark has bought the tickets…

Great, now she’s staring at that trash… AND SMILING.  I knew that look. Another one of her rambling antics.

“A baby-chair and a patient’s bed – one beside the other. The irony of life.

Oh, a baby cot too. The complete circle.”

There goes the popcorn.

“Signal,” I yelp as I nudge her forward.  

Crap… She almost tripped. Why do I always get stuck with her!

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The view from the top

What do you suppose they are discussing, with their heads huddled together?

Perhaps they are deliberating imperative matters of serious consequence. The strong tall leaders of fernkind… debating the risks of climate change… strategizing defence… “First we sacrifice the thistles,” they might say. Every great battle has its share of collateral damage after all.  

Or perhaps they are just posturing. They who are in positions closest to the oxygen source may just be waiting for natural selection to weed out the small and weak.

You can’t blindly trust the leaders. One does not have to be great to get to the top – just tenacious.

Image by Bikurgurl

In response to Bikurgurl’s 166th 100 Word Wednesday prompt

The world is collared

O dear! Linda has given us a Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt as “collar.” 

A month or two back that would have probably had me picturing the tailor’s shop with their many patterns for necks and collars, or perhaps an Elizabethan film with those fancy frilly high necks that look so elegant. But considering that a pet cone is also called an E-Collar, we can imagine how comfortable the poor ladies felt.

At that point I would have gone into a rant about how collars and corsets were yet another tool of the patriarchy.

But today a very different thought flows through my mind – of the state of post-Covid economy and its impact on livelihood. Just yesterday I was listening to a talk on how the rigid Indian lockdown has rendered lakhs of blue collar workers jobless and that it was going to take its toll on the white collar workers next. This one little invisible virus has affected the entire world, and yet we refuse to learn any lessons. We continue to over-estimate our importance and rights as a species, refuse to acknowledge the damage that we are doing, stay oblivious to the fact that we are so tethered together in this global economy that the days of ‘his problem is not my problem’ are long gone.

Covid-19 has collared the entire world and brought it to its knees.

Hope is tenacious and I continue to pray that this too shall pass.

But dare I hope for us to come out any wiser, is the question.

When waters flow

“It’s supposed to be our honeymoon. You wanted a romantic place. You wanted a surprise. I’m not asking you to swim, just walk across a few bridges.”

The brochure he waved before my face did nothing to reduce my panic or dislodge my frozen feet.

Somehow my desperate shaky hands managed to open Google and type “Potamophobia.”

In response to Week 241 of Three Line Tales.

Photo by Sam Mouat via Unsplash

Note: Potamophobia is the irrational fear of rivers or running water. Suddenly I wondered ‘what if a Venetian actually feared water?’ and thus sprang this tale.

My pen is blunt

I am not feeling particularly sharp right now. It’s been almost a year since I logged in and I just spent the last few minutes looking around to see what’s changed. For starters this ‘block’ editor appears to have become the default. I’m more of a classic person, being a baby boomer you know, but post-lockdown the world has been screaming that we should up-skill. So ya, this is me up-skilling.

Happy to see that most of my old friends are still here. I had signed up at a time when I had shut out the world around me and embraced a new virtual world. So even though you don’t know me, in my story, many of you are my friends… Friends who got me through one of the toughest periods of my life.

Lockdown has been tiresome. But ironically its not been hard. My self-imposed lockdown was hard. This is just necessary.

So I have mopped up the spilt ink, reached for the sharpener, and resolved to write again. Now as Susie very eloquently puts it – tits up.

Linda hosts Stream of Consciousness Saturday. This week’s prompt is “sharp.” Use it in any or all of its definitions. Have fun!

Low EMI Celebration

Low EMI Celebration

EMI and Celebration
A bit of an oxymoron.
Seriously, who celebrates having to pay any EMI. Now if they announced that they were waving off the EMI, I could launch into a celebratory dance for that. A lower EMI just means that I get to feel a little less depressed before parting with my precious notes each month. Cause shopping can give me a high, unpacking can give me a high, inaugurating something new can give me a high, but never ever in my life have I gone, “Yippee! It’s time to pay up. Let’s break out that nice Champaign.” Hmmm… let me think. Did I buy that in a sale or for some excitingly low EMI? No matter how positive or upbeat a person one is, I dont see paying EMI as an event that can precipitate any celebration.

So basically, this flyer is just giving someone standing on the precipice, wondering about if they can really afford this buy, that last little push required to jump off the cliff.
You may fly, or you may crash. Rest assured, either you or your legal heirs will still be paying that EMI.

Ethics and Advertising
Another oxymoron, I guess.

This post is a part of SoCS Nov. 23/19.
The caption on my flyer read “LOW EMI CELEBRATION”

My kiss

How long have I waited
for a kiss to my heart?

How long had I settled
for lips pressing upon lips?
Watching lovers on celluloid
Empty wondering
Cursing the fiction and the fantasy
that precipitated yearnful dreams
Dreams that died a day at a time
to the mechanics of sex
Violation not volition

And then… Magic
A new path
A new dream
A new choice

Of yearning excitement
Toes tingling
Body pulsing
Finally a kiss
A real kiss
A kiss of the soul
A kiss that felt like home

How long had I waited
for a kiss to my heart.

Love in the times of Coffee

I am a tea drinker. Always have been.
5 cups…6 cups…is there a limit to the tea that one can drink?

Tea was comfort food for me. A wakeup call, a constant buddy who accompanied me as I wandered around in the maze of my mind, a soothing companion to watch tele with. Tea was almost a family member. In fact, tea was a sibling.

But then coffee decided to come into town.

Coffee with his deep baritone and heady aroma.

Tea is safe, they said. But coffee had a unique magnetic pull. Coffee said, come, let’s get out of your head and explore new paths. Let’s loose some sleep and find some adventures. Let me wrap you up in my aroma – you just snuggle in and inhale.

A lot can happen over coffee once sounded like a corny tag line. Until it became the truth of my life.

I met him over cups of coffee. I accepted him over cups of coffee. We merged over cups of coffee.

I am a tea drinker who loves coffee; and I toasted this over Champaign.

I am unique. I am exotic. I am complete.

A bit of heaven

#JusJoJan 6 Jan 2019
Sadje prompts us to write using the word ‘Master’

I miss my master.

When he stepped into a room, his aura would light the place up, and you knew, from the acceleration of your hear-beat, that you had to stop everything else and pay obeisance to his beauty.

He loved me, his piercing gaze assured me of that; but his lazy swagger, his slow sinewy stretch, the elegance with which he took his seat, alerted me to the fact that I was blessed to be in the presence of the wise one, who would now ponder endlessly upon the mysteries of the universe.
The master needed his space and quiet.

He is one with the cosmos now, while I remain upon this mortal realm, honoured to have been graced by his love.

In my visions of heaven, I get to curl up beside him.

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Master