Another love, lasting?? - A short story

The snap-

The fiction-

“So you loved her?”

“hmhm”

“And she loved you back??”

“hmhm hmhm”

“But it did not last!!”

“hmhm”

He took a deep drag at the cigarette hanging from ridge of his mouth reveling in its crisp vapors, sighed. “So good!!”

“Huh!!” he looked at him flabbergasted.

“Good….. Good for you!!” He blurted out, once again trying to empathize.

He started to laugh. “May be… May be not. But that doesn't really stop the pain. Does it?”

For once, his friend fell silent. 

Author's note-

I watched the movie- The swingers yesterday. I loved it. Its an awesome movie that follows a bunch of wannabe actors, their love lives and their careers. An honest depiction. No mushy stuff, just the bare truth. Do try it. And I was  inspired by the same movie to write the above short fiction. Hope you guys like it.

The silent melody- A short story

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 31; the thirty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'Strangers in the Night'

The fiction-

A slow Jazz music filled the dead silence of the hospital, its melodious notes dragging their feet across the almost empty hospital corridors resonating with the dry lonely lights spaced uniformly across the length of the walkway. A few nurses who were going about their jobs stopped and listened not believing their own ears. A few patients who were still awake blinked stupidly wondering what the loud music was doing near the ward for terminal patients. It was then that Frank Sinatra’s lucid baritone started to croon the lyrics of his once famous song-

Strangers in the night

Exchanging glances

Wondering in the night

What were the chances?

We'd be sharing love

Before the night was through

The duty doctor who was finishing up his last rounds stopped in mid-step hearing the song. His own heart suddenly picked up speed and literally started to pound against his ribs, as he reversed his direction and started running towards the source of the sound. A few nurses and orderlies of the night shift were also rushing along breathless in the same direction.  The motley bunch of curious patients who had already gathered outside the room from which the music was coming moved away jerkily making may for the rushing mob all in their medical whites. Their panic stricken faces heaving up oxygen trying keep up with their plodding legs. A locked door shut from the inside of the room greeted them.

The doctor took control of the situation seamlessly, ordering an orderly to break open the door using the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall nearby. He then rushed to the window and peeked inside its crevices trying to grasp what’s happening on the inside. Someone from the crowd behind whispered “but the door opens to the outside….. How did he manage to lock it?  And from where did he get his stereo” Nobody had any answers. Just more questions that echoed in the hollows of their mind, the more important questions that they did not dare to ask aloud. What is he doing inside? More importantly what is he doing to her? Is he suffering a mental breakdown? It’s not something new to happen in the terminal patient ward but happening to him was quite a surprise. 

Dealing with cancer always gets to you, breaks you, makes you do crazy things. Seeing life ebb out of the one you love a single bit at a time with each and every passing day, with no way to stop it, counter it but to simply slow it, as they wallow in their own suffering, the empty words of faith falling meaningless in their darkening world. With too much hurt drenching them down, nibbling away at their edges, as they try to plod though life smiling, pain takes new meanings literally.  

“I see them” shouted the orderly breaking the door. “I see them. The door just gave a crack. I….” He paused with a pained voice and turned his head from the door looking up at the doctor “I think he is crushing her, suffocating her”. The doctor leaped to the door plunging his eye into the broken rift in the door. A few seconds stood sweating without the heart to pass on; together with the bunch of people standing around waiting for the young doctor to give his speak.

“Bloody bastard……. He is making her dance with him.” He turned around enraged and snatched the fire extinguisher from the orderly and started going at the door, all the while cursing mad.  “Bastard…. I told him. Fucking bastard….. I told him. She is too weak. She cannot take the strain.” Sinatra sang along ignoring him.

Something in your eyes

Was so inviting

Something in your smile

Was so exciting

Something in my heart

Told me I must have you
Strangers in the night

Two lonely people

We were

Strangers in the night

Pieces of wood, dust and broken strips of plaster flew in the air with each ram the door took. Plaster….. The fucker had used plaster, fucking plaster on the entire door to shut them out. And thatsealed the door leaving no weak or easy fracturing points. Soon the other orderlies joined in going at the door with everything they had. The door slowly started to cave in giving into the inhuman beating that it was receiving. Cracks slowly broke into rifts that started to fissure though the entire structure of the door. Someone shouted “we are almost there”. And then suddenly the door tore open.

And they rushed in, the doctor, the orderlies and the nurses spilling into the room each one spinning out of control rushing with the flow of the crowd, they saw one of the weirdest sights ever. An elderly couple slowly moving around locked in their embraces; her lanky figure with the flowing white hospital gown, himself suited up in his best threads; her bony hands clinging to his bosom; his arms around her, holding her with care as he dipped and moved her around to the warm and wafting melody. Her shriveled face looked satisfied, her eyes closed rejoicing the swing of the movement, the ease with which he held her, the love with which he moved her around, ever so gently and his burning eyes that betrayed his own pain, seeing her wince in distress with each and every turn, her frail figure going rigid in his hands, the few wisps of hair on her bald head, the occasional gasp when the stress and the pain are too much for her. Sinatra’s regal voice dived into the simple lyrics once again.

Up to the moment

When we said

Our first hello

Little did we know,

Love was just a glance away,

A warm embracing dance away.

“Ma….” Cried the doctor as he separated his mother from his father and set her on the bed. She looked exhausted, her lungs trying to breathe in gulps and failing, her pulse stammering erratically, her tiny body wrestling with the few drops of life left in her, she looked forlorn, expect for her eyes, her eyes that twinkled with a mischievous grin. She beckoned him to her and started to slowly mouth something. “Ma, don’t strain… please.” He whispered, his voice begging as he bent down to catch her words. Her flailing voice fluttered. “Don’t be hard ………. on your father. He could ……..” She paused thoughtfully and whispered with a mellow fondness “Never refuse me”

“Nurse, some help here…” He shouted as he started to treat his exhausted and ailing mother. He never noticed the single tear that raced across his quivering cheek.

The music still played, left unattended to in all the happening commotion and was painting bold strokes of intense love in the vibrating embers of air. Seconds slipped around, danced swirling into a few minutes.

Ever since that night

We’ve been together

Lovers at first sight,

In love forever

It turned out so right

For strangers in the night

He slowly walked to the door after treating his mother. His father was sitting on the bench outside the room staring into the dead of the night, alone with his own thoughts.

“How’s she?” he asked as soon as he saw him.

“Exhausted... completely” he paused sitting near him. “But okay..... She's okay”

His father let a deep breath out and closed his eyes. They sat there silent, lost in each other’s thoughts. Neither of them spoke. Neither felt the need to. They simply sat there sharing not just the space and the silence. The biting cold did not seem to bother them in the least. The song had finally ended.

Author's note - 

Thanks a lot to Sadiya Merchant, for introducing me to to Frank Sinatra's - Strangers in the night. I don't really know whether she was inspired by the song itself but I myself was. The song is going into my favorites. As for the story, I wanted to create one that would start and end with a single song, the song itself being an integral character of the story. hope you guys enjoy it.

I would severely recommend listening to the song and reading the story. The song itself is a statement of love, poignant, lucid and heart felt. Just close your eyes and listen to Sinatra creating the atmosphere of pure love and it's joy.  For more information about the song, kindly visit here. 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 03

The chocolate – A short story

The snap-




The fiction-

“Please mom” pleaded the kid. Her 8 year old eyes were yearning for the milk chocolate that was sitting on the window sill of the shop in a beautiful glass jar. It had a royal blue wrapper with silver letterings that stood out claiming the chocolate to be “Richer smoother & milkier”. The wrapper even had a gold lining that caught the dull light of the sun shrouded by the rain clouds and dazzled. The small girl would have given anything in exchange to have a piece of that chocolate. Anything – anything including the best of her toys, the color ribbons that she loved to play with, to the Mickey and Donald cartoon stickers that she enjoyed sticking on her note books. She was lovelorn with that chocolate. And that was enough to push her to desperation.

She tugged at her mother’s sari* and once again pleaded with all her heart thrust into her voice.

“Pleeeeeeeease mom”

Her mother gave her a smile and a 5 rupee* coin to get the chocolate and resumed her gossip with the other mothers who have come to the school to take their children home. The school was one of the most recognized in the city and most of the locality children studied there. It was a magnificent building with a white facade, airy corridors, spacious well lit classrooms and it housed a large playground that was bordered by shady banyan trees. The success of every single market is based on the factors of nearness and need for their products and the variety of shops, stationeries and malls that outlined the school made the best profitable use of that basic fact of consumerism. It was in one of those shops that the milk chocolate was taunting the kid’s eyes.

The girl jumping with glee the moment she got the money in her hands. Her feet raced her to the shop and with a smile a mile; she gave the shop keeper the money and pointed to the chocolate. The shop keeper shook his head returning the money saying that the chocolate costs 15 more rupees. Hopes dashed, the kid stood there for a moment not knowing what to do. The kind shop keeper leaned forward and with a warm voice said “why don’t you get me 15 more rupees and I will keep one chocolate especially for you” and gave her enthusiastic wink. The girl renewed with energy went back to her mom who was just finishing up with her gossiping.

The kid prayed that her mom won’t make a fuss about the extra money. And just as she reached near her mom, the dark clouds started to spew warm drops of scattered rain.

A beautifully stunning virgin of a drizzle that laughed, sang and danced around the skies with the splash of spectrum trailing along on its tail came rushing to the ground lost in the lovely moment like a girl rushing out to meet her man returning from the war. The dry, virile ground proudly jutted out to embrace the warmness of the touch as the cold fingers of the drizzle drenched and soaked its surface with love. Blatantly orgasmic was the plethora of colors, tastes, senses and pleasures as the rain and the earth held each other in their arms cajoling with one another, fighting with each other, peppering one another with baby kisses, losing themselves in the sensuality of holding and being held. The beauty of their union was splendidly fantabulous.

But alas like everyone else who scattered away when it rained, the girl and her mom too rushed off to their homes missing the orchestral performance of the century. The girl’s mind still hung over the chocolate of which she was determined to ask her mom when they reached home. The drizzle hit her face pretty hard as she sat behind her mom holding to her tightly as her mother sped the scooter towards home. After a few minutes of driving and tussling they reached their destination. The small girl got down from the scooter, ran to the door and shrieked in delight. Her father who obviously did not share her exuberance waiting there completely sodden by the rain. The kid disappointed with her father’s response sat there long faced trying to get off her wet shoes.

Her mother opened the door and both her parents went inside. Her father who fell upon the couch the instant he got inside the hall started to remove his tie.

“Why the hell did you not give the key to the neighbors when you went out???” He shouted at his wife. “I have been waiting here for almost an hour getting drenched in the rain!!!”

“How was I to know that you will come back home today early? Am I Houdini or what?? His wife answered back in a calm tone. “And don’t you blame me for this. You forgot your keys this morning and so you stood out. Period”

Her father frustrated and angered with the attitude from her mom tried to forget it by immersing himself into the sports channel in the television. Her mom helped her to dry herself and put on new clothes. The girl was pulsating with the urge to tell her mom about the money she needed for the chocolate but she knew that it was a bad time to do so with her mother busy doing chores and her father absorbed in his sports. So she waited. She waited until it was dinner time. Until they were just half way through the dinner and then told them about the chocolate.

After patiently listening to her, her mother assured her that she will get her the chocolate when she comes to pick her up tomorrow. The girl completely satisfied slept sound that night when it rained cats and dogs outside.

She just couldn’t wait for the next evening to come and to have her hands on the chocolate. She was on her best behavior in the school, did the home work during the interval itself, helped the teacher to collect the notes, she even tried to be good to the boy who always teased her. Her mind was preoccupied with the chocolate and the evening that it gave her the heart to be her best. The day wore beautifully – the teacher had put an “excellent” remark in her note, she had the best time playing with her friends, she had even picked up a pure white pigeon feather that she always wanted from the playground and she was going to have the best chocolate in the world in the evening.

Life couldn’t be more beautiful. By the evening she was feeling completely exhausted.

But she was too happy to notice it. She is going to get the chocolate. She marched up to her mother and held out her hand with a flourish. Her mother’s smiling face disappeared as she felt her daughter’s extended hand. It was burning, burning with fever. She scooped up her daughter in her arm, seated her on the scooter and accelerated towards the nearby hospital with a speed and concern that only a mother could rival. The girl was torn apart as she saw the receding figure of the shop and the half empty milk chocolate glass bottle disappearing in a haze of human activity as the vehicle sped along the road.

After checking, the doctor diagnosed it as viral fever and advised hospitalization for a couple of days. He assured that she would be fine as the disease was at the starting stage and if treated properly she would be back to normal in a couple of days. Her father and mother sat beside her bed holding her hands trying to whisper into her ears that all would be well soon. As agonized they were at seeing their precious little daughter lying helpless and prostrate on the hospital bed but they tried not to show it to her. The night fell in solemn whispers as the cold evening wind blew its way past the hospital.

The little girl laid there on the bed dreaming. Milk chocolates were falling from the sky all around her but kept vanishing when she tried to pick them off from the ground. She kept at it for a while until she was exhausted. She was almost in tears. Then suddenly the raining stopped and out of the blue came the half filled chocolate jar. It laughed at her taunting her to catch it and however much she tried to catch the jar, it rolled out of her reach and with each of her failure to catch the jar, one chocolate disappeared from it. She felt cheated, disappointed and utterly let down. She started to cry.

Her father noticed the tears first. He checked her temperature. It was still a bit high. He slowly woke up his daughter caressing her cheek. She woke up with a start and seeing her father in front of her, she hugged him tightly. Her father held her stroking her back with his calm voice reassuring her – “It’s just a dream honey. Nothing more………….. It’s just a dream.” She drifted back to a dreamless deep sleep.

After 4 days at the hospital, she returned home with her health completely restored. She went to school the next day and when the evening came she begged her mother to give her money for the chocolate. Her mother was reluctant to get her the chocolate keeping in mind their last episode at the hospital. But the girl won’t hear of it. It has become an obsession to get her hands on that chocolate and she was not going to give up easily. She pleaded with her mom who gave in at last after she promised not to eat the chocolate until tomorrow. She will just get the chocolate now for keep’s sake.

With the money tightly held in her hand and her mother walking beside her, the kid in the best spirits walked towards the shop. Finally she was about to get the chocolate.

Then as she neared the shop the kid saw that the jar was empty. Oh no….. She started to run towards the shop with her eyes on the jar. Yes….. Yes…… Yes…… There was still one single chocolate in the jar. She increased her pace. But ……. Oh my….. Oh my…… Someone else was buying it. She was at her wits end. Her heart was pounding and her feet were aching. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It couldn’t end like this. She loved that chocolate. She wanted that chocolate. She reached the shop and with tears streaming down her eyes, she looked at the empty jar and then at the last piece of that chocolate as the one who brought it slowly walked away. The kid stood there crushed and battered. It has been too much for her.

She did not cry out loud nor did she try to make a scene. She did not care. Tears swelled and flowed glistening across her pinkish face.

Her mother sat down beside her not knowing what to do. She tried to calm her. But the girl was not listening. She was simply staring at the empty jar. Her mother stood up, went to the shop keeper and asked about where else she could get the milk chocolate. Then she asked the shop keeper to look after her daughter for a while and rushed off in her scooter to get the damn chocolate.

God has his fun playing with you when you least expect it and when you are least equipped to face it. He taunts you, piles up problems in you, blocks your every exit pushing you to your extreme limits. No matter how much you pray, no matter how much faithful you are, no matter how many times you have played the Good Samaritan, no matter whether you are a Catholic or a Protestant or a Hindu or a Jew or a Muslim or even an atheist for that matter – he rarely cares. May be he is just caught up a bit having too much of fun or may be there isn’t even a god for that matter. But who cares. It feels good to have somebody to turn to when things become too heavy to bear.

After searching for almost forty minutes without any success, her mother in her mind was praying for such deliverance to no avail. Her mother just didn’t have the heart to return to her empty handed but had no other choice. She didn’t really know how she was going to face her daughter. She didn’t really know what she was going to say to her to console her. She drove her scooter slowly towards the shop with a heavy heart.

When she got there, she parked the vehicle and entered the shop. She had no idea how what she was going to say to daughter. She was then quite a bit shocked to see her daughter squealing with peals of laughter. In her right hand she had a large candy and with her left she was trying to stop the shop keeper from tickling her belly. Her face lit up when she saw her mom and came rushing to greet her. She bobbed up and down as she told her how the shop keeper has taught her a new game that was so cool, how the new vanilla candy the shop keeper gave was very very sweet and showed with flourish the brand new Mickey Mouse stickers he had given her. The kid was deliriously drunk with happiness.


She never did get the milk chocolate that she so much yearned for.


But still she survived. Enjoying her most to say the least.


And life went on.


The end.


PS-

Guys, If you enjoyed the story, then do check out my other similar fictions in the link over here. Happy reading. Cheers.

Alone – A poem

The snap -





The poem -

Mad moments few,
Will be drenched in dew
Lost in the darkness; my wry laments;
Just a handful
A handful of bitter tears;
Deeply blistering tears –
Scarlet scars painted; on
Crimson cheeks tainted;
Of pain;
Of love slain;
Like Cain;
Of Abel slain;


An elegy;
Of a love lost.
An orgy of a melancholy;
At a hearts cost.
Anguish; Ache;
Vodka; Sake;


I cry alone every night,
Dipping and drenching my shattered soul; in
A handful of bitter tears;
Deeply blistering tears –
I cry alone every night,





To remember the moments I spent laughing with her.
The bliss; the heaven;
The kiss; the Beethoven;
My love, my bow;
My Soul, my Spirit;
Lass of an angel;
In the bass of love;




Oh…. I lost her, I lost her
I lost her, I lost her……




Please do not disturb me; When



I cry….. Alone every night.





Author’s note –


The above poem also is based on a Tamil poem that I wrote while travelling to Coimbatore a few days back (I haven’t posted the Tamil poem but if you guys want to read the original Tamil poem, I will post it later). My sis says that I can be pretty depressing with my words sometimes. The above poem according to her is one of them. I don’t really agree with her. I think that pain in love is the ultimate salvation in life.



PS –

I actually am posting this poem from a browsing center nearby my home. The broadband connection in my home has been having a lot of problems lately and I have not been able to tweet or to blog regularly because of that. I have registered a complaint and I think that those BSNL guys will take a couple of days to look into the problem. I will be offline till then. Really funny things have been happening lately and I do have a lot of smiles to spill to you guys and will do so once I come back online. :):)


Until then.


Cheers….


muthu

The thread - A poem

The Snap -




The thread - The Poem.



Sacred and Scattered;
Along and across the long lonely nights
Spent pinning,

Are the blossoms of my dreams,
Of you my love; of whom I love -
With all my heart; my soul apart,

And of from those blossoms and buds that lie;
Lie across a million miles,
A million miles across my heart -

To garnish a garland for you, my queen,
A beauty, even moon cringes to face -
And wanes away into the night -
Wading away with shame at it's plight;



I search a thread to thread my love,
From blossoms, blooms, flowers & shoots;
Of a million miles -
A zillion times....

But fail and falter;
Every time;
Every attempt.
The more i try the more i fail;
Remorse rains, remains & drains
My pain, failing to find a worthy thread;

A worthy thread to thread my love,
As flowers and dreams it lies scattered,
My love for you.



In your eyes, then i see....
A strand of light,
A twine of delight,
As the embers of your eyes sparkle when you laugh,

Oh.... I stare mesmerized
And hypnotized,
With rejoice and joy infinite,
I stare.....



At your love, my dove;
Your love for me
That spindles threads out for me...

As the line of light
In your sight....
That jumps and twinkles out of your eyes.....


I love you.


Author's note -


Guys I usually write poetry in my native tongue Tamil in which I am spontaneous. The above poem - The thread is my first full length poem in English. The idea of the poem is based on tamil poem of the same name that i penned a year ago. I have posted the tamil poem as an image for you guys who know tamil. I would love to have your comments on my venture into English poetry.


The tamil version of the poem -




Tamil is a beautiful language that was tailor made for poetry. It is the soul of my inspiration as a writer. You need not think in tamil, words will flow in tamil. I love my language with a passion so fierce that when i write about it, I am overwhelmed with love for my language - tamil. I dedicate this poem to my mother - mother tongue - Tamil. May all praise go to her for seeding in me the germ of poetry.


PS -

Guys, If you liked this poem of mine, then do check out the other poems of mine here. Hope you enjoy them. Cheers.

The Spring – A short story.

The Story -


“Every single soul in the fight knew that the battle was unevenly matched to a horrendous extent and they were going to need a miracle to win. After all it was going to be a battle between giants and midgets. A battle between titans and dwarfs. A battle between the winter and the spring.”

The old man stopped the story and leaned towards his grand daughter “A battle between winter and spring”

“Like in the seasons, grand pa” the girl asked.

“Yes, my child, just like in the seasons. That was a long long time ago, when all the seasons were sworn enemies then and fought against each other to gain control of the climate of the earth. The frost, The snow, the ice pellets, the blizzard, polar bears, sea lions – cold, brutal, merciless were the warriors of the winter. The warm gale, the swallows, the lilacs, the rabbit, dears, cats, the other birds and animals soft and warm to the core were the warriors of the spring.”

“The land, the skies, the water – no place was spared – the war both bloody and intense, raged on with heavy losses on both sides. But soon the tides started to turn, the winter having the stronger army started to gain advantage and the battalions of the spring were slowly starting to scatter. The warriors of spring started to lose their heart and things started to look cold and bleak for them. It was suddenly as if the fighters of the spring would rather end their misery by their deaths than to go on fighting. It was then at that crucial moment somewhere among that thousands and thousands of warriors, a single tiny swallow’s voice started to sing.”

“To feel the wind on my chest,
---I will fight; I will fight
To sing in the sun at my best,
---I will fight; I will fight
Tearing all the tears in me,
---I will fight; I will fight
All I want is love and joy,
---I will fight; I will fight.”

“Suddenly the fleeing animals stopped, the clear voice of the swallow seemed to clear their minds. With hot tears of fury and pain flying from their eyes, and they finally became brave enough to die for what they thought was their right. They started to sing, every one of them, the wounded and the healthy, the poor and the wealthy, every single one of them started to sing and they all marched forward like the warrior poets that they are. Their collective voices echoed through the vast blue skies, the thunder shattered and the puny clouds scattered. The sun came out moved by their raw spirit and shone hard, shone hard defeating the winter.” He paused and took a deep breath and with a flourish in his voice averred “The winter was then banished from the fairy land forever.”


“Grand pa, Grand pa….. Sing poem one more time” pleaded the child.

And just when he was about sing the song again, his daughter entered the room and said in a caring voice.

“Oh not that spring story again, father you are spoiling her too much. Come on you too need your rest. Now go to your bed.”

“Oh, I will sing to her one more time darling and then I will go to bed. I promise.”

She sighed “Ok, make it quick.”


She returned to the bed room, sat on her side of the bed and looked at her husband sleeping on the other side of it. She just sat there staring at him for a while. Then she got up and walked up to the window. The night’s sky was empty. Empty of the stars, the moon, the clouds and all that stared back at her was the dark and void. She took deep breaths. No, she was not a child, a grown up women with responsibilities, a child to look after, her mother to take care off, and her own career to think of, so whatever the pain she has to bear it. She leaned against the window sill and closed her eyes. The cold wind blew past her ignorant of the emotional tides and the pereniality of the aguish that it is crossing by.

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She woke up with a start. Shit…… She thought. She must have fallen asleep lost in her own thoughts. Her daughter was tugging at her pajamas crying “Mommy, Mommy……… Grand pa is shaking”. She didn’t hear the rest; she rushed towards her father’s room and found him having a convulsing fit. She immediately called the ambulance.

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What will people be thinking when they are waiting for the doctor’s verdict on the health of a loved one? What is that, that keeps them occupied with straight faces when the anxiety of the unknown is burning in their hearts? How do they hold on to their sanity until the doctors with their monotonous faces call them in to hit them with the results?

She shut her mind. Shut her mind to every single thought that came up. Blocked all her senses of time and emotion and concentrated on a lizard on the wall. Nothing but the lizard -

Which was now slowly, very slowly making its way towards a moth that was sitting nearby. One step at a time with a honed ease and skill that must have been gathered over a century of evolution, the lizard was getting closer to pounce on its kill. The moth blissfully unaware of the mortal danger it was in, remained there as if in wait to get caught by the awaiting jaws of death. The lizard tardily crouched its entire body, ready for the final act – the leap and the capture. The drama of the hunter and the prey was at its final show down.

Suddenly out of nowhere, she felt deeply sorry for the moth. A delicate creature unaware of what it’s getting into. Oh my god, she has to save it. It’s going to get killed. She has to save it. She quickly got up and raised her hand to shoo the moth away.

“M’am, the doctor will see you now.”

Distracted by those nonchalant words of the nurse for a second, she stood there and watched the lizard catch the moth in one swift athletic leap. The moth wriggled in pain, trying desperately to escape from the cold jaws of the reptile but the lizard bite by bite gulped down the moth with a relished satisfaction n its face. She closed her eyes, not having the heart to see the helpless moth die.

“I am coming” she replied in hushed tones and followed the nurse inside the cubicle of the doctor.

The doctor nodded to her to sit down and leaned forward with his hands folded and resting on the impeccably neat table. She started to get the feeling that she was not going to like what she was going to hear. She ignored the mild pleasantries and consolations from the doctor and numbing herself to the extreme, she asked.

“The facts, Doctor – just the facts as they are…. Please”

The doctor allowed a silent second to pass before answering.

“His problem has gotten worse. We will have to keep him under 24 hour hospitalized care from now on. I am sorry. You cannot keep him at home. It’s too risky.”

She simply nodded staring past the doctor.

“Can I see him?”

“Yes, but can you try not to strain him.”

She nodded.



His once ebullience that always took stock of the situation without losing his unique stride seemed to have left him. Seeing him lying there in the white hospital gown, frail and flimsy, her heart went out to him. His face was slowly returning to its original color – a pale hearty red. The IV line looked as if brutally stuck into his delicate hands that once held her as a child, protecting her from the nightmares and the realities of the world, rocking her to sleep with his fantastical stories. His dull eyes seemed to have lost in some distant memory until she noticed his daughter standing by the door.

He beckoned her to come and lean over him.

And once she did that, he in his diseased small voice mumbled into her daughter’s ears.

“I am so sorry, my dear. I should have never forced you to” he stopped and took a deep breath “marry him”

“Father, Please stop” her voice wavered.

“Please forgive me. Please”

“Father, don’t do this” She said and turned her heads side wards trying not to look at him. Fresh warm tears were streaming over her face wetting her dry parched lips.

“I am sorry I did not listen to you” her father continued in his feeble voice. “I will never forgive myself for the pain I put you in.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “Promise me to get out of there. Relive your life. Promise me, I will die in peace.”

“Father, you are hurting me. Why are you doing this? I don’t need this now.” She bit her lip hard trying not to cry out loud.

“At least, cry darling… Please… for me.”

It was then that something broke inside her and she gave herself into hysterical sobs bending over him. She cried, cried, cried and cried some more. The pain, the failings, the harsh disappointments, the fighting’s, abuses, the rebukes, the wounds, the humiliation, the emptiness, her life – she cried even more. Her tears dropped from her face on her father’s forehead who said in a broken voice.

“That’s Ok darling. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Hearing the sound of the weeping, the nurses rushed in taking hold of the situation.

She slowly came outside and cried, cried every single stored up tear in her tear ducts. Every one of the tears that she had managed to swallow and smile to bear her marriage. She silently got, settled the bill and requested the doctor to proceed with the necessary formalities to get her father the care he needed and then left the hospital.
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The sun was at its zenith when she reached home. She called and checked on her daughter at her baby sitter’s house and assured the baby sitter that she will be there in 2 hours to pick her daughter. Then she started to pack her things.

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“What are you doing” He asked as he entered into the home and saw all the packed materials.

She did not reply.

“You are leaving. Aren’t you?”

She still remained silent. Her daughter was playfully reciting something in a low voice unaware of the drama happening.

“Where are you going to go now? You are fucking clueless. Ain’t you” He chucked maliciously and added “Go on. Let’s see how you are going to survive without me.”

She suddenly felt her knees trembling and her throat felt like being chocked. Her legs felt terribly weak, wobbled with her weight. Her stomach churned and jellied inside her and she felt like vomiting. So long caged she had been that her subconscious mind still longed for the safety and refuge of that cage. Her mind ran a thousand directions at the same time, gagging herself taking her nowhere.

She was breaking down again in front of her husband. She knew it. She knew it. She must have been doomed to be shackled forever and forever. Wait, May be she can still fight on. May be she still had a chance. May be…. May be she knew it all along that she will never make it. At least she tried. But she has failed. No, she is failing now and she is not able to do anything about it.

“You ain’t worth shit. You know that.. don’t you?” He folded his hands and stood there looking at down at her with contempt.

She crouched down, breathing hard trying to collect herself. Then she heard her daughter’s clear voice reciting…

"To feel the wind on my chest
---I will fight: I will fight.
To sing in the sun at my best
---I will fight: I will fight."

Hot tears of fury, pain and shame started to flow from her heart wetting her face. The calm innocent voice of her daughter shook her soul until her teeth rattled and her vigor returned. She is no innocent moth to be crushed and killed. She can fight. She can fight for herself, her daughter, her life, for her father. She has to fight. The clouds of reluctance and fear scampered away like the rats they are feeding on the rotten, the broken and the unused. She will fight.


"Tearing all the tears in me
---I will fight: I will fight.
All I want is love and joy
---I will fight: I will fight."


She took a deep breath and ran about in her mind’s space trying to gather all the broken pieces of herself. Her father always took a deep breath when he was to say something important. Her father….. She closed her eyes….. Please father, give me strength and courage for what I am going to do. No more conflicts, no more bitterness, no more suffocation, no more ignored ignominies, no more lies, no more surrendering and no more an hollowed existence. She had neither any tears nor any more fears left in her.


She got up with a resolved mind, clear and crystal like the carbon in the diamond. She will never ever waver anymore. She walked out on her husband holding her daughter’s hand.


Outside the evening sun was splashing around buckets of its mild orange melody of light. There were fresh lilacs blooming everywhere and the earth smelled of a new born baby with new shoots and green heads peaking about every where. The breeze dallied around kissing and flirting with every touch on everyone. A few street dogs chased the some cats up the trees and the swallows that were already resting on the crowns of their wooden abodes rushed about disturbed by the feline intrusion and added to the bliss of the cacophony.

“Mommy, Mommy the spring has arrived” jumped the girl with joy…..

Her mother nodded. Yes... The spring has finally arrived.

The end.


Author’s note:

This is my first story that has spanned more than 2200 words. I feel glad to have written this and I am obliged to thank 2 people in specific for helping me out....

-----Introspection, for giving me such a chance to write something 4 her. Smile today and forever, for from now on its spring my dear.


-----My regular readers and people who follow me – Guys you are more than an inspiration. Every time I see your comments and opinions on my posts, I feel exhilarated. Vinnie, puneet, rajlaxmi, raaji, anu, saxena, amal bose, introspection, nimisha, sujata, nandhini, Dogwood, DQ and every single one of you………. Thank you guys…. You are the best of the best. No questions asked. I love you guys….. :)



For now signing off…….


Take care…… muthu

And then, she cried- 55 fiction

Author's note: I came across the idea of writing short stories with just 55 words called 55 fiction and was quite intrigued by the concept. And so i have tried to write a few 55 fiction here in my own style. Though these stories are based on the same situation I have tried to capture the various ways in which the situation would have turned out with different responses from the male character to the female protagonist.I am looking forward to your comments.


For more information on 55 fiction, kindly visit here.







The wish:




“You are going to cry……… Aren’t you?”

She tried ignoring him staring at the dark skies. Noticing a shooting star she closed her eyes and wished she would just die. Her hidden tears jumped out and streaked across her face along with the sudden rain.

“Now you wouldn’t know? Would you?” She asked





The rebuke:





“Are you going to cry?”

She hit back “Do you want me to……….” The dark skies took contempt at her rebuke and started to throw rain drops at her.

She shivered and he offered her his coat. She refused and continued to shiver. At least the rain stood by her without asking stupid questions.





The lone flowers:




“Please don’t cry”

He begged her but she couldn’t just stop the tears as they flowed from her eyes streaking across her face blurring the starry sky. The rain started to wail along with her as if it too chose to ignore his consolatory efforts. And they both cried their pained hearts out each alone and each together.





The dawn:




He did not say anything and he didn’t need to. He just held her tight as she cried, cried and cried, until the tears and the rain washed away her pain. Then he said

“Let go”

She nodded. In the distant skies the dawn was slowly brushing out the last ghosts of the dark night.





Author's note:

In the fourth story I have tried to bring out that the rain and the girl were crying alone and in that they were together.