Its eight already. Sigh… guess it’s too late now. I mean it isn’t like I am desperate. I have stayed in before on Saturday nights. I like being by myself. No…really. I mean I have Netflix and Winnie my cat…its not so bad. But…but he could have at least called. Well, he hasn’t until now, so I guess he isn’t so much into me after all or maybe he likes someone else. Sigh… whatever. Continue reading “The Soliloquy”
It wasn’t his birth flower.
He was perplexed, the first time one had appeared, a lone speck of white with a yellow centre, like an unwanted weed in a garden. It seemed to have blended into his skin, like it was one of his own. A few days later, he had noticed another one and by the end of the month, the weeds had spread like buttons across the back of his hand. Continue reading
On most mornings, when the sky is clear, he can see them from his side of the fence. She, hanging the laundry, humming “Sometimes when we touch” by Dan Hill, her soothing tune gently floating with the soft breeze in their combined backyards. The Amaltas, a bit jaded by its lone existence, pleased by her presence, appears mesmerised, the melody sending an involuntary shudder down its spine, triggering the unsuspecting leaves into a frenzy. Continue reading “The Bonding”
Picture : alina-trofimova.tumblr.com
Every day after work, she walks inside the plant shed to check on her plants. She loves the distinct scent –hose water, compost, plants, green leaves, moist dirt- all rolled into one.
Inhaling deeply, she lets the aroma sink into her senses — an instant high. Continue reading “Her Beautiful”
He walks down the stairs onto the deserted platform.
The cold winter breeze threatens to blow right through his coat; he pulls it closer, lifting his collars to cover his ears, which they do, though only partially.
Continue reading “The Voyager”
Did you just ask me, ‘Do I remember it?”
Its engraved in my heart.
That August day, was part cloudy, part sunny; an indecisive sun vacillating between two different hues, each impeccable enough to enhance the magic of that moment. Continue reading “Flashback”
The December air on the narrow freshly tarred lane in Jew town, Kochi, is thick with the heady fragrance of pungent spices – ginger, cloves, cardamom, pepper.
On either side of the road stand identical two storied structures with thatched roofs, their windows opening into the streets; some are painted in vibrant colours, others left dilapidated. Once the animated homes of Jewish families, are now bustling shops bursting at their seams with antiques, mirrors, wall hangings, paintings, lamps, Chinese urns, door frames, old brass locks, and glass and porcelain ware for sale; items that were once a part of churches or homesteads of Jewish families before their exodus in the first half of 20th century. Continue reading “An Enchanting Afternoon”
It is Saturday morning; they are in her kitchen.
He watches her play with dough, eggs, vanilla, cinnamon, chocolate; her fingers delicately plotting, plucking, kneading, pounding; her expression displaying intense concentration, face powdered with dough.
Sensing his eyes on her, she looks up. Pushing back a tuft of hair from her face with the back of her dough laden hand, she smiles. The smile reminds him of Wispy, the cat next door, and her contended purr after a meal of fish and rice, the light of life smouldering in its eyes. Continue reading “The Alchemist”
Dinner over, they sit back relaxed, their backs resting against the chair.
The empty casserole, which contained the scrumptious ‘Kerala chicken ishtew’ so diligently prepared by him for her just a short while ago, now stares back at them blankly, as if uncertain about what more may be expected from it. Continue reading “‘KOMOREBI’”