The blogger friends at Write Tribe are participating in A2Z challenge in the month of April, and they have their theme reveal festival today. I was so excited about doing another challenge in February when they announced it then, since I was basking in the glory of completing the January blogathon. That was my first blogathon.
But the concept of bringing in a theme is entirely new for me. I had to dig in my strengths to find out the skills I could rely upon to churn posts for 26 days. That was tough.
But in the recent days, rather than detailed essays, or personal ramblings, my mind is bursting with characters, plots and imaginary scenes. I even wrote one or two short ones, may be not the best ones, but some drafts I could work upon. Then I realized, maybe I could try my hand at churning stories.
So that would be the primary theme for A2Z challenge starting in April. Fiction fragments, with no word limit or specific theme so that I could go easy on me. After all, I am a newbie!! 🙂
I am not sure whether I could stick to the theme the whole month. May be I would come up with some random posts to complete the challenge, or may be not posting at all, since its school holidays, but nevertheless, I am plunging in right into it.
There is no benefits anyway, staying behind at the pool bench any more.
She stirred the bowl with steel spoon. It was a dessert made of milk, sugar and ghee. Then she offered one spoonful to the baby doll who she had placed next to her.
“Have this dear, its very sweet. You will like it very much.”
“Yes, she liked it”.
Amma replied to her toddler smilingly.
____
***
She typed in her mobile with tears streaming from her eyes. She knew this was going to hurt herself more than him. It was not a ‘sorry’, but a please. She then paused. She talked to herself. She deleted his mobile number from phone. As if she doesn’t memorize it. And then sent the draft.
____
***
Day 6 – Festival of Words at WriteTribe – 55 Fiction
Edit: Rewrote the first snippet again, since I felt it lacked clarity. Which one is better?
She stirred the dessert bowl with steel spoon as if it contained something. Then she offered one spoonful to the baby doll who she had placed next to her.
“Have this dear, its very sweet. Did you like it?”
“Yes, I liked it”.
Amma replied smilingly to her toddler on behalf of the baby doll.
To be honest, I went completely blank when I saw the prompt for the Festival of words at WriteTribe. There goes all my attempts at taking part in this festival. I can’t make it for Day 5. But my mind had started reeling slowly.
What inspiration should I be blogging about? I am one of those who dig the internet for inspiring articles so that I could pull myself up when I feel low. The newspapers are busy making money with the approaching Women’s Day with articles screaming “inspiration”. But still, there are many. Which one should I choose?
The invisible inspiration from my mother, like many other mothers of the previous generation, a working woman raised up her young girls, without a cook, and some days without maid, and at times being a single parent, when her husband had to work out of station, in the times when there was no security of gated communities and apartments, and when the ladies rarely drove any vehicle?
The house maid who works everyday for a meagre amount, even when her ageing body unable to take the physical strain of the job she does, fails her on some days?
The women who lives on to tell the tale of how life forced them to do the worstjobs in this world?
The stories of how disabled women live life to the fullest, working around all the troubles thrown at them by fate, when compared to the depressing life amid the fortunes by the abled beings?
The inspiration from the day-to-day happenings around me, from the stories of amazing women I hear and read about, and share on social media?
The courage and inner strength of the women portrayed in all those mythological stories?
On second thoughts, I think why should I restrict to women alone. All the above instances would stand true if I replace women with men too. The young toddler in my house inspires me everyday on how to live life the simplest way, by not keeping any grudges, forgiving easily, laughing and loving all the time.
Inspiration comes from all beings. It is always around us. We just have to pick it up.
So nothing special about to write for today. Or did I just write one?
Though I had registered in GoodReads long before, I had not ever used it much. So when I was struggling to find some book recommendations from Facebook and Twitter for some light Indian fiction, but which is neither chicklit nor IIM romance, I stumbled upon two books. I ordered one of them through Flipkart, and reserved another in the queue. That is how I got to read the book, “When Strangers Meet”.
Apart from Chetan Bhagat and Preeti Shenoy, I was yet to find some author, whose book was so captivating and thrilling to the level of not putting it down before finishing. I started this book without any expectations, since the author was new, and not that quite popular. The ratings in the Goodreads was the only reason I bought it.
And I was not disappointed.
When Strangers meet
What happens when an irritating but lovable wise-cracking ‘Stranger’ called Iyer meets a frustrated and arrogant teenager, Jai, on a fateful day in a congested room at the metro station? Catastrophe!!!
Meanwhile, Pathan never had the pleasure of happiness in his life yet he thanked Allah for every second of it…
Abandoned by fate and friends, surrounded by responsibilities and poverty… This hard-coated man from the city of Delhi knew only thing and that was to keep faith in Allah… Now he is set on a journey to turn around his fate…
The tale from the Iyer’s past will change Pathan’s present and Jai’s future… And trust me…
Sometimes all it takes is a stranger’s tale to change the track of your life…
Three Men… One fateful day… and a Story of a Lifetime…
To describe it in one sentence, it was a beautifully written screenplay, in the suspense genre, perfect to be converted to a movie. The scenes were well described and detailed, but very crisp and also to the point. The story swings between various locations which can be bit confusing at first. Initially, the pace seems to be very low when we are introduced to Jai and Pathan, like that of a slow moving train. And then, when the story of Iyer unfolds, you get absorbed into it. The life of Iyer could take you back into old Tamil movies and I could so visualize Tamil movie stars playing the roles of young Iyer and his father.
“Maybe it’s time that you moved on. You know, I believe that someday things will change. Just like the seasons. A lively spring follows the harsh winter. Seasons change Padma, seasons change”
There is a sweet and cute unwritten love story between the young Iyer and his friend, which is not that different from the current generation. The twists and turns in their relationship is very realistic.
The innocence of young age, the dreams which makes us takes absurd decisions, and the bare truths of life sums it all.
Before he could complete his sentence, Jai realized what he was going to do that day! He was indeed in Iyer’s place. He was himself running away from home, away from his dictating father, away from a life dominated by mathematis. He was running towards his dream of becoming a Bollywood actor. His story until now was not very different from Iyer’s.
My rating: 4/5
K.Hari Kumar is the young author of the book, “When Strangers meet”.
He’s also an international award nominated Photographer and independent short-filmmaker who has worked in over twenty television commercials, directed 8 short films and two documentaries. He can be reached on Facebook and Twitter.
***
Day 4 – Festival of Words at WriteTribe – Book Review
It opens for me, and I peek inside to see darkness. But I still stumble my way into it. Slowly the atmosphere seems to be a familiar one by now.
There is a table alongside one wall. On it I find some papers. Some scribblings. Someone was penning down vigorously, treasure and hidden in this mind shell. As if taking the cue from the various detective thrillers like Byomkesh Bakshi, Tehkikaat and CID, which I used to view on TV, through the gap between the fingers, while watching my father for reactions and expressions, and keeping my ears open for the warning sounds, I moved across the dark room. The paintings of some unknown people hung on the opposite wall, as if the scene is directly taken from the Manichitrathazhu (remade to Bhool Bhulaiya in Hindi) film.
All the while I think of how to engage the readers to my article when I blog about this new find. I would link to my past posts and also to the Wikipedia mentions of those serials.
Unable to explore into the darkness, I go back to the papers, and start reading them. It seemed to me like some love letters. Letters to mom, letters to God, letters to some special ones, all in the cursive handwriting used in the historical pages. Thin lines and curves made with dark ink, dipped and written using quills.
The history reminded me of the recently done Jaipur visit, where in I was taken to the abode of the royal families. The cries of the womans whose kith and kin died in enraging battles pierces my mind. I shrug the thoughts off, to come back to the present.
I collect all the papers and carry them out. I close the door back and slowly make my way out. I could see nerves and blood vessels flowing around me, but not in a bad way, but instead as a living proof of a real, working mind. Without glancing towards them for a second look, I climb down the stairs reappearing in my room, as in a Sci-fi movie, without any scars or hurt thinking victoriously that I finished writing the piece for today’s writing exercise at the Write Tribe.
***
Day 3 – Free Write – Festival of words at Write Tribe.
