Wistful Dreams

I have cherished memories of this house, especially when it was still being built. Memories of me and my best friend sitting on the edge of the roof, swinging our legs in the air, cracking silly jokes. Memories of us looking at the lust green trees through the windowpanes, talking our hearts out. Memories of two young boys building dreams. As I walk past this abandoned house now, stuck in the monotonous mundanity of my life, all those memories and dreams come rushing back. A feeling of heaviness engulfs me and I wonder if it was me that abandoned my dreams or was it my dreams that abandoned me?

This post was written as part of Five Sentence Fiction: Abandon

Mama's Ode

Hey baby girl
Don't stare at me
Gleam in your eyes for the future you see
For your mama's heart breaks coz it ain't your fault
That by being a girl your dreams do halt!

Hey little girl
Does it smell fishy
To play with dolls, said he's not a sissy?
Yes, your mama's heart breaks that even little boys
Who play with dolls this world derides

Hey little lady
Did they touch a nerve
When they told your win you don't deserve?
Hell, your mama's heart breaks for I know you did great
It's not your looks that won your debate

Hey young lady
Did you hear again?
Scorns about weight, beauty, fashion - oh so vain
Hmm, your mama's heart breaks for I know so well
Of the absurd standards to which we are all compelled

Hey young lady
Wonder how we all this braced
And yet not feel always a bitter distaste?
We are strong, we mend our broken hearts
With hope, with little steps we do our part.

Together, Forever

He held her hand, sitting by her bed, as she found peace after a long battle for her life.
In sickness and in health
Memories of their years of devoted togetherness came flooding back.
In sorrow and in joy

Did it even matter that they were never married?

This post is a part of Five Sentence Fiction with the word prompt: Marriage

Monsoon Tales

It was raining that night too, the last time I saw her - the time I broke her heart. A chance encounter after nearly twenty years but to me it feels like the same night. It even feels like the same rain. The only difference - it is not her tears seeking refuge in the rain this time. It is mine!

Topic Courtesy: Lille McFerrin 

Picture Courtesy: Arvind Ramachander Photography 

Lucky

While her kids were choosing ice cream flavors, Reema's eyes were drawn to the smartly dressed lady in the cafe. Sitting with her associates, she was clearly in charge of the meeting and Reema looked on admiringly.

Shonali looked up from her laptop and for a fleeting second her sight shifted to two small kids eating ice cream. Though not easily distracted, she could not help feel a pang when the little one lovingly took a spoon of ice cream and fed his mom.

The same thought crossed both minds, "Isn't she lucky?"






This post is written as a part of Five Sentence Fiction: 

http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-lucky/

The Wedding Cake

She looked more beautiful than she ever did, as she walked down the aisle. Her beautiful green eyes seemed to look greener, "Is it the earrings?" I wondered. Whatever it was, her radiant smile lit a sparkle in her eyes as she stood with the man of her dreams. "Have I ever made her this happy?" I caught myself thinking. As my mind continued on its own train of thoughts, the ceremony carried on like a movie scene in front of my moist eyes. Tears of happiness and yet, selfish tears of sadness too! Everything that followed was a blur to me. The reception, the dance, the toast, the cake, and very soon I found myself outside, sending her off on her honeymoon. I walked back inside with a heavy heart, got myself a piece of the cake and sat down. That's when I noticed the green earring dangling on my suit pocket. Looking at it gave me a lump in my throat. I knew this wouldn't change anything between us, yet for me it would. I stared at my phone and wondered if my little girl will call later to say "Goodnight, Daddy!" as she has been for the last 25 years of her life.

This blog is a part of the write over the weekend initiative:
http://blog.blogadda.com/2014/03/14/wow-picture-prompts-for-writing-indian-bloggers

Watchful World

Lurking, leering, jeering eyes
At all corners you're passing by
Hidden safely in a camouflage
Lo, behold! It is not a mirage

What you say and what you do
The world is playing peak-a-boo
Tracking, saving, noting, thinking
Showing it's face, wickedly winking

What to share and what to save?
A closed book be or one that bares?
The world is watching in a way surely queer
Do exercise caution but don't live in fear!