Reminder

dazzling yellow noon-

to the garden we follow

shadow trails of each other

.

childhood memories

clutch me in a tight embrace

reminder of all things lost

.

* A Sedoka for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai Little Ones # 5.

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Day 14: Favorite author from your childhood

Well, I was exposed to books quite late. I enjoyed reading even when I was little but I was too innocent to ask my parents to buy me books. I had only a book or two in my book shelf. Yes, I was quite shy. I am an introvert and have been like that since forever. Therefore, I used to spend time reading short stories from my language textbooks at school. I still recall many of them because I had read them quite a few number of times.

Of course, I can’t recount my favorite authors because I hadn’t any. That time the image I had of an author was obscured by the heavy books of biology, physics and chemistry, my sister used to study. Rather I will discuss the few stories I enjoyed then which were not based on the curriculum.

Panchatantra Tales by Vishnu Sharma were quite an enjoyable read. I had (still have) a kid’s book with certain stories of Panchatantra like that of the crocodile and the monkey and of the greedy milkman, etc. I liked reading them because of the simple language and a moral at the end of every story.

The Monkey and the Crocodile

Also, I spent a lot of time reading religious books that belonged to my mother. I liked and still like reading mythological tales. I was always amazed by the prayer of the devotees and the power of the gods and goddesses. It is quite an irony because I am an agnostic and sometimes an atheist.

Furthermore, I used to read every single page of a kid’s magazine that used to come  along with the newspaper every Friday.

I know this post is getting really boring for you to read. I will finish by writing that it is never too late to start reading. The books mean a lot to me. I like them. I live in their stories.

I am not reading much right now. But I know I just need to get into the flow of it once again which I would eventually.

Baby Piano: A 100 Word Story

“I can’t forget how we grew up together and then got separated. And today, it is a coincidence that we could meet.”

“It is indeed.” He gave her a brilliant smile.

“You still smile the same,” she shyly commented.

“And you are still the same.”

They shared a quick kiss which was delayed for years.

“And you remember when you visited me at 1 in the night and tried to hide inside my baby piano when my parents came up hearing your loud voice?”

“Yes. And I remember why I visited you.”

They held hands, past memories flooding their minds.

Copyright- John Nixon

* Written in response of the Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.

Fall

“I fell down,” she told her grandma.

“Oh dear!”

“But I am alright. Children fall down often, right?”

“Well, that is what people say. But who told you so?”

“Pa!”

“Hmm.. Do you know your pa had got almost every joint of his body fractured at one time or another by felling down when he was your age.”

“Really?”

“Really. We had to rush to the doctor every other month; once he got his one breakage fixed, he would get another one.”

“Oh!”

“Now let me see if you have hurt yourself in any way.”

“No, I haven’t. It isn’t much, just a little bruise here and there.”

“I will get some antiseptic for you.”

“It will sting?”

“A little.”

“Do you have to apply it?”

“I guess so.”

She pondered for a while, “I am a big girl now. I will deal with it.”

“That is good. Now come here.”

* Written in exact 5 minutes for Five Minute Friday Prompt

Evolution

The evolution of a being

from the childhood’s reverie

to a grown up’s veracity

from the glimmer of the stars

to the blaze of the sun

from a small injury

to a large gaping wound

from an innocent vision

to a gruesome deed

from the world of truth

to the universe of tall tales

from a fresh water lake

to the ever salty ocean

from the protection of the nest

to the vast lonely sky

from a seed that is sown

to a pest infected plant

from the drop of nectar

to an urn of venom,

the evolution of an infant

to a grown up soul

tarnished by world

shaded by emotions

from the afternoon nap

to the insomniac nights

from the playful toys

to the killer weapons,

there is an evolution

a real evolution

of a spirit as he turns

from a joyful mirth

to an evil sneer in the end.

* Written in response of Theme Thursday Writing Prompt.

Our True Selves + Story of the Swamp Deer and Us

A different way of seeing yourself… Seeing yourself in a different light- it would definitely show you the inner-most feelings that you’re trying to hide even from yourself. You may not even identify the person you really are. And that is the path where we all fail in loving ourselves- the true ourselves.

I had heard a long time back,

In the days of childhood,

The story of a swamp deer,

Who adored his lovely antlers,

Sitting atop his head.

This was the personality of his,

He really really adored,

But couldn’t see his flexible legs,

Because they were ugly.

He had a false perception of himself,

Which just covered his beauty,

He could no more see his real power,

The power that his legs beheld.

Once going through the forest by the lake,

Admiring the shadow of his lovely antlers,

The swamp deer heard the loud call,

Of the vicious predator wolves.

The voice came from nearby,

And the deer knew this time is so wry,

He started to run away from the voice,

But till then the wolves had got his trail,

And now were now behind their prey.

The swamp deer started running away,

And soon it seemed he had lost the wolves,

All thanks to his long flexible legs,

That gave him the power of running so well.

The swamp deer took a deep breath of relief,

But still in order to save himself,

Made an incentive to hide in the long bushes.

As he entered the bushes, everything went loose,

For his beautiful antlers got stuck in the bushes.

He tried, struggled to get them free,

But there was nothing he could do.

All his struggles were in vain,

And all of a sudden again came the howl.

It seemed as if the prey has been found again,

The swamp deer tried to get himself free,

He struggled even more and more,

And now even cursed God for his beautiful antlers.

The rest of the story goes like as what you can imagine,

The legs at first saved the swamp deer,

But his beautiful antlers brought him death,

For he could not accept himself fully,

He couldn’t know his real power,

That resided in his legs.

Similar is the case of us all,

We get a perception, we love ourselves,

For the image we have of us in our minds,

But the powerful truth resides in our feelings,

Within us, hence, it is time for us to embrace “us”.