Monday, April 23, 2018

The Prediction


The image is taken from Google.


Dark clouds rolled in
as the wind threatened to
blow the kingdom away into
the realm of unknown.

The earthen lamps fought
trying to hold on to
the flicker of yellow light
with all their might.

The queen’s cry of anguish
unheard in the roar of a thunder.
Yet the old women stood alert
ordering the maids for hot water.

The king paced in his chamber,
altering between praying and cursing.
his beloved was in labor
and he was helpless to ease her pain.

The ministers were anxious,
the guards curious, the maids busy.
Priests sat with their scrolls open,
assessing the future of the land.

“It’s time.” They murmured.
A look of approval on their faces.
The king stared at the lashing rain,
the queen gripped her amulet.

Lightning flashed across the sky,
its glare turning people blind.
A shrill cry pierced the night,
and the queen sighed in content.

“A healthy child.” The old women smiled.
The elated king announced presents,
hurrying through the hallway
 to meet his dearest family.

The storm passed soon after,
Leaving behind no damage.
“The child is our lucky mascot.”
The citizens declared in glee.

“Sun, Jupiter, and Mercury,
Mars, Venus, and Moon.
Saturn, Rahu and Ketu,
all in their strongest places.”

The priests declared,
showing the horoscope of the newborn
to the king who marveled
at the serenity of a sleeping baby.

“Strong as the earth,
soft as the breeze,
beautiful as fire,
placid as water.”

“She would save the land,
she would rule it with dignity.
The land would prosper,
as long as she smiled.”

The prediction came true,
A new law was established.
The princess is now the king,
and the kingdom had the blessings of Nature.





The prompt is to incorporate into your story/poem one or more of the Seven Classical “Planets,” that’s the Sun, the Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Saturn, and/or Jupiter. You can find more info here.
I've given the poem an Indian twist. 

The Nostalgic Dice

Reading about the games of dice made me nostalgic. I remember the summer holidays when I and mom would go to my grandparents’ house. I would get bored in the noon (stepping out in the summer heat was not even an option), so we would sit and play board games.

Sometimes it was me and grandpa and other times it was with my cousins (two of them). My mother bought this big chart for me- we call it Vaikuntapali in Telugu. It’s basically the Snakes & Ladders. The other side had ludo, called Ashta Chemma (I’ll come back to this one later).


With cooler in full blast, we would sit on the floor fighting over choosing our favorite colors as chips. The game would go on for two or three hours with bickering, pouting and laughing thrown in. Mom or aunt would make some juice for us and sit reading a magazine or doing embroidery (my aunt was amazing with a needle).

But we did not use the dice always. We instead had shells- four big brown shells of equal size. The count would invariably change. It was 1, 2, 3, 4 & 8. The 4’s & 8’s got double chances just like the 6’s in dice. And this is where the ludo comes in. Ashta is 8 and Chemma is 4.

Ludo is, of course, a strategic game where we have to escape from being killed, kill the opponents’ chips and reach the house first to win. We were pretty competitive. There were times we would fight like monkeys and swear not to talk to each other. The fact that we would go out together barely an hour after the fight was entirely a different matter. Sometimes, they would coax and drag me along (I was the most stubborn).

Talking about Ashta Chemma always makes me smile. You see, there is a movie of the same name. It is a rom-com with more emphasis on comedy. It is a lovely film to watch and laugh until our tummies ache. The comedy is clean and refreshing. The director was influenced by Oscar Wilde and it shows on screen.

The storyline is pretty simple with melodious songs. The movie was shot half in the city and half in a village in Andhra. With four main characters and a bunch of side characters and decidedly no negative roles, the movie is as good as the evening breeze.

I and my sister (cousin) went to watch this movie during a trip for her brother’s marriage. We had our favorite mini onion samosas, dilpasand (it’s a jam and nuts stuffed bun) and Pepsi to give us company as we laughed in the cinema theater and on our way home.

Life during holidays was entirely a different experience and I do miss it sometimes. 


Monday, April 9, 2018

The Exam Guide

The image is taken from Google

I do not usually do the non-fiction challenges. Somehow I don't get those right. But this week, I wanted to give it a try.

The topic, to write a tutorial in seven steps got me thinking. It's just like writing a recipe or a flowchart. Now, I've written programs and flowcharts when I was in college- the computer record books, pages of coding that had to be executed without error, and finally diagrams of the result. For exams, every answer had to have an example if we were to score good marks.

Exams! That's it. I agree half of the kids are done with their Boards, but there will always be other examinations to study for. I could write my procedure to prepare for those horrifying days.

Disclaimer: The system may or may not work for everyone. Go with what suits you the best.

Step 1: Get a copy of the examination timetable. Make duplicates and keep one on the desk or stick to the wall. It has to be where you can see it, every time.

Step 2: Make a plan. Calculate how many hours you will need to allocate for each subject. Be realistic. (You need to eat, sleep, shower). The more detailed a plan, the better.

Step 3: Collect the required material from the library, friends, etc. Arrange them neatly on the side. Divide the day into parts and schedule the study time. Some prefer early mornings while some prefer late nights. (Mine is neither)

Step 4: Have a stack of plain sheets ready. Use the ones leftover from previous notebooks. Get the pencils or pens (whatever preferred).

Step 5: Start making notes topic wise for each chapter. Write the side headings and key points for each topic. Place the sheets in the main book you refer.

Step 6: Read the notes you've made. It will help you remember better. Do not forget to take some power naps. Also, have a small chocolate once a day.

Step 7: A day before the exam, make cryptic notes with only the keywords. The entire syllabus should fit on a single sheet of paper. Carry it to the examination center. But do not take it into the hall. (cheating is bad)

Finally, if it feels like this might work for you, give it a try. Good luck. After all, exams have a habit of arriving every year.

Sunday, April 8, 2018

The Oceanids

The image is taken from Google.


A shining constellation of stars
making us feel they are ours.

Calming the sea for a sailor
in answer to their silent prayer.

Guiding the Zuni farmer
with little more than a murmur.

Girls of water, Maidens of ice
Oceans, snow, showers, frost- they entice.

Fluttering wings of a dove
flying safe from Orion's love.

May for Maia, beautiful and shy
The Great One, brightest star in the sky.

Electra gave birth to the Trojans
slipped away to deal with emotions.

Alcyone, a leader and a rival of the elder
but she turned a lover as Ceyx held her.

Taygete the companion of Artemis
potnia theron, had her lair in the hills.

Sterope, mother of a war God,
weakest she was, yet they applaud.

Celaeno, the faintest of all,
mother of two is all they recall.

Merope, a lost sister of the cluster
married a mortal, turned an outsider.

The Pleiades, a part of Taurus,
the seven sisters remembered in the Greek Chorus.



Note: I tried to write a poem using couplet style, but this poem does not have a meter. I am not good at scansions. I am learning to get the rhyming right first.
Also, the poem has full rhymes, near rhymes, and even vague rhymes.
The poem is about the Pleiades or the Seven Sister Stars. Each mythology has different versions. I used a few.

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Fairies Dance

The image is taken from www.fireflyforest.com

“Seven of them.”
“What?”
“Shhh…”
“They are here.”

*Rolling eyes*

 “I see nothing.”

*Sigh*

“Me too.”
“Use your sight.”
 “Oh!”
“My! My!”
“Beautiful!”
“Yeah! Told you.”

Fairies danced around the Night Blooming Cereus.

*Shooting Stars*

“Stop it.”

The fairies vanished.

“Damn!”
“We’ll see them again.”
“When?”


“A hundred years.”



This was supposed to be for the Microprose challenge. But then, my Word messed up the count and I being who I am, did not count the words manually. So here it is for the weekend showcase. 


Sunday, April 1, 2018

I am not Envious!

The image is taken from tyronepierre.com


In the crowded room,
as flash caught my eye,
I gasped.
Diamonds- uncut and pure,
glittered around a thick neck.
My hand closed over
the two dollar trinket,
choking my voice.
She was such a show-off.

My car stuttered to a stop
when the signal turned red,
The sound making me cringe.
Even as a sleek car paused,
silent than a panther.
My eyes widened and narrowed.
Longer than my apartment,
it screamed money and power.
Here comes the idle son of a rich man.

Eyes glued to the screen,
I type faster than a flying comet.
"I've been promoted."
She whispered and giggled.
My fingers curl into a fist.
Three years of toiling,
I am invisible to the manager.
With a fake smile and flashy accent,
she waltzes right over me.

An abandoned basket stood
outside my neighbor's door.
Something whimpered, I peeked.
Soft as cotton, white as a daisy,
it stared at me, unblinking.
Jaw clenched, I hand it over,
as her pale cheeks turned red.
So the wrinkled husband gave her a kitten.
The old couple was nauseatingly in love.

My house is clean, empty.
I have no friends to laugh with me.
Nor do I have pets to comfort me.
Why does the fat party woman deserve diamonds?
What did the rich son do to earn the flashy car?
How could a snobbish female be superior to me at work?
Why should an ugly old woman need so much love?
This would is unfair to me.
I rightfully deserve better than them.






For this week I had to write using one of the Seven Deadly Sins. I chose Envy. It wasn't as easy I thought it would be writing in the first person. I can only hope I did some justice to the poem.

Monday, March 26, 2018

Loss of Control

The image is taken from Google.


The morning sun shone through the curtains
My lips curve into a pleasant smile
I haven't felt this good in a long time
I am rid of her, at last.

I turn to the mirror on the wall
what better than my face to look at in the morning
"Blood!" I am not hurt.
The mirror. It bleeds. How?

The red liquid forms a face
"No!" It cannot be.
She is dead. I killed her.
I can still feel her soft skin bruise as I squeezed her throat.

Too much drink last night.
I step into the shower. Water can wash away anything.
Cold as ice, the droplets hit he hard
I sigh and stare into deep blue pools. Her eyes.

Stumbling out of the shower, I grab a robe
The soft cloth, a balm to my pounding heart.
Why am I acting this way? I am a man.
I am the power that destroyed her life. She cannot scare me.

Hot, scalding coffee burns my mouth
It pumps adrenaline through my veins
I look around the house, it is perfect.
The peace disturbed by a musical laugh. Hers.

I have a special love for the city traffic
The car races on the streets
I sing with my favorite rock band,
A voice chimes along. The car skid on the asphalt. She loved to sing.

Fifteenth floor. Suite room. Doors and windows locked.
This place has the best food and drink.
My stomach grumbles. Never before I had to skip my lunch.
The wine tastes different. Rustic. Bloody!

Pills. Thank god for science.
I will kill her again and again.
How dare she, a mere woman
play games with me? I am the boss. I will show her.

Sheets tangle around my limbs.
The room is hot, stifling. I cannot breathe.
It's her face, everywhere- on the chair, on the glass, in my head.
My hands lunge for her throat. Her laughter echoes, louder.

"No! Go away! Stay away from me!"
I will send her away. I will. I will.
"GO!"
Why is this happening to me? I am strong.

"Hallucination." That's what she is.
A fragment of my imagination. I can control it. I can. I will.
I push aside the curtains. The wind is whispering. "Embrace me. Come to me."
I hear it say. I nod and step out of the window. Free falls are liberating.




This is an attempt to write dramatic style of poetry.