Just People

Courtesy Vinoth Yadav

What defines a crime, what defines a motive?

What makes a man, what makes a thief?

The story is at Just People.

Oh Wait

For Friends,
                   For Family.

Oh Wait

Big Boy

What is the boundary between being a child and being a big boy?

When does one become bigger or when does one stop being little?

The story is at  Big Boy

Laughter

Is it not what defines a man, the ability to laugh?

Laughter

Red Soil

Every day he toiled on his land,
He was his land and his land was he.
His livelihood, his body,
His mind his everything.


The story is at Red Soil

P.S. ( I never put a picture, but then this picture was perfect. Courtesy Rediff)

I will miss you too

When you are here,
Even when you are not,
I will miss you too

The story is at

I will miss you too

The story is a continuation of my previous post
The ledge on the sixteenth floor
~aditya

Fear

There was a faint rustle from behind her. She did not want to look, she had heard horror stories before about those who had looked. She quickened her pace and walked on.

There was a chill breeze blowing and she pulled her jacket around her, in the hope that it would protect her from more than the cold.

The rustling continued. To her it might have sounded like a million things, the sound of a man’s footsteps on the leaves, a fearsome animal creeping up on her before devouring her.

Oh how she hated those leaves, the same leaves that had been so far covered in piles of snow and now that the snow had melted, they had been freed to set fear into the hearts of lonely women who walked by.

Her every step was followed by the dry rustle. It was late, there was no one on the streets and today of all days, she had chosen to take the road with no lights on which no one lived.

It was not as if there were no houses on that road, there were houses, and magnificent houses at that. One a fine summer day, the road reminded her of the bygone era, where everything was splendorous, where things were not as dark and gloomy as today. But today was not a bygone era, it was today, there were no one living in these houses and she was scared.

The weather in this part of the country was always fickle, it was fine one moment, where one could see countless stars and the next it would get cloudy and dark. It did.

A faint drizzle started. Any other day, she would have loved walk around in the drizzle, feeling the tiny droplets on her face and her arms as she soaked up the world around her. This was not any other day.

The houses seemed to have changed as the sun set. She had been fed stories about how the dark ones come out when the sun goes out. She wished she had never heard those stories, but she had.

“Where is the light at the end of the road when you need it,” she asked herself, as she tried to still quicken her pace. However, unless you are running there is only so fast you can walk and no more. She did not want to run, lest show to the rustling leaves behind her that she was scared.

The breeze got faster, the chill in her bones, deeper and sounds of the rustling leaves, the thing on the rustling leaves closer.

In one daring act, an act of defiance, she turned around. Everything was dark, she could hardly see a thing.

“I am not afraid, I am not scared,” she yelled into the darkness, hoping that her so called lack of fear would drive the fear away. It did not.

The rustling got closer, her foe, the leaves told her that her final moments were near.

She turned away, in the direction she was walking; she could not bear to look. Finally, in one all compassing swoop, the rustling surrounded her and she was now devoid of fear.

~aditya

It burns

A temple, a lamp
A wick and a match,
O they burn

The story is at It burns

Bedroom

No buildup, no introduction. Just the story.
No essence, no filled up space. Just the story

The story is at Bedroom

Bend in the road

We walk a thousand miles,
A thousand miles we cross,
A million faces,
A billion moments,
Memories, they are
Just another bend in the road

~aditya

The look

Annalum nokinar (He saw too)
Avalum nokinal (She saw as well)

Fire in the ice, naked to the T-bone
Is a lover's disguise, banging on the head drum
Shaking like a mad bull, she's got the look
Swaying to the band, moving like a hammer
She's a miracle man, loving is the ocean
Kissing is the wet sand, she's got the look

p.s. (the last paragraph is from Roxette's song, "She's got the look".)

Burden

He works and he works
For food and for shelter.
Once done, we dispose of him.
For he can no longer carry our Burden

Ritual

He danced around her,
She danced around him
They danced around,
It was all the part of the Ritual


~Aditya

Letting him go

Lack of definition.

Letting him go.

The story is at Letting him go

~Aditya

P.S. This one has no story line, has no characterization, has definition of the relationship between the characters. You can interpret it as you want, I have my own interpretation.

Father Son and Holy Ghost

The father,
The son
And The Holy Ghost.

The story is at Father Son and Holy Ghost

~Aditya

Coffee Machine

2 beds
And a coffee machine
I run,
I hide
From what
I do not know
From whom
I do not care


The story is at Coffee Machine

~Aditya

The Invitation

An invitation,
To share dreams
Once dreamt,
Can they be re-dreamt?

The story is at Invitation


~Aditya

Voices

Voices in your head,
Voices in your ear,
Voices in your voices.

The story as usual is at Voices

~Aditya

P.S> This borders on banality. Excuse the usage of words, or rather too many of those words.

Birthday

Why is that day more important than the others?
Why is that one day, more valuable than the others?
Why is that day seem brighter and bluer?

The story is at The birthday

~Aditya

P.S. The people are real, the event real, the narrative fictitious!

Obsolescence

What is the time upto which a man thinks of himself to be worthy of respect?
When does he become obsolete to others?
When does he become obsolete to himself?

The story is at Obsolescence

~Aditya

P.S. Let the person who thought me, know that I learnt.