Nov 30, 2010

Staying Alive

image courtesy:


Single drop of water

Thirsts a life dying

A single loving word

Yearning, old man survives

In hope of acceptance

Need of homely warmth

Growing aloof in rejection

After lifelong loving

Left lonely is he

In sorrow and grief

Very jilting is destiny

Ends living, awaiting death

This has been written for the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason'
and for the Acrostics Only Prompt # 10

Nov 29, 2010

Behold the magic....

Mystic spirit speaks
Of magic potions, charts and djinns 
Book of mystic incantations,
Book of mystic incantations,
Of magic potions, charts and djinns 
Mystic spirit speaks

The spirit of the Grimoire, Tuwrel, as Laila called it had a mind of its own. Sometimes the energy in the attic was so vibrant that the book rose from the casket on its own, the minute Dorri Jun had raised the lid. The golden glow would appear like a beam casting shadows upon the walls. The pages would flip without Dorri Jun raising a finger and Laila could clearly see a halo around her grandma.

Behold the magic,

Learn the art of demystifying the unknown

The spirit speaks forth

It was beyond words to describe the glory of the moment, the power of the whispering voice. The mystical, magical incantations rose in the air like the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. Dorri Jun had told her that the voice and the sounds were audible only to their ears. “The chanting may sound like whispers to you but they are at such high decibels that it cannot be heard by the common man. Laila, even if your mother stands with her ears stuck to that door, she will not hear a single word other than those uttered by you and me.”

Minutes became hours in the attic and Laila began to spend more and more time with Dorri Jun in concentrated silence. There were some days when Dorri Jun did not summon the spirit of the Grimoire. She concentrated on carefully writing in a neat hand in a smaller, less ostentatious but beautiful velvet lined diary. At the foot of every right hand side page, in the extreme right hand corner there was a tiny line drawing of the symbol of the Mithra. The glowing golden drawing stood out on each onion coloured sheet in the diary.

Mithra watches over men and their deeds, agreements and contracts. He is the guide towards the right order and is also responsible for giving protection against attack. One of Mithra's most important duties is to protect the kingly fortunes and the Divine Glory.”

Laila fell in love with the idea of being protected by this macho divinity clad in a golden cuirass armed with golden-shafted arrows, axes, maces and daggers. She felt safe.

“What is it you are doing, Dadi Jun?” she enquired.

Dorri Jun continued to focus on what she was writing. She was carefully transferring all the instructions, magical spells, charts and drawings from the great Grimoire into the new diary. It would be the only existing copy of the original. The Secret Grimoire of Tuwrel was being duplicated.

“…but what is the need Dadi Jun?” Laila had interrupted once again.

“The Grimoire is in Hebrew which you shall not follow. I cannot have you rote these incantations. One error and we’ll be done for! One has to be precise” was Dorri Jun’s prompt reply.

“….but how is it possible Dadi Jun? Will the magical powers be the same in this copy too?” enquired Laila once again.

“It is for you to know and me to find out!” retorted Dorri Jun back in an admonishing tone.

Hours became days, days became weeks and Laila began with her serious training sessions. Dorri Jun would chant from the original Grimoire and Laila would recite in harmony reading from her Farsi copy.

“What if someone hears us chant Dadi Jun?” Laila was concerned.

“Nobody will dear, it is a pact between Mithra and Tuwrel.” Satisfied with Dorri Jun’s answer Laila turned all her attention to the mystic passages.

Weeks became months and seasons changed. Laila changed. Dorri Jun aged. There was a transformation in everything in that house. The Secret Grimoire of Tuwrel remained the same, powerful, ruling over the two remaining lives to which it belonged and also providing for all they ever needed.

One night in the attic Tuwrel had whispered, “In cheh ser.reh nemi:dunaem?” and a silken veil dropped into Laila’s lap. The soft pearl coloured veil was the most beautiful piece of garment Laila had ever touched. The translucent material gave off all the colours of the rainbow and the golden sequins lined along the hem glistened with a magnificent sheen.

“Indeed there is nothing that could be kept a secret from you, Tuwrel!” Laila replied like on auto response but she was still wondering “What is this veil for?” Laila dared not speak aloud. The spirit always spoke in puzzles. A language only the knowing could decipher.

Like she’d read Laila's mind Dorri Jun spoke, “From the time we arrive on the planet, our destiny is written. So has the veil arrived with a purpose! Have patience Laila and the spirit of the Grimoire will guide you when the time is right!”

What a difference a day makes! Since that incident Laila felt officially included in the league of the secret religious practitioners. The spirit of the Grimoire had indicated the acceptance of her presence for the first time. Laila was assured that Dorri Jun had made the right choice, she was indeed the special one!

Years flew by like migrating birds and Laila matured like aging wine, only faster. It was a sheer magical transformation that had come over her. She felt wiser than other girls at school and realised she had become more observant than the rest. Her intuitions were very strong and always right. The day she saw Erum the belly dancer walk in through that door, Laila was sure that destiny was about to give her own story a new bend.

As Dorri Jun laid the nut cracker to rest, Laila’s impatient fingers fiddled with a betel nut, still in her hand. She felt one with that little nut whose life transformed under the nutcracker. Laila was all ears to the conversation that sparked between Erum and her grandma but her mind raced ahead.

“What is it Tuwrel? Tell me, now I pray!”

To be continued...
Don't forget to catch up on the story series 'The Grimoire'  

The Persian Glossary:
“In cheh ser.reh nemi:dunaem?” : What is this secret, I don't know?

Facts in the Fiction:
Mithra, is an ancient Persian divinity, an all knowing protector of truth

This has been written for the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason',
Sunday Scribblings #242
and Carry on Tuesday #81

Nov 28, 2010


Designed on instinct
The sculptor melds the motley parts
Behold masterpiece

This has been written for 
One Single Impression Prompt#144: Meld
prompt #19: Instinct

Saturday Photohunt: Written

It's very interesting to see these colourful messages written on the back of a racing Tonga at Juhu beach, Mumbai. To read more such wonderful boards from around the world visit 

Nov 27, 2010

The Alarm Cock

The cock with the crimson comb,
Called out with great aplomb.
Cock-A-Doodle-Doo, he said,
"Wake-up you, sleepy head!"

Before I'd begun to rise
What a surprise!
He gave a big burp,
Saying "Ive gobbled them all up.

Not a worm left, poor you!
The early bird I am
And that's no sham."

This poem has been written for the 'Z-A in 26 Days Challenge' at I Rhyme Without Reason 

Nov 26, 2010

The History of Magic

 “Bebin!” Dorri Jun would say to keep Laila’s attention from straying away. Once she was sure that Laila was all ears Dorri Jun would continue.  

In the privacy of the low ceilinged attic, Dorri Jun and Laila sat huddled over the Grimoire. The dank musty smell from the numerous old rugs, rolled into the corner, was nullified by a sweet smell emanating from the casket.

Dorri Jun believed that like in a school, her teaching had to be all encompassing too. Laila had to know the history and the geography about, all the mathematics of, the new occult science she was being initiated to. Laila sat through all the lessons in a trance-like awe.

The story of magic began with Zarat who was the first to discover this occult science around the year 6347 BC.  For centuries together, the ancient philosopher guarded his knowledge with his life. He slept only a few hours in the night and began his penance in the wee hours of the day. It was believed that he held communion with only two trusted followers in the secure environs of a chamber unknown to the world. The true identity of these followers was never revealed and they were like the anonymous apostles of Zarat’s religion of magic. The treasure of their knowledge was inherited by the disciples appointed by them, in turn. And thus Zarat’s magic travelled down generations through only the whispered words.

It was only in the 5th Century BC that Uštāna, a man of great intelligence, practiced this religion so devoutly, that one night the spirit of the magic granted him permission to put the teachings and the mathematics of the occult science, down on paper. Thus Uštāna the Iranian alchemist mage came to be recognized as the first known father of the legacy. This magus, in the long line of magi descending from Zarat, was Dorri Jun’s fore father. The magic was thus the secret religion practiced between the chosen members of their bloodline. Dorri Jun’s father, who was considered Uštāna reincarnate since he showed a mystical leaning to the occult since he was just a tiny tot of three, unfortunately died at a very early age. At 25, he was already gone leaving his only offspring Dorri Jun behind.

At this point Laila was experiencing a plethora of mixed emotions. “ …Then what happened, Dadi Jun?” she squeaked a decibel higher than it was allowed. “ …Shush! Allah karam, nothing untoward happened after that. My grandpa believed that it was god’s will that I should learn about The Secret Grimoire of Tuwrel. The religion needed an heir and so it was to be!” recollected Dorri Jun.

Laila clapped in glee. Her innocence and naivety warmed Dorri Jun’s heart immensely. “It is only an empty chalice that can be filled!”

 “What, Dadi Jun?”

Image courtesy: Link
“Never mind Laila, bebin, one day I shall take you to the great Uštāna’s secret tomb. It lies on an open land that no man must have ever imagined, exists. Once there, if you are able to read the message on the tombstone then I will rest in peace. I will know that I have successfully done my job, that you have learnt all that you needed to.” Said Dorri Jun.

Lotfæn Dadi Jun, I want to begin with the lessons now!” exclaimed an impatient Laila as Dorri Jun progressed to open the lid of the casket.

“Laila within this casket is the text book to your life! You are not to whisper about this to any other soul until the time is right!” Dorri Jun instructed Laila.

“How should I know the time is right, Dadi Jun?”  Laila was genuinely stumped.

“You ask too many questions child! The spirit of the Grimoire shall tell you.” answered Dorri Jun immediately.

“How do I address the spirit, Dadi Jun. Do I call it Tuwrel?”

“Yes, you may, if you wish! It shall respond to your heart’s voice, call it by whatever name. And before we progress, another lesson to take to heart, God has given you two ears so you may listen more than you speak!”  

Balleh, Dadi Jun!” replied Laila, a tad bit ashamed of her talkativeness.

As Dorri Jun lifted the lid to the casket, a warm golden glow filled the room instantly. Every nook and cranny of the attic looked like it had suddenly been polished with pure gold. The light was bright but not blinding. The warmth was soothing and not burning. There was an unspeakable richness to the feeling that the sight of the glowing Grimoire gave. Laila couldn’t decide whether her heart was fluttering like the butterflies or it was hopping about like restless rabbits. She was also worried that this golden light would seep out of that little window to the skies and their little secret would be out. Now she was getting a good whiff of the beautiful scent emanating from the casket. It was like a heady mixture of some exotic flowers she’d never smelt before.

Laila knew that this was the turning point in her life and there was no looking back. She knew she was on the threshold of being transformed into an extra-ordinary being and was ready for it. She was determined to join the ranks of Uštāna. "....But how soon will I master all of this? And even if I have how will Dadi Jun know that I have, that it is time for me to visit the tomb of the great Uštāna to prove that I have ?" Though there was no no place for self-doubt little Laila's head was full of questions.

Little did she know that just a couple of years later, her answers would arrive wrapped in the guise of a belly dancer.

To be continued....
You can read the story series from the top HERE 

 Facts in the fiction:

The ancient  Greeks and Romans believed that books on magic were invented by the Persians. 

The 1st century CE writer Pliny The Elder stated that magic had been first discovered by the ancient philosopher Zoroaster around the year 6347 BC, but that it was only written down in the 5th century BC by the magician Osthanes.

The Persian Glossary:

Bebin: Look!
Zarat: Golden
Allah karam: By God's grace
Lotfæn: Please
Balleh: Yes (when said with respect)

This story has been written for 

The Thursday Tale # 35

The Deck of Cards

Image courtesy: Link

Panders to senses
Gambler lusts another win
Advance shuffled deck

Deck of cards allure
Big money an addiction
Tough is giving up

This has been written for the Three Word Wednesday CCXVI
& the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason'

Nov 25, 2010

S for......

Like a stranger would
Shocked her fiance stood staring
Her transformation

Sans inhibitions
The model walked to head ramp 
In a gollywog wig

This has been written for The Sensational Haiku Wednesday Prompt: Inhibition,
Haiku Heights Prompts #18: Stranger
ABC Wednesday Round 7: S

Erum The Belly Dancer

Image courtesy: Link

One evening, Laila was sitting beside Dorri Jun in their central hall facing the main door, cracking betel nuts. Their neighbour’s daughter Erum came visiting with a plate full of seedless dates. “Dokhtare khoshkhel!” exclaimed old Dorri Jun welcoming the beautiful teenager into a warm embrace. “This girl is true to her name. She’s a vision of heaven itself, isn’t she?” Dorri Jun chortled, introducing Erum to Laila.   Laila was ten then and instantly enamored by Erum’s flawless beauty. Erum bent over to plant a delicate kiss on little Laila’s forehead. Laila got a whiff of the beautiful scent of Jasmines in her clothes and as she peered into Erum’s eyes she saw that they were as light as the crystal clear waters of the Karun River.

Untill that day Laila had only heard of the neighboring Rashid Uncle’s daughter Erum and her accomplishments as the most graceful belly dancer in Ahwaz.  Erum had become quite a legend for she could do what every belly dancer couldn’t. There was something magical about her movements. And she could have her audience imagining a mysterious tale with her flailing arms and shimmying. Erum almost danced like she could read her audience’s mind, sometimes dancing the Egyptian way and sometimes doing the folklore style of dance.  Just the way they were longing to see her move! Erum could even merge many styles and one wouldn’t even know. She could smoothly flow into the Morrocan style from the Persian and also break into a flamboyant American fusion belly dance while the audience would only be more spellbound.

 Laila was now sure that Dorri Jun had something to do with Erum’s success.

 “ Mashallah, Aafreen Erum Aafreen!” my connoisseurs would respond, Erum said. “ But…”

Laila’s mother had entered. She tried to prod Laila to come away with her but Laila was reluctant. There was a look of rebuke and mild anger in her mother’s eyes for Erum which Laila couldn’t understand, for she had taken an instant liking for her. This slight scuffle between the mother and daughter disturbed Dorri Jun who immediately shooed Laila’s mother away. And the conversation between the two was resumed.

 There wasn’t a party of the affluent rich where Erum wasn’t invited but there had been a sudden lull over the past few days. As if it was “ …the Nazar!” Erum whispered in Dorri Jun’s ears.

Dorri Jun was instantly locked in deep conversation with Erum and the conversation smoothly shifted from Arabic to Persian. Laila was following it all. Laila was having a great time watching the two share notes in hushed tones. There wasn’t anybody around but they still preferred to speak in hardly audible voices.
Erum had been complaining, “Dorri Jun I know not why I seem to be losing my charm. I am worried that my Raqs Arabi hasn’t been enchanting enough when I last performed at that Persian wedding.”

Dorri Jun had emerged as a local doctor of sorts. Her fame had grown far and wide too. Ladies from in and around their land would arrive, with and sometimes without prior appointment, seeking solace. Their ailments could vary from anything physical, mental and sometimes even psychological. Dorri Jun was sure to come up with an effective solution to their problems and expected nothing in return.

This outreach, which was the compelling reason for her sons and their families to have drifted away, was the only thing that gave meaning to Dorri Jun’s life. Laila and her mother a widow however, had stayed on to see Dorri Jun mature like an aging wine, growing more and more proficient in her practice. Dorri Jun lived in a bubble and no emotional blackmail could pull her off this practice of running this odd clinic.

Something transformed Dorri Jun the instant Erum walked in with her problems. Dorri Jun had entered her other role and wasn’t her normal self anymore. Even Laila couldn’t recognize her grandma, who was now sitting enveloped in this wonderful aura. “Have I inherited this dual nature too?” Laila was wondering and just then Dorri Jun picked up a pen and began scribbling. Erum continued waiting patiently. She seemed to trust that she would be given an appropriate answer to the puzzle she’d placed before the old lady.

Cutting this rapt silence Laila’s mother had reentered the hall with two cups of steaming hot ghaveh on a platter with crystallized sugar placed in a small dish at the side. After all she was Dorri Jun’s daughter and hospitality was second nature to them. “Bokhor!” Laila’s mother had prompted them but her words fell on deaf ears as the trio was too engrossed in arriving at a solution to Erum’s problem.

What Dorri Jun did next was a sight beyond the ordinary!

To be continued...

What does Dorri Jun do next? Is she able to help Erum? What effect does that action have on Laila?
To know this and more do read the story series 'The Grimoire'

The Persian Glossary: 
Erum: heaven 
Dokhtare: girl
 khoshkhel: beautiful 
Mashallah: An exclamation when admiring or praising something 
Aafreen: Word used when overwhelmed by a beautiful thing
Nazar: Meaning the evil eye
Ghaveh: Persian Coffee
Bokhor: Urging to eat

You can read the previous 2 chapters you may have missed out on  HERE 

This has been written for the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at ' I Rhyme Without Reason'

Nov 24, 2010

First Steps

For that priceless moment
I waited all alert
Right when he began
So slowly and steadily
Tottering little feet came

Step by step baby
Tried walking to mumma
Each step towards me
Pleasure felt beyond words
Soaked in the moment

This has been written for the Acrostics Only prompt # 6
and the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at ' I Rhyme Without Reason'

Nov 23, 2010

Grandma and her Grimoire

image courtesy
There was an old hardbound album that Laila’s mother kept in her cupboard. Each black sheet had a thin sheet of butter paper as a divider before you could get a glimpse of the next sheet. To Laila these creamy half transparent- half opaque sheets resembled Dorri Jun’s veil.

The photographer seemed to have been very enthralled by Dorri Jun’s personality for each snap after the next in the album was an exquisite capture of her beauty and elegance. There weren’t any photographs from Dorri Jun’s childhood. They were all from her youthful days besides the very few found in the end of the album that were taken of the aged Dorri Jun, just before she died.

" Dorri Jun never smiles in any of the pictures but there is something endearing about her, something very nice about her." Laila observed.  The cream, long, silken Hijab tightly wrapped around her head framed Dorri Jun’s slender, fair complexioned face. The sharp features with the milky smooth skin made her look almost like a beautiful statue carved in marble. However there was nothing stone-like about her. "....The liveliest pair of almond shaped eyes" Laila thought. The thin, shapely brows were like the borders of a peaceful temple land. The long slender, slightly hooked nose directed the observer's eyes down to the luscious pair of pink lips. " One can easily imagine how they must keep the listener bound when they quivered in speech." Laila continued her soliloquy. She'd been told by her mother that she had inherited all the looks from her grandma Dorri Jun. And that made her more possessive about this album. She was happy that her mother treasured this album like all their other valuables.

This album was what helped Laila refresh her memories of Dorri Jun.

In their two storied ancestral home at Khūzestān on the bubbling banks of the Karun River, Laila had spent many hours in old Dorri Jun’s company since she was just an eight year old. She could remember her little palms sinking into the soft wrinkled cushions of Dorri Jun’s palms. Led by this soft but firm clasp, Laila would follow Dorri Jun all around the house. There weren’t many chores to do for the old lady. So after a stroll in the garden in the early, dewy morn’ they would walk right up into the attic of the house.

Though this attic had a low roof and was cramped and cluttered with what-nots from times gone-by. It was here, in the darkest part of the house that Dorri Jun was her most relaxed self as if this was the only place she could let all her guards down and be her true self. She had made her own, very personalized space within her own  home, in the extreme corner at the back of the attic. A small window that opened out to the sky let enough light and air in to keep them from feeling claustrophobic. 

 Laila remembered that none of the other kids in the family were allowed here but she was. With a glint in her intelligent eyes Dorri Jun would say "Inja biya beshin." beckoning Laila to come and sit down beside her on the plush Kaalin. Laila's eyes twinkled too at the thought of being the special one. "Its just us Dadi Jun!" she exclaimed and the two giggled like little girls in between an innocent conspiracy.

Only Laila had the knowledge and was shown the one precious thing in Dorri Jun’s possession. The only one of its kind, the precious thing was kept securely wrapped in blood red colored velvet, safely locked within a small cubical casket. This casket was the most intricately designed piece with Persian Khatam inlay work on it. It was so exquisite in its beauty that Laila found nothing quiaint about it but Dorri Jun treated it with great reverence and guarded it with all her capacities. The key to the casket was ensconced in the folds of Dorri Jun’s hijab.

As if Laila was born with the knowledge of the ways of this precious thing, she never uttered a single extra word when in the attic. And swore to silence about the casket when outside the attic. She would be patiently seated beside her grandma on the kaalin, until Dorri Jun opened her eyes from deep meditation. Laila’s heart would thump like a thousand hammers for she knew that it was now time for the precious thing to be brought out of its casket. Then it would be a magical experience each time, every time like it had been the very first time.

This was the one other thing that was as precious to her as the looks inherited from Dorri Jun!

The Secret Grimoire of Tuwrel, the book in a bronze gilded cover with coffee coloured aging pages would be brought out ceremoniously from the little casket. And thus Dorri Jun had begun to teach Laila an art, taught only through this book, which no other soul would learn from her except Laila.

To be continued.....

What was that art that Dorri Jun taught her? How well did Laila learn it and how did she use it? Or was it misused?  To know this and more Look out for the short story series ‘ The Grimoire.’

Facts in the fiction:

Khūzestān is an Iranian Province and the Karun river flows through the middle of this province.

Persian Glossary:
Hijab: refers to the head covering traditionally worn by Iranian women. 
Kaalin: carpet
"Inja biya beshin" : "Come here, sit down"
Dadi Jun: Dear Grandma

You can read the curtain raiser to this series HERE

This has also been written for the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason'

Nov 22, 2010

Had I a hammock white.....

Had I a hammock white,
To tie betwixt two palms.
I'd swing in it, all night.

What a night it would be!
Had I a hammock white,
Rocking to the sea's lullaby.

I'd swing in it all night,
With the cool seaside breeze,
Heaven on earth, alright!

By day in it, I'd snooze,
Had I a hammock white,
Left to me and my booze.

On a sunny afternoon, bright,
A lazy siesta it would be, then
I'd swing in it all night.

Oblivious to the world's lies and spite,
Surrounded only by beautiful blues,
Had I a hammock white,
I'd swing in it all night.

A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem consisting of a very specific rhyming scheme: aba aba aba aba aba abaa. The first and the third lines in the first stanza are repeated in alternating order throughout the poem, and appear together in the last couplet (last two lines).

This Villanelle has been written for the Z-A in 26 days challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason'

Nov 21, 2010

Truth or dare...

Laila picks up the broom. Suddenly it feels as if cobwebs have sprung up in every nook and corner of the house. A fine layer of dust seems to have settled on everything, from the books on the shelves to the little riffraff on display in the glass case. The ceiling fan is creaking as it goes round and round at a very slow pace. “There must be a fluctuation in the electricity again”. Switching it off, Laila pulls the tall wooden stool standing on the terrace. The dragging makes a loud noise enough to wake old uncle Patrick, in the neighboring flat, from his afternoon siesta.   

Laila is reminded by a bead of sweat tickling her right brow that this is the longest day of the year. The day has been extremely lack luster, too. She begins to dust the old fan that must have been white as a pearl when it was first hoisted up but not anymore. The paint has peeled off from the edges of the blades and the exposed metal is rusting. The top of the fan is carpeted with a thick layer of dust that looks like a soft grey mesh. Laila wonders how she could have ignored her daily chores so much. Where had she been?

From her elevated post on the stool, Laila gets a top view of her recent favourite acquisitions, the Blackberry on the dining table, the YSL perfume bottles on the dressing table, the gorgeous clutch on the bed and the Mango booties in the shoe-rack. It feels like she is looking at images of herself from another time.

She looks at herself in the long mirror of the dressing table. Broom in hand, her long locks rolled into a bun and shrouded in a scarf over her nose she is now only a shadow of that glamorous self. Laila in rolled up pajamas is aware that the paint on her toe nails is chipping and that the tip of her nose probably has those inconspicuous blackheads which the girls made a hue and a cry about. She is however amused at her own transformation. In fact quite delighted. 

Like how the old tap at the sink unwinds itself and the water slowly begins to trickle again, it all begins to come back to her slowly. Laila, that glamorous face had had managed to escape into oblivion. She had run away from it all and was happy to have made the wise and timely decision. Her disappearing act must have been as magical as her entry into the glamour world. "Yes! it was all magic. And the magic show does  come to an end at a point doesn't it?", Laila has begun her soliloquy again.
"Is there more to myself than I know?" Laila wonders. "Sometimes it feels as if the girl in the reflection is not me but a completely different person standing there. Someone I'm unacquainted with. Like I'm playing the game of Truth or Dare with my own mind but...." Laila is quite okay with that. "....what is life without a bit of magic, mysetry and fun?"  Laila has laughed a shrill laugh. One that could once again easily scare the daylights out of uncle Patrick with that weak heart of his. 

After that experience, she has no qualms in accepting what she truly is.  She has donned a veil that she should have long ago. She needn't reveal her all to anyone but herself. She doesn't need to justify her duality. At the same time Laila is also happy that she has successfully escaped from her recent past and is back in the familiar environs of her own home. She has successfully reclaimed her life, her true self but then again, is she safe? Has she really freed herself? Laila wonders what lies ahead for her.

To be continued....
Look out for the short story series ‘ The Grimoire.’

This has also been written for the 3WWednesday

Nov 20, 2010


Image courtesy :

‘I’ used in ego,
Ego brings you down surely.
Surely then is humbled pride.
Pride that came with success, clearly.

Clearly success is short-lived with ‘I’.
‘I’ is that stone over which you stumble.
Stumble and fall that you may know.
Know, that loved are only those humble!

This has been written for the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason'

Nov 19, 2010

Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill,
Sat on the sill,
Eating bread and honey.
He cracked a joke,
Gave her a poke,
She thought that was so funny.

Jack and Jill
In song they trilled
Their dads had loads of money.
A hop and a skip,
Around the world trip,
They tanned on beaches sunny.

Jack and Jill,
In denim and frill,
Were like a hare and bunny.
They never did much, 
Their story was such,
That's the magic of money!

This has been written for the Z-A in 26 days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason' 

Nov 18, 2010


Strange tongue the Aussie guy spoke
Lingo unknown to her folk
Asked they, serious is this
No worries! Dinky-Di this is
God! Talked a code language,this bloke

The Slang Glossary for the uninitiated:
No worries! : Australian for It's Okay!
Dinky-Di : Australian for genuinely
Bloke: British slang for man

limerick is a five-line  poem, humorous in intention,where lines 1, 2, and 5 of Limericks have seven to ten syllables and rhyme with one another. Lines 3 and 4 of Limericks have five to seven syllables and also rhyme with each other.
Limericks are fun!!!!

This has been written for the Acrostics Only Limerick Prompt # 8

Knuckle Sandwich



This has been written for the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason'
And the Acrostics Only Challenge- Prompt # 5

Nov 17, 2010

Little baby of mine

White as pure milk
Sweet little baby of mine
With skin smooth as silk

Sleep beautiful babe,
Cushioned in velvet and silk
Sleep prince of my heart

Also for the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at ' I Rhyme Without Reason'

Nov 16, 2010

M for Moths

After scouring the net I have deduced that this cousin of the butterfly is probably the
Two Spotted Herpetogramma Bipunctalis Moth

    Moths and Butterflies both belong to the order LEPTIDOPTERA and hence are first cousins..;)
    If someone can give me a confirmation on the species of this winged wonder or correct this amatuer nature enthusiast if wrong, will  be obliged! :D

Less famous cousin
A little less beautiful
Lives in the shadow

This post is an entry at the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge @ I Rhyme Without Reason