Klishmaklaver

Unleashing Genius: A book review

2011-11-30T16:13:00.001+05:30

Book title: Unleashing Genius

What about? : A book on learning Miracles

For : Children of all ages & adults of all disciplines

Author: Dilip Mukerjea

Publisher: Westland

For a reader each book has something to teach. If our mind is open to reading what the author has written between the lines, a book of fiction can also be a learning experience. However here is a book which is an out and out personality development course. ‘Unleashing Genius’ completely reminds me of the summer camp my mum had enrolled me for, in my school days. What a world of a change it had brought in me. My perception and outlook had changed completely. For ages I’ve been wondering why I didn’t keep those course papers of that personality development camp, safely. They had disappeared into oblivion and I was wishing I could lay my hands back on them once again, somehow, miraculously. And Voila! I have found a far more superior complete book on learning miracles- Unleashing Genius.

Being a completely illustrated book, thankfully, it is immediately set apart from the other mundane self-development books. The not-so-serious personality that it has been given , makes this book possibly the only fat book parents will be able to gift their children without making them feel like it’s yet another task coming their way.

There is no literary genius applied to the language so it is very easy for a non-reader to also follow the simple exercises for the brain.

“Welcome! We have entered The Century of The Brain!” announces Pg. 29 and isn’t it true? In this highly competitive world, smarter you are better chances of survival you got. A little bit of slack and you are making spaces for another to overtake you!

A series of memory tests and exercises give you insights into how easily one can improve memory capacities through logic. I had fun doing one exercise after another and couldn’t believe that I found the book un-put-downable! Did I need the book at this age, you ask? Ofcourse, I did. My hubby keeps complaining that I’m getting increasingly forgetful nowadays but I’m sure keeping in mind the simple lessons I’ve learnt from ‘Unleashing Genius’ I will be surfing that problem real soon.

Mnemosyne- the Greek Goddess of Memory has definitely blessed this book because there are some concepts in this book which are most definitely unforgettable. Mind Mapping is a complete revelation. Need to give your brain a jog? Try Mind Mapping. I remember back in my copywriting days, I needed to ideate and quick! It was then that I felt brainstorming was the need of the day to crack the brief and dish out a unique Ad’ Campaign’ concept. And for that I had to have more than one brain working there. Had I come across Mind Mapping before, I would have known I was wracking enough brain myself, to come up with a solution on my own.

Reading Dynamics is another brilliant section in this book that school going children can benefit from- well laid out strategies to develop reading skills, ways to extract meaning from a passage that you have just read and extremely useful tips.

If you are really looking for flaws then I would say the JOKES section is quite a waste of precious print. I would skip right over that to the ‘Braintertainment’ section. A good Quiz, some witty puzzles and I am nearly at the end of unleashing my genius. Thankfully the solutions are also close at hand. ;) :D

What I liked the best was even the back cover had some tidbits to offer.

Take a look at the CATSEYE :

Curiosity:

Alacrity

Timing

Senses

Errors

Yippee!

Excellence

This is a smartly written acrostic that sums up the book with the 7 letter pointer to keeping on learning, improving and unleashing your genius.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

The very first review of NTU

2011-11-19T15:22:00.000+05:30

"Every one of us will have a thousand stories to tell. But not all stories have the same charm. What makes a story fascinating is the minor details that make the stories come alive and give the reader a vicarious experience of living through the story. Vibhuti has excelled in this element...... "

The very first review of 'Not Totally Unbelievable' and its TOTALLY made my day!
Karthik LakshmiNarayan of Lucifer House Inc. has done it again. Constructive criticism has always been his forte but this time he has gone steps ahead and given a budding author such brilliant support and a beautiful pedestal of words of appreciation..I can't thank him enough!

For a humbly written book as mine I never expected such a heart warming review.

Read the first and complete BOOK REVIEW of 'Not Totally Unbelievable'.

LEAD to a headSTART

2011-11-15T16:39:00.000+05:30

Mighty Oaks from little Acorns grow......

And one such seed of thought led me to consider having my collection of short stories published.

I am sure every aspiring writer knows how difficult it is to progress into becoming a published author and I began the journey with all possible fears too. It was only a letter from my former editor in charge late Mr. Sunil Poolani ( may his soul rest in peace ), that brought cheer and hope to me. It was a wonder to receive a letter from him that extolled my writing capacities. What happiness!

It is by God's grace that I got the right publishing break through Leadstart Publishing. Founded in 1994, Frog Books now an imprint of Leadstart, brings out about 10 titles a month. And I'm happy to let my readers know that 'Not Totally Unbelievable' is one of their New Releases in the month of November.

My maiden title 'Not Totally Unbelievable' is sailing smoothly on the waves of love from readers far and wide. Many thanks to my editor Mr. Oswald Pereira and the C.E.O. of the publishing house, Mr. Swarup Nanda who took personal interest in turning my work out in time and with elan.

Do check out their website - www.Leadstartcorp.com to know more about my book and its publishers..:D

Three Cheers to the art of book publishing!

Happy Diwali @ FlipKart

2011-10-29T16:14:00.000+05:30

It has indeed been a happy Diwali for me. God is great!
And then like a cherry on the icing, I visited Flipkart.com only to find MY FIRST BOOK available for purchase online..
At 25% Discounted Price 'Not Totally Unbelievable' can also make a wonderful Padva/ New year gifting idea...
Its just a hop, skip, jump to www. flipkart.com and then a click to pick it up..BUT you will have to promise a book review will be posted as soon as my book is read..Now make me a Diwali gift too!!!
:D

Synopsis:

Lin delves into her knowledge of the magical powers of the Tisane to solve the problem that her elder sister Liu is facing at The Lingnan Tea House.

Dereck has accidentally slipped into a seemingly unending black hole while trekking in the Black Forests of Germany. His whole life flashes before his eyes as he travels down the dark tunnel. Once out in broad daylight, he is surprised to be alive and shocked to find himself in India.

One evening a teenager looks up from the book she is reading and finds a phantom staring her in the face, floating between her mother’s white roses, a few steps away from her.

On another day Daddy’s bike journey once again very mysteriously comes to a similar end like always, almost like a decree from God.

For Meera, a young teenager, life seems to have always turned a deaf ear towards her. One day she finally decides to step off into oblivion. She goes unheard.

‘Not Totally Unbelievable’ is a collection of 10 short stories narrating the extra- ordinary experiences in the lives of the seemingly most ordinary people from the Occident, Orient and India. These pieces of fiction are essentially true stories that will compel one to believe in mysterious magical powers and forces around us, within us.

Hope to see you'll at Flipkart leaving some book reviews for me to read and learn from! :D

Warm wishes for the festive season once again....

When dreams come true.....

2011-10-16T11:52:00.004+05:30

We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.- Walt Disney

I started this blog and began exploring myself as a storyteller. Little did I know that I was actually opening up a door for myself!
I was only an advertising professional- a copywriter until I gave it all up, went on a hiatus away from it all and found my MoJo to write for myself. Write like I wished to. Write to entertain not sell. So here I was, dishing out tales, deriving inspiration from true life stories. And what a splendid support I received from my fellow bloggers and friends.

They gave me the confidence to see myself in a new light, as a writer!

I now walk down a new path, hoping all my friends here in the blog-o-sphere will guide me as lovingly as they had in the past. I request you to once again oblige me with your love, visits and readership.

My dear friends, my maiden venture as an author has been published and is presently being distributed all over India. So you will be seeing 'NOT TOTALLY UNBELIEVABLE' on the shelves of leading bookstores and even online, very soon !
:D

I dedicate this maiden venture of mine, as an author, to all those friends who graced my blog with kind, appreciative comments, polished my writings with their clear and corrective criticism.

With Warm Regards,
Yours Always,
VIBHUTI BHANDARKAR

PS: will keep you'll posted about the progress of the book and also provide all details in following blogs. Keep visiting! ;)

The Secret of the Nagas: Book Review

2011-09-27T13:14:00.001+05:30

The Secret of the Nagas: The sequel in the Shiva Trilogy.

Author: Amish Tripathi

Publisher: Westland

My Rating: **1/2

Since I read this sequel to the ‘ The Immortals of Meluha’ right after, expectations from this second book were even greater. That must have been the only reason why the second book from the same writer became a very big disappointment for me. From the first book I’d decided that Amish Tripathi is a very intelligent writer but ‘The Secret of the Nagas’ has brought him rungs lower than he’d actually climbed up to, in my opinion.

The book cover is so intriguing and the book title promises the unearthing of some tantalizing secret between the pages but nothing like that happened. One of the sinister Nagas has murdered Brahaspati, the great scientist of Meluha who had become Shiva’s quite a good friend. Subsequently the death threat was on Sati, Shiva’s beloved wife. So Shiva is out to hunt the dangerous Naga down. The Neelkanth has more than one reason to wipe out the Chandravanshis who had resorted to using the Nagas in their war with the Suryavanshis. In this second book Shiva has evolved into a more confident and valiant leader, hell bent upon carrying out the duty of destroying evil, his supposed role at Meluha.

As the story unfolded I was desperately waiting for some big Naga secret to be out but there is nothing very serpentine or mystical about them apart from the fact that they are mere mortals with a host of physical abnormalities. The slow discovery of the exact location of the Naga kingdom-Panchvati seems to be the whole motive of the book.

Amish has introduced new characters into Shiva’s tale and weaved in some more mythical stories with Parshuram but I am still stuck with the niggling thought there isn’t much to read about the mysterious Naga clan. Is it just me or has Amish really not put as much pain and research into the sequel as he’d in the Immortals of the Meluha? I wish he’d layered and laid out the stories in a better flow like the first book. Somehow I did not find the second book as spell-binding. What is a saving grace is that Amish has a way with his descriptive style. The Battle of Madhumati is well-painted using good words before the reader’s eyes.

Then Amish has tried to shock the readers by introducing the Naga Queen as Sati’s twin sister Kali whom Sati’s father had abandoned. Sati also has a son Ganesh, the Lord of the people, whom she’s accused of having abandoned herself. This twist in the mythological tales I have grown up with didn’t go down well with me, however. The Sequel is a poor patch on Amish’s previous success. It is very unfair to keep comparing the two books but it is happening very naturally and unintentionally. The Immortals of Meluha told a contemporary story based on legends that were smart and intellige ntly crafted. The Secret of the Nagas, is full of poor attempts at recreating those clever twists.

Taking potshots at the Bengali community through the stories of the Brangas, was quite unrequired in my opinion. And the prime minister of the Branga kingdom loaded with gold jewellery named Bappiraj dragged the great music director Bappi Lahiri into the Shiva Trilogy. I found that very silly too! Or may be its just my lack of sense of humour.

Now I shall stop wallowing in my disappointment in the book and just wrap up by saying Amish could have done far better.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

The Immortals of Meluha: Book Review

2011-09-20T12:19:00.011+05:30

The Immortals of Meluha: The first book of the Shiva Trilogy.

Author: Amish Tripathi

Publisher: Westland

My Rating: ****

The book cover will definitely draw the BholeNath fans towards. A fine illustration of how Amish describes Shiva – a lithe muscular body with numerous battle scars on his skin.

The back cover blurb however instantly erases any chances of the reader expecting a mythological tale. It clearly states that this is the story of a man whom legend has turned into God. Interesting! So this should be a completely different and contemporary take on the age-old stories our grannies have been telling us about Lord Shiva. And indeed it turns out to be quite a good read.

Amish is an intelligent writer and the kind of research that has gone into the book shows. It is amazing to see how each character connected with Shiva and his mythological stories, appears and develops as the story unfolds.

Shiva is in fact a mere mortal, the chief of a mountain tribe called the Gunas who live in the Himalayas. Nandi is one of the captains of the Meluhan tribe who is sent by the King Daksha to invite Shiva and his tribe to their land. The land of Meluha is supposedly the glorious land which Lord Ram established. And this is the land which we modern Indians mistakenly call the Indus Valley civilization. I loved the way the land has been described, so thrilling. Wonder why our History textbooks couldn’t be made this interesting?

At a point I found a strange connection with present day situations where the Suryavanshis of the Land of Meluha are at terrible loggerheads with the Chandravanshis who rule over Lord Ram’s birthplace- Ayodhya! Now does that ring a bell???

On arrival in Meluha, Shiva and his tribe are quarantined and administered the Somras by a Meluhan doctor Ayurvati and her nurses. The medicine was to decontaminate them from any kinds of disease they could be carrying. It is the Somras that turns Shiva’s throat blue making him the much awaited NeelKanth. Shiva’s life changes forever. He is no longer a mere caste unmarked immigrant in Meluha but the savior of the Suryavanshis, the destroyer of all evil. The NeelKanth is expected to eradicate the terrorist Chandarvanshis who are allegedly destroying their river Saraswati. Shiva remains in denial for a good half of the book and that’s where I felt the story dragged a bit.

Shiva meets with Sati the daughter of King Daksha who is a Vikarma- carriers of bad fate and hence cannot be touched. Shiva however falls in love with her and come what may is bent upon getting her. It is an emotionally high point when Shiva as NeelKanth makes a public appearance and reaches out to a blind old man considered as Vikarma to express his dislike for this unfair rule and wishes that such discrimination could be stopped.

Between a lot of battle, politics and philosophy there is Sati who refuses to accept Shiva’s love and that she needs happiness too. I found the story telling drags once again. However all’s well that ends well! I like all love stories to end on a positive note and that is just what happens.

The concluding chapter ‘The Question of Questions’ is quite a lesson in its own. I would conclude that the book is an overall good read.

Thanks to BlogAdda I got to read this book earlier than I'd expected.

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

'Musings of a Wanderer'- A review

2011-08-16T16:04:00.002+05:30

I remember a friend of mine expressing his doubts about the future of poetry when I suggested he seriously consider getting his collection of poetries published. Someone had crippled his faith by saying that prose would rule the publisher’s choice over poetry, anytime!

I beg to differ.

My heartfelt congratulations to you Shreya Chatterjee and I applaud your effort in bringing your feelings out into the limelight through such fluent poetic verses. Shreya Chatterjee’s ‘Musings of a Wanderer’ is a collection of short verses that rekindle hope in this day and age that poetry will not die a slow death. As long as emotions and experiences stir one to pull out their quills, one should continue to write in verse. And also believe in it enough to know that there will be some hearts out there that will definitely relate to your words and connect with your book of verses.

This extremely reader friendly slim book of 95 Pgs. is full of sweetly simple poetry that clearly comes straight from the heart. No bombastic words, no over-the-top extravagant subjects, no drama! Just plain, free-flowing MUSINGS one can breeze through. You don’t need to possess an intrepid soul to connect with this wanderer. She talks of journeys that most may have experienced with child-like innocent wonder. And it is amusing to see how she has turned simple daily happenings into pieces of art for all to appreciate. This book is indeed a world within a world!

Shreya Chatterjee’s style of writing will come across as very contemporary for those (like me) who have grown up reading and appreciating poetry of the golden ages written in chaste English.

Please do not expect verses that will rhyme and follow strict meters though at many points it did feel as if she’s woven many Haikus together to make one piece. She is a writer of free will and free verse, a true wanderer! She has explored. She has expressed the way it comes to her.

There are many high points in this collection of poems. However I wish she had taken more pains in carefully titling each piece. There are many poems, in my opinion, which would have been examples of perfection if their titles were well selected. ‘Candle Tete-A-Tete’ made me expect yet another light-hearted romantic piece whereas it turned out to be a beautifully, creative piece which told me ‘What is a candle’ and brought before me the different significance of the Candle in our lives.

I recommend you read ‘Defiance’- am sure many will be able to relate to the spirit in the poem, the fervour of emotions is at its peak expressed through a rich selection of words.

I must thank BlogAdda for initiating me to this collection of poems. It is nice to read such light-hearted poems too, once in a while!

This review is a part of the Book Reviews Program at BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

55 Fiction #8

2011-08-08T11:08:00.001+05:30

His heart began racing on hearing the roar in the distance.

It was a pitch dark night.

He bravely began moving in the direction of the growling which got louder and louder, as he inched closer, stealthily.

With one sweep he deftly pulled the wallet out from beneath the snoring man’s pillow and bounded away.

TOMORROW

2011-08-03T09:30:00.004+05:30

With a promise that I have picked up my pen with an intention to write and post more regularly, now on, like in the past. My dear readers, I'm sure will rebuild my faith in my writing with ur kind words of appreciation and serious criticism too..:D
Here's a fresh new story as a toast to this rich blogger's world and our friendship!!! Now on I will write like there is no TOMORROW..

TOMORROW

“Rickshaw” she yelled but all zipped past her, laden with passengers. Well past 10pm. M.G. Road was still a busy thoroughfare. The dinner meeting had sealed the deal and Neena was elated that she’d be standing on her own two feet, an independent fashion designer, very soon. Presently however, she couldn’t stand in her stilettos anymore. Her back hurt so much that she wished she could tear them off her feet right away. Just then a rickshaw stalled a little ahead seeing Neena flailing her arms. She was saved. “Aundh” she informed the rickshaw driver. As she hastily stepped in, Neena promised herself a car before the end of the year. Then she could drive into the city and back, as and when she pleased. Then she wouldn’t have to suffer backaches and await some rickshaw driver’s mercy.

“This is quite an achievable short term goal Neena” she convinced herself with a broad grin, remembering the hefty check she was carrying in her purse. She couldn’t believe she’d been hired by the famous director-producer duo, the Kapurs’. Designing for such a big banner in the Hindi film industry only meant that there would be no looking back.

It felt like an exceptionally cool night’s breeze on her face and Neena was still smiling to herself when her eyes met the cabbie’s, through the rear view mirror. Neena was flabbergasted to see him leering back at her.

Partly disgusted, little scared, it felt like an eternity before she’d finally reached the gates of her apartment complex. Neena paid him off hurriedly and ran barefoot to the elevator. While she held onto her handbag and footwear with one hand, she punched the button of the elevator with the free hand. Neena was still rummaging the contents of her purse for her house keys when she realized her cell phone was missing.

“Mum, I’ve left my phone on their office desk I suppose.” She informed her mother as she let herself in. Swerving around with a look of great relief, her mother rose from the sofa, switching off the T.V. immediately. “Neena, where have you been? I’ve called your cell more than twenty times by now. You almost worried me to death!” She admonished her.

“I have great news for you but we’ll talk in the morning Ma. Go to bed. I’m extremely tired….Sorry! ” Planting a kiss on her mother’s forehead, Neena disappeared into her room.

“I hope it is where I think it is and stays there. I cannot afford to lose my BlackBerry.” Neena superstitiously believed in omens and wondered what this meant. She laid her tired head on the soft pillow trying to visualize what the next day would bring but try as she might she couldn’t have imagined her ‘Tomorrow’.

****************************************

The glass door flung open and another customer walked in. A gust of wind that followed him fluttered the pages of the calendar hanging on the wall. Mihir’s assistant attended to the customer while Mihir stood staring at the calendar. Is it time already? He wondered.

An extremely ambitious entrepreneur, Mihir Sabnis had picked up a heavy personal loan from a local Marwari money lender to start his own Cybercafé. It was a swank set-up of 15 computer stations, a franchise enterprise with a leading Internet Service provider. He’d opened shop at a prime location in Aundh and business was good but the Easy Monthly Installment wasn’t as easy as he’d imagined. And time seemed to really fly. He’d skipped his E.M.I for the last couple of months requesting the Marwari to pardon him for the delay under one pretext and another. Now a third check was already due. Mihir was sure he’d have to pay up all the E.M. I.s’ this time without fail. “How can I ever hit a break-even at this rate?” Mihir thought aloud, pulling at his hair in frustration. He seemed to be making money to fill the Marwari’s pockets and not his own. Was it a wise decision? Mihir again asked himself. “I should have simply waited for a bank to sanction a personal loan.” Muttering under his breath he left the Café with a frown.

24 year old Mihir was a bike enthusiast and his Bajaj Pulsar was the best stress buster for him. He was pulling a Sit-down Wheelie when Mrs. Agrawal stepped out of the beauty parlor neighboring Mihir’s Cybercafé. Mihir brought the bike down and the front wheel landed just a few inches away from her feet. She glowered at him so sternly that Mihir revved up the machine and sped away. Down the road he went, took a ‘U’ turn and was driving back in at the complex gates when he unfortunately came across Mrs. Agrawal once again. She was about to step out of the gates. This time Mihir had recklessly failed to slow down. He jammed on the breaks and came to a screeching halt, just in time to avoid hitting Mrs. Agrawal.

Scared out of her wits she scolded him at the top of her lungs, “You fool! Don’t you know how to drive safely? Someday, at this rate, you will kill someone or get yourself killed!”

Sometimes people speak without thinking.

Mihir arrogantly shot back, “How about Tomorrow?”

*********************************************

‘Welcome to Agrawal Construction Company Pvt. Ltd.,’ read the board hanging on the first floor. Mr. Suresh Agrawal owned the entire first level. One half being utilized as their office and the other was his residence. He stood in his office window smoking a cigarette. The board outside was very cordial but Mr. Agrawal was really a shrewd man. He could only think of money and never let go off a single opportunity to make some additional moolah. Baner road was being widened to 80’ but he had lost the contract to a competitor firm. He was still grieving the loss. Thus the tarring of the portion right outside his building became a complete eye-sore for him. The machines at work, the fumes from the burning tar acted as constant reminders causing him to be in a perpetually foul mood.

Traditionally a money lender by profession, Mr. Agrawal continued to pursue it as a side- business. Discreetly, he lent large amounts of cash against property to young entrepreneurs for new business ventures but at very high interest rates. He was also capable of making his recovery single-handedly. He promptly went back to his ledgers to study the list of defaulters. And there he found someone to vent his frustration upon.

Soon he was threatening Mihir Sabnis over the phone. “No excuses this time young man. 3 E.M.I.s’ are due now. If you can’t pay up I will confiscate your computers & every bit of furniture to auction them off or I will have to take over your Internet Café until I recover my money. You understand?”

Without allowing Mihir to utter a single word, he’d cut the call after a strict, “Pay up in cash or check, not later than Tomorrow.”

*********************************

Neena showered and dressed, taking care to look as exquisitely turned out as possible. She couldn’t show that the loss of a phone could harrow her so much. And she also had to appear being absolutely stylish herself. So she wore her best sundress, glossed her lips and preened before the mirror. Putting the hat on and taking it off, “OTT?” she asked her mother.

“And pray what is that?” her mother inquired, laughing.

“Oh Ma, come on! You must know OTT is Over The Top. Your daughter is a fashion designer. You can’t sound so clueless.” protested Neena.

“They aren’t interviewing ME!” said her mother teasingly. How proud she was of her daughter! Confident that Neena, would soon be a brand name in the fashion world.

“Ok. I’m off Ma! Don’t want to get late.” Neena had wisely chosen a pair of Ballerinas this morning and how kind they were to her feet!

Like every other morning Mihir was in the stilt parking lot cleaning his beloved bike when Neena stepped out of the elevator. Tousled hair, groggy eyed from late nights before the computers, he stood wringing a wet rag. Neena, fresh as a flower made a sharply contrasting picture. However, her heart began beating faster at the sight of this neighbor.

“In a hurry? Need I drop you somewhere?” Mihir Sabnis had offered.

She breezed past him with a polite “No, Thankyou!” disappearing around the corner after throwing him a big broad smile. She would have loved to pillion ride on his flashy bike but she couldn’t possibly be seen with him when he was looking like that.

*******************************************

Neena was peering at the meter reading when the stinky rickshaw driver announced “30 Rupees” holding a palm out for Neena. “How I abhor this rigmarole!” she thought to herself, gritting her teeth. Neena was back outside the Kapur’s office, at 10 a.m. exactly 14 hours later. ‘Bharat Residency’ was a small, four florid, old structure and the four flats on the ground floor had been converted into offices. The Kapur’s operated out of one of them. A thin brick wall and an old creaky gate, laced by an almost negligible strip of land that passed off as a footpath, separated the building property from the main Baner Road. The builder had however provided a spacious yard and there seemed to be ample parking space available. The garishly colored ‘Welcome to Agrawal Construction Company Pvt. Ltd.,’ board on the level above the Kapur’s office caught Neena’s eyes as she passed through the gates. She must have missed it in the dark of the previous evening for the gaudy color combination was just impossible to ignore in broad daylight.

Neena rang the doorbell to the Kapur’s office and waited. She dint hear any movement from within. She rang it once again but there was still no response. Neena walked to the open window besides the entrance and noticed the ceiling fan slowly rotating. “That means they are inside.” She guessed and decided to wait.

A good 1 hour later the door had still not opened. She wondered why? All sorts of ideas began racing through her head. Neena went around to the back of the building but the rear exit was locked from within too. Just then Neena happened to look up and found Mrs. Agrawal watching her.

“Sorry to disturb Ma’m, any idea about the Kapur’s? I’ve been ringing their doorbell since an hour but nobody is opening the door.” Neena tried to hide the anxiety in her voice. She was longing to lay her hands on her expensive, new phone as soon as possible.

Mrs. Agrawal held a thoughtful silence and finally spoke, which already seemed like eons later, to Neena. “I don’t think there’s anyone in the flat downstairs. I heard the couple’s car come and go, very late in the night. The horrible noise that SUV makes, I tell you! I guess they never came back.”

This bit of news was very disturbing for Neena. How was she to reach them now? All the contact Nos. were stored in the BlackBerry and were as good as lost until she got the phone back. The Kapur’s in turn only had her cell No. to reach her. “Oh! What a bother!” Neena fretted.

She was standing there under Mrs. Agrawal’s balcony in a stupefied haze when they heard a roaring engine at the front of the building. Neena rushed in the direction of the noise in hope of seeing the couple. Instead she saw a huge truck had pulled in. The doors to the Kapur’s flat had finally been thrown open but she saw two men were carrying the office furniture out. “What is happening here?” Neena questioned the driver who seemed to be concentrating on chewing the betel nut in his mouth. Neena’s voice had succeeded in rising over the noise of the truck’s engine. The look in her eyes must have melted the driver for he actually stopped the meditated munching to reply “Maydum they are shifting out, can’t you see?”

A volley of questions popped in Neena’s head. Does the sudden shifting mean that they are in some kind of a problem? Is that why there was no contract between us? Will my signing amount check realize at all? Are they jilting my dreams? Neena couldn’t believe her luck. She dint know what she must do next so she simply waited in hope that Mr. Kapur would turn up at the site. “He may want to organize the packers or pay them off and then I may get a chance to speak to him.” Neena consoled herself.

Mr. Kapur never turned up. It was noon and Neena’s tummy was rumbling in protest for she had skipped her breakfast. Neena saw the packers and movers truck reverse out. Dejected, she was about to leave when Mrs. Agrawal reached her side. The chatty lady had struck conversation. In hope of being able to reach the Kapurs’ through Mrs. Agrawal, Neena tried to be her most friendly self.

******************************

Mr. Agrawal was getting restless. There was no special meeting scheduled for this morning but Mihir Sabnis had called to say that he would be coming with his check. It was already hours since his phone call and still there were no signs of the boy. Mr. Agrawal’s spirits were still not up and the cacophony of the packers and movers’ truck was irritating him. His temper was slowly rising, very much like the previous day. “Why are these turning out to be such lousy days, back to back?” Mr. Agrawal mumbled to himself.

He went to the window to give the truck driver a piece of his mind but to his relief, the truck was already at the gates. His attention was now drawn to the conversation between his shrill voiced wife and a young, beautiful girl. He could only see the top of her wide hat. He imagined such a well-dressed girl would definitely have a pretty face. As he was craning his neck to get a glimpse, the sound of screeching breaks suddenly pierced the air, immediately followed by a terrible crashing sound from the main road. He could see people running from across the road to their side. It appeared to be a major accident from the continuous honking of numerous cars and the loud sound of the collision itself.

Mr. Agrawal didn’t understand why his heart had suddenly started racing faster. A weird thought crossed his mind but he was not ready to acknowledge it. It evoked a strange emotion within and he began to run downstairs, as fast as his aging knees could carry his bulky body. He rushed past his wife who had also begun to move towards the gate, out of curiosity. Neena had never felt the urge to visit any accident site ever before but this time she surprisingly felt drawn straight towards it.

Mr. Agrawal didn’t stop to look at Neena but kept going with his dutiful wife in tow. Neena stopped at the edge of the footpath, shell-shocked. A metallic blue Bajaj Pulsar lay mangled in the middle of the broadened road, only a few meters away from the ‘Bharat Residency’ gate. It looked far too familiar to her. Her stomach churned and she felt faint. She wasn't sure if she was ready for another dose of disturbing news in the same day. Neena however slowly mustered all her courage and went ahead to get a closer look at the accident victims. She hoped her hunch was wrong and to confirm that she would have to step ahead and find out herself.

Neena walked past the truck driver who was sitting at the roadside, tending to his own wounds. He was bleeding and looked shaken. The two other men must have gone for help. Neena thought, seeing the front of the truck had been completely rammed in, right in the centre. “The impact must have been great.” she observed sadly.

She heard a couple of boys discussing the freak accident. Cutting diagonally across from the opposite side, the biker had driven right into the flowing traffic. The Packers & Movers’ truck had just left from Bharat Residency in its respective lane but the bike was at top speed and the head-on collision was inevitable. “The boy just got flung off onto the roadside, man!” exclaimed the onlooker. “Utterly suicidal driving!” concluded the other.

As Neena got closer to where the biker lay she saw Mr. and Mrs. Agrawal had successfully made their way through the curtain of spectators. For a moment she wanted to turn back in the fear of a gruesome sight but she pushed ahead through the crowd and managed to clutch at Mrs. Agrawal’s elbow. Like spectators around a road show, the crowd was thick but nobody seemed to want to help. Not an iota of concern on their faces for the accident victim. They were merely discussing a mishap. Soon there’d be reporters at the site, Neena imagined.

Just as the trio thrust into the clearance, Mr. Agrawal who had led them through gave a loud gasp and reeled backwards. Neena and Mrs. Agrawal lunged ahead to support him. It was Mrs. Agrawal’s turn to take a look at the biker and she screamed. Turning her face away, she told Neena, tears rolling down her cheeks in an instantaneous stream, “I knew this would happen! I was trying to warn him. Oh my Lord, he spoke without thinking!” She was inconsolable. And Mr. Agrawal was kneeling on the ground, muttering “This can’t have happened. This is not true.” At that minute Neena saw hope that her fears could be rested. Assuming that the victim must have been a Marwari relative, she went forth to take a look herself. One look and she’d frozen over.

Mihir Sabnis had hit his bare head on the Road Roller parked at the side of the road. His lifeless eyes stared into space. Mihir lay there, dead.

Neena heard someone say “What a day this is!” before she’d fainted.

This story was written for the CARRY ON TUESDAY #116 prompt
and the 3WW CCLII prompt words: Appear, Dose, Pierce

The BrainFever Bird

2011-03-27T12:38:00.000+05:30

...And neither did I know that theres anything named like this until I spotted this bird, lurking in the branches.
What an amazing sight! Wish my lens was good enough but I watched it to my heart's content. And I am sure it's keen eyes were staring right back at me. These birds are always so alert that even if I make the slightest sound I soon find them looking at me, into my lens..:D

The Brainfever bird, is a medium sized Common Hawk Cuckoo. I don't know whether it is just me or is there an uncanny resemblance with the Shikra and the Asian Koel? Maybe the similarity to these birds gives it the categoric name Hawk-Cuckoo.

Learnt at WikiPedia that this bird is a brood parasite, laying its eggs in the Babbler's nests..

Another question occured in my mind, Why would they be known as the brain-fever birds? And I found the amswer at WikiPedia again..
During their breeding season in summer males produce loud, repetitive three note calls that are well-rendered as brain-fever, the second note being longer and higher pitched.These notes rise to a crescendo before ending abruptly and repeat after a few minutes, the calling may go on through the day, well after dusk and before dawn.
In fact that weird sounding bird-call was what drew my attention towards it. And the minute I spotted it through my cam' there was a sudden pin-drop silence. Felt like it knew the bird-watching rules too!!!
LOL

Interesting FACT about this bird: The type locality of the species is Tranquebar in Tamil Nadu, once a Danish settlement and from where a specimen reached Martin Hendriksen Vahl who described the species in 1797.
Courtesy WikiPedia again

Dr. Ajay Pradhan again at the rescue for recognising this bird!!!

WOW

2011-03-18T15:20:00.001+05:30

http://www.gettyimages.com/

When evening breeze blows

Oh! how romantic it is

Wistful, mellow, its tickling

Have begun blogging again and heres my first Acrostic Haiku for the month of March, posted for

Innovative Prompt C: WOW

and

Breeze, Mellow, Tickle

Editor's Choice!

2011-02-01T09:09:00.002+05:30

Every writer dreads the Editor. And to be the apple of the Editor's eye is a terribly coveted privilege too, isn't it? Blog Junta has just brought this good news my way! Yayyyyyyyyy!!
At least one story from my recent series has caught their eye. Does that mean there is hope for me as a writer? Do I hear a YES? :D

Do visit the selected story It Was Time... Thankyou for the beautiful shiny medal! ;)
Three Cheers to the Editors at BlogJunta..Hip Hip Hurray!!!

Best of Indian Blogosphere (BoIB) 2010 polls

2011-01-21T09:26:00.001+05:30

Dear friends,

I'd always loved poetry even as a kid but only realised that I could write one too not until I was in the 5th grade.

I was overwhelmed to see my poetry published in a community magazine in 1999 when I was a teenager.

And my recent poetic achievement is that my blog has been shortlisted for the final round of Best of Indian Blogosphere (BoIB) 2010 polls under the category Poetry.

Please find the polling widget in the sidebar. Hope youll will vote for me and show me your love once again. :D

Curtain Raiser on the brand New Year 2011

2011-01-04T15:10:00.000+05:30

Yaaayyy!!! Here's my latest acquisition and boy, am I proud of that!

BlogAdda has sent me this shiny new badge to flaunt my victory. What an inspiring way to begin blogging all over again in the fresh New Year. :D

Thankyou Blog Adda. Thankyou Anisha..Threee cheers to this wonderful world of blogging!!!! Hip Hip Hurraah....

Here's a picture for BlogAdda's Share-A-Photo contest...

A memorable birthday!

2010-12-28T10:17:00.001+05:30

I added one more year to my life on the 25th of December 2010 while my fellow bloggers added more life to my new year by showering some very beautiful gifts on me. Here they are...

I am one of the voted winning bloggers at Jingle's The Celebrate Blogger of 2010 Award in Short Stories

and for another not- so- easy- to- win

The Celebrate Blogger of 2010 in Humor Award

Very thankful to Jingle and all those who voted for me, for making this birthday a very special and memorable one!

Also would love to share with you what my favourite and intelligent bloggers I know, Nanka & Rumya did to heighten the fun in my celebrations. They know just what my world presently rotates around and what can bring the biggest smile on my face! Thanks a ton ..XOXOXO

Please pardon, I haven't provided a glossary to the baby language. I leave you to guessing! ;)

Take care and have a rocking New Year 2011...:D

Welcome at Christmas

2010-12-22T11:48:00.001+05:30

http://www.gettyimages.com/

Welcome at Christmas
Stuffing stockings, jingling bells
Santa and his elves
WELCOME AT CHRISTMAS
Santa and his elves
Stuffing stockings, jingling bells
Welcome at Christmas

Christmas time of cheer

Dear Santa goes ho-ho-ho
Sleighing songs can you hear
DEAR SANTA GOES HO-HO-HO
Sleighing songs can you hear
Dear Santa goes ho-ho-ho
Christmas time of cheer

This has been written for ABC Wednesday Round 7 : W

Carry On Christmas : Dear Santa
and

Spreading Smiles

Self conscious or self confident?

2010-12-20T09:54:00.000+05:30

http://www.gettyimages.com/

Appraising my self

for dabbling in those risks

Utter stupidity

They see a lean fool

As I wait for time to tell

Patient and still

This has been written for

Prompt #22: Self

Three Word Wednesday: dabble, lean, utter

Prompt # 147: Stillness

Around the world: Dubai

2010-12-20T09:29:00.000+05:30

Decessive asset to merchantilism
Urban innovation and multiculturalism
Behold the fantastic development
Awesome within decade span
Inspiring amazement Arabian land

This has been written for Acrostic Only Prompt # 12

It was time...

2010-12-18T15:36:00.001+05:30

“You think that was Uštāna’s spirit in the black shroud, Dadi Jun?” Laila was thrilled at that thought but she couldn’t deny that she was a bit scared too. She felt safe in the warmth of the closed attic, in the knowing company of her caring grandma and the protective Mithra. “Why should you be scared of him? He is your ancestor my darling and can never mean you any harm”, assured Dorri Jun who was sensing the fright in Laila’s voice. “I am aware you are very little to be exposed to such powerful spirits but that is how your destiny seems to have been written. You seem to be a far greater soul than even I am, Laila and you must never misuse your powers”, reminded Dorri Jun once again.

Simultaneously Laila had been drawing on a clean sheet of paper all the symbols that had mystically fallen before her eyes all through the day. First it had been the Star of David followed by the ‘X’ that had four rounded tips. She wasn’t sure that the Yin and Yang was a symbol to be considered in the sequence but never the less she drew it and pushed the paper towards Dorri Jun for her scrutiny.

Image: Link

Dorri Jun instantly drew The Secret Grimoire of Tuwrel closer. The pages spun like the spirit of Tuwrel had read their minds. What fell before their eyes threw new light on the puzzle of the random symbols. The left hand side page, though stained with age showed a clear and neatly constructed ‘Star of David’ but it was nothing like the simplistic shape Laila had seen formed by the twigs. Here was a much complex diagram of a huge pentagram. The arms looked like linear pathways that wove in and out, without a beginning or an end. Laila put her finger down on one arm and began to follow the shape of the star but was soon lost midway. As they peered closer, Dorri Jun and Laila both realized that there were little ‘X’ marks all over the star. The ‘X’s looked like little ants marching down, in and out, crawling all over the pentagram.

“What can you make of this, Dadi Jun?” asked Laila. “Nothing yet!” Replied Dorri Jun plainly. “Is that all?” she enquired. “No!” said Laila pulling from her Jacket pocket a small leather pouch. “Un chi hai?” exclaimed Dorri Jun as Laila pulled at the drawstrings of the bag. “This is what that stranger had hidden in the pit he’d dug under the Fir tree.” Laila replied pulling out the contents of the pouch.

Image Courtesy: Link

It was a tiny antique hour glass in a wooden frame. “..And I don’t remember very clearly now but I think the stranger in black had not only waved at me but also gestured me to come hither. I was so scared that I’d shut my eyes tight. The next I saw he was digging.” Laila enumerated but Dorri Jun continued to stare at the hour glass for a whole minute until Laila put it down on the Kaalin. “No, don’t do that!” Dorri Jun scolded Laila. “Don’t you realize how valuable this is? You must keep it close to your heart and treasure it, almost like the Grimoire itself.” Dorri Jun tugged at Laila’s sleeves pulling her closer once again. Flipping through the pages of The Secret Grimoire of Tuwrel Dorri Jun showed Laila a page that they had missed, all the while only concentrating on the passages and spells. There was a magnificent illustration representing Uštāna in a black shroud holding the very same hour glass. “Now isn’t it confirmed that the stranger shrouded in black was none other than Uštāna himself? Please look at this hour glass as the baton being passed right into your hands!” Dorri Jun now looked jubilant and excited. “If that hour glass means so much then why didn't Uštāna come over to our house and give it right into my hands, literally?” Laila had asked but no sooner were these words out of her mouth that Laila realized how vain the question was.

The sand in the hour glass was still slowly trickling. Dorri Jun began pottering about the attic, fumbling and searching for something. “Time is running out, Laila. We must be quick. Come give me a hand here!” Dorri Jun had instructed but Laila continued with her volley of questions “Time for what, Dadi Jun?” staring at her grandma in wonderment.

“Dear girl, don’t you want to know what the series of symbols mean? They obviously are a part of bigger sigil. We have to get to the Segulah, dear.” Explained Dorri Jun.

“…And you have a separate book of sigils that you are hunting for, right?” exclaimed Laila, almost convinced that things were clearer to her, now.

“Nah!” retorted Dorri Jun trying to hide her slowly rising temper. She sometimes found Laila to be extremely immature, just when she was about to conclude that her grand-daughter was a very bright girl. “…but I know where the sigil lies. And that it is time for me to take you there. Now will you please lend me a hand, here?” Dorri Jun’s voice was full of scorn enough to get Laila on her feet.

Out came a huge scroll from behind a huge pile of Dorri Jun’s old belongings. Neatly wrapped in a thin muslin cloth, the old lady had kept it safely away. Laila was given charge. She carefully took the scroll out of its cocoon, rolled it out, flattening and spreading it down on the floor. They put their heads together. One was trying to figure things out while the other stared blankly at the ancient map. The book-worms had made a hearty meal of it almost eating up all the important markings.

“Bebin Laila, the five arms of the Star of David represent the 5 elements of nature.” Dorri Jun flipped to the diagram again in the Grimoire and pointing at it began to enumerate, “Since the hour glass came out of the earth, we must consider that tip of the Star of David that represents the Earth. Can you see, this tip points to the South-West? The small ‘X’s must be us travelling to where the Star of David points.” Dorri Jun was speaking so fast that there was a catch in her breath.

“Now my dear, do you remember I had once mentioned to you years ago that I will take you to Uštāna’s tomb when the time is right? I think Laila, Uštāna is indicating that it is time!” Laila gasped to hear what Dorri Jun had to say. Her heart began beating like a thousand hammers and as if to confirm that Dorri Jun had hit the bull’s eye, the glow from the Grimoire grew a richer golden. One beam of light magically swam over the room, finally settling like a spot-light on the South-West corner of the map that lay spread out on the ground. “….Be baksh shid Dadi Jun what map is this? This is clearly not a map of our country. Then where does Uštāna's tomb lie, on which land? It is all in Hebrew and I can make neither head nor tail of the indicators. And the beam seems to be pointing to a spot in the middle of nowhere.”

Dorri Jun was much too deep into reading the map to hear any of Laila’s questions. She remained baffled while Dorri Jun made all the calculations.

To be continued....
For those who missed out on the previous stories of the novella, please visit 'The Grimoire'.

This has also been written for Theme Thursday- Map

The strange appearance

2010-12-17T15:23:00.004+05:30

To Laila it seemed to be the chilliest day ever. It was snowing beautifully outside and everything lay under a thick blanket of white. She reminisced how every winter holiday was spent romping in the snow with Khalil and the kids from the neighbourhood but not this year. This year Khalil and all the kids in their batch were preparing for the preliminary examinations that would begin as soon as school re-opened in Jan’.

Image by Ginsui-Rin

Laila had finished the last few pending chapters from her Science syllabus. She put the books back on the shelves and rose. “A steaming hot mug of ghaveh would be just wonderful!” she thought. Her mother and Dorri Jun were out visiting her uncle and his family. With the whole house to herself she suddenly felt a whole lot more independent. She was relishing the freedom, sipping on the dark brew standing in the kitchen window when she noticed a tall and lanky figure in the distance. Though the snow was almost knee-high outside the figure seemed to be walking with ease. In fact it almost looked like a black speck floating towards her in the mist. There didn’t seem to be a soul outside and Laila’s eyes were fixed on this unfamiliar approaching figure. Shrouded in black it came to a halt near the thicket of Fir trees across the road.

The appearance of such a suspicious looking stranger sent a cold chill down Laila’s spine. She immediately checked whether her phone line was working. The stranger was still standing there in the lee of the tree when she got back to the window. It did nothing but continue to stand there like a pole. And then all of a sudden Laila realized that the figure was facing her own home. “Is it possible that the stranger is staring back at me right now?” thought Laila. Beneath all the layers of woolens, she had begun to shiver inside. And just then the stranger waved out to her. It began digging with bare hands beneath the fir tree that stood closest to the main road. And Laila saw the stranger drop something into the shallow pit that it must have dug up. Pushing the earth back on top to form a small mound, the figure straightened back up once again. Laila tried hard to see if she could get a clear view of the stranger’s face but that was impossible in the mist.

Laila gasped as the figure just disappeared into thin air.

She had not been able to muster enough guts to go dig under the Fir tree and check for what the stranger may have hidden, on her own. Laila completely forgot to mention this incident to Dorri Jun and her mother the next morning. They had arrived very late the previous night, after Laila had dropped off to sleep, tired from all the studies and stress. The new day’s worries added on, sending the memory of the stranger’s appearance to the bottom of the pile. Holidays got over, school resumed and they’d passed that Fir tree a thousand times but Laila had mysteriously forgotten about the pit dug up by the stranger, completely.

Seasons changed and the sun began shining down warm and bright. Exams were over and while they awaited their results, Laila went over to meet Erum and Khalil with a spring in her step. They were having a wonderfully chatty time. That stranger shrouded in black had been completely forgotten until a Halloween poster on Khalil’s PC desktop caught Laila’s eye. Laila gave a shriek and grabbed Khalil’s arm. “It must still be there!” She exclaimed. “What thing?” enquired Erum and Khalil, in unison, as they were very surprised at this odd and sudden deviation in the conversation.

Before they knew it Laila was flying out of the room with Khalil in tow.

To be continued...

For those who missed out on the previous stories of the novella, please visit 'The Grimoire'.

This has been written for the

Tale # 38

The Signs from the Sigil...

2010-12-16T19:39:00.003+05:30

The final academic school year had finally come to a close and Laila was awaiting the examination results. “Is there anything sweeter than waking up to this feeling? Holidays, Hip hip hurray!” Laila rejoiced as she drew the curtains off the window. It was a bright and sunny morning outside and she wasn’t the girl to waste this beautiful freedom in bed. “What must lazy Khalil be doing?” she wondered.

And that suddenly brought another face to her mind, the beautiful Erum. She leaned outside, a tad bit further from her windowsill to see if she could get a glimpse of Erum, standing on her terrace. And yes, there she was! All of Erum’s movements looked like a dance posture to Laila. Just then Erum happened to look her way too and began waving at Laila, gesturing her to come over. “Perfect! There couldn’t have been a more beautiful beginning to the wonderful holidays.” Thought Laila and showed no reluctance in accepting the invitation. Laila wished she could use some magic to get ready in an instant and land up at Erum’s doorstep but that was not to be.

As Laila was closing the window, she happened to peer downwards too and spotted some dry twigs on the parapet below. They’d caught her attention because of the strict order in which they seemed to be lying there. She couldn’t believe whether she was seeing things or they were actually lying there in a perfectly formed ‘Star of David.’ “This is weird!” Laila thought.

The random occurrence of that symbol on her ledge got her thinking. As she got herself to the breakfast table, another thought came to Laila's mind. It had been almost three years since the only episode when she had played a crucial role in solving Erum’s problems as guided by the Spirit of Tuwrel. Though she had been practicing with her little red velvet copy in the attic always, Dorri Jun had not involved her in any of the other cases. She had been a mute spectator when Mohammad, the Geography professor had lost his memory in an accident or even when Old Sakina had taken to bed. Tuwrel had never summoned her again. All that she had done was either study from the school texts or read along with Dorri Jun from The Secret Grimoire of Tuwrel. She hadn’t done much to prove that she was ready to graduate into a full-fledged mage. That worried Laila quite a bit.

Laila served herself some scrambled eggs from the saucepan on the table and absent-mindedly played with it, pushing the morsel from one corner of her plate to another with a fork. She never realised Dorri Jun had come up behind her. Dorri Jun gave her a warm hug. “Sobh Be Kheyr! ” she wished Laila and planted a kiss on the top of her head. This brought Laila out of her reverie.

Her mother’s friend and her 9 month toddler had arrived. Laila went over to play with the babe and was once again taken aback. The little girl had brought two rattles along. The baby was now holding one rattle in each hand and had crossed them over each other. A perfectly shaped ‘X’ had been formed. The head of each rattle and the two small fists holding them together looked like balls or dots at the end of the four arms of the ‘X’. The little girl looked Laila in the eye and gurgled something. Laila was shocked and took two steps backing away from the child. “Did you see that?” At the sound of Laila’s hysterical voice all the three women ran towards Laila and the cooing babe.

No sooner had they arrived that Laila realized her blunder. She couldn’t possibly tell everybody what she’d just seen. She apologized and moved away from the scene, pulling Dorri Jun along with her by her elbow.

“Dadi Jun, I am going to meet Erum and Khalil today, over at their home. Do you have any message for me to convey?” Laila asked in a louder than usual tone. Then leaning further closer to Dorri Jun she began relating to her all that she’d been seeing this morning.

“What signs are these Dadi Jun? Am I imagining things? If not why do you think I am seeing them?” enquired a perturbed Laila.

“Sweetheart, these signs have always existed out there but when they emerge before your eyes in an unnatural manner, it is then that you begin to take notice. Sometimes, they are brushed away as tricks of the eyes but everything happens for a reason, Laila. Everything!” explained Dorri Jun.

“Once you are back I want you to draw them for me, exactly as you’ve seen them. Till then, Bebin, just keep an eye out for these symbols. Remember their exact form and the sequence in which they appeared. They may all, when put together belong to a greater message, the Segulah.”

“Dadi Jun, you think Tuwrel has begun to communicate with me again?” Almost breathless, Laila exclaimed impatiently, “I want you to tell me what my future holds, lotfaen Dadi Jun, lotfaen! Do you see something in the symbols already?”

“Who are we to discuss your future?” Dorri Jun had spoken wisely once again. “And it is much too soon for me to tell you what these symbols may mean. By the end of the day, from what you will relate I shall know whether it is time!”

“It is time for what, Dadi Jun?” Laila knew such probing questions had no effect on her grandma. She stepped out, constantly scanning the earth and the sky like a mad man, for more signs.

Now that the holidays were here Laila knew she was at the threshold of her career like the other children and had some major decisions to make. As she walked across to Erum’s house a question still troubled her mind, “A secret life as ordained by Tuwrel or a public career of fame? Or do I get to enjoy both?” Laila decided that she would definitely beg for an answer with Tuwrel, this evening in the attic.

She raised the knocker on the door and rapped it twice, as was her habit. Laila was still between her soliloquies, “My future definitely has something very unusual in store, doesn’t it?” She’d asked herself when like an answer the door was flung open and “ Balleh!” said Rashid pulling the door wide open for Laila to pass in. “Salaam Agha Ye Abdollah! Erum has invited me over today.” She greeted him in her most polite voice. Laila was half-embarrassed at the thought that he may have heard her talking to herself.

“I know my child, she’d told me. Please come in and don’t be so formal. Where were you all these days?” he had begun the conversation in his same old warm and hospitable manner. The home décor seemed to have completely changed in the house within such a short period but the people were the same. Rashid seemed to be the same. Only that his hair had silvered with age and the wrinkles on his face and arms made him look more like his father from the portrait on the wall, now.

Khalil came running down the steps at the sound of their voices and it looked like he was about to pull Laila into a hug when he checked himself in time. He was grinning from cheek to cheek and it was quite evident from his face that he was extremely happy to be talking to Laila so freely like the good old days.

Laila always felt lost in a full household like theirs where the gents and the ladies were all working and living in absolute harmony. She’d seen Uncle Rashid do the dishes at the kitchen sink while Khalil’s mother would be polishing his shoes. “Azizam, Dorri Jun’s little girl is here.” Rashid had announced “Count her in for lunch.” And his wife began to act upon his instructions almost immediately.

Wiping her hands on her apron she appeared form behind the curtain that kept the kitchen from full view. She led her towards the stairs up to Erum’s room, “You make yourself comfortable while I make your meal. Would you like to try some of my Khoroshte Fesenjaan today?” She offered.

“Oh! Khalle why do you have to trouble yourself so much? I enjoy your Aash too!” replied Laila politely though she was already drooling. “Ma she loves your Fesenjaan.” Khalil butted in. “So please don’t change the menu. And I would love some Chelo Kebab too.”

Laila was ready to have some fun now but her eyes were still staring at the black and white oriental ceramic plate on display on the mantel at the foot of the stairway. “Does that symbol of the Yin & Yang count too?” Laila wondered, still scanning her surroundings. “Looking for something Laila?” Khalil enquired. Laila almost opened her mouth to say “I am looking for signs from the sigil, Khalil, almost like in a Hardy Boys or a Nancy Drew mystery story!”

Putting a palm quickly to her mouth she pushed all the words that would have spilled out in excitement and let only “Be baksh Shid!” come out of her mouth. Ignoring Khalil’s baffled look, Laila raced up the stairway, two steps at a time.

To be continued...

For those who missed out on the previous stories of the novella, please visit 'The Grimoire'.

The Persian Glossary:

1. “Sobh Be Kheyr! ”: Good Morning!

2. Segulah: Hebrew for Sigil

3. lotfaen: Please

4. “ Balleh!”: Yes

5. “Salaam Agha Ye Abdollah!: Greetings Mr. Abdollah

6. Azizam: My darling

7. Khoroshte Fesenjaan: Pomegranete and walnut curry

8. Khalle: Aunty

9. Aash: A thick sourish broth made of chick peas, gram and noodles

10. Chelo Kebab: Lamb and rice

11. “Be baksh Shid!”: Excuse Me!
12. Bebin: Look

Verity: Chasing Dreams

2010-12-15T12:19:00.007+05:30

Verity of the Indian Farmer’s life....

Image: Link

Challenged by poverty, struggling
Holding onto hope, dreaming

Anonymous face, ignited mind
Simple soul, destiny's child
In search of success
Not shaken by failure
Great faith in Providence

Dreams of comfortable life
Rests not, continuous strife

Ever to rise above
All adversities and grow

May he never contemplate

Suicide; dreams must realise

Very noble is that hand

That gives dreams a turf to land

This has been written for the Acrostic Only Prompt # 10
& The ABC Wednesday Round 7

Raise The Roof

2010-12-13T13:10:00.002+05:30

Image Courtesy: Link

Retro, Hip-hop and Trance
All hit the floor
Into the night dance
Super DJ, music soars
Endless screaming, throats sore

Take decibels more higher
Hot stepping, cool grooving
Every heart on fire

Reins broken, foot loose
Out for good reason
Onset of party season
Feisty merrymaking that enthuse

Image Courtesy: Link

This has been written for Acrostic Only Prompt #5

Materialistic Life

2010-12-12T22:19:00.000+05:30

Truthful voice suppressed

Materialistic life

Not waving, drowning

This has been written for Carry On Tuesday # 83
and for

Prompt # 21: Life

Farming

2010-12-11T09:08:00.006+05:30

Nothing more to do, Tom was wondering how he could while away his time now. He was feeling exceptionally dull this evening. He'd finished collecting milk from the cows and truffle from the pig sty very quickly. Not many hen had laid eggs today, so he'd finished that soon too. All the regular rigmarole was over. Co-op farming was beginning to get a bit of a boring chore for him over the last few days. He wanted some change.

Old friends hadn't stopped by in a long while. He wondered why? He'd sent them many gifts to lure them to his farm but no help came. Something was fishy!

Vanity kept him from doing for them what he expected them to do for him.

Eventually a thought occurred to him. Had they all gone away for good? He hadn't checked in on them for a long while now. Should he have called them instead of just wondering why there was no activity at all at their farms? "...but Roger was celebrating that he'd be expanding his farm soon and he was planning his own winery too." Tom kept pondering in confusion. "Harper must have compelled him to quit!"

Lately Farmville was getting exceptionally uninteresting despite all those attractive prizes and festivals and what-nots. The novelty of the game was somehow lost. "I must quit this gaming addiction too." decided Tom.

This has been written for Acrsotic Only Prompt # 13 and for

Tale# 37

and for

MATCH

2010-12-10T02:59:00.001+05:30

Mr. Copycat flipped pages of the book
And in a jiffy, said after taking a look
These standards are pretty simple to match
Can pick poetry up like the mice I catch
Have to just go sit by the brook

This has been written for the Acrostic Only Prompt # 8
and for some more
: Flipping

Short Fuse

2010-12-10T02:37:00.000+05:30

www.clipartof.com

Smarting words spewed
Hurt sentiments and feelings
Ominous bad blood brewed
Rude and brash dealing
Temper spares no beloved

Fights begin, fly sparks
Uncontrollable anger unleashed around
Stopping impossible tantrum dark
Embers slowly cool, found

This has been written for the Acrostic Only Prompt # 4

A special bond

2010-12-09T13:59:00.004+05:30

After that evening, Erum had become extremely busy. Dorri Jun and Laila dint get to see much of her but she would often send small and big gifts when she was back from an International trip or at Eid. Either Erum's younger brother Khalil or Rashid himself would drop by for Ksheer Korma and would leave behind Erum's packet for Laila. "Why isn't there anything for me?" Dorri Jun poked fun at Rashid.

" ..Because dear Dorri Jun you are too great for lesser mortals like us to give you anything in return for your kindness. We can only pray for you. Sahha Bahsheh! Sukran Dorri Jun" Rashid always felt indebted to Dorri Jun for all that she'd done for their family, ever since he was a little kid. He could never take her retorts in any other sense.

"Yahdeekom Allah wa yousleh balakom!" Dorri Jun called out to Rashid wishing him luck as they bade him goodbye.

The evening that Laila had gifted Erum the silken veil became such a turning point in Erum's life that she now considered Laila a God sent personal angel. Erum secretly began to believe that little Laila had greater healing power than Dorri Jun. She could turn lucks around! Erum however never spoke about that evening to anyone. lest the power of the coffee beans and the veil should be hampered. So Erum began keeping a tab on Laila through her younger brother Khalil.

Khalil and Laila rode to school together in the same school bus and studied in the same class. They had always been the thickest of friends since childhood. So it was very easy for Erum to catch up on Laila's life through him. Little did she know that Laila had sensed that but since Laila had also grown fond of Erum, she dint mind. Laila never used any of her magical powers or knowledge from The Secret Grimoire of Tuwrel for influence in her every day life. She'd been warned by Dorri Jun against the repercussions of doing that in public.So Laila used her wit and intellect to collect every little information she wanted about Erum from Khalil. She was ousting news without Khalil ever realising that he was playing a news bearer, both ways.

Laila grew up like any simple girl of her age making friends everywhere she went, enjoying all the innocent fun and frolic. Of all the children in the neighbourhood she however shared a special bond with Erum's younger brother Khalil. He would often come over to Laila's house with his collection of Hindi music CD's and they'd spend hours playing one after another, listening to happy, sad and boisterous songs galore. They loved old Indian movies and the plethora of songs in them. Khalil's favourite was the Raj Kapoor era. And Laila adored Lata Mangeshkar's singing. Laila's mother would sometimes come with freshly baked Donuts, Zoolbia Bamieh and Hindi Chai for them on a tray and would never leave the room. The trio would have a happy time humming and dancing to the tunes. Khalil would sometimes explain some Hindi to them from whatever Erum had taught him.

In the winter holidays when it was snowing beautifully outside Laila and Khalil would build a snowman, right outside the window where Dorri Jun sat with her prayer beads. Laila loved to see her grandma have a hearty laugh at their antics. The sleds came out of the attic and they would go riding down the small slopes behind Rashid's house down to the wooded banks of the Karun River. Lugging the sleds back up to the main road and home was a tedious task and Laila would often dupe Khalil into doing it. Once back in the courtyard of their homes, for hours together a snowball match would ensue between them until they were called into the safety of their homes at nightfall. Dorri Jun didn't appreciate Laila playing outside, late after the lights came on. " I dread people will begin to judge you, Laila. You are a big girl now. You don't need me to talk sense into you. After all Khalil is a boy and you both are not children anymore." Laila knew when Dorri Jun was really cross with her it was time she changed her ways.

The school would reopen soon and right after there was to be a Math Test. The term would also be ending soon and academic preparations for the final year at school were to begin. Laila decided to concentrate on her studies and keep Erum & Khalil out of her mind for a while.

One day a chit of paper came along with Erum's parcel. In a neat hand a single sentence ran from the left corner to the right. "Dallam Barat Thang Shodeh!" it said. Laila guessed who'd written the note to her.

Only Laila knew who actually missed her the most!

To be continued...

For those who may have missed out on the previous stories in this novella: 'The Grimoire'

Facts in the Fiction:

Well traveled Persian Muslims have an Arabic influence in daily conversation.

Persian Muslims enjoy Indian Bollywood Movies and there is a large amount of fan following for the Retro and Classic movies and songs collection.

Hindi Chai or Indian Tea is a hot favourite there and when milk is added to the brew it is referred thus.

Persian Glossary:

Eid: Muslim festival

Ksheer Korma: A sweet dish made at the festival. (Ksheer = Milk)

Sahha Bahsheh!: (Arabic response): May God give you good health!

Sukran: (Arabic response): Thankyou

"Yahdeekom Allah wa yousleh balakom!": (God guide you and make you right)

Hindi Chai: Indian tea

Zoolbia Bamieh: Indo-Iranian sweet dish (Like Jalebis)
"Dallam Barat Thang Shodeh!": I miss you very much!

This story has been written for Magpie Tales #44 ,
Theme Thursday

and Three Word Wednesday CCXVIII

Nihility

2010-12-08T14:26:00.000+05:30

Image courtesy Bodhicitta

Nearer to God reach
Infinite strength in meditation
Higher realm of existence
Inner peace and contentment
Losing attachment to materials
Inward turns one's journey
Tranquil soul in nothingness
Yearning way to Moksha

This has been writtten for Acrostic Only Prompt # 3

U for Untethered

2010-12-08T12:38:00.001+05:30

Untethered

Floated away

Unguided, unrestricted, free

Asking for trouble, Silly

This has been written for the ABC Wednesday Round 7

Sunday Scribblings # 244: Guidance

Dream, Vision, Reverie!

2010-12-07T12:02:00.001+05:30

A wide-eyed dream,
Is more like a vision,
A soothing reverie,
A fanciful musing,
Of the future imagining,
A picture now I can see.

Can you see what I see?
The future that I dream,
World of my imagining,
A heartening vision,
A wishful musing,
Let me stay in this reverie.

A vague idea formed in reverie,
It’s fruition I wish to see.
Not a baseless musing,
Not a worthless dream,
It’s a positive vision,
A united world in my imagining.

Peaceful and free existence in my imagining,
No conflicts over borders, in my reverie.
I meditate on this vision,
Hoping you too shall see,
Share my wide-eyed dream,
And join in this musing.

Once it is everyone’s musing,
Reconciliation I’m imagining,
Then it’ll be time for this dream,
To realize; rising from reverie,
All will wake and see,
Work to enliven this wonderful vision.

Takes conviction for a vision,
To not remain just a musing.
End of terorrism and violence I see,
Infinite love, peace and security I’m imagining,
I’m lost in this fantastic reverie,
Will turn true, one day, my wide-eyed dream!

Until that day, I live with this vision,
My Imagining will find voice; my musing,
Triggering thought, from reverie, you’ll see,
Will soon be a realized dream!

This is a SESTINA:

Is a highly structured poem consisting of 6 six-line stanzas concluding with a 3-line “envoi”, for a total of thirty-nine lines.Rather than simply rhyming, the actual line-ending words are repeated in successive stanzas in a designated rotating order. The prescribed pattern for using the 6 line-ending words is:

1st stanza 1 2 3 4 5 6

2nd stanza 6 1 5 2 4 3

3rd stanza 3 6 4 1 2 5

4th stanza 5 3 2 6 1 4

5th stanza 4 5 1 3 6 2

6th stanza 2 4 6 5 3 1

envoi 2--5 4--3 6--1

The sestina dates back to the Middle Ages when it was adopted by the Italian poets of the Renaissance (Dante and Petrarch), and is often used by contemporary poets.

This has been written for

Poetry Potluck: Deams, Visions & Reveries

And also for the OSI Prompt # 145: Free(dom)

Exasperation

2010-12-06T01:46:00.001+05:30

Pablo Picasso's Old Guitarist

Every day same humdrum
Xanten guitars monotonously strum
All must hate routines
Stereotypical ways are umpteen
Pray may I break
Ever I can't take
Roads beaten and worn
Annoyed, I have sworn
Thinking out of the box
Irritating it is I coax
Out with the old
New is real gold

A personal Note:
I was at a Karaoke night in Goa some years ago. I remember that night I was extremely exasperated with the way I had spent my day explaining my creative inputs as the Interior Designer of a project that I was working on. A Bavarian troupe was singing at the Karaoke and they actually helped me forget my woes. :)

In the above acrostic I talk about a Xanten (German/Bavarian province) guitar that monotonously strummed which wasn't the truth. It is most unfair of me to mention it this way for this acrostic has been written in memory of that night when I'd fallen in love with those gorgeous German voices..:)

This has been written for the Acrostic Only Prompt # 11

The EYE

2010-12-05T16:30:00.001+05:30

Dan Mills Artwork

Ever alert, scans
Yonder side to spot a prey
Eagle's keen eye

This has been written for Acrostics Only Prompt # 14

Faith

2010-12-05T11:05:00.000+05:30

Crests and troughs, Alas

Course of true love never smooth

Faith keeps me sailing

This has been written for Carry On Tuesday #82

Prompt # 20 : Faith

Hard to Find

2010-12-04T21:55:00.000+05:30

Respect for our water resource is really hard to find!!! Take a peek at the PhotoHunt 242 to find out what is hard to find in other parts of our world. Enjoy!

The Mystery

2010-12-04T00:10:00.003+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 17; the seventeenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Dorri Jun’s face had a frozen expression. She stared deep into Erum’s eyes. It looked as if Dorri Jun was boring into the mind of the belly dancer through her beautiful blue eyes. Laila knew better. Laila imagined Erum’s past and future lying like an open book before Dorri Jun. Laila patiently watched on.

Dorri Jun had scribbled onto some blank sheets of paper all that Erum had told her. Erum’s problems in taking her belly dancing career ahead were all noted in a neat hand. After meditating a while on these passages, the expression on Dorri Jun's face was one of great satisfaction. Laila was imagining the connection between her and the spirit of the Grimoire established successfully."Tuwrel must be whispering in her ears by now!" Laila imagined. Then Dorri Jun did something that even Laila had never seen before.

She picked up her steaming cup of ghaveh and poured it onto the sheets of paper lying before her. At first it looked like a rash and impulsive action. The sight was simply a major mess with the brown liquid trickling off the corners of the paper onto the kaalin, making an ugly stain. It was in a moment that Erum and Laila realized that there was more to Dorri Jun’s irritable actions.

The steam rose magically, in an aromatic, misty smoke. They saw that the wet patch on the paper was slowly taking shape and as it dried into the paper it left a faint watermark behind. At the same time, the drops that had seeped into the threads of the kaalin had dried too but instead of an ugly patch, five whole coffee beans now lay there.

Erum’s eyes kept travelling from the paper to the beans and back. Mouth agape, the lissome beauty was now staring into oblivion like a dimwit.

Laila had begun to believe that the answers to Erum’s problems were out and that Dorri Jun would now begin to explain. Just then she caught the puzzled expression on Dorri Jun’s face. “Chi hai?” enquired Laila. Dorri Jun handed the sheets over to Laila for scrutiny. In neat letters, three sentences in Urdu ran from right to left, in the centre of the page.

Mystic spirit speaks

Oh! Majnu’s Laila hides behind a veil

Mystery unfolds

“It is most unusual Laila that here is a puzzle to solve another.” A worried Dorri Jun whispered to Laila.

These lines were like a beacon light for Laila. Erum continued sitting in her trance-like poise, only eyes shuttling from Dorri Jun’s face to Laila’s. “I know what I must do.” Laila exclaimed aloud and rushed up to her room. She returned in no time and dropped it into Erum’s lap, the way it had fallen into hers! The soft touch of a pearl coloured veil brought Erum out of her reverie. The translucent material with golden sequins that shone in all the colours of the rainbow enchanted Erum completely. “Merci!” Erum thanked Laila running her fingers over the hem of the beautiful piece, thinking it was a gift.

“ ....but why? This must be such an expensive thing. You musn’t!” squealed Erum and squeezed Laila’s hand. It looked like Erum had already forgotten her problems. The coffee coloured sheets fluttered in Dorri Jun’s lap like they were quivering with happiness too. Dorri Jun carefully wrapped the five coffee beans in the folds of the silken veil and pressed the little packet into Erum’s palms.

“Inshallah, mark my words, when you go dancing wearing that veil, no soul will be able to escape being enchanted. My girl, however you must never forget to wear the coffee beans on your person. You understand? ”

“Balleh Dorri Jun. Your ways are very different. You had blessed me with a career last summer and since then there has been no looking back. Now you have blessed this career, I am sure I will never have any problems ever again. You are most kind. Merci Dorri Jun, Merci!”

Dorri Jun and Laila accompanied Erum to the door. She again planted a sweet smelling kiss on Laila’s forehead and stepped out. It had started snowing outside and a drift of cold wind hit Laila’s face. The duo waited at their doorstep until Erum crossed over to her house across the street and pulled the door in after her. Dorri Jun really had a soft corner for Erum. After all she’d seen all of Rashid’s children grow up, besides her own brood.

Erum had left leaving Dorri Jun and an elated Laila to their ambiguity.

“What was that, Laila?” Dorri Jun enquired. “How did you guess what Tuwrel had implied? The mention of Majnu and Laila in the same breath had left me wondering why Tuwrel was speaking so of your future?”

Laila had a hearty laugh at her grandma’s worried look. Dorri Jun however was secretly rejoicing from within.

The spirit of the Grimoire had addressed Laila. The very mention of her name in those lines had indicated that and yet the purport was directing somewhere else. Before even she could comprehend what it all meant, Laila had already come up with the solution. This could only mean that the spirit of Tuwrel had not only accepted Laila as the torch bearer of their secret legacy but also trusted her capacities.

Dorri Jun was elated to see that her grandchild was far more intelligent and matured than any girl of her age. She seemed to have chosen a perfectly. Laila was turning out to be worthy of inheriting The Secret Grimoire of Tuwrel.

Her musings were cut short by Laila's voice. “ Dadi Jun, the minute I read those lines I knew Tuwrel was saying more than was obvious in those lines. And on impulse I headed for the silken veil in my dresser drawer. On my way down I was more than convinced that I had the solution to Erum’s problems because I clearly heard Tuwrel whisper 'Behtarin Arezuha' to me, Dadi jun”

“ ..but my child, do be kind and tell this old lady who this Majnu is?” Dorri Jun teased the ten year old.

Blushing a plum red Laila answered, “Now Dadi Jun that shouldn't be much of a mystery for Erum. You will have to pose that question to her for it wasn’t my story Tuwrel spoke of. The lady who hides behind the veil is she not me and her future is the mystery that will unfold isn’t it?”

“How can you be so sure Laila?” Dorri Jun continued to tease little Laila. “It is a fact that your name has mention in those lines. And it is you who gave the veil that fell into your lap to her.”

“Do not scare me Dadi Jun. Are you accusing me of having misunderstood the purport of those lines? You mean to say that those lines imply more than what even I have understood? How could my life and Erum’s have anything in common? Do you remember Dadi Jun that Tuwrel had said , 'In cheh ser.reh nemi:dunaem?' Then why hasn’t Tuwrel communicated the actual meaning to you? Why did the spirit of the Grimoire evade you today Dadi Jun and choose me?” Laila had doled out a volley of questions to which Dorri Jun, for once, seemed to have no answer.

These questions left Dorri Jun stupefied too. “I only know that you have given the right solution to Erum’s problems for now but the future is indeed turning out to be a mystery Laila. We can only wait and see it unfold!”

To be continued...

To see the mystery unravel keep reading this short story series 'The Grimoire'....

If you have missed out on the previous stories you can catch up HERE

Persian Glossary:

1. Chi Hai? : What is it?

2. Ghaveh: Persian Coffee

3. Kaalin: Carpet

4.Behtarin Arezuha: All the best!

5.Merci: Thankyou

6. Inshallah: God Willing

7.Balleh: OKay (with respect)

8. “In cheh ser.reh nemi:dunaem?” : What is a secret I don't know?

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

This story has also been written for Mag 43

Blogging

2010-12-02T18:36:00.000+05:30

Betters writer's prospects
Lets freely express
Ousts one's fears
Gets new peers
Great experience, enriching
Improving, inspiring, teaching
No getting bored
Glean knowledge, hoard

This has been written for the Acrostics Only Prompt # 2

Brown Butterfly

2010-12-02T11:28:00.002+05:30

Behold the Brown Butterfly upon my wall.
Its the Junonia lemonias, also known as the Lemon Pansy.

This is a common nymphalid butterfly found in gardens and wooded areas but isn't it rare to find it resting for a long while like this. And I caught it with my cam'm immediately! :D

You can see the big eye-spots as well as black and lemon-yellow spots and lines on the upperside of the wings. The underside is a dull brown, with a number of wavy lines and spots in varying shades of brown and black.

Aren't the eye-spots like they've been carefully and beautifully painted onto its wings?

For more such Brown eye-candy check out the Thursday Challenge for fun and learning!

T for Time

2010-12-01T09:04:00.000+05:30

The clock atop the Crawford Market, Mumbai tells us that its TIME to end this shopping spree!!!! ;)
This has been submitted for the December 2010 theme day: Time at City Daily Photo
and the ABC Wednesday Round 7: 'T'

Staying Alive

2010-11-30T02:00:00.001+05:30

image courtesy: http://www.hinduonnet.com/

ABANDONING THE AGED IS AN ABOMINABLE CRIME!!!

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

Behold the magic....

2010-11-29T02:26:00.008+05:30

Mystic spirit speaks

Of magic potions, charts and djinns

Book of mystic incantations,

THE SECRET GRIMOIRE OF TUWREL

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

Instinct

2010-11-28T11:48:00.000+05:30

wallsculptures.blogspot.com

Designed on instinct

The sculptor melds the motley parts

Behold masterpiece

This has been written for

One Single Impression Prompt#144: Meld

and

prompt #19: Instinct

Saturday Photohunt: Written

2010-11-28T02:10:00.003+05:30

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

Saturday Photohunt

The Alarm Cock

2010-11-27T08:08:00.002+05:30

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.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

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

The History of Magic

2010-11-26T15:08:00.002+05:30

“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 5^th 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

2010-11-26T02:36:00.004+05:30

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'

S for......

2010-11-25T14:58:00.000+05:30

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

2010-11-25T02:00:00.030+05:30

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'

First Steps

2010-11-24T10:14:00.000+05:30

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'

Grandma and her Grimoire

2010-11-23T08:55:00.007+05:30

image courtesy http://www.sxc.hu/

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'

Had I a hammock white.....

2010-11-22T08:45:00.000+05:30

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'

Truth or dare...

2010-11-21T17:59:00.002+05:30

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

'I'

2010-11-20T00:55:00.000+05:30

Image courtesy : nikta.deviantart.com

‘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'

Jack and Jill

2010-11-19T08:38:00.002+05:30

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'

Slang

2010-11-18T18:31:00.003+05:30

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

A 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

2010-11-18T09:04:00.001+05:30

www.gettyimages.com

Knuckled
Nicely
Under
Chin
Knocked-out
Limp
Eddy

Sore
And
Nearly
Defaced
Walked
In
Cadaver-like
Hazy

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

Little baby of mine

2010-11-17T08:50:00.000+05:30

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'

M for Moths

2010-11-16T09:43:00.001+05:30

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

Acrostics

2010-11-15T12:15:00.001+05:30

Art of poetry, A

Craft of weaving magiC

Realm of a writeR

Of extreme talent, aficionadO

Sees the effort, appreciateS

The skills in poeT

It isn’t easy, I

Can vouch, writing acrostiC

Styled poetry are challengeS

Nomad

2010-11-15T02:30:00.001+05:30

Never will I stay
One wandering soul I'm
Man of vagabond life
Alas!I'm a rover
Don't tie me down

This has been written for the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason'
and Acrostics Only Prompt # 7

Neptune

2010-11-14T01:53:00.002+05:30

http://www.gettyimages.com/

Name of Roman God
Earth's farthest neighbour too
Planet with thirteen moons
Twin brother in blue
Uranus; Coldest place ever
Not visible to naked
Eyes; this ice giant

This orbits around the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason'
And Acrostics Only Prompt # 9

Nature and its ways!

2010-11-13T13:51:00.001+05:30

Leaves wither and fall

In Nature's clasp are all

Age will take its toll

This has been penned for

Prompt # 16- Clasp

Out and out fun!

2010-11-13T00:23:00.001+05:30

Hugs and High Fives
At the park benches
Nights of long drives
Going to swank places
Illustrious teen age days
Now terribly I miss
Gallivanting along the beaches

Oh so much fun
Undiluted and unrestrained, free
Times of happy togetherness

This post has been written for the Z-A in 26 Days Challenge at 'I Rhyme Without Reason!'
and the Acrostics Only prompts for November # 4

PERU

2010-11-12T07:44:00.004+05:30

Did You Know?

Guavas are fruits belonging to the genus Psidium which means 'Pomegranate' in Latin and there are about a 100 such species of tropical plants.

At the time of the Spanish explorations the guava fruit was first found at Peru and in today's times the same guava fruit is widely recognised as PERU in Marathi.
Is there any chance that the colloquial name may have originated due to its native roots?

My 2 year old son has learnt to call this fruit by both the names, Guava in English & Peru in Marathi.
For those who wish to SEE the fruit for clarification on exactly which fruit we are discussing, here is a pic'...

LOL!

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

& the 3 Word Wednesday