Klishmaklaver

  "Unbelievable! She flipped it neatly, and turned it again too, within minutes," her teenager son looked up at her in awe. " I know son, I was watching your Ma too!" Pa chuckled and beamed a smile at her as she brought steaming chapattis and settled at the table. "Ma, how did you do that?"  " You made it look as easy as flipping these chapattis," Pa interjected, giving her palm a loving squeeze.  "The helicopter I was flying can backflip from a hovering position because it's got semi-rigid rotor systems. After I've  established a positive 'G' on the rotor blades it co-operates, letting me pull-off a clean back-flip!" She was mentally back in the cockpit as she explained, passionately. "Mind- blowing, Ma!  My friends joke that  girls can't drive cars." "Tell them, the woman of today can sail her own boat and sink your ship too if she decides to," Ma laughed. 🚁  This 150 words microtale was origin...

Some souls were blessed to have a higher sense of purpose in life. I simply had a heightened sense of smell. The citrus aroma wafting in from our yard that morning, was so strong that it worked like an instant pick-me-up. I’d rushed out through the back door, and plonked myself down in front of my lemon tree. Sitting there in the Padmasana , my humble Gandharaj Lebu appeared like the Bodhi tree to me . I listened intently to all that it had to teach me. I felt one with my sunlight-loving citrus. Watering the soil to keep it moist, and pruning the bush was an act of love, never a mundane chore. Sometimes I’d be sitting so still before it, undistracted, besotted by its yellow-green colour palette, interspersed by the white of the fragrant blossoms. At other times, I would hum a song to it. That day too, I could have continued sitting there for hours on end, wet earth or not! If it wasn’t for Granny Mori, off to Sunday Church, dressed in black. Ever since the demise ...