When Journey Meant More Than Destination - 55 Fiction

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 25; the Silver 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. The topic for this month is 'When Journey Meant More Than Destination'.

Note:- 55 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 55 words.

Her age of 10 is craving for the delicious eye appealing ice creams...

Her taste buds are yearning for the decorated chocolate fountains...

The teddy bears and tweeties are inviting her for embrace...

She exchanged cute smiles with other kids...

Then came the flight announcement and she is yet to know that she is being sold.

-()-

PS : The original title for this post was "Terminal"

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.

The other day(s)-55 Fictions

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 21; the twenty-first 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.

Like any mother, Kaveri loves playing with her one year old son.

................

One day, she was helping him to stand and walk

He was unable to relate with her moves.

He was misinterpreting  her directions.

He gave confused expression with a confused smile.

The kid has got no problem but Kaveri has got squint eyes.

---()---

Srinivas was waiting eagerly for his 6th birthday .

Everything was set for the evening occasion.

More guests were invited than he guessed.

He had never seen his mother in such a beautiful attire.

On that day, she had gifted him the most precious thing he could ever imagine.

...............

....

He has a dad now. Step dad. 

---()---

Venkatamma was praying with submissiveness in the temple.

Her heart was dumped with mixed emotions and devotion.

Her husband's heart surgery was set for that day despite their pungent poverty.

That was her last visit to the temple.

She applied tilak on her forehead for the last time.

Next day was her compulsive Conversion into ... 

---()---

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Esteem - 77 Fiction

Note:- 77 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 77 words.

Esteem

Since childhood, Karthik is more attached to the patriotic fervours .....

The words tricolor, anthem, slogans, martyrs, revolution, sacrifice and independence, always use to reflect in his paintings.

His painting on 1857 revolt has won him accolades from everyone in the school.

Strangely, till now, he has never attended August15 or January 26 ceremonial celebrations. 

His budding integrity and blossoming instinct makes him to strongly believe that the ONE best way to salute the tricolour is ONLY through right hand.

Independence - 77 Fiction

Note:- 77 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 77 words.

Independence

Like all children in the primary school,  Karthik has got affinity for flag hoisting celebrations.

It is obvious that what matters for him more is the sweets distribution .

The day has come.

After the completion of all flag rituals and national formalities, the sweets distribution has started and so is Karthik's enthusiasm .

The distribution has ended but still his hands are empty .

He is not sure whether the reason is the school wall or his balloon business.

PS : Am elated to be back from my sabbatical   :)

PPS : To help, click hope4needy

Celebrations - 77 Fiction

Note:- 77 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 77 words.

Celebrations

The blood on the stone is still fresh, wet and shining...

There are some flowers with kumkum and haldi on their petals...

The holy sacred chants are about to end while the head priest is offering the prasad along with the axe...

The blood drops are falling down slowly from the axe ...

The festival has started ...

but few minutes ago, the same blood drops have sprung out from the neck of a three months old girl child ...

PS : Save Girl Child

PPS : Happy Dasara

One - 77 Fiction

Note:- 77 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 77 words.

One

On the auspicious occasion of Janmashtami celebrations, many kids are pretty clad in Krishna's attire for the competition of  "Best Child Krishna Contest " .

With cute and innocent looks, attractive peacock plumage on their heads and decorated flutes in their hands , they are mesmerizing the audience.

It is very tough for the selection committee to select the best Krishna.

All the mothers are anxious with speculation and curiosity.

Finally, the announcement read,  " The best Krishna is 'Mohammed Arif' " .

PS : Very few people know the difference between Culture and Religion and I bow to all those people who often cross religion borders to join the frolic of culture.  Love you India. 

White - 77 Non Fiction

Manasvi was in LKG...

She was habituated to school, without crying...

Once, on the occasion of August 15 celebrations, there were sports and games competitions ...

Her name was included in the running race...

It was her first race...

The kids were ready for the race by bending and placing their hands on the ground...

All of them had started running, after listening to the whistle, except Manasvi...

She had stopped and turned back to wash her soiled hands.

PS : Manasvi is my sister and its my love on Raksha bandhan

Wish

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 12; the twelfth 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.

Karthik was a six year old boy. He was in  the park, which was near to his home, since 2 hours . It was  a summer evening. Few people were walking in the park, few of them were in chatting, few of them were writing and reading, and few of them in yoga. All these things didn't matter to him except the sight of few children of his age playing with balls and colorful balloons, screaming and running here and there, accompanied by their parents. Some kids were relishing ice-cream. It didn't grab his attention. His appetite wanted something else .

He didn't know whether the situation was like,  "I was not  alone  but feeling lonely' or whether, "I was not lonely but feeling alone". Those things were beyond his age's perception. He knew only one thing, pain, not the physical one, but the psychological one, which was quite torturing and pressing for his budding tender age. He hardly knew how to deal it. He didn't even know that it was called pain but it had got reflected in his body language and facial expression.  He also didn't know that he wanted to escape from it. He was just responding instinctively to the new stinging pain.

Karthik was sitting alone lonely on a corner bench in the park, with his face in between his folded legs,  frightened by his parent's fight quarrel last night, with gushing tears rolling streaming down his tender cheeks. The source of the tears was not his eyes, but it was his heart which had been pumping out unknown fear along with gallons of water.   Since few days, the events between his parents had left an indelible impression upon his young and unbearable mind. For his parents, more than the boy, their ego mattered the most. Nothing interested  or excited him, except the only choice, the corner bench in the park. He had preferred only two things, one the compulsive school, and other, the inviting park. He had been regular to the park since a month. The stress had lead him into a malady of depression. He even didn't know what it was to be normal anymore. For him, love and childhood were perpendicular to each other. 

The tears were streaming out
Not knowing the Boy
would cherish his childhood.

It was about to sunset. Mean while, a small girl in a cute white dress came near to him. She stood before him and  raised his chin. Looking into his submerged eyes, she wiped his tears with her tiny tender hands and gave him a chocolate with a cute smile. He didn't respond to her act but his tears had stopped after few minutes . She sat on the same bench beside him with her little hand on his shoulder.  She sat as if she knew what happened with him. They didn't speak anything, not even a single word.  Karthik couldn't realize that he was feeling better at that moment.  It was not the silence but her presence which had made the difference.  After half an hour she gave him a hug and  left him , smiling and waving her hand, along with her small bicycle.  He didn't wave her back but he wished she could stay for some more time. That was the first and last time they have met, but the tears were stopped for that day.

Though Karthik came to the park everyday, the girl was never seen in the park. For few days, he waited for her on the same bench. He wanted back those moments he had spent with that girl. Her absence had added more fuel to his burning aching heart.  As days were passing on, he was gradually habituated and trained his heart to control his tears but his gestures spoke volumes of pain. He had never shared anything with anyone.  There was not much change neither in Karthik's life nor in his parent's life. He neither sat on another bench nor someone sat beside him on that bench. Days were rolling on, pacing with his pricking emotions. The only feel good factor in his life was the bench in the park. 

After 10 years....

 At the age of 16, Karthik was sitting on the same bench controlling his volcano of tears and thumping emotions . The reason was same but the intensity and impact was more.  His father was in prison for murdering his mother.  Many words and hands tried to console his emotion,  but all in vain. None can make him normal as he was never normal. The only person who  had  that potential was the small girl he had met in his childhood . Nothing can replace her for him.  Nothing was silent in his life in the last ten years. Nothing had resonated his infliction.  His academic grades were just on the borders

Karthik shifted to his grandmother's place now . Nothing had changed for him. Though his life was budging, it was filled with her nimble thoughts daily. He wanted the girl, not desperately, but essentially. He was still in her waiting,  so much so that waiting was no more a waiting for him. He never categorized his relationship with her, but he waited. Waiting had become his living, along with the bench. No theory or philosophy could not convince him to stop the irrational waiting.  After few months, he had  lost everything. His bench in the park was no more.  The municipality had  demolished the park to build a commercial building.  Life was void for him. He had stopped going to parks. In-fact, he had stopped relating himself with things or persons.  All these years of his pain, his complex feelings got cemented into  a strong and only wish of his life - to meet the girl.  Strangely, he never wished to have good parents. He wished almost nothing.
............
.........
.........


After few months,

Karthik was standing in the balcony, glinting at the sunset, with a  bunch of unquestioned answers and unfinished thoughts streaming in his mind.  

The sun had set to rise at some park in another place of the world. Many tears on tender cheeks across the world were still finding  their ways to evaporate by the heat of pains. There were unanswered questions too. Through out his life he could not find two things . First was the girl's name . Second was the fact that when she was wiping his tears, ten years ago, she had wiped her tears too ......  

And, he never knew that she had a similar wish too.

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Childplay - Drabble

Note:-A Drabble is an extremely short work of fiction exactly one hundred words in length.

Childplay

It is summer vacation...

The favourite game of all the kids in the apartment is knocking the door or ringing the door bell and running away to escape...

Door no 404 is their regular and easy target ...

Every time, the house owner Manjula opens the door and smiles happily, looking at the scattering kids...

Among all the kids, Karthik is the only one who stays away from the game...
 
 
He watches the game by hiding behind a pillar...

Though his childishness hints him to join the kids, something is stopping him to run ...

He is not physically disabled, but she is.

Mother - 55 Fiction

 Note:- 55 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of fifty-five words.

Mother

Saraswathi has been eagerly and anxiously awaiting for her mother from village, since yesterday...

Today will be the most significant and crucial day in her entire life...

She is quite tensed and nervous about the results...

But, much before her mother could reach her, she delivered a cute baby girl, at the young age of 13.

------()------

PS:  Saraswathi was married off by her family at age of 11, and was widowed at the age of 13. 

Facts:

1. 
   
   
   
   According to the United Nations, maternal mortality in India (which indicates the number of women dying in childbirth or from pregnant-related causes) is 25 times higher for girls under 15, and two times higher for 15-19-year-olds.
2.  Religion plays a key role in such harmful traditions and practices. Tradition and superstition are further reinforced by necessity
3.  Rural poverty similarly puts pressure on families to transfer the economic cost of a daughter to another family as early as possible.
4. Married girls are generally separated from their immediate families, taken out of school to be "transferred" to her new-husband home, where they are expected to be used as free labor, sex objects and procreative machines. The teenagers health is put at risk. They are much more vulnerable than mature women when it comes to sexually transmitted diseases. 
5. Education and the empowerment of women are, beyond a doubt, two of the best remedies in a largely male-dominated country.
6. May 9 2010 is Mother's Day.

Imposition

Karthik is studying in fourth standard English medium at St Paul's Convent High School..... 

 It was one more day for him in the school. Inserting a pencil in between, his little fingers were being twisted hardly by his class teacher, in an attempt to crush the pencil so that Karthik can feel the pain of being guilty for the blunder he has committed....

Second time, he was being made to be slapped on his cheeks by all his classmates for repeating the same shameful mistake. 

He never told his parents about these punishments. He was not sure of their response as his elder sister never did such mistakes. Besides, his low grades made him not to raise the issue with his parents.  He felt low and dejected. He had a tender anguish in him. He could not tolerate both the physical and verbal abuse by his teacher. The punishments were haunting him even at playground.

 Days  were rolling on. Karthik didn't learn from his mistakes. It was one more day for him. Third time, Karthik was being beaten brutally and was hospitalized for attempting the same blunder.  Then followed his parents, media and school management to respond in their convenient ways.

In all these three instances he had made the mistake of uttering few normal words in his mother tongue, Telugu, unintentionally. In that school , only two languages are allowed for communication. First one is English and the second one is English.  Vernacular languages/mother tongue is a strict no no.



PS : 
1. Based on a real incident in Andhra Pradesh.
2. The insistence of usage of English as the only  language of communication  in schools is resulting in gradual erasing of mother tongues/vernaculars

Malice - 77 Fiction

Note:- 77 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 77 words.

Malice 

Ravi is one of the few boys who regularly attends the government school in the village for the sake of midday meals...

He is studying in third standard Telugu medium...

He works hard and topped in mid exams...

None of his classmates congratulated him...

No one plays with him ...

No one eats with him...

He is isolated in all the possible harsh ways for his uncommitted sin...

He is not an untouchable...

They just call him Bastard.

Rainbow - 77 Fiction

Note:- 77 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of 77 words.

 Rainbow

Chintu is a six year old boy who is quite good in pencil drawing for his age.

To encourage him , his mom bought colour pencils.....

One morning, he had drawn soothing, serene and beautiful waterfall in a forest backdrop and shown it to his mom.....

She asked him, "Why did you draw blue leaves and green sky....?"

He didn't say anything and smiled away to play Holi....

He is yet to know that he has colour blindness.

PS: This is my first 77-Fiction :) 
PS* : I jus wanted to convey the mental preparedness of a budding kid with special talents to a rare hereditary deficiency. I left it to the readers imagination through the unsaid words.

Karma?-55 Fiction

Note:- 55 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of fifty-five words.

 Karma?

She has got no other choice, besides her age is an added advantage for the involuntary profession she is into , since months. She is feeding herself by letting herself into the changing hands,  daily, on a contract basis. Her name never mattered as it keeps changing. She is a born child labour, hardly 3 months old.


PS: Child Begging in India is both a Scam and a Reality

Read more @ http://www.childlineindia.org.in

Compulsion - 55 Fiction

Note:- 55 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of fifty-five words.

 Compulsion

Shabana is  anxiously waiting for her 12 year old daughter Ameena, since 3 hours. It is already 10 pm.

When Ameena came, Shabana asked her worriedly,      " Why so late today?" .     

Ameena smiled and gave her 300 rupees.

Shabana asked her suspiciously, " How come you got more money today? ". 

Ameena said, innocently, "Today, I sold Samosa at Children's Film Festival "

If I were a baby again.

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 4; the fourth 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.

Searching. This word may remind us Google or a job search . But, for Karthik it differs, impacts, deviates and do matters a lot in many ways. In fact , searching is an essential part of his life, though he doesn't know the spelling yet. May be its a compulsive compulsion for him. Anyways, coming to his life, Karthik has got a best friend, and of course, only friend, namely Saketh. Both, Saketh and Karthik stay together, eat together, play together and sleep together, may be, because both live in the same orphanage, in the same room, by the grace of destiny. Karthik enjoys saketh's company a lot. Karthik feels himself in saketh's presence. He feels gifted and he always thanks god for having Saketh in his life.They have similar interests and passions. They both love cricket and grown up idolising Sachin. They encourage each other and love each other a lot. Incidentally, both share their birthdays on the same day, April 24. They cant imagine life without each other. Karthik loves Saketh more than himself. Coming to Saketh, most of the times he remains silent in deep thoughts which makes Karthik to raise the doubt, " What does Saketh think always???". This question keeps on haunting Karthik , and unknowingly , he feels insecure too. Many a times Karthik asked saketh . "What do u always think , Saketh?", but Saketh never answered and instead he still remained silent. Sometimes, Saketh's silence makes Karthik scared, irritated, annoyed and frustrated .

Gradually, Karthik is habituated to saketh's silence . But,Karthik use to convince himself by guessing what Saketh thinks always, by questions like ........  What makes Saketh to go into silent thinking? ....... Does Saketh miss the essence of his mother? .......... Does Saketh think how his mother looks like? .......... Does Saketh try to visualize his mother's looks, smile and attire? ......... Does Saketh miss those warm hugs, lovely kisses, love laps, tender spoon feeds, affectionate looks and caring pats. ? ............ Does Saketh try to imagine how cheerfully his birthday could have been celebrated if his mom is with him? ..... Does Saketh get the doubt whether his mom is alive or not? ....... Does Saketh miss those mischievous and childish acts which can be cherished only by his mom.?........ Does Saketh miss the fun and frolic of being with his mom, always? ......... Does Saketh try to question why his mom left him in a dustbin? .......... Does Saketh think that his mom left him because he is weak and having ugly looks? ......... Does Saketh think, like, "Will my mom ever come back"? .......... Does Saketh feel lonely though he is not alone ? .......... Does Saketh miss his father?.......... Does Saketh miss his brothers and sisters ? ......... Does Saketh miss the golden privilege and exclusiveness of being pampered by his mom? ......... Does Saketh miss those cute, sweet adjectives his mom could have used to describe him? ......... Does Saketh miss the pride feeling of his mom for having him as her son? .......... Does Saketh think whether his mom also feels the same way , somewhere in the world? ............ Does Saketh want to shout and cry for the treatment he gets from the so called civilized society? ............... Does Saketh want freedom from the pain of dejection and isolation? .............. Does Saketh really get these questions? and finally , does Saketh feel that i have too many questions to ask? ..... and so on.

Karthik, though he is much young for his age to analyse other's thoughts, gets these questions almost everyday, whenever he observes saketh's pensive silence. It is not a surprise because whatever the questions he has imagined and asked are actually his questions and his feelings about his mom, and not saketh's. He always lives with that anxiety and enthusiasm whether Saketh too gets such similar thoughts and questions, because Saketh is also an orphan like him .In fact, Karthik expects from saketh to ask him those questions . Karthik wants to share everything about his questions with Saketh. Karthik is very eager and desperate to get listened by his best friend, Saketh. Karthik feels that they both has got good rapport and understanding. Karthik wants to cry whole heartedly to relieve his emotional pain of missing his mom, by hugging his best friend. Though, they have similar wavelengths, frequencies, backgrounds and being best friends, Karthik feels helpless and frustrated, because he knows very well that though Saketh can listen , he wont respond to his feelings and emotions. Its not because Saketh is a silent boy, but, for the reason that Saketh cannot speak. In fact , he never spoke to Karthik till now , and forever he wont, because Saketh don't have life in him. To put it simple,  Saketh is just Karthik's childhood doll donated by some good hearted person on his 3rd birthday. Though he can speak whatever he wants to, with his doll , he feels more painful when he don't get responses from saketh when he is ventilating out his precious, valuable and deeply felt emotional outburst of his life. He is not blaming the doll, nor his mom and nor the society. But, his tiny, tender, little, young, blossoming heart cant bear such emotional volcano for more time. All he has got is compulsive patience and he can, and he will, wait for the right person who can really listen to get his feelings exactly in the right way. He don't have solutions, he has got Questions , more Questions and only Questions.  He is not talking about responsibilities , he wants empathetic natural stimulus. He don't have a choice right now.  Karthik needs compassion , not sympathy. I think being an orphan he is expecting more from this wicked society. This world needs him only to make movies like slumdog millionaire or writing some stories, articles and blogs ..... Sometimes I feel there are only good questions, no good answers. In fact, if he is given a chance to become a baby again, he just wants someone to listen to his Questions. Probably he may get more questions if someone starts listening.  Anyways, till then Karthik , along with his best friend Saketh, will be in his unavoidable, regular and compulsive process of compulsive Searching .....

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.

55 words # 2

Note:- 55 Fiction infers to fictional writings bounded to a maximum of fifty-five words.

 Deepawali 

"Please.....only one!", Kittu asked his mom one more time.

 "No", She replied.

 "Last year also I didn't buy it", he pleaded.

 "OK, but small one", she said, and gave him ten rupees.

  Kittu ran out of his hut and bought a small   rocket.  He lit it with excitement.  It didn't take off...

  Manufacturing defect.

             ------------------------------------------

Happy Deepawali

We have different types of crackers for Deepawali . Among all of them , please do not forget to buy at-least one rocket . Because, there are many children around us, who cannot afford it, and will be eagerly awaiting to watch them in sky, with joy and  excitement. Lets share their happiness, smiles and spirit. Happy Deepawali.

Kaaveri

 Kaaveri is a quite cute and delightfully pretty gal. She is 7 years old. She is good at studies and aims to become doctor in future. Today is very special for her. Yes, her birthday. She is awaiting for this particular day since months. Her parents have planned everything. She has been discussing with her friends about the way every second has to  be spent on this day. Her mother did wake her up with a warm hug, a sweet kiss and lovely greetings.  She got dressed up in a beautiful white skirt.

Kaaveri is looking like an angel. Her dad and her brother wished her in their own ways with lots of exclusive  gifts showering upon. Kaaveri do swims in the love ocean of her family, always.  She tasted her favourite sweet . She is more eager to be at school than at her home. Everything is  happening as she expected. The school bus came.  She took the chocolate box, kissed her mom and rushed towards the bus to catch the expected cheer ups from her friends. She is more interested in the celebration time at school, rather than at her home.

The journey to her school was filled with sensuous feelings, thoughts and expectations . She loves her school very much. Kaaveri becomes emotional regarding any aspect of school, be it teachers, play ground, uniform, shoes, books, home work, exams, friends, birthdays, marks, pats, smiles, fun, playing,  Meanwhile,  the bus reached the school. She entered the school premises with a sense of belongingness.She loves her friends a lot.

When she entered the classroom, everything did happen as per her expectations, as if it is scripted. She was bit blushing with the loving compliments and pleasantly surprised greetings. She did grab every inch of attention, may be because she is topper of the class too. She did feel the pinch of priority among her friends on that day.  She never felt her classroom so soothing and concerned about her. She distributed chocolates to everyone in the classroom and she did remember every greeting wished by her classmates. Her classroom means a lot to her, almost, a family.

She is waiting for the best moment of her day. Her wait ended as her favourite teacher 'Krishnaveni' madam entered the class. Kaaveri admires and reveres her teacher her a lot, more than god. She is madam's favourite student.  Kaaveri was approaching 'Krishnaveni' madam to give chocolates and to take  blessings from her. Exactly, when she was bowing to touch her madam's feet, Kaveri heard someone shouting at her in a  harsh and loud voice, "Kaaaaavereeeee, wake up, it is already 6...quick.....wash the utensils and clean the flour....Kaaavereee .....  today is Neha's birthday, make it fast". Kaaveri woke up in a hurry and felt disappointed with her favourite incomplete dream. She is habituated, she dreams it regularly, day and night. What else a child labour like Kaaveri can do other than dreaming. She even don't know that she is a child labour. She is too small and innocent to know about the legal Rights and constitutional stuff. She neither knows her birthday nor her parents.  All she knows is hungry, insecurity, fear, hard-work besides few hopes and sweet dreams.

I wish, Kaaveri will dream about someone coming forward to take the responsibility of making her childhood bit better, bit cheerful, bit colourful and bit meaningful. Thank God(Where is he? Enjoying his Script?), at least she has got the  liberty to dream...... Just look around. Many Kaaveris are desperately in need of us, the so called elite, educated, developing Indians.

Any Kaaveri at your home or at your friends/relatives homes???

We, together, can definitely contribute more, than writing and reading.

"Happy Birthday, Kaaveri"