She finally bought the best seller novel from the book store beside the kindergarten school after picking up her son.
“Who is this, Ma?” chirped the little voice as he ran his finger on the man on the cover.
“Someone I knew a long time ago”, she smiled.
The actress playing her in the movie adaptation continued smirking from the nearby poster.
Tag: story
The Elephant Who Learned How to Climb
No one ever asked him what he wanted to be. Ever since his first steps, his father showed him off to his friends and boasted, “Look at his strong legs, he’ll surely be a Climber!”. The Climber. The one that his parents couldn’t be, despite their burning desires.
So when he was supposed to play with his other friends from the jungle, the little elephant was snatched away from the playground and enrolled to a “jumping school”. Specialized teachers like kangaroos and grasshoppers had been enlisted to clear the basics of these little admitted kids. It was their sole responsibility to train them so that they could be ready for the next step, climbing.
The elephant tried hard. Really hard. Animals laughed as he tried to jump with his round belly, balancing himself with his long snout. Tears got mixed with the dirt as he fell on his face everyday. His sobs were masked by the laughter of his classmates. Still he didn’t give up. He did not want to see his parents upset. In a few years he learnt to leap over small shrubs and bushes, which was enough to get him enrolled into the climbing classes. But maybe it was not worth his bleeding tusks.
Climbing classes included more specialized teachers like the bear and the cheetah. They were considered the best, since they had once taught even a goat to reach the top branch of the famous Old Oak at the end of the jungle. Their other accomplished students, the orangutan and the raccoon, had their pictures carved on every tree bark in the jungle. The elephant parents were pleased to see that they had brought their son to the right place. But no one asked him if he wanted to learn it.
Soon the judgement day arrived. Continue reading “The Elephant Who Learned How to Climb”
The Jar
“One order fulfilled, one turn of the lid”
I will never forget this phrase, or its variations, for the rest of my short life.
I still remember the day when I opened my eyes and saw that ugly opaque lid above me, the lid of the jar in which I was kept. Looking around, I found that my jar had only four things inside. A bed, a cupboard, me and my thoughts. The last thing was the dearest to me. In my thoughts I could see myself flying above the hills with the birds, occasionally coming down to eat fruits from the trees and drink from the river. In my thoughts I was not a captive of the jar.
Fortunately the walls were transparent, so I gazed outside. There were others, similar to me, but different in every way. All of them dressed the same. Neither did they talk to each other, nor did they seem to think. Those robots seemed to roam around lifelessly in specific paths at specific times.
At first I was least bothered about my situation. The cupboard gave me almost everything I could ever ask for. Books. Pictures. Food. Fancy clothes. But not people. Not freedom. Soon, I longed for someone to talk to me. I longed to see the bright blue sky for once. So one day, I went towards the nearby wall and called out. Continue reading “The Jar”
The Flag
She climbed the mountain as swiftly possible,
Stepping on every helping hand, which turned to dust.
She wanted her name atop the peak
To shine, ego being her only thrust.
Rivers of tears flowed through the ridges,
Empty claps echoed the hollowed hills.
People slowly reduced to dots,
But that never gave her the chills.
She reached her target with time to spare,
It was really something to brag.
But as she turned, she soon realized,
There’s no one to pass the flag.
The Moon On My Wall
When her “Good morning” doesn’t wake you up,
When her “Goodnight” isn’t what you need.
When your calls go unanswered a lot,
When her comes, you no more pay heed.
You still hangout sometimes, but it is no more fun,
It’s like she can be the moon, but you aren’t her sun.
She glows without you, and you do too,
Your hour long calls have come down to minutes less than two.
Your cries for help go ignored, her words misunderstood,
Her late replies don’t get you angry, her voice doesn’t lighten your mood.
When the urge is no more there, to share the secrets you keep,
When every time she hurts you, the lesser do you weep. Continue reading “The Moon On My Wall”
The Pen
And you thought I’ll never pick up the pen, didn’t you?
You’re the only reason the words flowed through my hands?
You’re so wrong, there’s thousands of things that are already messed up,
You’re just a silicon in a world of only SiO2.
Well it’s true that your actions broke me into million pieces.
I still cannot forget what I saw through that window,
You’re the kind of material that a loser popularizes
In his memes, I should have known what you meant by “Let’s take things slow”.
I’m just a nerd and not a rich laid back snob,
I work hard till night in order to get a job.
And yes you were a chapter in my book of life,
But I don’t have a lot of money to throw to make you my wife.
You know they throw money at tramps in some parlors too,
And you thought I’ll never pick up the pen, didn’t you? Continue reading “The Pen”
The Carver
Hands bleeding, blood and sweat streaming, he’s done something laudable,
Twenty hours of carving rock in hell, he did the impossible.
The ending siren tore through the ears and cried with a shrill,
“Behold! It’s a living stone swan, but yet it stands still”.
The carver gives out a sigh, his smile knows no bounds,
The audience goes crazy, but his rivals don’t make sounds.
The teary eyed winner is taken to the factory owner, who says:
“Congratulations carver! You’ve done the best one, by God’s grace!
Look at all those feathers, they seem ruffled and yet so clean!
The texture, strength and balance, it looks so pristine!
Its eyes have life in them, as if God carved them Himself,
Its elegance is breath-taking, totally top of the shelf!”
The carver can’t hear them, his dream has come true,
He did something that everyone had told him he couldn’t do.
He reached a place similar to where his idols had been ;
Like Shakespeare did with King Lear, and Ronaldo with his feet.
The owner is still in awe, “How many nights didn’t you sleep?”
“How many days did you train?”
“Astounding! Just lay on this bed here,
And we’ll take out your brain.” Continue reading “The Carver”
The Living Writes 