Sunday, November 24, 2013

The Scarecrow -55 Fiction

The scarecrow towered over the emerald sea of paddy, a menacing figure in dirty rags, a carrot for a nose. The silly birds wanted the grain. But they were frightened by the scarecrow. Thinking he was real, they fled to safety.  
Are we different from them? Don’t we fly away too, haunted by imaginary fears?

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Sweet Porridge for the Goddess - 55 Fiction

The priest offered some sweet porridge to the Goddess. Wasn't She payasaana priya, the One to whom it was dear?  After the ceremony, he went about his chores; the payasam forgotten. Then came the untouchable beggar, pleading for food. The priest disgustedly shooed him away. The abandoned payasam grew cold; the ants had a feast.

Post Script:
Payasaana priya is one of the thousand names of the Goddess, as mentioned in the Lalitha Sahasranama.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Horlicks

A couple of weeks ago, I was returning home from work at night, when I decided I felt like drinking a cup of Horlicks. So I went to one of the branches of a famous coffee shop here and got myself a cup. I was too tired to sit there and drink it, so decided to take it away. So there I was, trudging along the MRT, carrying my laptop and the hot cup of Horlicks which I unfortunately couldn't drink in the train. Then I reached my stop, and while waiting for the bus to take me home, I decided the Horlicks couldn't wait any longer. It had become cold by then, of course, but it was rich, and sweet, and creamy. And as I savored the sweetness, I realized with a pang, that the last time I had drunk Horlicks was a couple of years ago, while vacationing back in India, and my dearest grandfather, my Muthacha, had lovingly made it for me. And that brought forward so many memories once again.

People never really die, till you stop thinking of them.

Life goes on, of course. I am no longer a student in the strictest sense of the term, but I continue to learn. I've just started working as an auditor, and the learning curve for a fresh graduate can be quite steep. Meanwhile, I am also studying for my professional exams. As always, I sometimes find that staying away from home can be quite challenging. I relish the sense of independence it gives me, but sometimes staying away makes you lonely. Things around me are changing; I am changing too, but I think of you, Muthacha. Every single day. 

Sunday, November 24, 2013

The Scarecrow -55 Fiction

The scarecrow towered over the emerald sea of paddy, a menacing figure in dirty rags, a carrot for a nose. The silly birds wanted the grain. But they were frightened by the scarecrow. Thinking he was real, they fled to safety.  
Are we different from them? Don’t we fly away too, haunted by imaginary fears?

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Sweet Porridge for the Goddess - 55 Fiction

The priest offered some sweet porridge to the Goddess. Wasn't She payasaana priya, the One to whom it was dear?  After the ceremony, he went about his chores; the payasam forgotten. Then came the untouchable beggar, pleading for food. The priest disgustedly shooed him away. The abandoned payasam grew cold; the ants had a feast.

Post Script:
Payasaana priya is one of the thousand names of the Goddess, as mentioned in the Lalitha Sahasranama.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Horlicks

A couple of weeks ago, I was returning home from work at night, when I decided I felt like drinking a cup of Horlicks. So I went to one of the branches of a famous coffee shop here and got myself a cup. I was too tired to sit there and drink it, so decided to take it away. So there I was, trudging along the MRT, carrying my laptop and the hot cup of Horlicks which I unfortunately couldn't drink in the train. Then I reached my stop, and while waiting for the bus to take me home, I decided the Horlicks couldn't wait any longer. It had become cold by then, of course, but it was rich, and sweet, and creamy. And as I savored the sweetness, I realized with a pang, that the last time I had drunk Horlicks was a couple of years ago, while vacationing back in India, and my dearest grandfather, my Muthacha, had lovingly made it for me. And that brought forward so many memories once again.

People never really die, till you stop thinking of them.

Life goes on, of course. I am no longer a student in the strictest sense of the term, but I continue to learn. I've just started working as an auditor, and the learning curve for a fresh graduate can be quite steep. Meanwhile, I am also studying for my professional exams. As always, I sometimes find that staying away from home can be quite challenging. I relish the sense of independence it gives me, but sometimes staying away makes you lonely. Things around me are changing; I am changing too, but I think of you, Muthacha. Every single day.