Flame #writephoto

Image result for ghungroo dance

Late afternoons often found her sitting alone, still and straight. Her mind would travel years back in time, when the house was full of children’s laughs and echoing footfalls. In a flash, hours and days had molded into long years of cooking dinners, attending PTA meetings and finishing yet another load of laundry.

Now the house sat quiet, reminiscing of a din long gone. The children had moved out and her husband was indulging yet another hobby. One evening, a sliver of sunshine happened to escape the curtain’s stern guard. Through the dance of dust mites, she happened upon her reflection. Her eyes and her face told stories of the years gone by and the errands they had seen through.

There were no stories of her own. There was not even a hint of the flame that once shone bright in her eyes; it was extinguished long ago.

A muted glint from a hidden corner caught her attention – somehow her old ghungru* had managed to dapple in the last light of the setting sun. It had been so long she had seen them – she had almost forgotten how they felt tied at her ankles. With trembling fingers she handled them delicately, more precious than any gem in the world.

What if….? Dare she even dream…?

The next afternoon saw her tentatively clearing a space and dusting out her old dancing clothes. As her feet slowly became accustomed to the once-familiar weight of her ghungru, the years melted away and she fell into a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. On days when she was not at dance school, the curtains were firmly drawn back as she conducted personal concerts under the sunny spotlight.

She was not a daughter, a wife or a mother then. She was a dancer. She was an artist. She was her chosen form. She was blowing at the cool embers, re-kindling a fire that had almost blown out. It was never too late to spark it back!

Written for Sue’s prompt – Flame. I took it as a metaphor and ran away with it! Hope that is okay…

*Ghungru: is one of many small metallic bells strung together to form Ghungrus, a musical anklet tied to the feet of classical Indian dancers.





See that road… curving

Around the corner

Endless or a dead-end?

A fall or a steep climb?

Or simply meandering on…?

How will you know?

Only if you gather the courage

And take that first step to keep going.

No matter if the road is not taken

Or heavily beaten!

Pause to look at the sides – maybe

your surprise is lying packaged there.

Now, keep aside your goal and aims…

The journey should make the destination worth it.

Captured on a long romantic walk – the weather was playing games. I stole a card. Brought to you on Day 2 of the Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge nominated by Rob

My second nominee is Zee – a barrel of fun, laughter and love. The challenge is – “Post a photo each day for five consecutive days and attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction or non-fiction, a poem or a short paragraph and each day nominate another blogger for the challenge”

Fresh Start Calling

Image: Totomai Martinez
Fantasy by Totomai Martinez

Bright eyes beamed back in the mirror,

A pink smile bloomed in anticipation,

Betraying only the faintest of quivers

Of the lurking shadows in the reflection.


The past demons raised their fiery heads,

A franctic war ensued to douse the flames,

The smoking memories prickled the eyes

As a reminder of the ugliness to be tamed.


Anguished tremors took over reality,

A feeling that threatened to smother,

But the shivers will stop; you aren’t alone

With your one hand clasping the other.


A spark at the end of the long tunnel

Will light the way for a second innings,

The embers still flicker with past fires

But now, only to ignite new beginnings.

At dVerse, Mary has introduced the lovely ‘phoetry’ of Totomai Martinez where we are using his photography as an inspiration for our poems. The curve of her smile and the intense look of her eyes has guided my words

Treading and Paving

A cliche can go a long way…

As the clock chimed away the last seconds of 2014, I was lost in oblivion. The colors of the black night and the pulsing atmosphere were dimmed by the clear stream of sunshine inside my head. It was the longest moment of my life.

No thoughts. No regrets. No memories. Just deep gratitude to a year where I finally learnt to look into the mirror and smile, despite the world crashing around me.

I used to roll my eyes at the hoopla of New Year’s Eve. The only comfort was that I could eat and eat with everyone too drunk to judge. No difference between 23:59:59 and 00:00:01 – life and years could move on so long I could chomp on good food. But this year clocked in a drastic change in my life. I finally started a journey which is not temporary; something that I will take with me until the very end and has been monumental in containing my insanity.

I also learnt two things this year – resilience and optimism (well, creative whining is third). I would accept fate and call it taking into my stride, showing off my non-existent biceps as I casually blindsided the stubborn difficulties of “life”. I was confident that time will ride out those awful moments, like it always has. How naive I was – intensely dense.

This year, I found the courage to face them and kept the punches as a last resort. This year, I held out my hand to the very elements making my life miserable and found a shaky balance to start over.

I belong to a generation that believes in replace instead of repair. If anything goes wrong, off it goes to the bin with a fresh replacement on its way. Cold realization poured over my head when I sought to do the same for something extremely precious. My fighting spirit finally woke up after a long hibernation and I smiled through some of the toughest moments I have ever faced,  rarely giving in to the temptation of tears. I saw a silver lining in every dark cloud and even managed to catch a rainbow a few times. And my biggest achievement was to shake free the beast of self-victimization that was clinging tightly. Yes, I was drowning but scuba diving with beautiful corals ain’t a bad alternative; in fact, it is bloody fantastic.

I don’t know HOW this fabulous wisdom was bestowed on me. Maybe I met the right people, maybe I was dealt with the correct hurdles, or maybe I managed to share my food. Some people simply call it “life”. Shit happens. So I learnt to get my hands dirty with a laugh and some good smelling soap called optimism!

And to those who told me, “It’s okay, just a bad day” – I know they mean well, but I will never blame the day, or the year, or the luck. It is my own.

Image Source

Written for SoCS prompt – “t”; think of a word that starts with it or includes it, and write away! The point is to have some fun and pour your heart out.

The First Step Out


All that remains is an exhausted sigh,

The fight trickling out of the heart,

Silent, invisible and intangible

The only thing left now is to depart.


There is no last leaf to hold on to,

No splashes of paint on the dying tree,

The dry walkway is calling out an invite

And birds singing songs of being free.


The first step is always the hardest,

And brings back lost dreams, all hazy

But the first glance into the open world

Makes the next steps miraculously easy.


Like ripping off a stubborn band-aid,

The sting sears and scorches in deep,

But the winds cool and renew senses

To joyfully escape the arrested sleep.

The end of a year, the end of a relationship, the end of a life, the end of an illusion. The first step out is always the hardest and perhaps, also the greatest. Just some musings on that first step and to find the courage to take it.

Written for mindlovemisery’s menagerie prompt, “Won”

Also, heading over to Open Link Night hosted by Gabriella at dVerse.