Thursday, June 07, 2018

Evening

It was evening, 7 pm. It had showered and the concrete around him looked cooled down. The few trees grounded by the cement looked relieved.

Better, he thought. The cool air refreshed his body. But the headlights of bumper to bumper cars threw beams of stuffy smog ahead.

Grr... He covered his nose. What will I have for dinner? A car honked, he shifted to the footpath. Too many cars. His feet kept on a relaxed stroll. Perhaps I should order something. I should call someone. 

He munched on the chicken dim sums he had ordered from a nearby Chinese restaurant. The whiteboard before him had a bullet point list. His eyes stopped on a random point - Call a friend was one of it. A pain went in his mouth, he pulled out a sharp bone from his inside of the cheek. I am going to give a strong feedback. He gargled on a mouthful of Pepsi and drank it.

He looked around the board, trying to observe the corners. From the long list of varied colors, as he tried his best to stray his eyes, they stationed on that one line. Call a friend.

It wasn't a difficult thing - this calling a friend. Perhaps he can WhatsApp someone. His hands went to the plastic container to pick another dim sum, but there were none. He had many friends. Many of them still consider him, or so he thought. But it's just like a flicker. These relationships.

Ram, Sham, and Bindu, anyone of these? He looked sideways on the wall. 7 pm. Too early for them on the other side of the world. Damn this ocean. Perhaps I can just message them. He tilted his head back, slurped the last of the drink and then licked the rim. Perhaps I will message later when they would be up. There were many things to do. Cleaning the house, the attic, the closets. He looked around. All looked a good sweep.

He tied a bandana around his head. Lot of work. Thirty minutes later he was sweeping the floor, he looked at the phone. The battery was good. No notifications. He looked at the fan and the attic. So much to do...

PS: Is this real? Behind locked doors, there are many waiting for someone else to call him. I had seen this amazing video by Guy Winch on emotional strength. Here's his blog link for more food for thought.

Saturday, March 10, 2018

The dark alleys


Written for Photo prompt for Wrimo India Activity #FridayFiction 


It took a while for him to adjust his eyes to the darkness. He could now see the long corridor converge into the black. Cold, he shivered. He looked around to find the source of dampness. His ears twitched at the faint voices and he moved forward towards them. He pulled the hood over his head and buried his hands into the pockets.

The stairs were to the right. He tapped his foot on the first step in indecision and then climbed up. At the top, he stood facing a wall of black. He could hear faint voices. They spoke without turns making it difficult to understand. Suddenly he saw a burning red ember shot across him. In an attempt to dodge it, he stepped back and almost tumbled down, almost. He saw the ember flew in a sharp arc to the right where it hit a blue ember. The blue ember bounced around under the impact. He saw some flickers burst out of both, more embers generated. They were multiplying, fewer blues, more red. They flew around and attacked each other. With each impact, they multiplied. There were more voices now. All talking at once. There was sobbing, wheezing, crying but not a person was in sight. He looked around and saw another fleet of stairs going up. 

He walked up to the next floor. There was a faint light there. It was open and vacant. He could feel the presence of nothing. He found his body stunned as the calmness engulfed him. The hair on his body stood at the sound of silence. He ran back down. 

The floor down was now illuminated with blue and red ember zapping across. There was utter chaos, he felt better. The voices had turned into shouts and screams. He closed his ears and sat down watching the spectacle with interest. Then suddenly it struck him, the voices were all his. 

A shock ran through his body and he ran down the stairs, through the corridor, through the consciousness of his mind. It looked long and unending. Memories came rushing towards him, hitting him, identifying themselves as he ran through the dark alleys of his mind. Then he stopped and turned. His feet ran to the first floor into the pandemonium. He sighed. He felt at home.


Saturday, February 03, 2018

Beyond reach

Love is not velvety touch
it isn't the soft colours
it is the fragrance that pass
through everything and anything
to reach you...



Saturday, January 27, 2018

stay away

stay away
from my hear
some rest it needs
the bruises beyond repair
the seams undone
i plead

Saturday, April 08, 2017

The Ghosts of Nagasaki: Book Review

The Ghosts of Nagasaki

The Ghosts of Nagasaki by 


Loved this book! Anyone who loves Japanese writers, the loneliness and despair in their writing will love this book. However there is one major difference, Japanese books go down and under and end with tragedy, but Clausen got the protagonist in the book bounce back and become hope himself. 

The book is brilliant, I would have given it 5 stars but held back 1 star for some beginning & middle sections where the story ran in circles. But it does add to the story overall. When I began reading, I found all the characters stereotyped, specially the Japanese and wondered if this will continue. But thankfully Clausen introduced some new characters in the mid. 

The depressed protagonist, a foreigner in Tokyo, who is almost on the verge of loosing his heart (literally) takes us through his surreal life, where we meet a monster, albeit a gentle one, ghosts, spirits... these layers, nothing but the part of us positive and negative, memories etc. I was super impressed with the writing. I would be picking more of Clausen's work. I am a Japanophile and I think - Clausen is too.

Who will like:
If you like Japanese writings
If you like surrealism
If you like stories with complex plots

Who may not like:
Any of above
Character driven books, this not plot driven
If you don't like stories moving back and forth
Dark

If you think, you fit in the 'Like', I promise you will add this author to your to-read shelf.