My new favorite human

After I woke up from my nap, I moved to a small sunny spot near the window. It was a small spot, but I could make do with it. I wanted to nap again but the floor felt cold. I decided to get up and look for another spot in a different room.

The boy human was propped up on the bed with his hot light and sound thingy. I climbed over the bed and sat near his legs, staring at his wired device. I rubbed my head against his legs and mewed softly to get his attention. The boy turned off the noise, and picked me up.

He smiled and began to scratch behind my ears. It felt so wonderful that it made me purr. He kept me in his lap, and turned his attention to the noise again. A bunch of humans were talking about something on it. Every few minutes his hand would stroke my back.

Then all of a sudden the boy picked me up and placed me next to the thing in which the humans were talking. I couldn’t understand why and looked at him. Then I felt the burst of warm air on my belly. This was so much better than the spot of sunlight in the living room. I stretched and set myself against it. This boy was now my favorite human in the family.

IHM's cat: Sher Khan. Used with permission
IHM’s cat: Sher Khan. Picture used with permission. All rights belong to IHM


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. The prompt was to  write a short story/incident (200-300 words) from an animal’s perspective.

Micro fiction: Thinking of love

He was wondering what had happened between them. He couldn’t bring himself to do the things he was asked to. Then, it became clear to him. He hadn’t stopped loving her. He had just begun to love himself too.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. The prompt is for the post to contain the word ‘love’ and complete the story in just 5 sentences.

The walls

I had a feeling of helplessness as I stood there, staring at the walls. The outer wall was once strong and protective, and now a blanket of green moss surrounded it. I didn’t want to spend much time there, so went inside to get it over with. I tried to prepare myself, for all that I could feel when I would get this over with. The walls were supposed to be once a symbol of strength, were now decaying with neglect.

The door was left open, probably by the last person who had been here to steal something for himself. The inner walls once bore a brilliant shade, but the purple paint was now peeling off to reveal the plaster beneath it. I stared at the fireplace in the hall. When once the room used to be covered in the orange warmth of its glowing fire, now lay the walls blackened by soot. A cracked shell of what it once was.

With great difficulty, I opened one of the cupboards that were there. The doors did not require much pull as they were swaying open with glasses broken, but I needed to strength to confront what I might find in them, present or missing. There were only two things left, an old notebook and a pot of ink. The pages had yellowed with age, but the ink still remained fluid. The bottle of vibrant blue ink held my eye, I assumed it would still glow if I saw it against the light.

I hoped to use this ink and write in the notebook as I once did. I would hold the nib of my pen for a second longer than I had to, when I would complete a chapter. It would amaze me how the ink would flow out fast and fluid, as it spread life in the pages on which I wrote. IT took me some time to look for a pen. I found one lying below the cupboard, its cap long lost. As I began to fill it with ink, I noticed that the nib was broken. The pen and the inkpot fell from my hand.

The ink spreads all over the carpet like a waste, quite different from how I remember it. Slow, and thick. I have a feeling of helplessness as I stand here, staring at the walls.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

When the phone rings…

He was taking deep long breaths. Slowly as he gathered more strength, he crawled in her direction. He left a trail of blood in his wake, from having been shot in the gut. She was lying motionless a few feet away. Her body didn’t move except for the occasional heave her chest gave when she would take in a breath. She was hanging on like him, for a precious few moments before they would both give way to their injuries. It didn’t take him more than two minutes to crawl up to her, and place his hand over hers but it seemed like forever to her. He smiled, and with great effort opened his mouth to tell her that in the end it would be all right. He turned his face and opened his mouth to speak.


What the bloody hell?

This is exactly what first comes to my mind when the phone of someone next to me rings in the cinema while I am all engrossed in the movie. I mean, it is only basic manners to keep your phone on silent or off while you’re in the cinema. Not only can some people not do that, they have to carry on extended loud conversations. I can understand if it is an emergency, or if you’re telling that ‘I am in a movie where I won’t be able to talk to you properly on account of the sound from the speakers ‘, but I cannot understand people telling their dinner plans on the phone. Take it outside and call them back. But let me listen to what is happening in the movie.

But loud chatty callers are not the only ones that get to me. It’s the people who come late, especially if they’re friends. I think there should be an entry time limit, if you’re later than this you can’t enter the cinema house. On the normal day, I can put up with the late comers as long as they don’t give too much of obstructions. But you will have some one or the other who cannot find his way, or will walk abnormally slow and keep coming in front of the screen. It is worse when it is a friend who is late. Because now I will have to wait for them outside with their ticket to get them in. This will primarily lead to two scenarios. In the first I wait for them and miss out on the starting scenes, or I go inside catch the starting and come out when they call me. Not only am I missing out on some scenes, but I end up disturbing other cinema patrons too.

I remember that I had taken a day off to catch the first show of ‘The Dark Knight Rises’ and had to cancel the plans as one of my team members had to apply leave for a family emergency. Since only one of us could go on leave, I cancelled mine on account of his reason being more crucial than mine. The next day I went in for the morning show to enjoy the movie in peace. I had already cancelled two calls, but someone from work kept calling. I went out to take the calls, and missed slightly more than five minutes of the movie in trying to explain something (after having the other person fail to understand that I was out to watch a movie). I couldn’t sit back, and left the cinema to catch a different show where I wouldn’t be disturbed. And this was only thirty minutes into the movie.

I have tried discussing this with some friends whenever I have made my first ever movie plans with them. A friend in particular says that movie watching is a leisurely activity, and it is ok for people to come late as they have bought the tickets. I agree that they have bought the tickets, just in the same way that I bought mine. That doesn’t mean that they should come in the way of the leisure of other audience due to having coming late and so on …


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda