Waste to wonder

Last month we had a family get together and we visited this place in New Delhi - The Waste to Wonder Park - a unique theme park. The park features the miniature replicas of iconic seven wonders of the world, created from industrial waste,  auto parts, cycle chains, car engines, truck springs, petrol tanks and what not. From The Taj Mahal to The Colosseum, we relished every single creation... Delhi sun, street food, family... Some memories...my throwback to the visit in 100 words

Crafted from waste,
scrap here, cast-off there,
the metallic replicas
of wondrous monuments, glisten.
Something like,
broken cups remade with gold.
History playing hide and seek
on that sunny Sunday noon.
The curious explorations,
bewildering;
revelations that follow,
mesmerizing.
Happy squeals,
zealous spirits,
awe-inspiring moments.
The structures,
coming alive
with our innocent laughter.
Oh! One perfect world tour.
From waste to wonders
and a walk
through those wonders, wonderful!
Throwback to that tickled time,
spent with tribe.
Throwback to that history class,
attended with friends.
Throwback to lively fragments
of time frame.
Handful of pictures.
Bag full of rich memories.

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PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Crimson. Deep crimson.
The shade of passion.
The other one toned down. Lovely red.
Ah! A whole bunch of different hues.
There is that delicate blush.
The peace of bluish-white.
The subtle saffron.
Vibrant yellow too.
Standing tall.
Persisting.
Through thorns and storm
and sun and rain.
Beautiful. Becoming.
Radiant. Ravishing.
Fragrant. Fragile.
Brave. Defiant.
Bold. Resolute.
Alluring. Bewitching.
Blooming because they are blooming.
Perfect. Just the way they are.
At all moments, at all times.
Just like you.
Oh! I planted them all
so that someday,
when you walk through this rose-bed,
you will see yourself through my eyes.

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Familial-fun

From parents’ laps
to holding di’s hand,
and having fun with cousins,
I brought the entire trivia with me.
While you all were busy packing
my “trousseau”,
I was stuffing my heart
with our shenanigans .
And when it was time to say good bye,
I trusted myself totally to
the power and prayers of
the blood bonds, the “rakhi” bonds,
the friendship bonds,
and crossed the threshold.
One lifetime with you all
is so insufficient.
Distant now, ever in my heart,
I miss you all.
I literally order
the gathering clouds
and whispering winds,
to shower my hugs. Daily.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100-WORD-CHALLENGE- FUN

Growing up

He made me see his presentation.
And boy! I was so amazed
with the use of animations and effects.
Some presentation.
One look at him, one at his project.
My eyes watered.
There was time when he used to sit in my lap
and learn paint.
Today I felt I could learn PowerPoint from him.
Earlier in the day too, he had surprised me.
I had asked him for a glass of water.
Not finding any unused glass in rack,
he washed the used ones.
Four of them. One for each person in the room.
One bottle of water.
Balanced the glasses on the bottle strategically.
And smilingly, he served us all.
My heart swelled with pride.
They do grow up fast.
Don’t they?

Yesterday night, he slept

Late again.
But her colleagues knew the reason.
So they did not seek explanations.
A middle aged woman,
experienced both in life and workplace,
stood at crossroads.
This was the least the office could do.
The patriarch of her family
had been admitted in semi-coma condition last month.
Only last week the doctors had sent them home.
“The hospital has done what it could do”.
It was prayer and serving and support now.
Prayers and life support machine.
Alive.
His heart beating, eyes blinking
blood flowing in the veins,
if it is called living.
Yesterday we exchanged a word with her.
“We are waiting, someday now he will ask of us,
He will wish for his favourite food,
He will recognize us”.
Yesterday night he slept.
And never woke up.
Today she was on leave.
Will be for a few days.
We observed a two minute silence dutifully
and proceeded with the day.
But my thoughts keep drifting
to that kid in her
who was waiting for her father to get well soon.

Keepsake

Some yesterdays,
we sat together
on a rickety age old chair
made of teak wood,
treacherously balanced
by our uneven weights,
sharing little tidbits,
browsing the galleries that held
our picture-perfect kodak moments.
The ever responsible you
had warned me about
the splinters
I might get
and the madcap that I am
I unheeded,
laughed off your caution,
and sat right beside you.
Caught up in simplicity
of such moments,
we attempted to
fathom our complexities.
The chair sits empty today,
forsaken and gathering dust.
The keepsake
breathes our laughter.
And I can't bring myself
to chuck out the relic.

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4:33A.M.

Your hands run
in the mess of my hair,
your touch tender
and full of care.
I stir a little,
perhaps even mumble,
incoherently in sleep.
You pull me in
the circle of your arms,
my back fits perfectly
in the hollow of your torso
and your warm legs
entangle in my not-so-warm.
Its a biting January morning,
cold, frosty and foggy.
But nestled in you,
I am all cozy and warm.
And then drifting
in and out of consciousness,
I realize I am dreaming.
I hold on to the vision,
and prolong my sleep.
until the quilt becomes cold.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 words: Cold

Good old 500s and 1000s

By habit, I was looking for familiar 500s and 1000s in my wallet. And then realized their awkward adieu.
Hasty, sudden, explosive and emergent.
A novel currency has taken their place. Pinkish-purplish notes.
2000! Seriously?
Someday, this novelty will fade off, leaving behind familiar addictions.
It will take time, though. For the idea to make its own space in our hearts.
Till then this new crisp currency feels alien in my hand. Rather makes me feel powerless. As if I have no real purchasing power with me. Like this is a piece of paper siphoned off from my nephew's game.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Novel

The scent of yesterdays

Hey mason!

When you renovate my house,

make sure you leave intact

the imprints of tiny little feet

running in these corridors

Hey painter!

When you paint these walls,

make sure you don't rub out

the doodling stains

scrawled by tiny hands.

Hey carpenter!

When you mold the wood

and carve me doors and windows,

make sure you seal inside

the ringing unripened laughters.

For when I walk pass these,

these corridors,

these doors and windows,

these caricatures,

I can inhale the scents of

yesterdays

of my children

(now working in the valleys yonder),

and their childhood,

fresh and incorrupted.

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Reclusively yours

Uncertain,
I dilly-dallied with your invite
until I could no longer postpone it.
And then too,
the reclusive me
accepted it most reluctantly.
I was so close
to not meeting you,
yet another stranger,
in that almost-date.
But as they say,
the universe conspired.
All my plans came to naught.
So yes! I met you,
despite misgivings.
But, the first time ever
I saw your face,
and held your gaze,
unknowingly,
I walked home, snug and cozy.
Sunshine gnawed away
at my winterly heart.
Now,
the spring tides engulf me.
And occasionally, an urge
to blend my name with yours.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 words: Recluse

Memoir

Smitten by her loquacious eyes, I committed my life to her, and for a good 30 years she helped me traverse this circuitous journey showering unfathomable joys but how swiftly joy and sorrow alternate and before the blinking of eyes, she receded to a painting hung on wall but sinking into oblivion would have been denigrating to our "we" time so I chose not to wallow in her sorrows and took to exploring the Himalayas and while the demons of her memory stalk me continually, I am glad she still joins me in circuitous travels, she with those loquacious eyes.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words challenge : Demon

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words challenge : loquacious 

Visit by ma

I was at page 214
when I succumbed to slumbers.
For the umpteenth time.
Unknowingly. Automatically.
The edges of my spectacles
digging painfully under my eyes.
Wincing, I woke up.
Bright white light overhead,
an open book beneath.
Ma used to visit my bedroom silently,
closing my books,
removing my glasses,
turning off the lights
and running her hands through my hair.
Then, I left home.
To make something of my life.
While 14 years later,
I am not sure if I succeeded,
I definitely miss those silent visits.
Grudgingly, I let sleep over power me.
Emotions, however, can wait.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: emotion

What am I to you

A rhythmic silence?
Lullaby singing to sleep?
Wildflower bursting?

Linking with #Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: Sing & Flower

Epitaph

I shall always live,

Through my words that I whispered,

Will you remember?

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Yesterdays that swayed

By the empty swing,
I come searching my childhood,
Foretimes that swayed free.

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Drowsy dreams

The tender envelop of mild breeze
at the borderline of
instant spring and impending summer,
sprawling spread of green hills,
serpentine dirt pavements woven around them,
sparkling sky, just the right shade of blue,
chirping birds and chattering monkeys,
broad daylight soaking my room
with quiescent tranquil repose,
drifting in and out of slumbers,
comprehending
the low hum of washing machine,
the whistling pressure cooker,
the sweeping susurrations of broom,
and "wake up" insistence of mother.
A shrill alarm dissipates the trickery.
Irritant of reality inflicts the oculus.
Drowsy dreams,
drunk on nostalgia, sigh heavily.
Astir, beneath a foreign roof.


Linking with: Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 word challenge: Dream

Transience

Kaleidoscopic
From gathering memories
To perfect strangers

An idea

One day you loitered through my mind,

an unhurried thought, distinct and clear,

unlike the hazy and fogged rushes,

and the train of my thoughts slowed.

I dwelled on us for some time

and then I laughed off the idea, brushed it aside,

vigorously erasing the traces

etched by it on the slate of my mind

but some markers are permanent

and try as hard as you might

you cannot rub out their writings from the board.

You now linger in my thoughts,

like an indelible ink stain on paper.

And I translate you into

syllables, words, proses and poems.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Idea

Ramblings over cuppa

Milk blend occasionally. Black tea on Shatabdi rides. Green tea and iced tea almost regularly.
Remember how I used to be anti-tea. That changed when I moved to this new office.
An occasional cuppa now and then.
Distasteful. This hot beverage.
Quite unlike coffee.
Nothing beats a hot vanilla cappuccino.
Peculiar that I should be rambling about this, estranged as we are now.
And not that it really matters.
But I had to share my heart with you.
Over a cup of coffee.
Just like old times.
Peculiar too, that times never return.
And flow of life is almost ceaseless.

Linking with: Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 word challenge: Peculiar

The Lotus Lake

In the hollow of hills,
Deep holy depths beckon.
Approximated to 6.5 meters in legends,
Estimated fathomless in folklores.
Shores bedighted with
Floating reeds,
Water placid at surface.
But beneath its still facade,
Rest many stories.
Ripple.
Vortex.
Silence.
Abyssal.
As ever.