In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Singin’ in the Rain.”
Rain is always special and nothing can beat an afternoon filled with drizzles and cold winds. If there is something I wish, it is the power to bring on rain when I desire. I don’t ask for weather control but just the rain is enough. What comes after the rain is equally desirable but only in a different mood. With rain drops lashing on my window, I would like to write my life in slow motion, slower than the drops but defintely faster than I would ever write in my life.
Believe me every drop has a story to tell, it could be yours or mine. Our story is very similar to the drop of rain that falls on our face. We are caught in a cycle too like the rain drop. We come here with all those amibtions that are inherent to where we fall and grow up, before we rise to restart our journey.
I wish I were a rain drop as I could love the journey rather than the destination. As it turns out, it is the journey that is important, not the destination.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Our House.”
I don’t remember the exact details of the house I grew up but I do remember few bits and pieces of it. It was neither a quiet place nor a bustling arena. It was somewhere in the middle, serene during the days and noisy when it needed to be. I grew up with my sisters who were not so clamorous but they had their loud voices to fill up the room when it was necessary. Few hours of TV silenced everything else, as most of us were attracted to shows and soaps. It wore peace whenever there was a worship or a special occasion. We were blessed with joy, sweets and toys during special times. It was a happy place, our home. It’s a bit sad when I am not able to recollect everything.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Take a Chance on Me.”
Yes, I never thought I would but I did. when i was at the cross-roads during my mid twenties I took a chance by taking the road unknown. I never thought I would take that road but somehow I did. Circumstances did play a part but I won’t let them take all the blame. It was the first ever decision in my life, a decision that could re-define the way I am gonna live it. I always said to myself though, that if I get a chance I would take it; would never say no to anything that could transform me into something. This road I mentioned is full of hardships, but hey, if not for hardships what can make a man or woman who he will be ?. I am glad I have taken the route which happened to me. I am sorry it is still not ripe enough to talk about the second part of the question. I am waiting to find out and believe me it is the moment I love patience the most.
You feel depressed, disappointed at your failures, your happiness bomb defused? Stop worrying. Just relax a bit and look at your past, you were actually nothing but an embryo, anybody or anything could have destroyed you; yet they didn’t, you went on to grow into something incredible, somebody who could feel, speak, listen and write. May be more. Look at the sky, vast never ending space, it is spread all through the world yet it’s not touched by or does not touch anything.
How can somebody be all pervading yet non-attached? The universal question of power.
Things that look bright needn’t necessarily be omnipotent may be they borrowed their power from something more powerful. Similarly, your sorrows borrow power from your weaknesses and shine bright. Stop giving them the light, they will soon turn dark and vanish out of sight.
The question of power is not about all-controlling potential but self-controlling omnipotence. You have that you can rule the world if not, you will be a part of the universe as long as the universe lives but nothing more.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Don’t You Forget About Me.”
I would love to leave back a simple legacy of bravery nothing more. When I leave this place I want people to remember that I lived a brave life. I took clear decisions and I inspired people to do so. Though I have not done or doing any of those now, I would certainly do them before the I leave the place for good. For, leaving a coward is equivalent to not having lived at all.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Super Sensitive.”
I would happily renounce my sense of smell and gain super vision. I have always wanted to see things I have not been able to because of the distance. I have felt alone may time in my life because I was not able to see people around me. If I could see anyone living across miles, I could just vicariously live a life of togetherness, a life of gregariousness. Overall my improved sense of vision could easily replace my lost sense of smell as I will have a clear vision at all times rather than a good smell of things.
A wonderful story. Happy to reblog.
“A result of living in a place as inescapably public as New York City is that its people are deeply private in public spaces — eye contact on the street and subways is actively discouraged and conversation between strangers is kept to a minimum — making it easy to forget that its greatest asset is the stories of its people. We’re reminded of this in “Between Generals” a quiet and nuanced portrait of a man by the late Italian writer Antonio Tabucchi, in which we learn about the complicated history of one of New York City’s immigrants, a former Hungarian General who realizes he spent…
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