The first time I interviewed someone for an assignment, the
piece came back with a remark which read – ‘MOTS’ needs flesh, i.e. man on the
street needs flesh! Whatever that meant, confusion was my first reaction to it.
However, with writing and then rewriting the same assignment over, and over again,
I realized that I had to add character or rather more ‘meat’ to the story. So
what is my point here? I am trying to say that when someone asks me to read a
new book or try a new author, I am generally wary of them. Why? Because I do
not want to read through the book like a zombie because there is nothing (in
terms of ‘meat) in its story or the characters! But (There is always a catch, isn’t it?) Whispering Paths by
Sneha Subramanian Kanta is different. Her debut publication has already put her
in a league of writers who are out there to tell stories; stories that touch a
chord deep within us and haunt us (in a good way) for time to come. Stories
that a reader can relate to, feel the pain, …
Of moist wet noses and itchy ears,
Pinpricks as bites and scratchy burs.
Ticks and twists, trips and tears,
Licks and nips, and soulful stares.
Of woofs, barks and soft growls,
Ruined furniture and empty food bowls.
Of smelly poop and slippery pee,
Cuddly hugs, kisses and so much glee!
Of sleepless nights and dreamless mornings,
When endless walks in the park become your calling.
Of wagging tails and adorable paw shakes,
Shedding hair, rollovers, and shakes.
Of crashing dins and chasing leaves,
Bring one home and you’ll never grieve.
(Image only for representation purpose. Copyright lies with the artist. Not Waving but Drowning Fine Art Print - Trudi Doyle)
He walked, bare feet, on a mass of crushed sea-shellsCoarse sand clung onto him, he watched herAfar; sitting motionless on a wind-beaten rockAs if waiting for knell 'Wosh-wosh' screamed the wavesGloriously furious, crashing on the moss-covered dockThey came high, they came lowYet slow, the sea so magnificentthey seemed insignificantHe watched her, sitting motionlessAs if waiting for knell Ominous clouds o'er headplayed hide-n-seek with the moonthreatening to steal light till noonHe prayed, she'd move and he'd take her away somewhere warm, happy and safe And then she turned to look at him, Him eager, she like waif, smiled his heart in blithe Only to step deep into the waters Now safe from the knell