Skip to main content

Life

Her eyes wandered around the room as if she was looking for something. Or was it someone? She kept looking. Her eyes moved quickly in different directions as if she was trying to take it all in, at once. Was she? The pale walls seemed dark around her. The light coming in from the window was not enough. It looked across a park where no seemed to come and go; the window.

"I must get out of here," she thought. Slowly she got up, looking back once as if making sure of something. She moved out of the room, into the corridor; her shadow on the peeling pockmarked walls   down the steps, out of the gate and onto the street. It was nice and breezy. Lot of light was here, unlike her room. "Maybe I should take a stroll," she thought and so she did.

Morning turned to noon and noon to evening. She kept on walking the streets; taking in the sights and scenes of the day. She saw a balloon seller at the kerb, content with so many kids surrounding him. She imagined how a balloon, filled with gas, brought so much happiness to a child? Wouldn't it finally fizzle away? It would, like life does right in front of your eyes.

Walking through the in-roads and the out-roads, passing the lazing cats in the sun, drowsy dogs with droopy eyes and men, and women with solemn looks on their faces, she made her way through.

Why solemn? She wondered.

Did they find her queer? Bah, they are the ones who are queer!

She walked on. It was time when the sun dipped into the water. She gazed as it slowly drowned. She wished it wouldn't!

In the meantime, she realized she had not eaten the entire day. The wafting smells from the food stalls nearby had caught her fancy. Something pungent would be nice, she thought!

And so she moved towards the stall. The huge cauldron had something simmering in it.

The world around her had been clear just a few moments before, but now it was blurring. The huge cauldron had something simmering in it. A sharp ray of light hit her eyes just when she was going to touch the huge pot…

And she let out a blood-curdling yell!

“Stupid woman! What have you done now?” yelled the supervisor. “We have been looking for you the whole day and you have the nerve to hide around the place. Who will answer the doctors ha? I will have you locked up! Yes, that would be the right thing to do!”

Tears kept falling as she tried to nurse her hand. life in a mental hospital sucked out the imagination in you. 
37 comments

Popular posts from this blog

A book review – Whispering Paths

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, …

What you get when you get a Dog...

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.

From A Dream

(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-shells Coarse sand clung onto him, he watched her Afar; sitting motionless on a wind-beaten rock As if waiting for knell
'Wosh-wosh' screamed the waves Gloriously furious, crashing on the moss-covered dock They came high, they came low Yet slow, the sea so magnificent they seemed insignificant He watched her, sitting motionless As if waiting for knell
Ominous clouds o'er head played hide-n-seek with the moon threatening to steal light till noon He 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



(This is from a dream I had recently)