Skip to main content

Balloons

I stood there like any
other day. At the school
gates, peering through.
School was over for now.

Children, many of them
rushing out to the gates,
waiting to hear
the faint bells of the
balloon man.

With whistles, balloons,
Ribbons and hats, he
Came there everyday.
Little feet jumping up
trying hard to reach
up to grab themselves
each a balloon.

Little boys like whistles
Little girls like balloons
And ribbons. She had
wanted them too.Any-
one would do.

She never came out of
The school gates today.
She would never.I
bought a red one.
A little red balloon.

I let it go, up-up
And away.
I want her to have it
up there.
Labels:

Comments

  1. jail diet13 July 2007 at 21:25

    "I want her to have it up there!"

    Heart is falling out of chest...this line is so beautiful. I think I'd choose a red balloon, too!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Lynnski14 July 2007 at 03:46

    very very sweet!!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. DreamCatcher15 July 2007 at 16:59

    such innocent prayer..:)so lovely

    ReplyDelete
  4. Ceruleus16 July 2007 at 11:28

    Promising write!

    ReplyDelete
  5. julia16 July 2007 at 21:44

    "I stood there like any
    other day."
    I like how the opening gives a sense of foreboding. And then:
    "She had
    wanted them too.Any-
    one would do.
    She never came out of
    The school gates today"
    Very dramatic. This is like a short film, very powerful visuals, and I can hear the children and the whistles.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Dream Catcher17 July 2007 at 14:50

    u cried reading hindi one!!! OMG

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

GO ahead, say it out loud!

Popular posts from this blog

#Sorry not sorry

I feel sorry for ‘Sorry’ – such an abused term. When you come to think of it, it is just a word, right? It holds significance in some instance and at times, it is a mere excuse. But we humans absolutely love it as an excuse, don’t we? I use this term a lot; I mean a lot! I think of myself as a kind being, and hence, if I happen to push or ignore (deliberate), I say ‘sorry’. I say sorry for things that may not need a ‘sorry’. I say ‘sorry’ to people I am not really feeling sorry for (don’t read this the wrong way). In short, I say ‘sorry’ a lot like I have already admitted. It is my ticket to moving on, a ticket to redeem myself for mistakes and sometimes, tinged with slight sadness (maybe).


But is ‘Sorry’ the right word? Mean, is it even appropriate? Like they say, first you commit the murder and then say sorry. What is the point of it? I would say nothing. Sorry – the term originated from the West Germanic term Sore that evolved to Sarig, meaning pained or distressed. It is also known…
Post a Comment
Read more

Celebrating Navratri? Stop now as we have no right to worship the female form...

Today my mom asked me to go get fall bidding done for her new saree. Navratri has begun and Durga Pujo is just around the corner. This year we are planning to go Pandal hopping on a Saptami instead of an Ashtami or Navmi to avoid the jams and the crowds. I will wear a saree too and my Punjabi husband will tag along for the delicious food.
In a multicultural household like mine, most festivals are a big deal, especially Navratri and Durga Pujo. But in the hullabaloo of festivities, we don’t stop to think of its essence – why do we celebrate Durga Pujo or Navratri at all. To celebrate Ma Shakti – a prompt answer from my mother. Navratri is a celebration of the nine stages of womanhood – a tribute to the power of the female.But to us commoners, it is a festival of dancing to the tunes of Garba or dandiya or Bollywood music. It is our turn to wear our best clothes, head out in the night, meet family and be merry. And once, this is over, the female form goes back to being what they always a…
1 comment
Read more

I Wonder What Ants do on Rainy Days…

Source: Google Images
On days when the sun has abandoned us, hiding behind the grey, moody clouds. Do they sit inside their hills and wonder out loud? Do they stare outside at the rain, measuring the raindrops, letting thoughts splotch all over? Does the earthy petrichor take them down the memory lane? Or are they content with what nature has to offer? It is a part of their lives, isn’t it? They dredge up foods daily, diligently build their hills, even if it is to serve their queen, only to enjoy it on days like this, no? Maybe they do take stock of things, of their bearings. They ought to sleep it off, take a day to rest or do they lament on the lost time?
Unlike me.
When I gaze out, a gazillion thoughts fly by; some worthy of the pen, some so disturbing that I often question my sanity. I like the grey skies though. They seem like textured canvases waiting for me to scribble something. The lazy raindrops wetting the streets below and casting a temporary stain on window ledges bring a…
Post a Comment
Read more