Flash Fiction

Decision – Already Taken!

Flash Fiction

It snowed last night, cloudy white joy now sits hugging Joana’s village. She has seen it through the glass window. Decision – to step-out later!

Huh, huh, huh! “Butter tea, you want some, granny, so-o-o-cold, tell granny, butter-tea-you-want-some?”

Half-turn, a twist, a glimpse, a yawn, a nod, tttttap-dance-walking towards the kitchen. Joana hugs the kitchen and smiles, red cheeks like the monkeys.

Outside, Punnu and Zeenz, the two llamas, leave without registering a rhyme or reason, tttttap-dancing on the snow, in joy, in ignorance, going left to the right, to the gate, towards the green.

There, before sipping butter-tea, granny declares it is cold, but not as cold as it was then when she had stepped-out in her youth to give little ones in the barn a check, a hi, a pat, a slap, a rebuke, a hug and lots of love, for they are family – she cries and sips the butter-tea and continues to tell the stories of her youth. Go now, girlie! Move-o-move!

Joana side-stretches to pick the muffin and relishes it as granny peeks outside the window. It is snowing, she asks. Joana shakes her head, mouth full of muffin and sips the butter-tea.

Granny chews a sentence and plays with the tiny spoon and her cup.

Intuition, sixth-sense, hen-pecking – granny startles herself – cries, go check on Zeenz and Punnu, girlie go now, move-o-move! You!

Keeping the empty warm cup aside, Joana front stretches to get up and then back stretches and takes a pause, becomes a statue, sleepy sleep tickles her.

Kkkrrr!! Wooden door flung opens, Joana is thrown out, granny hen-pecks the furniture, it cries, kkkkrrrrr!!

Huh! Huh! Joana freeze-walks to meet her woolly family – the sheep, the two rabbits, the two llamas.

Now there, clap-clap-clap! Think sunny rays, it is still day. Decision – to rush back inside and sleep! Oh yeah!

Oh no-aaah! Punnu and Zeenz are gone!

Before granny could know, could strike, could shout and strike, could curse and strike and punch the air, and blame the lords, ladies and measuring scales, for she is poor with numbers, Joana runs to look for, catch hold of, bring back the two llamas.

Decision – already taken!

**Punnu and Zeenz back at home, on a sunny day!**
[Image by Joanna Jankowski from Pixabay]

We lived, then, in our days, we lived! We didn’t talk-talkie-talk about living!
– Granny

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The Rise

Posted on November 10, 2024 by Jagriti Rumi Colours Dance Dawn Dusk Flash Fiction Horizon Joy Melody Oneness Rise Thought-free

Flash Fiction

Dawn.

Black sky begins to break, fading into a soft white bluishness. All is still, witnessing in each other the daybreak. A gushing of joy silently takes over.

Fresh piercing air, like a giant wave, bathes us in one go. It is everywhere, not word-heavy, yet firmly present. Those who matches its ferocious calmness and coolness, live a long life.

Then a bold crimson red is poured at the rim horizon, complementing the darkness before devouring it fully as the red yawns and stretches into golden orange, sprinkling, spreading throughout, directionless, embracing every nook and cranny warmly.

The dusk sings and sleeps, the dawn rises and sings. And the birds and rivers sing along.

It may appear like an orderly routine, but it is truly a disorderly dance of colours, a splash of melody, fresh and wet, a sweet yet melancholic search at first, but actually a thought-free light oneness.

It is the break of dawn, it is the rise.

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An Old Tune

Posted on May 7, 2023 by Jagriti Rumi Flash Fiction Folktales Khejri Tree Life Magic Old Tune Roots Story The Tree Of Life Traveller

Flash Fiction

Jhui-Mui [Source – Pixabay]
The Khejri Tree [Source – Wikimedia Commons]
The happy branch. [Source – Wikimedia Commons]
The state tree of Rajasthan. [Source – JaipurThruMyLens Blog]

Nibbling the leaves and thorns, reaching for its yellow flowers, suddenly, Jhui-Mui the little goat made a novel request to the Khejri tree, “please tell me a story.”

Jhui-Mui’s mum and other goats chuckled a bit, then continued surfing the shrubs spread around the Khejri tree for shade, water and love.

The tree which gave, for centuries, both food and medicine to all, with its ground bark to make a flour during the very many parched famine days, and its deep-deep roots that held the soil and directed the researchers to the cool water table, the desert’s old friend, Khejri, knew a pocketful of folktales too.

The Khejri tree told Jhui-Mui the little goat about a four-hundred-year-old tree, one who belongs to its own family, but lives in a far-off desert, alone on a barren hill, with roots fifty meters deep and long groovy, harmonious branches that welcomes every traveller and every story.

“What is its name?”, asked the beady eyed, happy Jhui-Mui. “The Tree of Life”, replied the Khejri tree and hummed an old tune that filled the arid air with cool magic.

No one spoke, everyone listened then.

*The* *Tree of Life* (*Shajarat-al-Hayat*), humming an old tune, in Bahrain.
**[Source – Wikimedia Commons]**

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“Smile”, says the Girl and Laughs

Posted on February 21, 2021 by Jagriti Rumi Camera Edge Of The Cliff Flash Fiction Funky Humming Mountains Mr. Tambourine Man by Bob Dylan Picturesque Smile

Flash Fiction

**The grand mountains and the evening sky = peace.**
**Image by enriquelopezgarre from Pixabay**.

What a wonderful, serene scene this is… I love mountains.

[Dev breathes in the cool air, then walks ahead and clicks pictures using his new camera; the funky-funny-machine-like clicking repeated sound is in sharp contrast to the peaceful silence present.]

Hmm… Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me/ I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to/ Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me/ In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come following you…

[Dev walks ahead; his rough shoes making imprints on the kind earth; he continues humming and the wind plays the tune; he then stops and clicks another photograph.]

Who’s that? Does not look like a tourist… she is… why is she standing… on the edge of the cliff?

“Excuse me, you are standing on the edge… the cliff is quite steep… just, just be careful.”

[The girl does not pay much attention to him; she is looking at the grand mountains and the evening sky.]

What is with this girl… she is clearly… oh!

[Dev suddenly starts running; camera in one hand, he rushes, gazing like an eagle at the girl.]

“Hey! Wait! What… what are you doing?”

“Calm down, it is alright”, said the girl curtly.

[Dev halts; panting he takes a step forward and then looks up in the sky; he then presses his forehead with two fingers and sets his hairstyle before looking at the girl again.]

“I thought… I… I thought you are about to jump… sorry!”

[The girl smiles and goes back to looking at the picturesque scene. Dev feeling embarrassed hits his head gently and starts walking away.]

“Will you click a photograph for me? Such a peaceful place this is”, said the girl mesmerised by the view.

“Oh, yeah, sure”, said Dev.

Should I take her photograph or just the mountains…? Oh, she is looking at me and smiling, definitely posing for the camera.

“One moment, please”, said Dev.

[He changes the settings on his Canon DSLR and then gets ready to click the photo.]

Hmm… she is beautiful…

[As Dev sets the frame with the girl to the left side and the mountains in the centre, the girl takes a step backwards and jumps. The camera slips from Dev’s hand and he rushes towards the edge.]

Oh, no, oh, no!

[Dev gulps dry air and peeks down the cliff, he cannot see her anywhere. His heart beats madly and his head starts to spin.]

What just… she, she… jumped!

**Where do you go my lovely where do you go I wanna know my lovely I wanna know…** **[Source – Pixabay]**

[Dev again looks down, a gush of wind hits him, this time it is playing another melody. Dev fails to recognise this tune. Dev steps back from the edge of the cliff, takes out his cell phone and turns; he dials the emergency helpline number and looks up. The girl is standing with his camera in her hands.]

“Smile”, says the girl.

[Dev blackouts. The girl laughs.]

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Intervals

Posted on April 21, 2018 by Jagriti Rumi Cool Sand Flash Fiction Intervals Moon Ocean Sky Waves

Flash Fiction

**Moony music in the air!**
[Source – Pixabay]

The beach was audible to her in intervals. She walked bare feet on the sand and still didn’t smile. Rhea had muffled thoughts, a cluster of it, covering her face. And that is why she couldn’t see the beautiful, starry canvas right above her. The sky didn’t twinkle, the waves didn’t play music for her. Like a ghost, locked in some tragic seconds, she moved slowly, that pale thing or maybe the world moved around her, and she stood still.

But the beach was audible to her in intervals. And she unconsciously moved towards the ocean. The interval ended, but it was too late for her to be locked back again… a wave rushed towards and caught her. Rhea took a deep breath and looked down, her feet were wet, the waves danced forward and backward. She smiled before she could stop herself.

Rhea could now hear the gushing ocean, see the sparkling stars, feel the cool wind and the cool sand. She started walking, this time not shying from the waves. She sauntered along the shore, opening her arms and welcoming the wind, the waves and the night sky… the interval overpowered unbeknownst to her.

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Me-The-Kind

Posted on October 24, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Attention Bargain Dream Flash Fiction Generosity Kind Mind Reason Ritual Running Time Stone Steps Thoughts

Flash Fiction

**Going up, coming down, the stone steps remain the same.**
[Source – Pixabay]

Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.
Simone Weil

Stone steps lead up to a place I am yet to see. Dealing with the quietness interrupted intermittently by sweet songs of the birds, I continue ahead. My mind usher some unwanted thoughts and force me to dwell on and on and on, until I refuse, pause and take a deep breath. Don’t inquire for I don’t know why I am smiling, but I am and it has opened the collection of happy memories. Beaming face feels like being in an ocean of flowers. I start knitting happy thoughts with the golden thread of dreams and everything seems possible, the world is mine. A castle is constructed, my reign flourishes in seconds and in seconds I see my downfall. When I gather the broken pieces and stand up, I see the stone steps staring at me. No dialogues are exchanged, and I continue ahead.

I wake up, and then I don’t think much of this dream. I am already late to rush into my monotonous routine. The running time never bargains while I always find a reason to… though haven’t cracked a deal even once.

The whole day I critique myself, like a ritual, except when the dream hushes me-the-perfect and me-the-kind takes over.

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Ellinikí Glóssa

Posted on September 2, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Dreamy Ellinikí Glóssa Flash Fiction Greek Language Message Paper Secret Sunflower Time

Flash Fiction

**Cherubic bookmark.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

A crumpled piece of paper, resting in an old library book, smoothened by time.

Intrigued by it, Bakul quickly rushed to a corner. She read the words loud and clear ‘Ellinikí Glóssa’.

Unsure of what it means, she fabricated a story– it is a secret message meant for someone. Yes! Beaming like a sunflower beams on seeing the sun, Bakul crossed the corridor, then the stairs. Students saw her and thought, ‘ye to gayi firse’ (she has lost it again).

Bakul looked at you, yes you, the reader and said with dreamy eyes and a wide smile – “Let us find out what the secret message is.“

A turn and Bakul bumped into her teacher.

“Sorry Sir”, “Bakul! Be careful girl! And what’s in your hand, what are you up to this time?”, “Sir, Rekha Ma’am is looking for you”, “Quiet Bakul, show me… eh… Ellinikí Glóssa… so now you’re interested in Greek language, hm?”, “Sirrrrr… this is in Greek?”, “Don’t waste your time and submit your assignment by Monday, okay?”

Bakul nodded. Sir turned to leave, then stopped, “Where did you say Rekha Ma’am is… in the staff room?” “Hee-hee-hee”, “Bakul, wait, you silly girl!”

Alone in the corridor, she looked again at you, yes you, the reader (don’t you remember?) and said with starry and mischievous eyes– “Am I interested in Greek Language?” She then winked at you.

Well, she must have found out the answer to this question by now. What do you think?

Anyway, peace out!

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Unforgettably Yours

Posted on May 19, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Everything Flash Fiction Forget Not Happily Journey Life Mistake Nothing Remember Smile Stories Unforgettably Yours Worshipped Time

Flash Fiction

I dare you to forget not. Forget what not? Try to remember… remember that day when…

… for the first time you crawled… you struggled to walk… you hopped all along… you won a race… you tap danced with grace… you came in style… you left wearing a smile… you befriended the walking stick… you crawled for the second time…

… for the first time you were loved… you were pampered… you were jealous… you were told to share… you were lonely… you made a friend… you believed in dreams… you knew true joy… you hurt yourself… you stood up… you worshipped time… you quietly realised… you happily understood… you loved them back…

… for the first time you felt you knew absolutely nothing… you followed their path… you managed to survive… you built a new track… you knew right is right and wrong, wrong… you travelled in time… you accepted the change… you thoroughly read writings in brief… you said of course… you said not at all… you repented and laughed at the mistake… you cheered your take… you declared that you still knew absolutely nothing…

Everything is forgotten on the way, but the journey goes on… the journey that is unforgettably yours.

**“Don’t forget now, alright? Go, leave, carry on!”**
**[Image by Lin Tong from Pixabay]**

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Thoughts Versus Giggles

Posted on August 31, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Beautiful Dreams Eyes Flash Fiction Hopes Life Pink Umbrella Radiant Smiles Rain Road Thoughts Versus Giggles

Flash Fiction

**Giggling, a shade of pink.**
[Source – Pixabay]

Samira was walking briskly. Her thoughts followed her where ever she went, in shade and dust, amongst the crowd and throughout the dim alley with matted hoardings. Life in its minute detail, including the folded chit in a jeans pocket, spoke to Samira. Thoughts dappled with plaintive acceptances and mellowed retraces were highlighted.

Everything was perfectly normal when Samira turned in slow motion, her hair flying dramatically, her eyes looking for… Alas! There was nothing filmy to see, except something comic – pigeon droppings dropped on a man’s head. Samira grimaced as if she knew the pigeon or the man.

It started to drizzle. Samira smiled, almost chuckled, why, because she had an umbrella. And then came the moment – heavy, pouring rain made the pedestrians hide in shops, except a bunch of few who had an umbrella. Samira shined with a beautiful pink umbrella.

La la la laa laa, la-la la la laaaa! She was reminded of the grand music score from Chariots of fire.

But all this for a few minutes and she was back in shade and dust, amongst the crowd and on the rough road. She looked at the people around her and wondered about their life, sufferings, dreams and hopes. Gosh! In a puddle, Samira saw her gloomy face and noticed her laces. Now, just like the others, she looked for a corner and sat to tie her laces.

Umbrella on a side, down on her knees, Samira got drenched as a rusty, rickety roof pipe broke brazenly. Pedestrians saw it, ignored it and then saw it again. Sheepishly Samira got up, then acted brave till the road curved to the left. “It is over”, she said.

Samira walked, deep in conversation with herself when a little girl, a beggar, came running towards her and started to walk with her. She thought, now she will ask for some money, now she will beg, now. But the beggar smiled and said, “I just want to go till there”. Samira nodded and looked at her pink umbrella happily. The beggar giggled as her little brother joined them. Samira looked at both of them and saw the two most radiant smiles she had ever seen.

Gladly she walked with them, not thinking anything, quietly and happily. Giggles overpowered her thoughts.

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Stopping to get a Rhythm Check

Posted on January 5, 2016 by Jagriti Rumi Dancing Flash Fiction Life Memory Mind Pond Rhythm Check Rose Stopping The Wheel Turned

Flash Fiction

Just then, when the wheel turned, the rose fell on the grass and I fell along, the music within me found a new rhythm. I quietly listened to it, resisting the magic at first as I was hurt, but then tears always dry in the end. I got up and walked in suspense, unknown to me before. Bathed in the new rhythm, I paced up and ahead. Trying to catch the music in the air, I ran and reached near a green pond. I had a smile on my face by then. Curious! I tried to fathom the quietness that permeated the air. With a queer yet happy faith in things around me, I started to dance, round the pond… hmm… laa-la-laa-laa. The pond somewhere was hiding a piano, the branches a violin and the beetles, drums. It started to drizzle and I stopped dancing. Sitting by the side of the pond, cross legged, playing with a twig unconsciously, my mind went silent or maybe it was thinking something of its own.

She met the swans!
Don’t remember if I did too.
[Source – Pixabay]

Like it happens in life, the image and the music fades away, leaving a consolation named ‘it is just the past’. But luckily, I still relish that experience sometimes. Let the memory play tricks I say. What fades within, stays within forever and often takes you beyond… that’s enough, isn’t it? If you happen to turn the wheel and fall on the ground along with a rose, you’ll know that it is.

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