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Evanescence

Flash Fiction

**The fragrant memory!**
[Source – Pixabay]

Just like the fading fog, that fragrant memory faded away.

Summer holidays and not so hot day, lying under the tree I peeped endlessly to see the sky. There were no clouds but now and then few birds crossed my vision. As the sun made me close my eyes, I tried to concentrate on the green leaves of the tree but instead I fell asleep. I dreamt happy and bizarre dreams, Alice like dreams. My dreams were colourful, the child’s world.

Just like the fading fog, that fragrant memory faded away.

Sitting on the study table and with the dull words stubbornly standing in front of me, my mind’s eye tricked each word and I soon reached the future. My future was always perfect – my clothes, my career, my life – everything just smooth and beautiful; boundless time to have fun with friends, family and a special someone. But when my mind’s eye met the alarm clock on the table, I quickly re-entered the tedious world of the textbooks, giving in and apologising, only to trick this world once again.

Just like the fading fog, that fragrant memory faded away.

It is raining and I am standing near the window, watching droplets join each other and run away. My mind is full of umpteenth things but I am lost, lost as I look at someone walking with an umbrella, fighting the rain and the mud on the road and I think about this unknown person. Though the unknown person has left but the thought remains. I take a sigh and decide to get back to work but I keep standing there.

Just like the fading fog, that fragrant memory faded away.

Living far away from my loved ones, I feel empty. Before tears fall, my mother calls and I say hello with a smile.

A funny incident that happened in college and how it became the topic of every discussion in my friend circle makes my eyes wide and I joyfully jump back in time.

Also, when I think about the moment when I said ‘Ciao’ to others and their comments and walked on my path, doodling something on the notebook and then closing it feeling my ears getting hot. At this moment someone definitely calls, someone definitely comes and talks and talks and I forget. I simply forget! But it comes to me every time I am alone and every time I just move forward.

Just like the fading fog, that fragrant memory faded away.

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Shadow Told Me

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Fiction Happily Life Observation Shadow Suddenly

Fiction/Observation

**Shadow spotted a birdie.**
[Image by J Rumi]

Shadow doesn’t like to take bath at all, the wet hair confuses him, he licks himself but still remains wet. This is what Shadow told me.

Once Shadow was happily sitting in the veranda then suddenly he saw something in the garden… and then, Shadow ran towards it. But before he could see it properly, it flew away. Shadow’s Mamma told him that it is called a birdie and that they can fly. Shadow now notices the birds all the time, they fly in the blue sky and vanish, sometimes they sit on trees and sing. Some sing sweetly and some talk ceaselessly. Shadow likes them; this is what he told me.

**Lalaa-la-laaa, sings Shadow.**
[Image by J Rumi]

Two words that Shadow used – ‘happily’ and ‘suddenly’ – somehow looked magnificently beautiful to me.

Whenever he talks to me, he uses these two words a lot –happily and suddenly. He is happy to get a yummy lunch and then suddenly he jumps from one place to another and again becomes happy. This superb cycle of being happy and then having a sudden emotional change and then in the end being happy again…wow! Amazing life!

When there is a sudden change, one can feel anything like anger, hunger, excitement, retirement, sleepy, weepy, and more; the best part is you will be happy again. This is the kind of life Shadow lives, he doesn’t know it, he doesn’t need to know because he is simply living it. Shadow is happy at the end of the day!

**“I too am flying… wait birdie…”**
[Image by J Rumi]

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Dusk

Posted on March 16, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Dance Dusk Golden Colour Golden Light Hum Melody Poem Silent

Poem

**A silent melody!**
**[Source – Wikipedia]**

Can it be that I reach there

Where the golden light changes into golden colour

And bold red and deep orange strokes

All over the night full of violet stars

Hum together a silent melody…

Where I breathe cool wet air

And dance dance dance…

Then I dip my hand in the sky

And a pink sparkle snake

Shines and merges with the violet stars…

Where it is quietly blue and silver,

Where the golden light changes into golden colour

Can it be that I reach there?

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Quoting Satyajit Ray

Posted on March 2, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Satyajit Ray Stereoscope Tagore

‘In those days, the only laxative we had was castor oil, which made me want to throw up. There was nothing but quinine pills for the treatment of malaria. As a child, I could not swallow pills whole. Once, before a visit to Dhaka, I was obliged to chew some quinine pills. Even after all these years, I can feel its horrible bitter taste lingering in my mouth. The arrival of capsules in our lives has made us forget how awful the taste of medicines can be.’

Awful medicines have made us dependent on them, weakening our inner strength and making us dull. We choose this and that medicine instead of trying to improve our unhealthy routine. Look at the table beside your bed, the refrigerator and the cupboard and think about it.

‘There was something else to help me pass the time. It was an amazing contraption called a stereoscope. Many families possessed one in those days but now this Victorian invention cannot be seen anywhere.’

The stereoscope looks amazing.

‘My mother and I had gone to attend Poush Mela, a festival held annually in Shantiniketan every December. I had bought a new autograph book, with a view to having its first page signed by Tagore. I went to Uttarayan one morning. Tagore took my autograph book, but said, ‘Leave it with me. You can collect it tomorrow.

We returned the next day. He was sitting at his desk, which was piled high with letters, various pieces of paper, books and notebooks. He began looking for my little purple autograph book as soon as he saw me. It took him nearly three minutes to find it. Then he handed it to me, looked at my mother and said, ‘He will understand the meaning of these words only when he’s older.’ What he had written was a short poem, which is known to most people today:

It took me many days, it took me many miles;

I spent a great fortune, I travelled far and wide,

To look at all the mountains,

And all the oceans, too.

Yet, I did not see, two steps away from home,

Lying on a single stalk of rice:

A single drop of dew.’

(Excerpts from Satyajit Ray, Childhood Days – A Memoir)

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Are You Going To Scarborough Fair?

Posted on February 14, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Cosmos Earth Humming Music Ribbon Scarborough Fair Smiling Brightly Sweetness Walking

Observation

**Vincent Van Gogh, *Field with Poppies*, 1889**
**On the way to Scarborough Fair…**
[Source – Wikipedia]

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

The melody flows like a stream of water breaking the dryness of the earth, silently and smoothly.

Suddenly you are in a colourful and sweet world. And you listen for the first time to the rhythmic world and you realise that life is not heavy but it is light as a feather. The feather dances.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

By now you are humming and hoeing and weeding. This is what you want to do in life, with lots of time to sit under a tree, half sleepy, looking at the clouds you smile.

This is what you wish for, once you reach the Scarborough Fair.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

**Vincent Van Gogh, *Poppies and Butterflies*, 1889**
**At the Scarborough Fair!**
[Source – Wikipedia]

And now you paint… after seeing so many colours you begin playing. Red hands, orange hands, yellow hands, green hands, blue hands, indigo hands, violet hands – you have given birth to a rainbow.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Remembering that good old vision of the future and a memory of the past, all you actually need is a smile in the present.

While walking I realised that the Earth is walking and so is the cosmos, this jamming made me happy. The sweetness and the warmth and the lightness of this real and tangible feeling took me to the Scarborough Fair.

All I can say now is that I am swaying with the wind and smiling brightly. There is a ribbon, long and beautiful and silky, it is also swaying with the wind and smiling brightly.

You’ll find it too when you go to the Scarborough Fair.

**Vincent Van Gogh, Poppy Field 1890**
**Swaying at the Scarborough Fair along with the poppies.**
[Source – Wikipedia]

Listen to the blissful track – Scarborough Fair by Simon & Garfunkel – that inspired the blogger to write this post.

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Sky Blue Sky

Posted on February 2, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Blue spirit Love Painter Poem Promises Sky blue sky Time

Sky blue sky

Asks me why

There is no time

To live the time

Which is mine?

Sky blue sky

Tells me why

Smiles are better,

Far more better

Than promises on a letter

Sky blue sky

Shows me why

The painter paints

Alive, very happy and

In love, he paints

Sky blue sky

Knows why

Two eyes

Look at the sky-

To take the blue spirit inside.

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ME

Posted on January 31, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Flash Fiction Ha Ha Ha Ha Me Stories Storyteller Writing

Flash Fiction

Me: Should I kill Vikram or not?

Me: Of course you should, how many times will you think about it?

Or…maybe you should reveal the truth to Neena first.

Me: But if Neena knows the truth then things will not be the same…what if she calls Vikram?

Me: She is not talking to Vikram, she is not ready to hear a word about him, then why will she call him?

Me: But what if she calls just to shout at him?

Me: First, she will not call him and even if she does, no one will receive the phone because by then you would have killed Vikram, she’ll get more furious and that will be good for us.

Me: Yeah! Right! But then….

Me: But what? Don’t think so much…just go ahead with this plan and we’ll see how things will turn out.

Me: Because Vikram and Neena are not talking and they are lovers and I’ll kill Vikram…doesn’t it sound obvious.

Me: Then kill Neena…or both of them…it is so irritating…it has been like hours and you haven’t written a word on the paper…you are just thinking…bugger off!

Me: Hah! You can’t talk to me like this.

Me: Shut up! I can!

Me: Don’t be so grumpy? You know what, Vikram and Neena are lovers they should not be separated but I think Sanjay….

Me: Great…change it…from thriller in the beginning to a love story in the middle and total nonsense by the end.

Me: What!! Oh! Please! (Stretches back on the chair and sees something on the wooden ceiling) Hey! I have wondered so many times about this shape on the ceiling…you know it looks like a bird…I mean the shape is like that of a bird…like a woodpecker in fact…it so fascinating…I mean why is it here…I wonder if a family of woodpecker lived on this tree which was cut down and…hey I can write something about it…I mean it will be something different and I’ll start right from the shape in the ceiling…there will be a touch of the metaphysical in my story and….

Me: Oh really? But do you know how you’ll end it? Let me tell you…It will end with you taking a nap and later losing all your interest in the metaphysical or the bird or the thriller.

Me: Hah! But you are right here…I will take a power nap…come on…my creative mind needs a break…it deserves some rest. Ha ha ha ha!

Me: Deserves to be tested. Ha ha ha ha!

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The Green Grassland

Posted on January 22, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Freely Green Grassland Prairie Stories Sunshine Trance

Diary Entry

**The joyous grassland.**
[Source – Pixabay]

The green grassland is calling me to come and run freely. As soon as I keep my feet on the green grassland, it says I’ll be liberated. And then I will also be able to fly.

I will run and I’ll not get tired and the surroundings will never change and nothing will end. The wind will be sweet and I’ll feel dizzy. Even if I fall, I’ll smile.

Then lying on the green grassland I’ll look at the sky, it will be blue in parts and green where the prairie will canopy me.

I’ll lie there and smile and feel warm and good and like the sunshine, I’ll shine. The green grassland says so.

Also, read what did the Green Lake said to Meredith here.

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In Delight

Posted on January 15, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Black Clouds Blue Ocean Free Life Green Leaf In Delight Pour My Message Symphony

Poem

The green leaf

On the blue ocean

Under the black clouds

Said to the storm

I lived a free life

And now I am about to die

Come and take me to the sky

So that on the way I meet the birds

Then I’ll shout goodbye

Yes! Do pour my message

Drop by drop and let the Earth be deep brown

Let the trees know it and let the young leaves feel it

Swirling and singing I’ll take your leave

Symphony in me and I am just a leaf

A green leaf

On the blue ocean

Under the black clouds

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Creepers Meet the Trees

Posted on January 1, 2014 by Jagriti Rumi Believe Clouds Colours Creepers Forest Life Meet Reverberation Spiritual Stories Sun Rays Trees Velvety Green Waves

I believe in the waves. Everything in the universe is in the form of waves. The connection never breaks. Reverberation happens. Do you also feel it? It is amazing, but most of the times beyond our understanding, often leaving us frustrated.

Like when something is in front of us, we know that it is but we can’t find it.

I saw something that caught my attention, I saw some creepers climbing high and meeting the trees’ branches. The light green coloured creepers united with the brown coloured branches and the contrast between these colours and the dark green coloured tree-leaves looked so perfect, as if the scene was painted.

I don’t know if the union was meant to be or not. It was just wonderful, the creepers slowly crept on to the big trees; first the trunk and then the branches and then making a green velvety blanket with the leaves, like a slow wave.

**Capturing sunshine.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

The clouds move beautifully you know. They dance. They don’t stay at one place. We should also learn it. I mean we should keep in mind the fact that nothing is permanent, everything shifts from being to non-being. The clouds allow the sun rays to pass through it, only sometimes the sun rays decide to stay back and be with the clouds. The clouds change in colour when they are about to rain.

What a grand way to leave, to change into droplets and become a seed and come alive and then to meet the sun rays once again.

When a dancer performs and a singer sings and a musician plays and a painter paints and an architect builds, and a scientist thinks and a mother smiles – it is in a wave form. Like the velvety green wave we see in the forest, when the creepers meet the trees.

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