Life

Crane on Turtle Candlestick Holder

Flash Fiction

“We are old friends.”
“Hai-hai!”
**[Japanese vintage candlestick; source – ebay]**

Our blacksmith picked up the mould and studied it. His expressions were not discernible, but the sweat on his forehead highlighted his precision as he poured the molten metal into the mould.

Whilst he worked, many frames, metal shapes – some contorted, some flamboyant – stared at him, acknowledging and appreciating in utter silence.

Our blacksmith, on his way back home, saw a little kid who was standing against a wall along with his friend, wasting time, living.

That little kid whispered something to his friend and they both started following our blacksmith, copying his gait.

A silly game, a random thought, a reason to smile.

Dear reader what does time say?

Time says it is next day.

Every frame, every metal shape was eagerly waiting for our blacksmith. Roller shutter made its habitual noise and our blacksmith entered his workshop, and along with him came his two buddies, those two kids we saw earlier.

Quickly they went and stood next to his grand table, jumping with excitement.

Our blacksmith finally showed them what was now ready in the mould – it was a crane on turtle candlestick holder.

The two kids laughed and so did our blacksmith. He said the crane and the turtle were friends and the kids inquired if he had seen something like that in real.

Our blacksmith nodded and said that when he was their age he went with his father to a lake side and saw a crane standing on a turtle’s back.

Childhood memories capture time that never fades.

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The Journey

Posted on October 7, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Auroville Bicycles Clouds Colours Dreams Earth Fire Hourglass Music Sky The Journey Water Wind

A Poet’s Travelogue

Amongst the clouds… yes, this is how the journey began. Mushy clouds, mushy dreamy clouds all around her. Whether she walked or the white dreams floated around her isn’t something the music ever revealed.

The music was busy playing and she was busy colouring. The sky and earth colours participated and turned rich.

Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, someone took a flight, landed, took a cab, halted for a coffee break, laughed with her friend and continued the road trip.

Warm waves of velvety starry blanket covered the existence and hushed those who listened to the happy silence. She stayed awake for a while just to witness it all. A simple melodious note filled her ears and she swam to sleep.

That someone talked to her friend, they ate pastries and called it a day. That someone, with ‘oh’ look, got up to brush her teeth and then went to bed. Phew!

She opened her eyes, awakened the self and stepped out to see the end of a long search. Birds and buds, earth’s aroma and touch, giant trees’ humble smiles, the sun’s vocals and the wind’s compositions, other human beings, all dancing, and of course, the bicycles… everything she laid her eyes on glanced back at her, welcomed and sang to her.

In Auroville, in a blissful place. [Images by Jagriti Rumi]

Tring, tring… tring, tring, she replied to them. Crossed leg sitting inside an apple she relished it, sweet, sour, juicy and fresh. When she jumped outside, she gave the left-over bit to a dog. Questioning her about nothing, the dog finished the apple.

Tring, tring… she went ahead and met a mathematician’s spirit, who gave her the map that took her to the grand golden lotus with twelve petals. Its beauty struck her hard and she kept standing there for ages in admiration.

Primary and secondary colours, in circles, pyramids and cylindrical shapes all passed by her. She blinked and found herself inside the grand golden lotus.

**The grand golden lotus!**
**Matrimandir, Auroville. [Image by Peter Anta from Pixabay]**

Earth, Fire, Wind and Water were there, she saw it, just a glimpse, but they were there in absoluteness. She blinked and she was back outside. Oh! The joy!

She danced all her way, lal-lal-lal-laaa, rotated and laughed, climbed the musical rainbow and listened to what the colours were playing and then surprised herself with her quiet self, quiet but not low, because her eyes were beaming and her soul still dancing.

By the hourglass the journey continued for that someone and her friend, click-click-click, pictures taken, tring-tring-tring on the cycle path, resting, eating and laughing.

That someone’s friend like a darling blue bird sang and danced… unable to resist she also joined her friend. Together they collected memories and both filled their hourglass with it.

Smart! Now time reminds them of those memories all the time.

**Auroville… the journey, the destination. [Source – eco-villages.eu]**

O journey, when did you start and when will you end?

O journey, can I stop and meet my friend?

The beginning is hazy, but true and the end will be a new beginning for you.

Don’t stop if you want to meet your friend, for she is on a journey too.

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बहानेबाज़ / The Excuse

Posted on October 2, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Any Longer Hurry Keep Writing Maybe Poem The Excuse बहानेबाज़

कविता / Poem

**लिखे चलो लिखे चलो… Keep Writing…**
[Source – Pixabay]

ठहर कर कहने की जल्दी मे,
मुझे ज़रा देर हो गई।

बात याद भी रह गई,
और भूल भी गई।

दरअसल मामला सुलझ कर और भी पेचीदा हो गया है,
ख़ुद को जानने की पहल जो कर बैठी हूँ।

उस दिन जाने की जल्दी न मची होती तो,
सब जान ही गई थी, सब पहचान ही गई थी मैं।

अनगिनत अफ़सानो मे एक और अफसाना सही,
बस कलम ढूंढ लूँ, फिर और कोई बहाना नहीं।

Translation –

The Excuse

In a hurry to share it later on,

I delayed it further.

I still remember what it was.

And I also think I have forgotten it.

Indeed the matter has become very simple and thus, very complex,

Maybe because I have decided to know myself.

Only if I was not in a rush to leave,

I would have understood everything.

Amongst all the tales, one more tale will be added

If only I can find my pen, I won’t delay it any longer.

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A Grey Building

Posted on September 10, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi A Grey Building Says A Lot Black and White Colours Experiment Life Remember Sketch Window

Flash Fiction

**Grey!**
[Image by Anh Le from Pixabay]

In sickness I lay staring out from the window.

All I could see was a few small trees and one big grey building. Shades of black, patches of dirt… the peeled paint made it look more like a sketch of a building…

A sketch of an old building that has seen eras pass by.

An era that changes almost nothing, but still does. Change that life awaits. Life that holds colours. Colours combine to form black, if it’s light they combine to form white.

Remember the prism experiment? Black and white…and grey. Grey characters say a lot. A grey building says a lot.

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These Red, Blue Jeeps Are The Same Or Are They Not?

Posted on September 8, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Blue Jeep Circle Journey Life Own Voice Red Jeep Stories The Echoes Vistas

Absurd Prose

In **Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh, India.**
**Image by Aditya Thakur**

The Red Jeep said to the Blue Jeep that it was late. What is the point of hurrying if you don’t know where you are going, replied the Blue Jeep.

Sure the circle is round and the track is wide, beautiful vistas stretched within and beyond me, prints are taken, but the journey is not free.

What is the price you ask? It is different for everybody. Though ultimately all agree to pay, and thus the journey begins.

But someone must know where I have reached. This guy in blue safety helmet might reveal.

Hey! Hey! Hey-hey! The man replied not, real the man was not, it was all plastic, just an image. It bounced off voices and that was enough for many. Still is.

The Red Jeep asked the Blue Jeep that if it followed the echoes or not. What is the point of following an echo when you can’t hear your own voice, replied the Blue Jeep.

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Coffee and Cigarettes

Posted on September 4, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Cinema Coffee and Cigarettes Jim Jarmusch Life On Screen Real Short Note

Short Note

*Coffee and Cigarettes*, an anthology.
**[Source – JustWatch]**

On screen the reality is often dramatized, over emphasised, sometimes underplayed and made loudly fictitious… it is also murdered and often what we see is already dead. To be alive and stay real is not easy; on screen it is tougher. Yet we come across something true all the time.

Coffee and Cigarettes by Jim Jarmusch is one of such films that I find overwhelmingly true. So real and simple that it is difficult, like we all are. I am not talking about the technicalities or even about the film’s theme. I am just happy to feel whatever the film says…

For me it is true and abstract and nonsense and completely real. Just like life is.

P.S.- The blogger wrote this short note back in 2014 when she was studying in the film school.

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In Slo-mo Towards the Moon

Posted on September 3, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi A Tide Of Thoughts Beaming In Slo-mo Towards the Moon Mind Moon Moon Lovers Quietly Reality Simply Is Tricks

Poem

**A tide of thoughts.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

Walking towards the moon

In slo-mo and riding,

Hiding behind a tide of thoughts

In slo-mo, unaware, unconcerned

About the change that is happening

In slo-mo, now and always,

Carrying in bits the old me, turning

In slo-mo, hoping to see

Something better. Living the life

In slo-mo and looking into the future

Where things are picture-perfect, but moving

In slo-mo. Cracks in the present

For it isn’t that dear, until

In slo-mo I sit with patience and

Breathe, see, feel and realise

That everything is beautiful,

That our mind knows the tricks,

That reality simply is, just like the moon,

Towards which I am walking

In slo-mo, beaming quietly.

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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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