Storytelling

What To Do?

Literary Nonsense

The Busy Life (1953) by Jean Dubuffet
[Source – tate.org.uk]

The train of thought never stops, does it?

Standing on a vague platform, everything except me undergoes a peculiar kind of metamorphosis now and then. Bewildered, I stand in utter confusion, with a dazed expression and remain amusingly voiceless.

Waving madly for the train to halt or at least lazy down a bit, I am increasingly getting ascertained about the fact that either I am powerless or I am being considered as a crazy cheerleader.

Often, no, more than often, I have successfully boarded the train.

What happens then – settled quietly near the window, with a half-read great novel that I have tried to finish since one year, five months and two weeks, looking old and rich in my hands, I get lost in the dream world looking through the barred window; settled quietly near the window, with a notebook in front and a pen in my hand, I write down miraculous lines, tying down the strength to move the humanity and a saleable story together, staying humble myself throughout the reverie; settled quietly near the window, but loathing everyone around me and worshiping softly to reach my destination soon…

“My destination…” I say and I am kicked out of the train, back on that floating platform which dances every second on some idiotic tune and disturbs my balance.

I fall down, cry, raise questions, get answers, plan things and proudly compliment myself, with a touch of modesty of course.

And then what do I do? I go off to sleep. How much can the mind take? “So long, my friend”, says my mind and dozes off. Shut down! Power off!

Click!

Switch on and I am back on that platform. Trains have started passing me. I yawn, a full day of travelling to a gazillion places ahead.

Busy life, what to do?

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Papa and the Crimson Clouds

Posted on September 29, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi Flash Fiction Huge Tree Life's Agenda Mad Ascetic Papa and the Crimson Clouds Think Window

Flash Fiction

**The huge tree under a crimson sky.**
**Image – Pixabay.**

Papa said, ‘I am not a negative thinker’. I almost clapped in approval, but then I saw him drinking at 9:45 in the morning. I dared to speak and I did, reminding him of the 80% blockage in one of his arteries. Gulp! ‘No negative thinking’, he advised me.

His red eyes and newly ignited soul went into the garden to work. After a few hours, I checked the fresh hairstyle of the garden, it was almost bald. Papa said, ‘Plants should grow this way’.

Which way you must be thinking? Whichever way Papa wants to grow it, you fool. He replied so, I am just quoting it.

My sense of understanding is weak; I am the wrong person to walk left when the right is right.

I am also stupid if I don’t remind Papa, thrice, that he wanted to drink tea, which invariably loses all its piping hotness and turns dead cold by the time he returns from the garden.

Kindly ask everyone in the street not to stare at me. So what if I look like an outgrown, zigzag tree, my Papa will prune me.

I have the whole life’s agenda, second wise, installed in my brain. I am to wake up early every day and run to the office, work and be good in it and come back home to get recharged for the next day.

Every hour I am to be alert; I am allowed even to worry about security. I again dared and asked Papa, ‘Security from what?’ ‘That thing… that… something…’ he said.

I understood zilch about it. Patience please, I am a slow learner.

Every minute of the hour, I am to relish the complexities of the present. It is to be like the dogs, they are so cute and hold only one feeling at a moment – hunger, aggression, love or anxiety.

I reluctantly told Papa about my opinion. He laughed and then shooed me away like a dog is shooed away.

For your benefit, I am sharing that it is not a wise thing to do. Homo sapiens sapiens can do better. I have read so in a book. Of course, I didn’t say a word about it to Papa. Do you think I am stupid? Ha!

Every second of every minute, I am to remain lost in whatever shit crazy thing I am doing. This will result in an unhealthy body, but a good position and a reasonable flat after a few years travail.

I am a middle-class being, this means to me what nirvana means to that mad ascetic I once met.

Do you know what the ascetic told me? He asked me to sit under a huge tree, pointing in the jungle’s (point decimal of what is left) direction. That’s it!

What am I supposed to do there alone, I shouted behind him and he shouted back, ‘Think’.

Confused, I asked Papa about it one day – a day that showcased crimson clouds from the window. He didn’t say a word.

**Crimson clouds. Image** **– Pixabay.**

I looked at the crimson clouds once again. Then I stared at Papa. I didn’t know there were four clocks in his room, one on each wall, until that day. I was sweating when Papa suddenly opened his eyes and asked me to get some water for him. He coughed badly.

He is coughing badly right now. From that day the crimson clouds haven’t left the window. I mostly stay near Papa and only occasionally go to sit under that huge tree.

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No More Waiting For Godot

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi No More Waiting For Godot The Hindu

Estragon: People are bloody ignorant apes.

Vladimir: Pah!

Estragon: Charming spot. Inspiring prospects. Let’s go.

Vladimir: We can’t.

Estragon: Why not?

Vladimir: We are waiting for Godot.

Recently, I was reminded of Samuel Beckett’s classic play, “Waiting for Godot”. I was out for my evening walk and hadn’t yet plugged in to my smartphone, when I noticed Vladimir and Estragon standing next to a tree, lost in nothingness. I mean, I thought so.

The illusion broke as I reached near them and saw two boys busy with their smartphones. I almost broke into a fit of laughter but immediately got a lump in my throat. What if Vladimir and Estragon where present in these times and were waiting for Godot with a smartphone gleaming in their hands? What if Estragon instead of dealing with his boots was busy with checking his Facebook status? What if Vladimir shared his views about the story of the two thieves on his twitter page? And I don’t even want to mention a “what if” for Godot.

I don’t intend to hurt the Beckett fans, as I am one of them. But the image of those two boys standing next to each other silently, deeply involved in their smartphones, as if they were in a non-existent world, as if they were not together, as if there was “nothing to be done”, expect of course digging the smartphone, forced me to ponder.

Smartphones, considered to be the only tool/ instrument/ non-living thing in the history of mankind to have impacted our lives so strongly that we cannot function without it anymore, control our lives. Terms like smartphone gait, digital life, digital diet, etc., are quite common in the tech world. In fact in South Korea, one of the most digitally connected countries in the world, a new term – digital dementia – is being used to deal with the patients suffering from internet addiction and the over-use of smartphones.

Different researches and polls have proved that in countries like the US, the UK, China, India, South Africa, Indonesia and Brazil, one in every five people check their smartphones every ten minute. Maybe in not-so-far-future there will be billboards on the road sides, asking us if we are nomophobic – the fear of being out of mobile phone contact – and giving us suggestions to how to check and curb our addiction. What a joke! Who will read the billboards?

But of course, one can read such and many more suggestions/articles on their smartphones. The smartphone will, without any hesitation, reveal the information that over dose of its usage can lead to a slow or immediate death (car accidents etc.). After all, it’s not called a smart phone for no reason.

Weirdly, sometimes Gollum from The Lord of the Rings crosses my mind when I see people glued to their smartphones, as if speaking to it and saying – “Yes, wretched we are, says everyone, but you’ll not hurt us, will you my precious?”

I have not been using my smartphone for quite some time now, not because I have overcome the digital life’s addiction but simply because it broke. My life didn’t change drastically and I am still enjoying the smartphone free days. I guess it did change for others as I started getting complaints for not keeping in (24×7) touch from my friends and family members.

But this too passed quickly as they had no time to listen to my boring revelation. In fact, they avoid using their smartphones in front of me now, as free from this tech burden, I constantly blame them of being addicted to it, being a slave to it, of not paying attention, warning them about neck and eye sight problems, literally scolding them for being senseless to share silly Whatsapp jokes, etc.

If I tell my friends, while on a walk, that what a wonderful view it is, I am suddenly made to huddle together for a “group selfie” and before I can express displeasure in doing so, the photo is tagged, shared, liked and commented on. The next thing is that I get a call from another friend of mine saying, ‘Hey! You’re in the town? Let’s meet.”

When and why did the smartphones become of so much importance that we are having smartphone addiction problems? What is the need to be digitally active 24×7? What will we miss if we didn’t check our Facebook page/ Twitter page/ Instragram/ Gmail for (if it is allowed to say or even to imagine) a week? What is the rush? Why are there people in countries like South Africa and India who don’t get enough to eat, but proudly own two mobile handsets? What are the industrial lords planning to do?

Ignoring these lords for now, it will be better if we all start keeping a check on our digital life, our digital diet. Some tech health gurus suggest keeping Digital Fasts for a healthy and long digital life… It sounds stupid? Stupid it may be, but is not incorrect.

If you wake up with the smartphone ringing melodiously its alarm and you go off to sleep, after typing a good night message for the nth time on your Whatsapp, then it’ll be good to try, for just one day, leaving your phone behind and going outside to join Vladimir and Estragon, who probably are still waiting for Godot.

The article was first published in The Hindu.

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So Far

Posted on September 8, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi Alive Annihilated Certainty Childhood Memory Lightning So Far The Shapes Two Worlds Unite

Short Feature

I feel I am all alone in the two worlds.

Taking a step forward I see lightning as ‘the fast’ meets ‘the slow’. I am not injured; I can endure the lightning but not the confusion.

A beautiful path lights up as far as the mind can reach. Back and forth between a one-way; crashing becomes a certainty.

Quietly, I sit alive in the present.

I am understandably forgetful. Myriad revelations slip away like a childhood memory, leaving behind a warm aftertaste. The warmth turns into a glow and the rest I forget.

Infinity captured in a cage seeps away slowly. It is destined to do so. The two worlds are pulsating with this thought and I, in both.

But there is only one reality in me. The cube burns into a cylinder and the cylinder burns into a sphere.

The shapes finally unite and the two worlds are annihilated.

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A Stream

Posted on August 29, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi A Green Leaf A Paper Boat A Stream A Yellow Flower Time

Flash Fiction

First there came a yellow flower, flowing like silk on a surface. The stream turned into silk. It told me a short story about the silk thread that draped the yellow flower. They swayed together with the wind. Then someone came and took the silk thread and threw the yellow flower in the stream. ‘A happy ending’, were the last words of the yellow flower.

Then a green leaf floated by and said, ‘I always thought where the stream goes… I’ll get to know it now.’ It danced away with the flowing water.

The stones quietly listened to the stream and stayed there for a long time. Now each stone, of every shape and size, carries a story with it. If heard sincerely, the stones narrate the stories beautifully.

A paper boat rushed quickly and embraced the whirlpool. It then lowered the anchor forever.

The stream is musical; I have been sitting here for a long time now and enjoying the melodies. I dipped my feet in the cool, clear water. Then, suddenly, the stream started talking about the flow of time. I got up immediately.

I am walking along the stream. Twists and turns welcome me here and there, but we are walking.

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Etching It

Posted on August 25, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi Dreams Etching It Illusion Memories Rise

Poem

Landscape under Trees, etching by Paula Modersohn-Becker, c. 1902

Faded and alive

Like an honest illusion

Memories carrying weight

Equal to a feather’s

Delight. Happiness aloud

Heard in the background

Match the dreams

Flying hard, a scheme

Or a plan

To reach the end

Drifting and walking

Singing, not just talking

Open your eyes

See, smile and rise.

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I Dare To Stop And Watch

Posted on August 11, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi A Painting A Soulful Visit Heart Hustle Bustle I Dare To Stop And Watch Rhythm Rush Strangely Happy Walking

Poem

**When time stopped for a moment…**
[Image by Jagriti Rumi]

In the rush and hustle bustle,

I dare to stop and watch.

“Just like a painting”, I declare,

“Just the normal, routine, everyday affair”,

They say, and break my heart.

I click a picture and start

Walking towards where others are going;

Feeling strangely happy, but not showing.

I’ll read the painting when alone,

Savouring its rhythm and its tone,

A soulful visit, now and then.

Who cares for where and when?

In the rush and hustle bustle,

I dare to stop and watch.

**… there was joy.**
[Image by Jagriti Rumi]

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In Bloom

Posted on August 8, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi A Short Story Clouds Conversation Dream World Foggy Day Friendly Glow Gone Are The Days Grandma The Plant The Printed Words Time Weather Window Wish Wonder

In Conversation

**A foggy day paints the forest in white bloom.**
[Image by Ieva from Pixabay]

Gone are the days when a foggy day reminded of a short story that my Grandma read to me. It becomes just too awkward to step out for a walk and too dull to stay in. The wooden floor creaks when I don’t want it to. The stairs quietly sit there, only talking to me if I stop in between and wonder about something.

Gone are the days when I wasn’t acquainted with the ceaseless and fleeting nature of time; when I didn’t understand what the wall clock was saying to me; when I thought of going through the mirror and meet Alice and her friends.

Gone are the days when the bed side table light’s friendly glow helped me to make last minute changes in the Mothers’ Day card. I always picked colours in pairs and tried my best to keep the card neat. This tradition is now forgotten though whenever I buy a card, I look for myself in the printed words.

Gone are the days when that old song transported me to my dream world. Now, my mind always takes me to a vacuum and when I suddenly come out of it I realise that that old song is over.

Gone are the days when I wrote with an ink pen, confident about what I am expressing. My letters looked as if I had scribbled throughout, but the response showed that the love always got conveyed successfully.

Gone are the days when the grass, the weeds, the flowers and I counted the clouds together. Some clouds changed the shape quickly and some remained the same – thick, heavy, floating nonetheless. The floor and the walls in the house are cold though accurately warm for me but not for the grass, the weeds and the flowers.

I try to take care of a plant. It lives in a small teacup, sitting shyly near the window. The curtains know the plant better than I do.

Gone are the days when I wished and believed that it will come true. To see the plant in bloom just the next day after planting it is a silly wish wasted as a child but I am not silly anymore and so I don’t wish.

I am going to see how the plant is enjoying the weather. It’s foggy – I’ll say to start the conversation. Come along, if you want to.

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Today with the Clouds

Posted on June 20, 2015 by Jagriti Rumi Beautiful Burst Into Laughter Funky Good Listeners Journey Painters Secret The Clouds Today

Fictive Short Feature

I say the clouds by nature are very funky and awe-inspiring. I enjoy watching them pass; just a simple hello or a nod is appreciated. They swirl and sway, move in waves and dance every single time, yet they maintain their uniqueness. I mean something which can be counted as a routine, an unchanging event, is actually a very grand and beautiful journey.

Only time might be able to answer how many eyes have dreamt and seen their secret mysteries getting a platform on the clouds – a bunch of flowers, a giraffe eating tree leaves, a cute rabbit, a candy bar, a bicycle, a boat, a pretty face, a simple smile – everything floating silently, invisible to others but clear to those happy eyes.

I say the clouds are a blessing in disguise. They are what freedom might look if given a form. I often try to paint them, to capture them, to be like them… a far-fetched dream. I am trying and I’ll continue.

I tell you there is some sort of sublime never-ending party that is going on up there. I have a proof… I didn’t believe it until I shared it and got to know that many, many, many people know about it too. Some of them have, like me, heard the clouds laugh… not just giggle but burst into laughter.

Others talk about the clouds as singers, dancers, good listeners, painters; a well-known scientist had said once that the clouds have the coolest particles, meaning that by nature they are funny and calm. Clouds also like to play. But more than anything, they are profound… I mean they have depth.

Wise people say that all the answers become clear in the end… it is now believed that ‘all the answers become clear’ because they are hidden in the clear looking clouds. So I guess one should not wait till the end and just keep looking. I am going on the hill top today… let’s see if I get any answers… nevertheless, I’ll have a good reason to burst into laughter.