Autumnleaves… waiting only and only for her. Image from Pixabay.
Tara was walking through the dry track. Her mind was shooting different thoughts at her, she couldn’t catch even a single one. A mundane routine she loathed.
Autumn leaves came to rescue her after a long wait. Tara loved to crush leaves, it made her feel happy, a feeling rushed in her and ended in pleasure every time she saw them resting by the roadside as if waiting only and only for her.
Life was not at all happening for Tara. The same question mark which troubles all working minds was knocking her crazy. All the ‘what’s and how’s’ were becoming unbearable for her.
A thought to end life was always present in her mind like a geek student in a class, but the courage was missing. Tara hated herself and didn’t know that she was secretly in love with whatever the way she was.
Tara was on her way home. She was tired, her bag was heavy. Tara sighed and among the jumbled thoughts came a glad one, at least no extra weight of the umbrella.
That part of earth had said ta-ta to the rainy season and presently the autumn season was painting itself. The sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds.
Tara saw the golden rays disappearing and she stopped. The wind whispered to her and she knew.
She stood there for five minutes or so. With a slight grin, she focused her mind to target the almighty. Great going god, she thought. It was raining by then and Tara was getting wet but she continued walking.
In her mind she started clapping, she was showering criticism on god. ‘Make it snow if you like, so I can regret my simple decision of abandoning my umbrella today’, said Tara. Sigh!
Tara was sure that god was playing games with her. It wasn’t a new feeling. Another hopeless day was about to end for Tara, which hadn’t brought any change in her life except the point that she would return home completely wet.
But suddenly she was hit by a realization and the sinking feeling sunk…a thought did the magic…a thought that told her that god just reacted to her.
Tara couldn’t understand the game but knew it then that God listens.
Sonu VS the masks. Who will win the next round? Image – Pixabay.
Hypnotizing black eyes, burning red face, twisted antennas, bushy moustache and a funny pink tongue…
Why will someone buy such a bizarre face? Why waste clay and colours on an ugly head? Sonu often thought this but never had the courage to speak before his uncle.
He had a strong feeling though that these monster masks were bringing bad luck for them. His hatred increased gradually towards these masks, so much so that he tried twice to throw them from the cart while returning home with his uncle and to pretend that it was an accident.
However, it never happened and Sonu knew it by then that these masks were evil.
Lying on his chaarpayi (woven bed) with twinkling stars above him and crickets playing their favourite tune around him, Sonu was in his thinking mode.
His cousin brother Chandu and cousin sister Munni were asleep, tired after spending some routine hours at school and some happy hours with friends.
He could hear his uncle and aunty chatting inside the hut. He couldn’t understand but he somehow could feel their words.
Every talk in a poor house is always about money; a thorough discussion about their sufferings. He wanted to help. He didn’t want to be a burden.
He remembered seeing a hunchback in a roadside show when he was too young. People were attracted by that weird hunch and the show was a hit. Sonu thought he can do better than a hunchback for his uncle and aunty.
The starry sky was making him dizzy and the silent breeze was telling him to go to sleep. It was only the punk music of the crickets that kept him awake. Sonu had a vague idea in mind before he slept. He has to get rid of those masks…has to get rid…masks.
Next day Sonu’s uncle was a bit surprised to see his nephew’s keen interest to sell the masks by any means. Sonu was chanting a new mantra, ‘buri nazar bhagau mukhote le lo’ (mask to ward off evil) instead of his usual ‘matka le lo’ (buy these masks).
Many people visited, few bought and few sought for some time and then left.
Time told them to go back home with the sun coming down. But Sonu was eager to sell the masks. He shouted once again his new mantra, but his sound was not heard, he felt as if it was ignored and the masks made that happen.
He was sitting in the cart along with his uncle, thinking again to kick the masks out from the cart. When a car passed them and Sonu saw a foreign face peeping out from the car.
Somehow he knew that it’s time to say goodbye to the masks. The car reversed and the person sitting inside gestured Sonu’s uncle to stop.
Sonu was right. That person in the car was the one who bought all the masks form them. He didn’t look of this land to Sonu and talked in a different language. Sonu didn’t care as those monster masks were gone and nor did his uncle cared because he got a good price for the masks, much more than his expectations.
That night Sonu was smiling all the time, even when his aunty shouted at him for being lazy and not washing the dishes properly.
Before going outside to sleep he told his cousins proudly that their family trade will do far better from now. He didn’t realize that both his cousins didn’t react at all rather they were both filled with their own stories.
Sitting together and talking unfinished sentences about their silly dreams was also a routine for the three.
But for Sonu one dream had come true and he couldn’t stop but smile. He danced at the tune of cricket and swayed along with the blinking stars. Then obeying the silent breeze once again, he fell asleep to dream the victory.
Next morning, Sonu had a mark on his face, a mark of five fingerprints. He was putting the monster masks in the cart as directed by his uncle who had slapped him because he broke one of the masks thinking it to be an old one.
But his uncle told him that it was one of the new pieces he had left to dry. Sonu’s uncle had painted new ones hoping to sell more of these ‘lucky masks’, and earn more profit.
The cart was moving slowly towards the mundane destination. Sonu was sitting upset and confused. He turned to look at the masks.
Those nasty heads were gazing back and this time Sonu heard them laughing out loud at him.
It is all in the mind. It has all the answers. The mind knows the reason behind every silent smile and every moist laugh. It is familiar with the ‘why’ for sadness, ‘what’ for happiness, ‘how’ for a cry and ‘when’ for a giggle- mind knows all these secrets.
But it doesn’t believe in outpouring the magical flavour. The mind is not a show-off, it is just shy.
I am joy running free/
freely flying, fluttering, soaring in a valley/
Of joy am running free.
Greetings!
A storyteller, following the ancient tradition of cave chroniclers, standing in vrikshasana (the tree pose) on a hill top (it is sunny, but windy), breathing in and out stories (relishing it all, but at times overwhelmed), declares animatedly that she will continue to – tell stories, share rare story gems, and connect with the pacy universe while also keeping the website ad-free.
Big thanks to my readers. Stay tuned!
Also, a humble request to the new subscribers to check the spam folder after subscribing. Silly (but necessary) confirmation emails often land there instead of the bright inboxes. Merci!
Ya-hoy!
Chiming Stories (formerly Home Chimes)
P.S – Supporting a storyteller is good for the world’s health (and undoubtedly, for the storyteller’s health as well). Shower some love by sharing, commenting and subscribing to the Weekly Newsletter.
Gabbeh, the 1996 film, is a simple tale of a gipsy girl, her clan and the way their life goes on. Unfolding beautifully just like an artist painting a canvas, Gabbeh quietly touches the grand questions.
Ranked as one of the greatest British films of all time, The Lavender Hill Mob confides in the audience, letting them see, feel, laugh and think without tickling persuasively with a joke here and a punch-line there.
Godard… Breathless and Alive
A Tribute to Jean-Luc Godard, the Film Philologist who Reinvented Cinema.
Yes fly! For walking on the second track is dull and usual, but dreaming high, high, high requires tools. Tools like the right pair of shoes, a chirpy, gritty soul that eats butter-jam dreams, a soul that drinks milky-milky creams.
Silver cascade shimmering the night sky, music to the waves and surreal beauty to the eyes, the Moon loves the art of discipline.
It may be difficult to believe for the Moon’s splendour defies time, it stupefies the clock, it follows the path of a dreamer, but how could this be possible if the Moon knew not discipline?
In this moment, I am a little bit of this and a little bit of that, I am complete and incomplete, I am pleased and uncertain, I wish for nothing and I know I have to wait.
Because the distance covered reminds me of the hurdles I have crossed and the ones I could not, it reminds me of a throbbing past and a dreamy future and it reminds me of how much time is left.
Meredith and the Green Lake
Illimitable Splendour
A joy so complete without any rise or fall, so free without any time corners, so real without true being false, false being true.