Time

The World of Candyfloss

**Flying by the curled lamp post in the candyfloss world.**
**Image from Pixabay.**

Yes, it was the world of candyfloss. Pink softness everywhere. The sky was pink and you could touch and have a piece of it.

The cottony air filled your mind, making you smile. The pink trees and the pink flowers and everything else was so sweet that one had to smile.

In pleasure, I lurched and took myself in some direction. The path was quite visible because it wasn’t pink. Yes, the path wasn’t made of candyfloss.

So I walked and walked for some more time. I couldn’t think of anything, maybe it was the sweet air. Then I saw a beautiful lamp post, it was long and curled at the top, like a curled flower.

But the lamp post was also not made of candyfloss. Don’t know why. The path curved in left and then right direction. I would have kept walking but then I reached a circle and felt tired.

Luckily, there was a bench nearby and I decided to rest. The bench was cold and solid and oh it too wasn’t pink and candy-flossy. I found it strange.

In a few minutes, I lied down on the bench. The pink sky was full of fluffy pink clouds. It was so pretty. I took a bite first and then ate leisurely, playing with the sugary cloud.

A long time passed and then weird things occurred.

The clouds turned black and made angry sounds and it started to rain. In zero time I was soaked from top to bottom. And then it happened.

I simply rubbed my eyes and blinked and what I saw then was not the world of candyfloss. The pink, light, cotton world had just gone. I don’t know where!

A bicycle rudely passed me at that moment. Yeah, someone was riding it. I decided to hitch-hike and so I did.

All my way to someplace I kept thinking about the world of candyfloss. I still do, especially when I eat candyfloss. And also when I lie down, not to sleep but just like that.

**Candyfloss clouds** **in this world**
**Image from Pixabay.**

The world of candyfloss!

In this world I think three things are just like the world of candyfloss, one candyfloss, second clouds and the third is Time. I mean literally. Yes!

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A Memory in My Pocket

Posted on June 12, 2013 by Jagriti Rumi Memory Paper Prose Poem Time Unfold Word

Prose Poem

**A Memory In My Pocket**
[Image by TanteTati from Pixabay]

I found a memory folded in a paper. I read it and it hit me.

The memory was not meant to meet me. It was draped with words that were very loud. Terse and cold.

It said ‘I am leaving you…forever’ with the initials Rosie.K.

I wondered how the person for whom this memory was meant dealt with it.

Naively, I searched around for Rosie.K, but the wind made my eyes wet instead.

I read and re-read the memory as if it would reveal some more of it through magical words.

Why do memories always make us halt, lying to us that we can play with time, even reverse it?

I folded the memory again and kept it in my jacket’s pocket.

It tickles me whenever it feels like making me unfold it.

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The Coffee Table Talk

Posted on April 6, 2013 by Jagriti Rumi Bright Ray Coffee Cold Day Downside Up Life Lovely Time Unwrapped Toffee

Poem

Coffee table talk time.
Image from Pixabay.

Time for a coffee break

How much sugar do you take?

Life is an unwrapped toffee

Sure! Sure! Hold your coffee

What a lovely cold day

Life is a strong bright ray

Oh! Please drink it when it is hot,

Then go to the market and buy a new pot.

Life is shallow if you can’t see deep

I care less because I don’t want to weep

Now, if you are done, give me your cup

Life is life if seen downside up.

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Hiding From The Rain

Posted on April 5, 2013 by Jagriti Rumi Attic Clouds Football Hiding Podolski Rain Sky Stories

Flash Fiction

Mr. Podolski calls hiding from the rain ignoring.
[Image from Pixabay]

Mr. Podolski was sitting in the attic, smoking idly. He continuously ignored the noise that was coming from downstairs. Everyone was watching the game, football. Both the windows in the attic were open.

For a long time, he was gazing at the blue sky which had some white spots here and there.

‘That’s a goal!’, shouted his grandson, gripped in the game. Mr. Podolski gave a grim grin and lit a cigarette afresh.

He failed to ignore the clouds gathering, the blue sky soon less blue. He thought, ‘they are teaming against me, again, like…that day.’

‘That Day’ echoed inside him as the huge church bell echoed in the town. It revived his rage and furry. In spite of his daily practice, he merely feigned calmness.

He stood up from his rocking chair and reached the window limping. He sharply glanced above while the clouds replied with a thunder.

He tried, tried hard, very hard but failed. His mind’s eye presented a slideshow before him.

Green ground, heavy rain, his white dress no more white but muddy, 90 minutes almost over, scoreboard shining 2-1, the crowd going mad, fans screaming ‘P-O-D-O-L-S-K-I-P-O-D-O-L-S-K-I’, the commentator shouted, ‘it’s a penalty…all eyes on Heinz Podolski now!”

His mind de-fossilized the amber which consisted of the words spoken by his coach before the match. He had said, ‘for some people football is a matter of life and death…I can assure you it is much more serious.’

This was exactly what he thought before hitting the penalty and then…. ‘We won!’ said Mr. Podolski’s grandson, shouting at the top of his voice.

Mr. Podolski’s recollection died away. It was raining outside. He shut both the windows and settled back in his chair.

‘Should I tell grandpa?’ exclaimed the grandson, who was extremely excited to think before speaking up. In a few minutes, though, Mr. Podolski got the answer as his grandson didn’t come upstairs.

He sat in the dark attic with the steady smoke all around him. He soaked the thundering sound and the heavy rainfall that gave his face a plastic expression and his eyes some moistness.

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