Skip to main content

Golden image

The morning sky was cloudy with occasional drizzle. It can be endured, less cold, not harmful. Over the table lays a journal and beside it a hot cup of coffee, not bad.

Mayuri walking inside her home. It is necessary.

She now goes to the table sip tea. Her eyes have different images, the images of past, present and future. She now sits comfortably and put her running thoughts over the taste of tea. She looks at the tea cup. She remembered, she had brought it from Panchgani, Moharashtra, when she was there for an official training.Ah! what were those days. She was independent of all her burdens to learn and move like a school girl.She finished her tea, wrote to-do-list in her daily journal and prepared breakfast in the kitchen. Still clouds were there to make her feel-bad.

-"Okay, clouds, stop there and recite your best gloomy poetry. I am not going to encourage you by my clapping. I am also not interested to make you go away like 'rain, rain go away, come again another day.'I am not going to do anything to you. I am enjoying my work."

She listened her favorite chirps. She came out of the kitchen. Her favorite tiny brown birds were over the tin roof tapping. Golden sunshine was reflecting over their wings. A dragonfly was flying there with golden beauty.

OMG, golden image! she shouted.

Monaranjan, her husband awake, came with his blurry eyes and shouted back -" Are you a mad?"

Mayuri was now silent. Monaranjan again went back to the bedroom and dived into his own dream.


©  Sarojini Pattayat

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Chirps

  Under the blue sky, I could do many things for survival. I was in fear. The brown kite was soaring around. Its wings were massive, and I recalled the day when it was about to jump over me and catch me. Thanks to that old lady of the rooftop garden. I hid myself under her newly curated green plants, and her presence there saved me. Now this rooftop garden became my home, and I chirp here for the old lady whom I have heard that my chirps were a song for her.

The chirps

 Listened the chirps of morning birds, waked up, life seemed easy... Life of a writer is not  easy. Writing is hard. Self doubts will make you cripple.  Self learning is most important.  ************** Give food to birds. They will be happy. The sun is rising up and up and on  it's journey. ***** Ideas are cunning. They always play hide and seek game.  *****  Brainstorming is difficult. 

An Evening's Solace

 It was evening, like any other, heavy with quiet despair. As I walked home, I shed the day’s office burdens, letting them drift into the dusk. The unnamed trees along the footpath stood tall, their green leaves glowing in the fading light, a silent beauty. Birdsong filled the air, the final chirps before night’s rest, weaving life into the world around me. I paused at the bustling marketplace, picking out a chocolate for my daughter. Her smile bloomed in my mind, and my heart swelled—I was, in that moment, the best mother in the whole world. Arriving home, I heard the familiar creak of the gate as my daughter flung it open, her eyes alight with joy over the chocolate gift. She spilled stories of her day, from school adventures to tales shared with her grandma, my mother-in-law, each slice-of-life moment enchanting my weary soul. Night drifted in, the moon casting a gentle smile across the sky. In the puja room, the diya flickered before the altar, its golden glow dancing with the ...