Love Eclipsed? - Romantic Friday Writers

Time for another round of  RFW - Romatic Friday Writers February Challenge

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings among other things in this fan fiction spoof are the property of Stephanie Meyer, author of the Twilight series of books. The original characters and original plot are the property of author Stephanie Meyer. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material pertaining to the Twilight series of books or the Twilight motion pictures. No copyright infringement is intended in this fan fiction.

*A disclaimer for my readers...this follows the first person account of Bella and uses long, extraneous sentences as found in the original books. The setting is towards the end of the second book - New Moon where Bella, Edward and Alice are held hostage by the Volturi - the vampire royalty while in Italy. Bella's knowledge of the existence of vampires threatens their secret existence in the world. Unlike her beau and his family of vegetarian vampires, these are true, cold blooded vampires who prey on humans.*

We stood in the red room - Alice and me, not Edward - as you will find out soon enough, surrounded by red eyed men and women who looked more like diminutive porcelain dolls that  licked their lips every other second. Yes, I have been keeping count, nothing much to do as usual for me. I turned around at the noise as Felix snarled/smirked at me. I can never tell the difference with these pale, stoned faced monsters even after spending all my spare time with a similar pack of seven back home.

Hush! Bella! these are not monsters. 
I caught Alice's eyes long enough to find disapproval there and I rejoiced, only to be dejected a minute later for the glare in her golden eyes was directed at me.
I tried to erase my thoughts but it was too late, reminding me of the disadvantages of living with a seer, a sore point with Edward. He claimed and I had counter argued, and now I realised what how right he had been.

He had proclaimed to be a monster, not good enough for me. He was no monster, my Edward, he had proved it today, falling into an silent, unsightly heap on the floor diagonally across from me, no match for Aro's boys. I see him for the first time, his true self, an ageless but delicate, sparkling creature that called itself a vegetarian vampire.

Boy, was he way off when he said, "Bella, you are not good for me.'"
The bright smile flashed and my heart ached to see "him" in person once more. 
When I get out this mess alive, I am making amends to Jake. Will he take me back?
Edward was cold and icy to hot bodied Jake. His kisses, duh, if you could call those pathetic attempts one, fleeting, neither here nor there. 
Am I glad these pale faces cannot read my mind.

"There you go again," The wolfish smile on Alice's face said it all. I let myself be content with images of Jake tinkering with my bike, and being held in his hot, sweaty arms.
"Dream on, Bella. Edward is a classic stalker boyfriend who will not leave you alone now." She said to me, her voice so soft I could barely hear it. "I am sorry, Alice." 
"You owe me one." her words as cryptic as Aro's smile.

****
All I remember is being dragged through the dark, damp tunnel that went on and on.
"My heart hurts." I said to no one in particular.
"Sorry Bella, I forget my vampiric strength sometimes," The pixie looked very happy. "Let's go shopping."
I groaned. "You owe me one, remember." "Where is Edward?"  I had to ask out of sheer politeness, not that I cared.
As the door bell rang, she muttered, "Just in time." "I'll pick you up at 3. Have something, I can hear your stomach grumble." She vanished as always, not before yelling, "Don't wear your grandma clothes!"
Jake stood at the door. I caught my breath. I was going to faint. He held me, a little too tightly for comfort.
He sniffed the air angrily. Was Edward in the house?  I looked around, afraid and irritated. 
He turned to me, "Tell your leech friend, all the perfumes in the world can't hide her stink from us."
I relaxed and grinned when he whispered,"Just the two of us now. He's gone, that leech of yours."
"Where?" A stab of guilt tore at my heart. "He chose to be Aro's bodyguard." 
***
 My life was no longer dark. .A streak of blinding light illuminated my twilight sky. Bella was not that streak of light as I has long believed, Renata was. Bella's brain held no secrets. Renata, my partner, had shown me that. I had made a promise to Alice and I kept it. Bella was not my first kill, someone close to her had been. Jake was in for a nasty surprise when he went home tonight.
***
666 words (suprising isn't it?)

Hi folks, I am attempting a story after two long months...don't be too hard on me.

I was the guest at Nutschell's blog for Wednesday Writers Workspace...Do visit to know about my writing habits and a bit about me.

my origins

 A nervous hi, takes a seat...
"My origins...from India, so I guess ..." jumps up in alarm as Robyn Engel  from Life By Chocolate, present here on persistent pleading butts in.
"Rek, Rek...%&#$@" does a face-palm, accuses me " You hoodwinked us all this time!! Took you to be a smart, witty woman who knows her ifs and buts..."
I , as usual, burst into tears melting her kind heart. She pats my head (in a petting way) " Come now, here, have a chocolate."
Pouting "Hello, trying to lose weight here."
She mutters" More like losing steam and our audience."
"Alex! Tbone!" she hollers, literally yanking them off their chairs...giving them a 'don't mess with me' look
"Be my guest!" and thunders her way out.
I whimper, still licking a dark bit, "Robyn, Wait!"
Tbone clears his throat, "Look Lady, We don't have all day...220 odd others waiting, so cut the crap!"
In a stronger, cocoa dipped voice, "Written essays and poems in school and college and such...read books too. Summer vacations meant my cousins would hide away their books lest I spent less time with them."
Alex looks at Tbone, a telepathic exchange, 'Next time, our Blogfest is by invitation only!' and emphatic nods.
"My 8th grade(13yrs) English teacher liked my story, especially about a ranch horse...it reminded her of Black beauty...she loved my first line for another one, the one which went,"Under the star lit sky, with only the full moon for company, here I lie in a corner, a street dog."
Looks around for applause, none...stammers on, "But never aspired to be a writer, a published one at that."
Alex ""Finally!"  Tbone "No grovelling for sympathy!"
"Ok." "Written on and off for two decades now, till I joined Twitter in 2009 after my ... hmm...still a very bad word  here 'D'. Met two cool bloggers (now friends) T.S Hendrik and  Aditya, followed their blogs for a year before taking the plunge."
'"Joined some creative blog groups for poets and flash fiction writers, their encouragement helped as did that of my first few followers...then gave into my ambitious, pestering brother's advice and took up writing full time in 2010.""Ok." "Written on and off for two decades now, till I joined Twitter in 2009 after my ... hmm...still a very bad word  here 'D'. Met two cool bloggers (now friends) T.S Hendrik and  Aditya, followed their blogs for a year before taking the plunge."
'"Joined some creative blog groups for poets and flash fiction writers, their encouragement helped as did that of my first few followers...then gave into my ambitious, pestering brother's advice and took up writing full time in 2010."
"Moving out of Mumbai meant I couldn't even get a part-time accountant's job since I never managed to crack my C.A (C.P.A equivalent) final exams. I lick my wounds with the hard fact that in the 90s only 3% of 15,000 students got that elusive title every year, maybe because of fewer job openings then... sigh...but on the flip side, I have a lot of time to read, write, research, submit and get rejected, photograph, fabric paint, mess around with different software applications and blog now."
Alex softly "Lets get back to writing."
"Did I mention I got a commerce degree just because Arts is not a cool career option for the great Indian Middle Class! To cut the long story short...finally found the courage to get around doing what I love and what I think is one of the few things I am good at. So, if my books get printed or not, sell or not....I am and will be an Artist/Writer!!"

 Alternate version

There was a little girl who was a bit different, impulsive, hot tempered, rebellious dreaming false worlds when she should have been studying some more. The daydreams grew larger, more verbose and sometimes silly. As the space between the grey cells shrunk, she took to writing on pieces of paper... some saved, some frittered away carelessly...she never showed them to anyone lest she be mocked at by the uncaring. Then it happened, the stuff that her fears were made of. Unlike other kindred spirits, the more she read others, the less pieces of her own got written till a day when the dreams knew better and took flight to the nether regions of her mind, a self  imposed exile.

Time flew, walked, crawled, the dreams peeked out now and then and verses took shape that were protected fiercely for years and yet the best ones cast one day into the fire of battered self esteem (especially the ones dedicated to her fiancé-husband who broke her spirit)....and then after years of grey bleakness, the tumultuous life led her back to the road she had long ago abandoned, the only one left she could travel through, to save her sanity. The journey was risky, shaky, encouraged by loved ones who had secretly read her amateur works...she trots along enjoying the passing scenery.


And lo behold,
 The Twin, The  Muse Ran Away....
leaving behind a sci fi that is just about a quarter complete, a fantasy barely written, a poetry collection due for e publishing in March with quite a few missing pages, short stories to be drafted and rewritten from scratch.
She filled a complaint with the "Missing Muses Retrieval" writers club in December but yet to hear from them.
Anyone who sees 'Reka Sang' slouching around in the upper decks of cyber space, do cajole her to come back please...as said she is moody and cantankerous, gets offended easily. Will this be enough praise to melt her heart??

Penned bold thoughts /

Heart never speaks of /

Love this muse //

 3-5-3

 This is how the Muse looked when they last met....maybe the lady should check Facebook, for sure she is whiling away time with those mindless games or the news rooms where she is flirting with the big boys.

 The strain of these online searches and researching in her absence simply translates into nothing written in the last 3 months.


Wrtiten for a blogfest

An Experiment With Loss

She closed the front door firmly, but not before a "Come a little earlier tomorrow, we have to go out." She walked towards the guest room that doubled as the computer room. The small house did not offer much in walking as an exercise. She turned on the computer, ambled to the window, stood watching the street below while it fired up. It was just 10 am and the summer sun was glaring back at her in all his glory. She squinted painfully, before closing the lace curtains.

Sitting on the slide back chair, she was soon lost to the world around her. As she opened her inbox to check the mails, thought she heard a soft voice whispering. Dismissing it as the by product of an over active imagination, turned her attention to a forwarded joke mail and chuckled quietly as she read through it. There was the voice again. It was steadily yet softly humming in a rhythm. She recognised the faint echoes of her name. Someone was calling out to her, but an unfamiliar voice, not one you could identify at first hearing. 

'Sounds like the noise is coming from the front door, maybe, the bell isn't working...but why didn't they knock on the wood?'

Grumpily got up, as she neared a particular doorway, it become obvious that the sound emanated from in there. She peeped in cautiously, 'What if it was a stalker?'

 The scene before her was a stuff of dreams. The table was occupied and looked inviting. She stepped in the room and glanced at them all. They looked back at her, bright and attractive.

 Running her fingers through her unkempt hair, her eyes and heart aglow, she silently argued,

"One more day wouldn't make that much of a difference, would it?

"It will not, but that is not the issue here!'

'What is?'

'Accountability!'

'Go away, won't you?'

'Not this time, not for a long time. Get over yourself. I am here to stay.'

Sighing, she made to move, when the soft voice from before hummed again. It came from the left side of the table, she noted absently. The voice suddenly went quiet as newer ones that had been silent were now gaining momentum, whispering pleasant entreaties. Enticing words that appealed to a particular emotion far more than to the others were being uttered from all corners. The whispers soon grew louder, now clamouring for her undivided attention.

Some solicited her presence openly displaying their best qualities. They preened and pouted, reminding her of her latest zoo visit. He had been strutting around, showing off his colourful feathers much like these. They were obviously for ones with expensive tastes with snobby airs.

 Two of the group watched the commotion with detachment bordering on amusement. They needed no extra charms or marketing skills to attract, secure in the knowledge of her servitude.

"She is addicted to us, all right." the creamy tones remarked, catching his reflection.

"Quite right, if the perky eyes are anything to go by. But, admit it brother, she prefers me to you.” retorted the powdery voice cracking his knuckles in boredom.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Honestly you make me laugh. Not a day goes by without her wistful glances at me, where you are ignored for weeks together." whistling in contentment.

"Only glances" smirking, "It's this dude she reaches for with her delicate fingers, when she needs a shoulder to cry on...'" before immersing himself in pleasant day dreams.

She was bemused, unsure when someone else who had been watching this banter with growing irritation, butted right in. 

"Stop your vain glory, insolent fools! One of these, I am going too..." the fourth, much older voice was interrupted as a fight broke out.

She stood shell shocked, unable to react, amazed that all this drama was for her humble self.

"Move over, you greasy son of a cow!" ordered the dark one with a fragrance to die for...

'He tasted heavenly too.' 

The greasy son not to be outdone pitched himself firmly in the way. In a voice dripping with disdain "Mister Greasy keeps her breezy on those lonely nights, you leave her by."

The round bellied said wisely, "Meet her comforter on all days of the year. No one else is dearer to her."

"Why don't we just ask her?" the soft voice from earlier spoke, now seated rather uncomfortably on the table top.

"Not a bright idea, this new one of yours." the rest sneered.

The gentle one retreated, beaten again, a score of zero to six. 

She felt a stab of pity for him, for he was one of her favourites. She rubbed her eyes repeatedly, that had the ones at the table mighty concerned.

'Was she ill? That would spell disaster.'

'Was she in a bad mood?’ the dark one sure hoped so, for he would become the chosen one for today.

'If she is unhappy, I stand a chance' the beaten one's face perked up with this happy thought.

She looked at them all for what seemed like eternity, clenching and unclenching her fists.

'This can't be happening'

'It is and will get worse' smug tones proclaimed.

'Make them leave!' she begged.

'Only you can. Use your power of discretion.'  then faded away.

The internal conflict resolved, she gave them an accusatory look. There was guilt and longing mixed in too.

Poking through the wooden cabinet by the table yielded the usual suspects. She picked up the manual from the seat and sat down near them. Adding a glass of skim milk to the bowl of muesli, sprinkling it generously with pomegranates, she ate in silence and mild frustration, reading the instructions.

The soft voice, hurt and thus emboldened, openly cried 

"What went wrong in our friendship? I stood by you..." rudely interrupted by

"We all did, for over a decade, through thick and thin, and this is the thanks we get?"

She munched on, head down, struggling to articulate her thoughts. She flipped through the manual in her hand and finally decided to end the game once and for all.

"Yes, I appreciate what you did for me. The highs and feeling of being loved you fostered in me."

Pausing, 'Had she finally lost her mind' then continuing,

"But I hate, really do, the other gifts you have bestowed on me."

"What other gifts? All our gifts are good!" they screamed in unison.

"These tyres on my stomach which had me resembling a bleached whale at last week’s party. Not forgetting the scary proximity of my David and that flirty, size four Kim."

 Then with wishful moaning, “He has promised me a solitaire if I lay off ...”

 The breakfast over, she dumped the deadly seven, one by one into the garbage can... apologising over and over again.

She had passed the first test, the one set by the Food Addicts Anonymous. Heaving sigh of relief...if only, she didn't suffer a relapse the third time!

wc 1163

The Prick

It had been a good 30 minutes since they had exited. Not an easy pick, this one. The indecisive ones were the worst. Wouldn't have spared her a second thought any other time. But afternoon's were the dullest part of the day. And Tuesday’'s meant that the other three in the lane were closed to business. The fierce competition motivated him, though he wished his parents hadn't been dirt poor.

He watched as she entered with trepidation, tugging at her companion's arm. He looked on bemused, as she hesitated at the door before being pulled in rather forcibly ....

Nervously she muttered "I have decided." and asked cautiously "will it hurt?"

His eyes seemed to twinkle in the harsh lights as he replied "hardly, trust me..you are in capable hands."

"But they say its painful..."

"This isn't your first time, I presume..."

She shook her head, barely remembering the event.....It was so long ago and she had been too young to comprehend. She looked at her friend for moral support.

Her friend encouraged her with "We have discussed this enough times already....just go ahead and get it over with."

"I don't have all day" he said, clearly put off. 

She stood frozen, uncertain....

Her friend spoke again, with a hint of impatience "He knows what he is doing...you are worrying without cause..."

He added, sensing a thaw in her "One shot and it will be over .... you won't even register the prick....and you will not be disappointed with the result..."

Sighing, she got on the couch.....sure enough, it was over before she could collect her thoughts.

She was feeling better already....when he interrupted her musings "My reward, Madam...."

She flushed, apologised and handed him a few notes.....

As she stepped out, she couldn't help but catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror at the entrance.

There it nestled, glistening in the sunlight, tiny silver loops, her second ear piercing.....

 cwc 321

My Humble Origins - Blogfest

 Origins Blogfest

Co-hosted by DL Hammons, Creepy Query Girl KatieMills, Alex J. Cavanaugh and Matthew MacNish,  


To share when, how and why my writing began. 




A nervous hi, takes a seat...
"My origins...from India, so I guess ..." jumps up in alarm as Robyn Engel  from Life By Chocolate, present here on persistent pleading butts in.
"Rek, Rek...%&#$@" does a face-palm, accuses me " You hoodwinked us all this time!! Took you to be a smart, witty woman who knows her ifs and buts..."
I , as usual, burst into tears melting her kind heart. She pats my head (in a petting way) " Come now, here, have a chocolate."
Pouting "Hello, trying to lose weight here."
She mutters" More like losing steam and our audience."
"Alex! Tbone!" she hollers, literally yanking them off their chairs...giving them a 'don't mess with me' look
"Be my guest!" and thunders her way out.
I whimper, still licking a dark bit, "Robyn, Wait!"
Tbone clears his throat, "Look Lady, We don't have all day...220 odd others waiting, so cut the crap!"
In a stronger, cocoa dipped voice, "Written essays and poems in school and college and such...read books too. Summer vacations meant my cousins would hide away their books lest I spent less time with them."
Alex looks at Tbone, a telepathic exchange, 'Next time, our Blogfest is by invitation only!' and emphatic nods.
"My 8th grade(13yrs) English teacher liked my story, especially about a ranch horse...it reminded her of Black beauty...she loved my first line for another one, the one which went,"Under the star lit sky, with only the full moon for company, here I lie in a corner, a street dog."
Looks around for applause, none...stammers on, "But never aspired to be a writer, a published one at that."
Alex ""Finally!"  Tbone "No grovelling for sympathy!"
"Ok." "Written on and off for two decades now, till I joined Twitter in 2009 after my ... hmm...still a very bad word  here 'D'. Met two cool bloggers (now friends) T.S Hendrik and  Aditya, followed their blogs for a year before taking the plunge."
'"Joined some creative blog groups for poets and flash fiction writers, their encouragement helped as did that of my first few followers...then gave into my ambitious, pestering brother's advice and took up writing full time in 2010."
"Moving out of Mumbai meant I could only hold a part-time accountant's job since I never managed to crack my C.A (C.P.A equivalent) final exams. I lick my wounds with the hard fact that in the 90s only 3% of 15,000 students got that elusive title every year, maybe because of fewer job openings then... sigh...but on the flip side, I have a lot of time to read, write, research, submit and get rejected, photograph, fabric paint, mess around with different software applications and blog now."
Alex softly "Lets get back to writing."
"Did I mention I got a commerce degree just because Arts is not a cool career option for the great Indian Middle Class! To cut the long story short...finally found the courage to get around doing what I love and what I think is one of the few things I am good at. So, if my books get printed or not, sell or not....I am and will be an Artist/Writer!!"

 Alternate version

There was a little girl who was a bit different, impulsive, hot tempered, rebellious dreaming false worlds when she should have been studying some more. The daydreams grew larger, more verbose and sometimes silly. As the space between the grey cells shrunk, she took to writing on pieces of paper... some saved, some frittered away carelessly...she never showed them to anyone lest she be mocked at by the uncaring. Then it happened, the stuff that her fears were made of. Unlike other kindred spirits, the more she read others, the less pieces of her own got written till a day when the dreams knew better and took flight to the nether regions of her mind, a self  imposed exile.

Time flew, walked, crawled, the dreams peeked out now and then and verses took shape that were protected fiercely for years and yet the best ones cast one day into the fire of battered self esteem (especially the ones dedicated to her fiancé-husband who broke her spirit)....and then after years of grey bleakness, the tumultuous life led her back to the road she had long ago abandoned, the only one left she could travel through, to save her sanity. The journey was risky, shaky, encouraged by loved ones who had secretly read her amateur works...she trots along enjoying the passing scenery.


* My heartfelt apologies to Robyn, Alex And Tbone.... One of my beta readers (aka cousin sister Nimmi) feels that my writing: poems, flash and short stories had one thing in common - sadness. At her request I am trying my hand at humour and other streams.

*Sorry to have put you to sleep...wakey, wakey....time to blogfest surf....

Before I leave....some cool Blogfests to be a part of if you haven't joined yet. ...

WRITERS' PLATFORM-BUILDING CAMPAIGN By Rach Writes

 a way to link writers, aspiring authors, beginner bloggers, industry people, and published authors together with the aim of helping to build our online platforms. 

The challenge starts on Feb16 and flash fiction work posted on three days and winners chosen. A chance to get some good books or a critique as some of the prizes.
Last year they created a E book with over 180 entries , the proceeds going to a charity.

Joining Link Open Till Feb 15.

 The A to Z Challenge 

CHALLENGE YOUR BLOGGING SKILLS - every day for 26 DAYS all of April

 Post on  any topic but based on the alphabetic order. Last year over 1300 bloggers participated...a great way to met more people

 Sundays are the Sabbath days here.
 Links open till March 31. They even have a video contest related to the challenge, open for entries till Mar 11

 Evil Genius Blogfest By Golden Eagle to celebrate two years of blogging.
Create a story, in any format whether that's flash fiction or poetry, where the aforementioned character does something qualifying them as an evil genius. You can also choose an already-existing person, perhaps from one of your favorite books or movies--just tell us why you think they're the best.
Word limit for entries: 400.  There will be prizes too.
On February 27. Link closes By Feb 26

A Young Dream Broken

For Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog...any genre, P.G as far as possible, not to exceed 16 words excluding the prompt in bold to create an autobiographical story...with a picture option this time round.

Sixteen in 1990 – Andre Agassi’s striking mane, my heart flutters…

2010 – find out, was a bloody wig!!! 

*The picture for those who don't know/remember

A Random Musing, A Rant And A Conversation Thrown In.

When life drops you a mango or two, Make a milkshake, and that's not quite your style Try a mango souffle....better still use the seeds to grow a tree, your grandchildren may end up saving their precious money and send you off, into the beyond, in style.


On to serious stuff (I am perfectly healthy, no worries there)....just pruning my blog tree list...realised that I have many who have abandoned their camps long ago, far too many poets to my liking, very few writers, book reviewers and movie/music review blogs. Those who find themselves at the short end of the chopping knife will hardly notice, they don't venture into the "dream" camp anyways. 
Serious writers will help me realise how my own pathetic writing is good enough for the E publishing world...given that I plan to come out with my ebook collections of short/flash fiction and poetry soon (six months, soon enough?). That scary task is not to appease the writer in me (maybe a wee bit) but for my mom and brother who have been my pillars of strength for longer than I can remember...I mean 37 is a long time isn't it to have your memories as pristine and crystal clear as they show in the movies?
 At the very least, my nephews and nieces can say their aunt was a published author even if nobody outside the family downloaded her .99 cents books (just hyping up myself for the eventual failure that is the story of my life.) 
 Centusians who have braved all the crappy words above, succour is in sight because my dialogues are based on this very future scenario. Happy reading. ;)

“Can I take your order, m’am?”

“Will have three of these, four tikka platters and chocolate brownies. Later, when the others have arrived.” “A coffee latte now, thank you”

…….

“Long time, no see” "Have been really busy."

“Reks, you haven't changed a bit since I last you”  “where is this new friend you raved about, that ex neighbour?”

“Caught in traffic, she will be here soon.” 

 “I am famished.” “Shouldn’t we wait?”

“Go ahead, she won’t mind.”

…….

 “So what’s this news?”

“You are having an affair!!” 

“Affairs are for the married remember”

“You are marrying again?”

“Bah!!” "Once bitten twice shy, should listen to old songs more often!!" “ Much better deal , I sold my first 100 books.”

“Finally, you did it!!” 

“I told you, you were good” “Are you seriously ordering another martini?”
“Hold your horses, the first outside sale so far, 99 were bought by family and you, my awesome friends!!!”


*Tikka - a  North Indian delicacy eaten as dry starters or gravies with Indian breads


For Saturday Centus at Jenny Matlock's blog Off On My Tangent

An Unfulfilled Last Wish

At Saturday Centus...there is only one thing that's constant and that is change....
hence a 15 words or less centus with an optional picture (which got me all excited)!!!
Here we go....with Harry Potter and my final adieu to the movies....
my imagination and Jenny's inspiration....Apparate and glide over the other magical spells at her blog Off on my tangent...
 Before I forget...the prompt was "...Before I die I want to..."

By songsnwords | View this Toon at ToonDoo | Create your own Toon

Time To Hit The Gym??

Having been AWOL for 2 weeks without the headmistress' Jenny Matlock permission..thought I'll use humour to appease her.
Enjoy /sympathise with other age related joys/woes at her blog..off on my tangent 


"...I'm not getting any younger...", she cribbed, huffing their way up the stairs....
''Need any help?'', asked her 75 year old uncle, his booming laughter echoing as he overtook her. 

Why Men Are From Mars, Women From Venus - 3

 Sometime in Feb 2004

By songsnwords | View this Toon at ToonDoo | Create your own Toon

# 38 RandomMusings For The Day

Based on the recent statements in the media and also reports of overdose of chemicals affecting crops in parts of China

By songsnwords | View this Toon at ToonDoo | Create your own Toon

Companion - An Ode To Thee

A white vision of loveliness approached

 The doomsday come and gone forth.

Moody and cantankerous

Breaking down at junctures of urgency

She made clutching hairs in despair

A meaningless, everyday gesture,

Her gaze loomed across time and space

Civilizations and mindplay, all a day’s worth.

Alas that good things come to a closure

So, it was, as the Wise Anon are wont to say.

True friends with benefits, never in the vulgar way

The parting amicable yet disturbing

 Pieces of heart and mind cut with invisible hands.

Adorning someone else’s room,

Enriching some other lives,

Frivolous pursuits of another like minded

Ageing grace she epitomises

My beautiful, wondrous companion no more,

For a span of eight earth years

My precious secret keeper – my Pentium 4. 

( Well, Aesthetic Blasphemy...your post and your reply comment prompted this...)

Behind The Wedding Scenes

They trudged back from the dining hall...tired after all the hopping around...Indian weddings are elaborate processes  like 18th century  dining customs the English had...

A two day wedding meant family pouring in from all over the country and abroad. It meant going back to the dorms where you rub shoulders with distant aunts and cousins you would never again see in flesh and blood...well..not till the next wedding in the family anyway...

Sleep is elusive and people try to catch up on missed out years in the few short hours to spare....

Its a place for the young to get juicy glimpses of their stern elders easy going past...then there are those pent up emotions of anger, sadness or envy that a few mischief mongers flame for a few moments of pleasure...while the immediate family of the bride or groom have minor heart attacks...

On that particular evening...the rooms were full and the youngsters rebelled (including the bride's sister and brother in law)....they wanted their privacy and the warmth of the home beds....

Off they went in their glittering silks sarees and gold jewellery that could light up the roads on their own. Some smart elders not needed for the pre-dawn ceremony (mostly men) choose to go home to Uncle's den...little did they know what the following morning would bring...

The next days clothes were stuffed in small bags, the vanity kit being the most important...how could we let millions of photos go waste without some face-paint...

The bungalow was just as had been left in the afternoon...no forced entry....calm and quiet...the cars parked, the gates locked securely....they drifted off to sleep in batches over the next hour or two...

trink....trink...beep beep...the various watch alarms went...woke up groggy one eyed, the other tightly shut...damn its was 3.30 a.m already...we had to be back at the hall by 6 a.m atleast, if we didn't want to miss out important ceremonies not to forget the lectures from parents for oversleeping on a special day...

No coffee till the great dining meant a few irritated faces...not to mention that a couple had their stomachs grumbling from the heavy feast of the previous evening.

It was time to take turns to bathe and dress up....18 people and 4 bathrooms...do the maths...the elder ones are usually the luckiest. Age and the fact that most ceremonies require their participation or blessing meant that they had a head start always... 

The ladies and girls in the rooms upstairs were busy admiring each other selections and discussing make overs and some sharing pooled resources...when Rajesh Anna* (*elder brother) bangs on the doors and announces "no showers please"....great...

No one had remembered/come back to turn on the motor the previous evening which meant that the daily supply of water didn't get through....

A check of the underground tank showed water level at less than half the usual limit... 

Fine with just 11 people left to go as a couple of guys happily postponing the clean up exercise for an hour of extra sleep....the situation was manageable or so we thought...

Halfway through, shrieks heard from the upper level bathrooms....the water flow had stopped...followed by more frantic ranting from elder men downstairs...."where are the extra soap bars?"

All eye turned to the bride's sister after all it was her parents home...

She went down with a shrug and "no problem"...only to come back red-faced...the store room was locked and the keys safe in her mom's handbag back "there"....

It was the only day in our history when the "beauty/skin conscious" among us were held in esteem rather than teased by the men...

Its was our face washes that saved the day....We gathered in all the ones we could find on person....Pallavi bhabhi*(cousin brother's wife) being the sweetest, offering two of her big imported (meaning expensive, famous cosmetic brand....even after the liberalisation of the economy in the early 90's, shopping abroad is still a thrilling/exotic activity) tubes of  face washes.

The contents were generously dumped into eagerly waiting buckets till a nice soapy foam built up was realised....We all had a ingenious version of tub baths that day...

Not enough but atleast we wouldn't be stinking underneath all the bling...

The sorry, exhausted lot finally left the premises at 6.30 a.m reaching an hour late....did I  mention that someone forget to to send the cars back and we, half a dozen girls twiddled our thumbs, swear words that would make guys cringe, being traded back and forth.

The rest of the day was largely uneventful if one overlooks the members from the groom's side with their smart aleck acts...I mean what good is an Indian wedding (or any wedding for that matter) if the groom's parents don't throw a tantrum or two?...with furious nods and nudges from their siblings...

After the reception when Uncle asked casually if we wanted the house keys again....we still had the "inviting the newly-weds and their extended family for lunch" ceremony the next morning.... he was shocked with the collective screams of "No, not again!!!".....

(This was based on a wedding of one of my dearest cousins....names changed for obvious reasons....the picture is from my Brother's wedding though...)

Rajni Effect

Couldn't resist posting this.....

 For those who don't know, Rajnikant is a South Indian Actor who has a fan following in Japan And Germany.

Just read how gr8 Rajini is......................................................

1. Rajinikanth doesn’t wear a watch. He decides what time it is.
2. Rajinikanth has already been to Mars, that’s why there are no signs of life there.
3. Rajinikanth killed the dead sea.
4. If you spell ‘Rajanikant’ wrong on Google it doesn’t say, “Did you mean Rajinikanth?” It simply replies, “Run while you still have the chance.”
5. Rajinikanth can play the violin with a piano
6. Rajnikanth once wrote a cheque, the bank bounced!
7. Micheal Jordan to Rajini: I can spin a ball on my finger for over two hours. Can you? 
   Rajni: Rascala; how do you think the earth spins!?
8. Rajinikanth once ordered a plate of idli in McDonald’s, and got it.
9. If Rajnikant was born 100 years earlier, British would have fought to get independence from India.
10. When Rajnikant logs on to facebook.com, facebook updates its status message.
11. Rajinikanth knows Victoria’s secret.
12. Rajinikanth can divide by zero.

(Post/link courtesy...a forwarded email by my cousin sister)

My Widgets Love

My blogging journey has brought out the kid in the candy store/toy store in me....the reason : my fascination for widgets/gadgets.

I keep adding, modifying and discarding them right and left...Sadly this spree also has heartbreak moments ...

Like saying adios to Darth Vader and Aristotle quotes as they slowed down my page.... so much so that even I had to spend many blank, anxious moments before my page loaded...giving up Sudoku was hard for an game addict like me but I spent more time on solving it than typing useful (??? who am I kidding) words...

But some stayed on like old friends who never quite exit from our lives....some ego boosting that show how much we are liked...some that tell the world that happens to peep in, what we believe in....

All in all they make up our blog as much as personal input does...

Its takes just a jiffy to admire those creative souls who make the job of presenting an aesthetically pleasing blog into " the blog art for dummies" .

And me...I am off to add a bookshelf to my story blog...... ;D

euREKA Moments - 2

Situation :  

    Riders in India and many parts of Asia use their helmets as fashion accessories. The helmets are found everywhere on the bikes and Scooters as eye candy except the right spot - the head. Given the spate of accidents and their continual rise...

euREKA Moment : 

• Bravery awards newly constituted by the  Helmet Habits Association -

For those monitored rare species of riders who actual never fail to wear their helmets while navigating busy streets and highways.

• Bravery Awards by the Pedestrians Safety Forum -

For those hardy and lion hearted walkers who dare to step on pavements and footpaths on the thoroughfares frequented by helmet-less devils in leather.