Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Little Puppy With A Prayer

Source- Google Image

I am the little puppy with a prayer,
That’s what been told by my mother,
Though with time I feel more in danger,
Nonetheless I can try to be braver.

I walk to an iron body so tall,
 Touching the big sky of fall,
I ask him “Have you seen my mother?
I am the lost puppy with a prayer.”
The tower stands there still,
I feel he is a little bit ill.

I march slowly sniffing to another,
Wearing green dress like my mom’s master,
I ask “Have you seen my mother,
I am the lost puppy with a prayer.”
The pale face turns red and sneezes away,
I guess it’s just not my day.

There is some music that I like,
I run there with much delight,
I see something like my master’s daughter,
Before I ask “Have you seen my mother?
I’m the lost puppy with a prayer.”
It bends down, hauls me with big shoulders.

I see big teeth flashing inside pink paint,
Is this the monster mother was talking then?
Now I am too scared of monster so insane,
I shine my own teeth and sink it to the white skin,
Blood comes from there and a shriek rings in,
I fall on my butt and there it does pain.

Now I see large boots running towards,
 as big as me, my sisters and brothers,
More eyes turn toward me growing bigger,
I smile at them though they smell of anger,
Still I just ask, “Have you seen my mother?
I am the lost little puppy with a prayer.”

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Something for some lovely ones

I feel bad whenever I find how shameless I have grown on my place. Whenever I see that the good-manners have seeped out from me leaving me as an uncouth indecent chic, I can’t even look myself in eyes. Really, my embarrassment is no affectation. I really mean it and It is ripping my heart apart. And who do I have to cannon the blame this time?

My busy schedule? Oh! No. It will be a turgid lie.

Lack of enthusiasm? No. Not at all.

Health problems? Not that serious to be an issue (Just a minor food poisoning two days back due to having a coffee outside. Look at the delicate me! ).
Frustration of failures? It’s my fault that I can’t contain myself. It’s life. Okay! Be real!!

It’s purely the procrastination. You know what, I can be very useful in exhibition. They can put me under the label of “The moodiest Procrastinator of 21st century”. Yeah! That will be really entertaining. I can see you smiling at the screen right now.

I don’t know. But I know sorry is not enough neither is thank you.
Still I owe you all both of these.

A big SORRY and even bigger THANK YOU.

You still haven’t got it. Right! Yeah! Yeah! I am very mis-talented(for me it’s mis not un) too.

A few months back Mr. Ajay Kontham(It’s his blog here.) had forwarded me a cute award. But for his sweet gesture, I even couldn’t say him a mere thanks. I simply put it in my to-do-list into the piles of chores that I have barely cared to finish ever.

Secondly, A few days back beautiful owner of this majestic blog Me  again forwarded me a blog award. Though I thanked her on her blog post’s comment section, still she deserves more than that.

So guys sorry for holding you till now. I know you, rational and sensible people have better work than looking forward to my shity blog. Still this is for both you and all the readers who stumble into my blog and take pain to actually go through it and suffer more for commenting. I love you all! You stay in my heart. Each of you. I swear on the name of Pizza Hut. (Huh! If I forget any name, Pizza Hut guys will be in trouble which I really don’t intend to do.)

And and and…my dear friends I have something for you. Hope you all will like it.

A Cake..?

It's here:

I know it's bit late but I had made this card that I could upload on Diwali. 

Happy Diwali to all! :)

Sunday, November 10, 2013

38 Missed calls...what's going on!

Purvi checked the Platinum rimmed watched on her wrist, not with admiration but in despair. The meeting she was leading on would take at least another hour even if they have the least discussion. The phone in her blazer pocket trembled violently again, arresting her heartbeat for 38th time. It was call from home. Her mobile profile was set in such a way that, in silent profile only the calls from home will have vibration.
“38 missed calls in 10 minutes..?” She wondered what was going on! Her dark eyes went dilated with worry.
Another call and she knew she would run insanely from the meeting. It’s better to leave like a professional.
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” She composed herself into a tough, straight exterior. “I am sorry but I have to leave the meeting now.”
Every pair of eyes rose puzzled with her abrupt leaving decision.
“Are you sure, Miss Purvi? What about the meeting? I guess you know with how much difficulty your company got the meeting with us. And you value the importance of it.” The representative from Client Company told her in a cold and lethal tone that chilled the whole room’s temperature.
“I do understand.” She paused. But my son is far more important than this meeting or this company or the whole world, She wanted to tell. “Still I have to leave. My assistant will be here. He will carry on this meeting and I hope he will be as efficient as I would have been. All the designs are finalized and in your file. Any other query, I would get into touch with you later. As soon as possible, in fact.”
“But I think you know that we are leaving the town tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Shaw. I will get to you before you leave. But now, it’s the matter of someone’s life and I can’t wait anymore. Thank you. It was nice meeting till now and once again I am genuinely sorry for my sudden departure.”
She snapped the car keys and left the room.
As soon as Purvi was out, her blood rushed inside like larva from volcano.
She called back to home but no one picked it up. When she tried to her son mobile, the call was disconnected. She kept calling along with running to the parking lot and rushing into her car.
The wheels turned zestfully like war horses as she pulled the car in sixth gear, racing into the late afternoon lazy city road. In one hand she managed the car and in another, though she hated breaking traffic rules, she called her home again. It was risky but being a single mom was no less dramatic. When she took the decision of raising the baby alone, against the whole society, abandoning her real home, getting established in the new city and setting up a new business all was an unbelievably perilous.
It took half of the time it should have taken in general for her to reach home. She slammed the car door and sprinted into the house, straight into her son’s bedroom.
Her ten year old son was standing there, over a small table, wearing a white cloak.
“Hey, son.” She called out to him. “Are you okay?”
He turned to her. “Hey, Mom. Yeah! I am okay. You back early.” Then he checked the mickey mouse watch on his wrist. “Exactly 4 hours 32 minutes early.” He beamed at her showing the smile in which two teeth were missing.
“You called me. 38 missed calls. I was worried.” She walked to him and kneeled before him, hugging him tightly.
“Ah! Mom. You are chocking me.” He said, shaking himself free. “I called you because you have a fantastic caller tone and I was experimenting with it.”
“Caller tune? Experimenting?” She stared in those innocent eyes fathoming some better answer.
“Yeah. Look what I have made.” He took her with him to the tiny table. Her son was no less than a genius. His room was full of experiments equipments and apparatuses. After all winning junior level national science competition can’t be just like this. The small boy was blessed.
A setting was set up on the tiny table. There stood a demure wooden frame with numerous iron sticks connecting along its height in equal distance at feet. On each tall stick there was a small ball rested at the end. One side of the wooden frame was connected to a small box sized device and the device was again connected to a tiny mobile.
Purvi had given her son that mobile, in case he needed to call her anytime or she needed to reach her.
Her son went to the mobile and the mobile in Purvi’s pocket buzzed again. As the phone rang, the next moment the balls in the wooden frame danced like professional dancer on a stage, each ball rising and falling rhythmically along with the music.
She inched near to wooden frame and watched the wonder happening in agape till it stopped with the vibration in her phone.
“You see that?” Her son excitedly enquired.
“It’s beautiful. Very beautiful. But why my caller tune only? And wait….who set caller tune on my mobile? I didn’t have one.”
“I did it.” Her son said avoiding to look up from the invention.
“I liked the song. Today morning while you were in bathroom you left your phone in dinning hall and I took it. By the way your phone was getting slow. I cleaned up the garbage files, deleted the apps jamming os. Meanwhile there was a call from your mobile company that whether you want to have a caller tune. I said ok. Don’t you check your balance? They must have deducted thirty bucks.”
“No, son. But you should have told me. You know I was worried of your calls.”
“Oh mom! I am sorry.” His seraphic face dropped in grimace.
She couldn’t bear seeing him sad.
“Well! For this mistake you will be punished.” She narrowed her eyes on him.”And your punishment is” Her finger moved to sides of his body, tickling the sensitive nerves.
The empty house fell into the loud ten year old laughter while Purvi chased after him, tickling at different places.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Front door

Close the front door,
Walk with me to inside,
Hold my hand and walk this far,
Show me how you cook the love.

A secret hidden in your ribbed sheath,
Show it to me dear,
I will hush it down in my breath,
Fasten it with promises of your.

Soft and melting, shiny and deep down crispy,
How do you cook best love in the world,
Into tiny pieces with ends conic and heads curvy,
Dipping, kneading and foliating with sweet words.

Close the every way,
In that bowl painted mauve,
Everything you mix with such care,
Show me how you cook the love.

Image source- Google Image