Mango Trees

There are three mango trees right outside my window.

CornerThis one is at the left corner and its branches intermingle with the middle one – almost as if they were one. If you visited my earlier post here you would remember that I commented on their apparent overnight transformation. One fine day I noticed that the leaves were no longer dark or stiff and dusty. They were lush, tender green, brown and yellow shiny leaves! No striptease, shedding old leaves, baring arms and all that – just a magical instant make over. I promised to catch them in the act the next time. But that was a whole year away. That’s when it struck me – there was no need to wait for so long.

MtreesThey were both here, right under my nose. That’s the middle mango tree on the left and the third one on the right. I don’t need to ask you if you can see the difference between the two mango trees.

Mango treeOne is lush green and yellow, overloaded with fresh luscious leaves, heavily pregnant so to speak, just waiting to pop out mangoes. And the other, stuck in a time warp with its dark sparse leaves, stagnant and unchanging through the seasons. As if it had given up on life, barely hanging on – a gust of wind would be enough to snap it, end it all.

I looked once more at the dying tree and blinked.

What was that?

MangoWithin the dry hard winter leaves nestled tender, fresh shiny leaves, lime and brown. Can you see?

By the way, how many mangoes did you count?

It’s never over until you say it is over – and sometimes not even then.

For Becca’s Sunday Trees 283

WPC: Summer Surprises

The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge wants us to show a few surprises that we may have captured.

Ddn

Traveling through this picturesque stretch, I was surprised to see the images in the rear view mirror. And don’t miss the carpet of leaves 🙂 Apologies for the blurred image – the auto ride was terribly bumpy 😀

SunflowerDon’t they look like unruly children trying to escape? And do check out the tiny top hat on the middle rod – Warden in charge perhaps 😉

ButterflyLook what I found in my mum’s garden! Not at all camera shy 😀

Thanks for visiting  – do surprise me with a note.

Poetry for No Rhyme or Reason

Since as long as I can remember I have been at loggerheads with poetry. I admired the rhyme but could often find no reason. Prose was my cup of tea I decided. I tried writing poetry but always felt a sort of disconnect with it, as I struggled to understand them and worse never really enjoyed the ‘hassle’ of penning them. I struggle with prose too but it is never a chore, I can sit with it for hours – just like I have been at this post!

But then I came across a post by Theresa, which forced me to re-look into my antipathy towards poems. And understand that poetry is not about understanding but about feeling.

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood. T.S. Eliot

I had the first inkling of this when I came across the Shiv Tandav Stotram by Ravana, which he composed to appease Lord Shiva. Ravana is a Hindu mythological figure and that he composed a song is in itself mind boggling – did he actually exist? And then comes the poem, in Sanskrit, a language that I don’t know. Yet the song, the poem with its onomatopoeias and alliterations resonates and never fails to pull me right into it, leaving me exhilarated, uncaring and unmindful of the world and its shenanigans. I finally understood why Lord Shiva forgave him. Anyone who can compose like this, deserves another chance, and another, and another….

But that didn’t stop me from dissecting poems, struggling, scoffing, scorning until Theresa introduced me to this poem:

Introduction to Poetry

by Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem

and hold it up to the light

like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski

across the surface of a poem

waving at the author’s name on the shore.

but all they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose

to find out what it really means.

I was stunned – I was guilty of doing exactly the very same thing! I should technically be ashamed and embarrassed but I am too relieved and flying high to be any such thing 😀 Thank you Theresa! Do visit her blog for the complete post and more amazing poems.

I would also like to share with you with a poem written by the French poet, novelist, and dramatist Jean-Pierre Simeón. It has been translated into English by Claudia Zoe Bedrick, and illustrated by Ollivier Tallec.

The poem is about a little boy Arthur, whose fish Leon is dying from boredom. His mother advises him to give Leon a poem. And thus begins Arthur’s journey to find a poem. He meets and asks several people and finally returns with this to Leon:

A poem
is when you have the sky in your mouth.
It is hot like fresh bread,
when you eat it,
a little is always left over.

A poem
is when you hear
the heartbeat of a stone,
when words beat their wings.
It is a song sung in a cage.

A poem
is words turned upside down
and suddenly!
the world is new.

Click here for Leon’s reaction, the complete poem, illustrations and original links. And while you are there, you may consider subscribing to Brain Pickings, a goldmine and a must read for all 🙂

PS: I am very pleased to tell you that the Haiku queen penned another commended haiku for the IAFOR Vladimir Devidé Haiku Award 2017.

our baby
between us
a new distance
                                                                                                                                                              Suraja Roychowdhury, USA

Congratulations Suraja – look forward to many such pearls 🙂

The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. Dylan Thomas

Thank you for reading – wishing you all a wonderful weekend, Happy Easter, Happy  Baisakhi, Happy Vishu and Shubho Noboborsho and anything else I may have missed! 🙂

For readers of Moonshine, here's Chapter 132

SPF: The Amusement Park

 197-04-april-9th-2017

The Amusement Park

Words 198

 

“Come along Granny! Let’s ride the Columbus.”

“No dear! I can’t handle so much excitement.”

“Then let’s go for a gentle train ride on Piggy.” Lilly offered.

“No darling. I’ll just sit here and watch the fun. Go on now.”

Great! Now even your granddaughter pities you.

Just because you lost your husband.

To another woman.

Your own sister.

And now Death had taken them both.

“Granny! You are missing all the fun!”

Snehlata waved to her granddaughter.

She knew how it worked.

A gentle swing at first, a slow build up and then an earthshaking stomach heaving nerve wracking swing from one end of the horizon to the other – relentlessly, over and over again.

Just like it had for the past three decades.

Pity that her best ride had been also been her last.

Switching her sister’s insulin injection and then parading as her ghost had been an exhilarating experience.

But those days were behind her.

It was time for a Piggy ride.

“Hello Ramesh. How’s your wife?”

“She’s bedridden, dependent and cranky as hell.”

“I am so sorry to hear that. Do you think she might like me to visit?”

Perhaps one last roller coaster ride…

***

Written for the Sunday Photo Fiction – a story in 200 words or less. Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting the challenge and the photo prompt. To read the other stories inspired by this prompt click here.

Thanks for reading and look forward to reading your comments 🙂

Undone

Unravel

Hunched over

A spread-eagled rat

I unraveled

Was it the chloroform,

Old Spice

Or you?

Clearly I am re-unraveling 😉 Go on say it, I am waiting for the axe to fall 😀 

Photo credit: Svkuki 

 

 

CFFC: Fiery

Summer is here and it is only right that the Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge should focus on Summer: Fire

So, without any further ado, hop on for a fiery ride 🙂

TrainWhere there’s smoke there’s bound to be fire right?

JhumkoSome fiery orange blossoms

FlowerBright yellow flowers hanging upside down – anyone know what they are called?

GardenNice summery feel to this garden isn’t there?

MatchedIf you are looking for something that is really combustible – here we are. Probably guilty (at least partly) of the global warming 😉

Thanks for visiting – do let me know your favourite pic 🙂

For readers of Moonshine, here's  Chapter 131

Living a Lie

Mt Pilatus

Through swirling mists

I followed you

on faith alone.

When the haze lifted

I reached out and

blindfolded myself

 

This is another unexplored genre for me. What do you think? Did it make sense? Is the format all wrong? 

In response to the Daily Post’s one-word prompt – Blindly

Of Fashions and Styles

I just finished reorganising my wardrobe – putting away all the woollies and digging out my summer cottons. Quite a monumental task and I couldn’t help envying the trees. They seem to have their own go as you like dress codes. Some shed leaves in winter and green up during summers. While yet others wear shaggy punk hairstyles with impunity. The mango tree outside my window is a real sneaky one. Right under my nose, without any warning or prior intimation, almost overnight, it just went from wearing dark, crusty and dusty leaves to lush, tender light green and yellow shiny leaves! No striptease, shedding old leaves, baring arms and all that – just a magical instant make over. Will catch it in the act, next time 😉

For this time, here’s are photos of the same tree, two months apart

branchesPerhaps you remember this photo, I had clicked it on a cold dreary winter evening in the first week of February this year. Seems to have taken to renouncing the world and completely internalising herself, meditating and contemplating on the meaning (or meaninglessness) of life…

 

20170409_124508And in just two months, she’s back all refreshed and rejuvenated ready to spread some cheer and oxygen 🙂

Linked to Becca’s Sunday Trees – 282

Out of the Ordinary

 

It had been a long day at the office and Sonali was looking forward to putting up her feet with a cup of tea.

Raja, her 12-year-old-son, opened the door. “Mom, my scholarship money which was in the drawer has been stolen.”

Sonali suppressed a groan.

There went her hopes of relaxing. “Are you sure? Did you check properly?”

“Yes Mom.”

“Let me see.” She hunted high and low with Raja prowling about like a bear that had misplaced her cubs.

“Perhaps you spent it and forgot?” Sonali asked hoping against hope.

“No! I didn’t. I had Rs 7122. Now there is only Rs 122.”

“Why would a thief take only part of the money?” Sonali wondered.

“Probably because she was in a hurry?”

“She?” Sonali turned to her husband.

He shrugged. “It’s obviously one of the girls.”

Sonali looked at him in dismay. Who else indeed? Nobody else entered Raja’s room.

“Mom, are you going to call the police? Will they go to jail?” The bear wanted blood.

“I am not going to do any such thing.”

“Why not? They are thieves and they should be in jail.”

“There are three of them and I don’t know who has taken the money. I can’t just call the police.” Sonali was aghast. “This is a domestic matter and not a very big issue. I will sort it out.”

“Not a big issue? It was my scholarship money!”

“How will you sort it out? You do realize this is a tricky situation, which could blow up in our faces? What if they bring counter allegations of harassment?”

Mama and Papa bears pulled her in two different directions.

“Let me think! I haven’t even been to the washroom.” Sonali snarled. “And you,” Sonali turned to Raja, “It’s all your fault. How many times did I tell you to take care of it?”

“So it’s my fault? Not the thieves? You want to put me in jail and let them go scot free?” He followed his mother to the washroom.

Sonali slammed the door for some peace and quiet.

Her husband was right. This was indeed a tricky situation. She couldn’t –shouldn’t talk to the girls. Who knew how they would react? They would of course deny culpability. It would be better to talk to their mother, Sheila.

In the privacy of the loo, Sonali allowed herself the luxury of a groan. If only Raj was still around. None of this would have happened.

“I can’t come to work from tomorrow.” Raj, Sonali’s longtime and trusted house help, had said not so long ago.

Disaster!

Raj was Sonali’s right and left hand. A delicate health, a full time job, a hungry teenager, breakfast, tiffin, lunch, high tea, and dinner – the heat! How would she manage?

“I am sorry but the family is shifting far from here. You know I can’t read bus numbers. Besides I have never traveled alone. So.” She raised her hands in a helpless gesture.

“Can you suggest someone as a replacement? Someone trustworthy?” Seeing no other option Sonali asked.

“I will see. But I won’t be able to vouch for trustworthiness.”

“I suppose not. But at least send someone who is regular and doesn’t take too many offs. You know how things are at home.”

After a frenetic week, a middle-aged woman turned up. “Memsahib, you are looking for a maid? Raj sent me.”

“Oh.” Sonali wiped the soapsuds off her hands. “What’s your name?”

“Sheila.”

“Are you new? I haven’t seen you around.”

“No Memsahib. I have been here for longer than Raj has. I was the one who arranged for her accommodation near my house when she first came to town.”

“Okay Sheila,” Sonali interrupted her self-righteous affronted speech, “I do need someone to help me with the housework. But you have to come early morning before I leave for work and after I come back from work.”

“But Raj used to…”

“Yes Raj had a key. But she’s been with me for more than a decade now. I can’t just…” Sonali trailed off for fear of offending her.

“Don’t think like that of us Memsahib. We are of good family Memsahib. It’s just that we have fallen upon bad times.”

“I am sure! I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t trustworthy. But you do agree trust takes time? Even with Raj…”

“Okay Memsahib. As you think best.”

“And I don’t want you to take any leave without information. At least give me a call, if you can’t come.”

Sheila nodded.

Relieved, Sonali agreed to Sheila’s demands of a salary hike and handed over the reins of the cleaning to her. She could go back to having a cup of tea in peace.

After a bit of tussle with the men of the house who didn’t like the idea of a strange woman roaming the house and encroaching upon their activities.

“Why do I have to go out? My room is clean.”

“Who is she? What are her credentials? What if she steals something?”

“Whoever has objections can take her place. I will even pay for it.” Sonali smartly turned the tables. They backed off mumbling and grumbling.

Sheila turned out to be a God sent – she was regular, clean and a reliable worker. Sonali relaxed and bonded with her new ‘friend’ and life savior. Saturday was Sonali’s day off and Sheila would share a cup of tea her life’s woes and joys while the bears were away.

“Memsahib, this morning breakfast that you are kind enough to give me everyday? I really appreciate it. I come for work without having breakfast. It saves me time. And money.”

“My husband is a good man, Memsahib. No smoking no drinking, no bad habits. I feel sorry for him that he got me as a wife. I couldn’t give him a son.”

“Without a son, there is no respect in society, Memsahib. I gave birth to five daughters but no son.”

“My husband can’t sleep nights for worry. The other day he fainted because of high blood pressure. Running around the hospital is no woman’s job. I cannot even read and write. If only we had a son.”

“My husband is taking a life insurance policy. He has been advised to make his nephew as the beneficiary not me or my daughters.”

“My youngest says she is my son. She said she would never leave me and go.”

“Daughters’ weddings are expensive business. We are still dealing with the burden of loan for our two elder daughters’ marriage.“

“I don’t know how to control my daughters Memsahib. They are driving us crazy with their demands for an early marriage. The middle one especially is running out of control and is straying. She has a boyfriend. She has no shame in flaunting him. She carries on publicly with him. She cares more for him than us. She gave us an ultimatum, either we get her married or she will run away with him. Think of the shame Memsahib, we will lose face in society.”

“We can’t put off their wedding much longer. But where will we get the money to marry them off?”

“Sweets for you Memsahib. I am very happy today. My daughter’s second child is a boy. Now nobody can taunt her or me. Our ‘sonless’ curse is broken.”

“Memsahib, I need leave to take care of my husband. He’s had a heart attack.”

Sonali looked at her in dismay. “Oh no!”

“Don’t worry Memsahib. Your work won’t suffer. I know you also don’t keep a good health and I will make sure that at least one of my three daughters comes to do your house work.”

Seeing no other option, Sonali agreed. Besides, it was considerate of Sheila to keep her comfort in mind in this situation. But her neat orderly house running like clockwork was thrown into disarray. It’s not that the girls didn’t come, but each had a different way of working and special area of slipshoddiness. But Sonali had little choice but to bear it as well as she could.

And now money was missing. And who knows what else was missing.

“Mom, you are still letting thieves walk about the house?”

“I don’t know which of the three took the money. Besides, I don’t want to say anything to them. Sheila will have to deal with them.” Sonali said. “Until she comes to work, things will carry on as usual, except that we will have to keep a closer watch on their activities.”

A long drawn out altercation followed but Sonali was adamant.

Much to everyone’s disgust.

Sheila reported for work four days later.

“Sheila,” Sonali was uncomfortable and apprehensive, “I wanted to tell you that some money is missing from my son’s room.”

Sheila stared.

She turned off the tap.

“My youngest would never do it.” She said at last.

Relieved not to have Sheila take offence or fly off the handle, Sonali said carefully measuring each word, “You know your daughters best. I didn’t say anything to any of them because I thought you were best suited to deal with the situation. And there is no doubt I am afraid that one of them must have taken it.”

Sheila didn’t say anything and went about her work as usual.

Sonali escaped to office but she was bombarded with dire warnings and advice from all quarters.

“Be careful of these people. They are very cunning. They will land up in hordes and create a ruckus. Worse they can also file a harassment complaint at the police station.”

“So what should I do?” Sonali was getting more and more apprehensive.

“Forget about the money.”

“And continue to let her work?”

“That’s a bit tricky. Best you deal with it diplomatically.”

“But how?”

“Oh look at the time! And I have tons of work…”

That’s it work – work was the only distraction and Sonali pushed the domestic crisis for later.

When Sonali returned from office, she found Sheila and her husband waiting for them.

Now what?

Sonali looked at her husband. He set his lips and walked inside.

Sonali steeled herself for the worst.

“Yes Sheila.” Sonali hated the defensiveness in her own tone.

“Memsahib, we came to apologise and offer compensation. I know my middle daughter has taken the money. Please don’t call the police.”

Sonali stared at Sheila unable to believe her ears. “How do you know?”

“Like you said Memsahib, I know my children best. I knew my youngest couldn’t have done it. And my middle one has been getting desperate about her lover. I confronted all three of them. They all denied. So I accused her outright. She denied vociferously. Then I told her ‘Memsahib has a CCTV camera and she saw you take it.’ She broke down and confessed.”

Sheila wrung her hands waiting for the axe to fall.

The wind taken completely out of her sails, Sonali was dumbstruck.

In all the scenarios that they had painstakingly constructed, they had never ever considered that Sheila would accept culpability or identify the culprit.

“Memsahib, we have brought some money. Please take how much ever she stole from you. She confessed that she stole for her boyfriend and has already given it to him. We would have thrown her out Memsahib, but her wedding cards have distributed. Think of the bad name our family will get. How will I get my other two daughters married? Please don’t call the police. We just have Rs 5000 with us right now. We will give back the rest to you as soon as we can.”

Sonali felt humbled yet victorious, small yet exhilarated.

***

A/N Based on a true incident.

In response to the Daily post’s one-word prompt – Outlier

 

Flash 50: His Right

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s had a bad day.”

“Did somebody die? Is he ill?”

“The heat is killing.”

“His office is air-conditioned. We had a power cut.”

“His boss is mean to him.”

“So?”

“You don’t understand!”

“I’m listening.”

“He’s not used to being abused.”

“And you are?”

***

In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt – Denial and inspired by Nicola’s 50-word dialogue only story. As usual, I await your judgement with bated breath 😀