Tag Archives: Words and Images

Let’s go for a walk

Let us go for a walk, my friend.

Somewhere, anywhere,

In a forest, a park, a street, many streets.

Let us take turns we haven’t before.

Let us sit down on a bench

and talk a little or a lot,

or say nothing at all.

Let us walk for hours,

and wear out our soles.

Simi K. Rao.

Monsoon (Baarish)

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Poinsettias in rain by Simi K. Rao

Drenched in refreshing moisture, earth bursts into colorful melody-

                                                                                                Simi K. Rao

Monsoon in India is a special time. The overcast black skies, the drumroll of thunder, invoke the thrill of anticipation in the thirsty heart. This is then fulfilled by the downpour. And what a downpour it is!

Extending from June- September, the monsoon brings welcome relief from the stifling heat of the summer. The happiness is visible not just on the faces of the citizens but also on the parched earth– the fragrance of the soil, the blossoming of the vegetation, the songs of the cuckoo, the dance of the peacock.

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A Woman is to be Seen not Heard.

Bust of a woman by Picasso

It may sound cliched yet nothing could be truer. A girl who goes on to become a woman has always learned to lead an inferior life. She has learned to be a perennial serf, who lives in the shadows. Who is seen and not heard. If she speaks– it has to be in soft tones or whispers. She has to align her opinions with those of the society — she has to be uncontroversial, motherly, generous. She has to live for her family and the world at large. She is ‘weak’ thus needs to be protected, yet she is also taken advantage of. Hypocrisy much? 

If she rebels and asserts herself even in the slightest she at once surrounds herself with frowns and draws rebuke and criticism. How dare she? She is labelled a vixen, a mad woman and cast out or burnt at the stake.

Hence since the birth of time (with a few notable exceptions) she has learned to clip her wings, succumb to the pressures, curb her desires, even censor her thoughts. What a tragedy isn’t it?

Do read ‘The Awakening’by Kate Chopin.

Image is of a painting titled Bust of a Woman by Pablo Picasso– Oil with fixed black chalk on canvas. Displayed at Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, California.

Drabble: Betrayal

 

Beach- lonely

Betrayal

We sat in the park. Tim was sleeping in the stroller all bundled up nice and cozy. We were like a family.

Aly. I wanted to tell you something.

I held my breath and waited.

I’ve been accepted at Pepperdine. Law. I’m excited.

I’m excited for you Zach.

I love you Aly. You’re so wonderful. He kissed me on the cheek.

I knew it was over. My pain expanded in my stomach. And spread to my chest to my arms, my head. And oozed from my eyes. I dug into my bag. My fingers automatically scrambling, searching for my crux, my pills. I found one.

It didn’t do anything for me. Absolutely nothing. I wanted to die.

~~~

PS: I’m attempting here a series of drabble; scattered ideas; snippets from life/lives. If they evoke some spark in you please give a holler 🙂

 

 

A Cup of Tea

A cup of Tea

is a fuzzy warm morning

flicking aside the blanket of night

It is a lazy afternoon

a let’s sit down

and chat for a while

It is a moment

booked just for me

to waste as I please

to brood

sit by the window

look at nothing

or hitchhike on a plume of steam

to neverland

A sample from my upcoming book of poems and short stories Under the Shade of the Banyan Tree. Out soon!