Five minute Friday
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Fantastically torn pages
We are each other’s story wrapped in tangles; edgeless momentoes of each other. We are fragments of stars and streams & oaks running ‘neath trees planted by torrents of living Waters… pic : pickled stardust, unsplash we are songs broken every day, as at dawn. We are wars. We are Seekers of Light, in the… Continue reading
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A palmful of summer rain
Gojay dreamed of a well by the acre of hardened land his father had inherited from his father; a well with water in it. That monsoon after the last rain cloud was blown away, he dug little shallows in his fathers ungiving field, but there was no water. That summer and the next. One weekend… Continue reading
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Normal?
“What dyou mean?” She asks, her face wide with laughter and tears, a rare combination for Jassi who never cries. Apparently the people who’ve been paying her rent are stopping that now that they must care for themselves. Jassi’s been semi- dependent on her second cousins all these years with eyesight gone and a debilitating… Continue reading
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Table for …ten?
For FMF Writers. ‘Table”. Our table seems to expand with every new person. I don’t know how they did it back then, we now are more conservative a Society. (Conservative as in : conserving on personal space/ sharing). We buffet, we carry bag/ take home. We have little side-table, collapsible ones too, with flaps down… Continue reading
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Before I could exhale…
His eyes were closed- ofcourse, what’d I expect, Joh was born blind, though Doc Parin (name changed) was looking at him, as if with a search light right to the brain. Then he scrutinised us carefully in that quiet room with nice vase and air conditioning. Warm August, palm tree in his window, fine scent… Continue reading
