November Ahoy!

A post a day!

Alright, so November’s finally here – not that I’ve been sitting on the edge of my seat for it, but – it’s the first day of National Novel Writing Month, and the more challenging, National Blog Posting Month.

Last year, same date, I was feverishly typing away at my first stab at a novel – an endeavour I’m so glad to say that I completed – though editing’s taken me over a year. Anyway, this year, I decided to take up the NaBloPoMo challenge.

There! I’ve said it – now that it’s out in the open, I’m going to have to sit and write no matter what. Either that or my ego would kill me, and I’ll have to cringe in guilt knowing I’ve lost a precious opportunity to connect with other bloggers.

But hopefully, that’s not going to happen.

Even to this day, going from Add New Post to Schedule/Publish in one day is quite a task for me – I prefer to create drafts whenever I feel like it and publish them in installments. So, this challenge, I plan to create and publish posts everyday – and use the drafts sparingly.

Also, I’ve taken up the Photography 101 Challenge – so I’ll probably club both challenges together – which will give me a lot of post ideas.

It’s going to be a mindful November – glad to get started.

All the best to all folks facing a variety of challenges this month – any beyond.

A Walk to Remember

She walked down the aisle.

Alone.

Just realized what an ambiguous 6 word story this would be in my Flash Fiction collection. Any thoughts?

Money Matters

festival of darkness

“We’re using last year’s left overs.”

“Left overs!” Prem snorted, “At least my kids are luckier than yours! They wanted crackers for 2000 and I got them for 3000 rupees! Besides, It’s just one day.”

“Sir?”

The trash collector had come for his festive bonus. Prem groaned as he rummaged in his wallet. He peeled out a few notes, picked the oldest looking 20 rupee, and handed it to the shabby man.

He left, crestfallen.

“Maybe you should have given him more,” his wife suggested.

“Salary’s a few weeks away, why waste the money?”

October 22nd was Deepawali/Diwali here in India, and fire crackers are a major part of the expenses. This is another story for my Flash Fiction collection, based on what I’d like to call The Festival of Darkness.

The Ultimate Race

On your marks, get set, go! Arms flailing, the girls rush forward. The stronger of the two wins. Naturally. The children clap and cheer, the teachers smile their appreciation. The girl who has won laughs happily and runs back in triumph. I look at the girl who has lost. In her eyes, I see shame, I see fear, I see despair. Shame at not being able to win. fear of what others are thinking, despair at not knowing what to do next. I see a soul that is slowly being bruised and brutalised by comparison. Something within her has withered. I want to tell her that she is beautiful and sensitive, that this race doesn’t matter, that it’s just a silly system that grown-ups invented for their own selfish reasons. I want to give her something to make her feel better. In my hand, I have an orange, Impulsively, I reach forward, take the hand of this child and put the orange into it. ‘Take this’, I say to her. ‘It’s for coming second.’

— Excerpt from “Ramblings on a beach” by Kabir Bedi

rabbit 2

Oh, isn’t the world drunk on competition!

Everyone wants to outdo each other. Run, run, life is a race. The only purpose is to win the rat race. We’re so high on the thought that we easily fail to recognize the little things that we lose, merely by winning a good-for-nothing rat race.

How many poeple have we hurt, how many people we’ve made feel small. We’ve crushed too many souls. We’ve lost friends, family, health and joy. It’s all our obsessive need to belong, to be on top, to succeed. The need to override others, to control, to influence, to manipulate, to exploit.

What’s the point? What do we gain by walking over the very things that matter the most to us?

But hey, we’ve won the race! And now we’re alone.