Gulliver Travels to PoliPut


Beyond distorted trees and barren lands, situated half on Earth and half in the Sky, was the mega city – PoliPut. Gulliver consulted his map once again to ensure that he was nearing his destination. 

As he cautiously entered the noisy City, a volley of tweets just missed his ears. Monstrous boards and placards full of accusations stood at every corner. The Politikians were enjoying rowdy rallies where slippers and boots were being hurled. And every nook and corner stank of black wealth.

The Politikians were short in stature but giant shadows accompanied them. The leader was chosen after a round of Yelling Match.

Gulliver also noticed one queer thing. The Politikians used just one emotion – the smiley. They even killed with a smile! It was the strangest land ever! 

(Gulliver did not write any further. Like most honest journalists, he was muted by a smiling Politikian.)


This is my entry to the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by the amazing Priceless Joy. We are given a photo prompt and approximately 75-175 words with which to create our stories. This challenge is open to all who would like to participate. Thank you Yarnspinnerr for the image. Please CLICK HERE for more.

Failure, struggle and a tiny thought!

  [Dear Ma’m,

Thank you for your participation in our Writing Competition.

The overwhelming response to our contest resulted in thousands of entries from amateur and professional authors alike. We’ve spent an enormous number of hours reviewing all the entries, and narrowing those thousands to double digits has been no easy task. 

Unfortunately, we’re sorry to inform you that your entry is no longer being considered for a prize.

We sincerely hope you will ‘try again’!]

When you receive a letter like the above, you are gripped with an enormous sense of failure. All that months of brainstorming, effort, struggle and persistence ends up in a huge cipher. And then tormenting questions start spinning your head – Am I not good enough? Where do I lack? Perhaps, my works should be thrown in a garbage can? Should I quit writing? They no longer appreciate works like mine… Thoughts like these go on and on as you go about your daily chores. The letter crashes your expectation and self worth in a moment!

At first, the words ‘try again’ in the rejection letter sounds downright condescending. It seems organisers are patting the back of a dejected child, who is on the verge of tears. You think – “Have I not tried enough? I neglected sleep, appetite and everything that mattered to create something unique. And my work is mundane for them, my creativity has no acceptance.” You feel your struggle came to naught. You believe you are a loser for this is not the first time you have been rejected.

And then, from a tiny corner of your mind, emerges a beloved and luminous thought angel. “It wasn’t about winning, it was all about trying your best.” You remember hearing your child chant that sentence just a couple of days back. It is from his favourite story book. Everytime he comes across this line, he demands an explanation. And you like a doting mother, explain it to him.

This thought chastises and shakes you to sit upright. You no longer look grumpy and slumped. You think – “Why did I forget the meaning of the line when it became relevant in real life? Is it one thing to lecture a child and another thing to incorporate in real life?

You smile pleasantly as you repeat to yourself – “It wasn’t about winning, it was all about trying my best”. 

One happy thought defeats dejection. The thought of quitting no longer plagues your mind. You know, you cannot let down your creativity. Winning or no winning, appreciation or no appreciation, applause or no applause… you will try to create like the everflowing murmuring  ‘Brook’ ( Alfred Lord Tennyson). “Men may come and men may go but I go on forever”. Victory is transient, creativity is not!

You once again gear up to take up another challenge… just for the heck of it. Who thinks about failure as long as you are creating! Indeed, life is not about winning, it is all about trying your best! The rejection letter is forgotten.

Birju’s Misadventure!

  

Birju watched his three friends climb after him as he stopped to catch his breath. Happily, he whistled at the thought of going home that night.

Six months back, he had travelled a long distance from his village in Bihar to Jaipur to look for employment. Luckily, he had got renovating work at this historical site.

He knew things had not been well at home. Their house roof was leaking and his father was in deep debt. They needed money urgently.

He felt the sling pouch tied around his waist and couldn’t resist the temptation to feel his hard earned cash once again. His folks would be proud of him, he thought as he took out a few notes to have a look.

But before he knew, the notes slipped from his fingers and flew away with the wind. He almost jumped…!!! His friends yelled at his stupidity!

He tried to pull himself together. But stubborn tears kept falling from his eyes as he climbed down in search of the dear, dear notes…!

This is my entry to the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by the lovely Priceless Joy. We are given a photo prompt and approximately 75-175 words with which to create our stories. This challenge is open to all who would like to participate. For more information, please CLICK HERE

After Twenty Years…

  

He felt disoriented on seeing the picture. After rubbing his eyes, he looked again. Yes, there she was…prominent in her white bag and blue jacket, studying something.  

How could this be true? His mind was probably playing tricks on him. When he had clicked that picture, there was no one  around.

He was aging and she looked just the way she had looked on their last day in college. 

Twenty years back, they had parted, ready to pursue their separate careers, fully aware that they would never ever meet again. 

But she had surprised him by extracting a promise. They were to meet exactly twenty years later at this favourite haunt to celebrate their friendship.

He had remembered the promise and had gone to that spot. But how could he expect her to be there? He knew she had long been dead… soon after she left college! 

(This is a tribute to ‘After Twenty Years’-a lovely short story by the great O Henry)

This is my entry to the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by the lovely Priceless Joy. We are given a photo prompt and approximately 75-175 words with which to create our stories. This challenge is open to all who would like to participate. For more information, click HERE

The Lovely Lady on the Bench

  

I see her everyday on that bench. It is curious that I have never seen her face. Her wrinkled hand rests at the back of the bench as she sits still, statue like. I am sure she would make an excellent model for a sculpture.

She has the bearing of royalty. Her dress, although plain, looks neat and a scarf covers her head. I don’t know what thoughts run through her mind as she sits there from morning till midday and then leaves unseen. Nobody accompanies her, no one takes her hand and sits by her for a while.

Today, I wanted to have a good look at the mysterious old lady. Also, I wanted to be of some kind of help.

I went out to meet her. She was crying. But the tears were not of grief but of gratitude. She was in deep conversation with God. She was with God! She needed no one!

This is my entry to the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by the lovely Priceless Joy. We are given a photo prompt and approximately 75-175 words with which to create our stories. This challenge is open to all who would like to participate. For more information, click HERE. Thank you Andy for the picture.

Happy Birthday Adivir!

  Greetings Dear!

Welcome to the first birthday celebrations of my blog child Adivir ( Stories by Shivangi) on WordPress. I am glad you could make it!

When I started blogging with two little ones around, I was not sure about the consistency of my posts. But then ‘You’ came along and everything changed. Your likes, your appreciation, your comments, your ideas, your posts sort of liberated and motivated me. I am indebted to you, dear, for enabling my blog child Adivir ( Stories by Shivangi) to grow into a one year old beauty.

Adivir is humbled to have around 200 friends on WP and a number of supporters on other social media too. 

  
This child of mine came into life with my first post ‘A Short Ghost Story’, on January 30, 2015. A year from today! She had no readership except for a single comment by my friend. But since then she has grown on your support despite the fact that I am unable to devote much time to her.

Owning a blog and maintaining it gives one great feeling of power and happiness. I experienced it while running this blog. It gave my creativity a new lease of life. And whenever I stopped writing ‘You’ egged me on with a kind comment.

Late Barbara Beacham’s ‘Monday’s Finish the Story’, enabled me to write posts while I was on the move with a six month old baby and a three year old. Barbara is no more and I miss her. If she were not around during the initial days, I might have stopped writing. She was one of those who brought fresh ideas and appreciation…

  
Then, there is You! The Reader! I write because I have to… and it becomes all the more pleasurable when I feel You are around… nodding, smiling or may be disapproving. But you are there for Adivir… and that is the most important thing. 

Kindly keep blessing Adivir with your love and encouragement. I am sure she will try her best to keep you company this year as well as years to come.

Have fun here and don’t forget to pop the mouth watering rasgullas before you leave. May Krishna Bless You!

  

Images courtesy Google