It's been longish time since I had so much fun for the birthday and the post header, As I Turn One Year Old (er) describe the budday celebration to the hilt. I woke up to a call from a good friend and former colleague at work, Sheetal, who was oblivious of the fact that I was born on this beautiful Monday. We caught up after a very long time and I told her bout my happy wala budday. What I got in return for the budday was something totally awesome and fab and I'm still relishing the amazing surprise for the day.
|Google wished me many happy returns of the day:)|
I mean, when I woke up, I had no idea that the budday will turn out to be totally awesome and will add zing to my entire existence. It was a day and budday to die for her. Sheetal, together with another friend, Suzanne, ordered a Brownie cake adorned with syrup and a cute-si candle. It simply made my along with the pics clicked from my HTC One X. It was totally awesome and I felt like a kid who was enjoying the day. A small act of kindness can spark thousand lights in a beautiful heart:)
It is not everyday that wonderful surprises spring its way in my life and it's after ages that my birthday was a memorable one and am eternally grateful to the wonderful gals. It was a b'day special treat and one should learn to be grateful to life and people. Life is a roller-coaster ride and brownie coated with syrup. The wonderful budday gently reminded me that we were born so as to make wonderful things happen and spread happiness around our existence as well as to enjoy and live every moment in life as if it's the last day on earth. Let's weave magic and make our life sugar coated with unblemished happiness and joy.
There were quite a few wishes on my facebook profile page and this time, I choose to innovate by tagging Mr and Miss everybody as a way of thanking them for remembering the birthday. Earlier, I used to make it a point to reply to every other person who wished me and this time, I tagged friends who wished me in order to spread happiness in their wondrous lives. On my other blog, somebody asked me, what are the plans for this year's celebration.
Well, we all abhor growing up in age and, as the header suggest, I prefer to call it the act of turning One year old (er) and I believe there is no point in setting unachievable targets to be met during the year that will soon elapse. I have decided to go with the flow in life and let myself be guided and carried away with things that shall unfurl itself. This is the beauty of life. Having said that, there are certain achievable targets like I am planning to either move to Dubai and/or relocate to either Mumbai or Delhi to pursue my career in journalism. Fair na? For a birthday wish and I am confident that it will happen slowly but swiftly. Of course, making a difference into people's lives and the budday was also a day to spare a thought to the victims of the Uttarakhand flood and may God give the afflicted persons strength to overcome their difficulties.
Till then, ta-ta and have lotsa fun. By the way, Dad budday coming in two hours and thirty minutes and wish that the jolly fellow is very happy.
She was haggling with the shop owner over a pair of shoes for her three-year-old song. "You people are looting customers in Mumbai. I will not pay you 1000 bucks for this pair of shoes and I cannot shed out more than 600 rupees."
Standing outside the entrance of the shop, he was smoking a cigarette and overheard the voice of a familiar women haggling inside the shop. He racked his brain, trying to think where he heard this voice who has the habit of stomping her foot and arguing with people. As he turned to cast a glance, he received a blot from the blue. "It was her. Oh! God! I am seeing her after six years and we broke up in the same city. She has a son," he was crest fallen.
He turned his gaze and walked away as fast as he could for fear of being recognized by her. He didn't want her to see him and come up to him to say hi. He disappeared among the crowd at Crawford Market.
- Grab the 7th book from your bookshelf.
- Open it up to page 7.
- Pinpoint the 7th sentence on the page.
- Begin a poem/a piece of prose that begins with that sentence
- Limit it in length to 7 lines/7 sentences.
...trapped between belief and disbelief, and this was only a charade after all--- (The line belongs to Rushdie and not mine)
Here I go:
We are quick do believe and disown our self-claimed truth or charade;
Don't they say, the human mind is fickle;
We are led to make believe it's the holy truth as long as it suits us;
How quick are we to challenge, revise and redirect our self-claimed truth of life?
Why not? As long as it serves our self-interest:
How many times, God must be sitting in discomfort seeing the tupsy-turvy actions of his creation;
Yet, we lead a fake life and existence!
I wish to thank Corinne who is taking a superb initiative to encourage creative writing and in that way, we think freely in a creative space. Food for thought, isn't it, Corinne?
<div align="center"><a href="http://writetribe.com/" title="Write Tribe Prompt"><img src="http://i1329.photobucket.com/albums/w547/CorinneRodrigues/1ab08054-d1b0-4ee2-8118-68b706e96b1a_zps34523e06.jpg" alt="Write Tribe Prompt" style="border:none;" /></a></div>
She is bemused and looked at him, "I mean, how the fuck I would know and I just reached after braving a hard day at work, the rains and the mammoth crowd in the local train. You spend the whole day lazing at home and you should have looked for it."
He is infuriated at her growing irritation and lack of emphathy. He shouted, 'I mean, like fuck, I was just scribbling in the diary and it just disappeared. I have started to believe that there are ghosts in the room."
She walked away towards the hall and switched on the TV. A Tv programme on forgetfulness was being aired on NDTV and some words explained by the psychologist caught her fancy. He came inside the TV room and opened his laptog bag to search for the diary. After an unsuccessful search, he slinked on the couch to drink a glass of water. She smiled at him and asked, "Have you obtained your diary?" He looked around, wearing a tired look and shoot out, "Nahin yaar."
She laughed hysterically, "Baby, the diary is in your hand."
Both started laughing loudly and hugged each other.
The Guitarist and the Muse
He strummed his guitar on the busy streets in the fast-paced moving city. The on-lookers are always fascinated by his long hair and weird looking salt-and-peppy beard as they stopped not to listen to the guitar but to gush at his facial expression. He thought of himself as star and crowd puller who are swayed by his music. During the night, he composed a new song, 'Music to the ears. Come people and let's jam.' In the early morning, he drove to the busy city junction and start singing loudly as the crowd jeered at first but slowly waned away in horde. He started singing louder, engulfed by the passion and he felt a touch on his back. He was stopped in his track and was enraged to see two khaki-clad cops. "Sir, your game is over. Only, two dogs are watching you and we invite to sing for us in the police station. The busy street is suffering from noise pollution as the sky-rocketed flats are shaken by your thunder." He looked around at the deserted street. As he is escorted in the police van, an old man shouts from the window of his house, "Take this asshole away as he disturbs my sleep everyday. Guys, make sure that he entertains your boring police station forever and ever."