Writing101 : my biggest fear

What are you scared of? Address one of your worst fears. If you’re up for a twist, write this post in a style that’s different from your own.

To eat my lunch all alone when everyone has someone sitting next to them… I look forward to having a light conversation with someone.

To travel alone, be it be for petty things or travel & tour… I look forward to have company.

To watch movies alone… I look forward to laughing or crying with someone.

To go shopping alone… I look for someone agreeing to my picks & choices.

To spend a day simply being home alone… I look forward to talk to someone.

To endure a boring day at office, alone amid all… I look forward for someone to chat with me on the phone.

To experience something new… I look forward to have a partner I can recall the moments with.

To lighten the burden on my chest when I am low… I look forward to have some to share grief with.

To spend this life happily and be content… I look forward to my partner being positive and humble.

My fear is ‘loneliness’. All things I mentioned above can be done alone, but having someone just makes the experience ‘better’. I ‘hate’ to be alone.

I had started addressing my ‘loneliness’ sometime back as it had started making me ‘dependent’, so I befriended ‘myself’ and now when someone ‘else’ accompanies me, my joy simply ‘triples’.

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Writing101: ‘Lost & Found’

Today, imagine you work in a place where you manage lost or forgotten items. What might you find in the pile? For those participating in our serial challenge, reflect on the theme of “lost and found,” too.

I work in one of the most dimly lit and quiet cubicles. People only run up to me when they remember that they have forgotten something. All are curious eyed, pleading hands with worry etched on their face. I long to see normal happy people. I flip through another box of ‘lost and found’ items that the cleaning department has sent my way this afternoon. A pink watch with plastic strap and needles ending with silver stars, presumably a teenage girl’s. Next, a USB, well we find at least ten everyday, will keep a check if anyone asks for it. Next, a big plastic case with some sort of album inside. I turn it around to find a note, raising my right eyebrow, I set to read it. ‘If you find it, don’t try returning it. I couldn’t have destroyed it myself thus I thought of simply letting it go’. Okay! This doesn’t happen everyday.

Suddenly I was all alert and quite bit excited. I pulled the album out of its case and started with the first page. Pictures of a boy in his teens: brown eyes, long Black hair, perfectly arched eyebrows, medium built, fair, good looking over all. There are pictures of him grinning, sticking his tongue out (why take such close ups?), playing soccer, standing in front of a home. I flip to the second page, pictures of a pretty girl. Again those close ups and her hugging a basket ball. She has long Black hair, dark Brown eyes, Pink lips, full smile and perfect jawline. Quite pretty.

I glance at the next page. Their pictures holding hands, riding on a horse next to a beach, playing chess and one in school uniforms. On to the next page, I see these kids more grown up now. There are pictures of them having ice cream (cookie & cream it seems like), standing in front of a museum, at a bowling alley and at a temple. The next page is filled with every kind of selfie but what has kept my interest alive in this album, besides the weird note, is their happy faces. Their smiles and chemistry seems quite infectious. They seem quite close in these pictures: hugging, kissing and very comfortable with each other.

The next page has the boys picture at the airport with all his luggage next to him. He looks teary eyed. A valentines day chocolate heart and rose. His arm in a plaster (what happened here?). Close up of back of her neck with tattooed initials saying G.S. I find some torn pieces of paper in this album. Feeling like a mystery solver, I quickly assemble these pieces to find it is an engagement party invitation (What?). What have I come across? And why is it torn?

What do I do of an item that has been purposely lost? To my eyes, it seems like this album spells a rosy future, what could have gone wrong? Cant they talk about it and fix it? I wish I had a partner like her. I wish I wasn’t lonely. Life will definitely give these both other chances but every flower has a different essence and not every fragrance is our favorite and the favorite cant be forgotten ever, as it doesn’t simply please the senses but our heart.

Writing101 : Community camps cancelled?

You’re told that an event that’s dear to your heart — an annual fair, festival, or conference — will be cancelled forever (or taken over by an evil organization). Write about it. For your twist, read your piece aloud, multiple times. Hone that voice of yours!

I scream for my sister with my voice full of of shock “they cancelled community camp this year, forever!”

“What!!!” she reflects my look of shock “Why??” she shouts back.

“I don’t exactly know, they have written that the attendance had reach its lowest and it was difficult to continue as the reasons in the mail”, “this is sad, really sad!”.

“I know di*, we always looked forward to this week long community camp, every year” my sister says.

“Yeah! and those kids who will never get to experience the camp life like we all did through out our childhood to teenage, up till last year actually” I speak as moments spent in the camp start playing in my head.

“Yes di, you were one of the assistants last year, bossing around, hahaha” she teases me.

“Not bossing! just maintaining discipline” I say and stick my tongue out at her.

“You know, I used to like those Amazing Race games, remember the one where all the group mates had to make longest human chain, we all had practically lied down on the soccer field underneath the blazing Sun, but it was fun! My group had won” she remembers gleefully.

“I also used to like those indoor games, remember the one where we were given a lot of newspaper, scotch tape and just about an hour. We had to come up with a human wheel. It was a whole lot of group effort” I chimed in.

“Yeah, camps taught me how to deal with different people, taught me leadership skills besides which, I made so many friends. Oh and the food! I used to so look forward to all the meal times” she says reminiscing fondly.

 

“I used to dislike getting up early though and those long queues for the rest room. And then the run to the main hall so I wouldn’t be late” I complained.

“But you used to sleep late!” she pointed out and we both laughed.

“You know besides all this, camp taught me more about myself. How to be, just by myself and look after myself. Camp made me grow my own personality, and out there people liked me because of myself and not the school I come from or whom am I related to. I used to really like this fact” I said.

“Sorry, I know this is not related to what you just said and that is important, but I just remembered the camp fire nights!!” She said and both our faces lit up.

“Yeaaa, I used to love dancing like crazy on those nights to almost anything they played. And the best part was there was no audience. Everyone was on the floor dancing! The organizers used to have such hard time to send us back to our dorms… where we simply continued dancing and partying alcohol-free. However when we all woke up the next morning, some or the other part of our body would be so sore hahaha” I said enthusiastically.

We both were now sitting cross legged on the comfy sofa and facing each other. For the moment, it was more important to talk about the camp and all other things could wait. Somewhat like honoring what camp was to us and remembering it with a smile rather than showing dismay on the fact, that it will be no more.

 

(*di comes from Didi which means elder sister)

Writing101 : No!

Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What jumps out at you? Start there, and try a twist: write in the form of a letter.

Dear No,

Why do you always come across me on all the places where I am supposed to be? Why do people carry you along with me in their pockets? You are shorter than me but can break hearts and dreams. Sometimes you even come across as so rude and arrogant. Why can’t you simply disappear and leave the whole world to me? After all, I always bring smile to the lips of all, who use me and who hear me!

I understand the importance of it being important to say No at times but still, I simply don’t like you as I cannot take a No for an answer. And your modern versions: ‘Nopes’ & ‘Naah’, I seriously dislike them too, even though they sound more melodious, they mean just the same and have the same big, fat, round and Red face like you.

The world could be a better place with politer people and none of you. For everyone could ask anyone for anything knowing their wishes will be granted or looked for at its best. I really dislike you, you ruin my existence and become the end of me. I wish you cease to exist.

Sincerely,

Yes.

(My book = Readers Digest, word = No)

Writing101 : nosy cat

Earlier in the course, you wrote about losing something. Today, write about finding something. For your twist, view day four’s post and today’s post as installments in a series.

Link to my day 4 post: https://kaurspeaks.wordpress.com/2014/06/06/writing101-one-of-my-greatest-loss/

 

My friend had gone to use his rest room. We had a long day enjoying the weekend market during the summer. I was resting myself perched on the foot of his bed. It had been a while and I was getting bored waiting for him. I got up and thought of browsing through his shelf. His graduation picture with a Gold frame, collectible cartoon characters of his childhood (Ben10 I guess), a photo cube of our pictures that I had given him, pictures of his niece and nephew, his car keys and lots of dust. “You are taking way to long” I shouted, “I will be there in a minute” he shouted back.

I started tapping my Green painted nails against his shelf and perfecting the rhythm of a running horse (hahaha). I looked at the shelf again and found a drawer beneath. Without thinking much, I yanked it open. There were some old magazines and brochures. Towards its rear end were our pictures from school, studio pictures with funny wigs and brooms. I smiled, remembering those moments. There was a small box next to all this. Not a simple box but one decorated with white and blue stones. I know I was treading on a fine line of public property and private property but I couldn’t hold my curiosity back. I opened it.

I saw a picture of both of us in Black and White embedded in the inner lid. Mind you, we looked really happy and laughing about something with that gleam in our eyes when we were snapped. This was one of those candid moments with us looking so nice. I smiled further and looked to check contents of this box. My white feather earring… I had lost it ages ago! Probably dropped it in his car while on the way back from somewhere. So it wasn’t exactly lost eh! My Red fiber anklet, I had to take it out at the beach as the combination of sand, water and anklet had made it too itchy, it was with him?? All these years! I started to feel confused by now, what was going on? Next I found my charms bracelet which was really precious to me but again I thought I lost it. Did he take these things from me or rather, kept them safely long after I forgot about them or simply ignored their absence. Whatever the reason may be, what were my things doing with him?

There was also a plastic packet. I opened it. Long Silver chain with a silver heart. I knew exactly what this was. I had always wanted such a locket in which you can flip the heart pendant open. I had told him about this. Yes, I had. And when I would open this locket, which I was opening, I would find my picture… and I was seeing my picture now, followed by picture of the love of my life…and the second picture was his. WHAT!?? This can’t be a joke! He is in love with me? too??

Writing101 : Are you sure?

Today, write a post with roots in a real-world conversation. For a twist, include foreshadowing.

Her heart beat so loud and every nerve of her body felt the blood being pumped at an alarming speed. The air conditioner in the car tried to cool its occupants down but the situation didn’t let it. Priya’s dad parked the car near the sidewalk and she waited for him to turn towards her and break the silence.

In a voice that showed utmost control over his anger, he began “Who is this boy? What’s your relationship with him?”

“His name is Prem and we like each other.” She replied meekly.

“Where did you meet him? How well do you know him?” He inquired further.

“We were in the same high school and now in same college. I know him quite well.” She replied softly trying to keep her shiver down.

“Is he nice?”

“Yes, he cares a lot about me.”

After being quiet for a while, he spoke again “Priya, I am quite concerned about you and the state of your heart. These emotional relationships aren’t easy, every time you walk in one and if it doesn’t work, they take a piece of your heart away. This boy that you seem to like so much these days, is he worth it? Will he take care of you? I am going to let  you decide this as you know him better than me, but dear, I don’t want you hurt in the end” he said the last sentence being protective of me, and then asked again “are you sure?”

“Yes Papa” she replied. Her hands clasped together in her lap with a ball of hope and faith, dreams and wishes. With a will to prove that his concerns will be uncalled for and she will be happy.

Its been eight years to that conversation, reclining back on the sofa, she recollects this conversation and tries hard to subside her thoughts. In her thoughts, her mind tells her ‘may be Papa’s concerns were right’. She doesn’t wish to dwell on this further. She gets up to get herself busy.

Writing101: Size matters?

Today, tell us about the home you lived in when you were twelve. For your twist, pay attention to — and vary — your sentence lengths.

I was probably in grade six when I was twelve years old, the tallest in my grade and among my siblings (that’s not so true now though). My old home was nothing posh yet houses many fond memories of ours (ours here is my family and me). It was three-storey shop house with no shop. Some of our neighbors used the ground floor as a shop and some of them used the entire three-storey building as a godown (small warehouse). There were five shop houses in each lane and there were two lanes facing each other and forming a square with the entry controlled by wrought iron gates.

We didn’t exactly have nice neighbors whom we could be friendly with and play ball with so we always were quite content to have each other. Our home entrance’s wall and door was made of glass with metal shutter on the outside. Blue & White ceramic tiles lined the ground floor.  We called it living room! There were two Maroon colored sofa sets facing each other and a rectangular glass table in the middle followed by a six seats dining table. Then a Gypsum board partition. Behind the partition was a kitchenette, bathroom (that all of us used only in emergency simply because we weren’t fond of it) and the covered verandah where we washed dishes.

We had two bedrooms on the floor above and our favorite bathroom was on the second floor. This one was well lit. Small though. Outside the bath room was an old sofa set made of wood and covered with table cloth like material. Adjacent to which were our almirahs, some of wood and some of metal. There was a glass partition and then the kids room housing a normal twin bed and a bunk bed made of light wood. I remember sleeping till late on holidays was a problem in this house as our neighbors started work early and it got noisy. They had some import/ export business and needed to tape boxes (which made screeching noise) and the thum thum of loading/unloadin big cartons. Argh!

The third floor had our parents room and some storage area outside the room. We also had a roof where we dried our clothing. Here we fixed our water tank numerous time. We (kids) also used to hop from roof to roof of other buildings and pluck flowers or simply race. Brings smile on my face! It wasn’t a lavish home but one that was best suited for a child to create memories in.

Writing101 : Chicken Keema

Today, be inspired by a favorite childhood meal. For the twist, focus on infusing the post with your unique voice — even if that makes you a little nervous.

My mom being a working lady hardly cooked a dish fully from start to end. Usually the household helper would cook for us, except on some of those odd days where she had ample time and all the ingredients to cook for us. And if these weren’t the reasons, it was because the rest of the family had teased her so much about her having lost her culinary skills or we literally begged her to cook. These were simply our methods to coax her into cooking.

Our household helper cooked good food but then it’s always different to have what your Mom cooks. It’s as though her love is infused in the meal and we would feel it in every bite. One main reason to over-eat on such days. And the dish that I have loved through out my childhood till date is called Chicken Keema. It simply means minced Chicken. She would cook it in Indian style with the aroma making its way into every corner of the house to draw us into the kitchen and count minutes till she pronounces the dish as ready-to-be-served. Its Yellow in color because of the Turmeric, has peas, tomatoes and other spices. It has a perfect blend of salt, lemon and spices and the meat is very soft.

 

 

We would have it with home made yogurt and warm wheat rotis. I always had stomach ache after having this dish because I ended up having a roti more than my normal. After all, it was a day of celebration as Mom cooked Chicken Keema and she hardly does so. It was a family celebration of no reason for outsiders but for every reason to the family members as it made us extremely happy and gave us a moment to recollect for many weeks.

After writing this post, I realize that it has been long that Chicken Keema has been made at home, it’s time to go coax her into making this dish again now and perhaps, I will learn it too this time. I know with time, I would have to leave my mom and go but perhaps I could take the taste of her food with me 🙂

Writing101: Changing Mocassins

For today’s assignment, write a scene at the park. Up for a twist? Write the scene from three different points of view.

A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. The woman pats his back. He says “I will miss you, please don’t leave me and go. I don’t know if I have told you enough but I really love you!”. He thinks to himself of every moment that he could have been with her, of every moment that he has lost. He looks up and finds the day to be so cloudy, gloomy rather! Cold winds and unhappy trees swaying to and fro. He looks down and finds bushes with wilted flowers, petals fallen on the pathway. Everything seems reduced of its color to him.

The woman looks up at him and sees his tears. She reaches out to pat his back with a small smile playing on her lips. She thinks of what the doctor just told her and looks up to find the sky in a shade of prettiest Blue that she ever came across. Fresh winds play with her flicks and run through her lungs. Huge Green trees dance to the winds and as though, smile at her. She looks down as she can’t contain her happiness anymore. She finds bushes full of blooming flowers, their aroma capturing her senses. Everything seems bright to her as though seeing the world through newly cleaned lenses. She says “Son! its God’s way of calling me and the cancer doesn’t hurt much. I love you a lot but I look forward to joining your Dad in heavens soon!”.

The old woman sitting on the bench looks up to see the couple passing by and takes a deep breath wishing hard for a child that was never born to her. She thinks of her two marriages and the failed adoption process that she went through. She looks up at the sky and wishes for Sun to be more brighter and warmer, it would be nice for her old bones. Old age is quite painful especially when you have no one to take care of you, she thinks. She looks down and finds bushes full of buds and flowers, if only she could pluck them from here and sell them in the market for some money. But she would be fined if she did so. She let’s go of this thought and gets back to knitting the sweater as its delivery is due for tomorrow and she needs the money for survival.

Writing101: writing sans adverb

Go to a public location and make a detailed report of what you see. The twist of the day? Write the post without adverbs.

(And I have never done something like this, I find this difficult, going to try though)

I wait for the subway train while I see queue line grow every minute in the reflection of glass doors that prevent access to the train tracks. I can hear TV commercial of Maleficent going above my head. The girl standing on my right has beads of sweat on her forehead. Her Brown dyed hair now reveal her Black roots. Her long straight hair are secured in a Red rubber band. She smiles at her phone and starts to tap on the screen with both her thumbs. She has worn a White Chiffon shirt with short Black skirt and Black Fitflops. The bald man behind has started to look into her phone over her shoulders. He inches forward and his eyebrows rise a little. He has wrinkles on his face and hands, and his shirt too, is wrinkled. His light Grey Cotton shirt has turned dark Grey around his chest and arm holes.

I look into the glass doors as I feel a presence behind me. A set of light Blue eyes peer at me. Red hair in a Mohawk, Black earrings and a Black ring in his lips. His lips turn into an upward curve and I smile back at him. A baby wails in the arms of his mother on the escalator behind me. I see a girl scan the whole area, and then she begins to walk and joins the shortest queue line in the center of the platform. She is dressed in a Red sleeveless tucked in a Black pencil skirt. Her body looks very toned. Her Black work bag hangs at her elbow. Her hair straight, sleek and Black.

I hear a rumble at the far end of the train tunnel and turn my head to see the tunnel lit with the train on its way to pick us. Train jolts and halts in front of us and the glass door open along with the trains’. I feel cold hair hit my face and take a step forward.

(I don’t think I managed this assignment well, not using adverbs was a challenge indeed:(  )