Gibber-Jabber of a Story

She was holding a red watering can. The water from the can fell on the green leaves like tiny colourless bullets.

“Momme,” said a sweet voice and she turned to look at her little girl. “Yes, sugar,” said the mom.

“Flas, no flas… why no flas?” asked the five year old. The sentence – a broken speech – still, made sense to the mom. The small little fingers were now pointing towards a marigold plant.

“Sugar, momme needs to water them and take care of them.”

“Likes flas…want flas,” the little girl’s voice said with a little bit of sadness.

“Oh! My baby, come here,” said the mother and took her in her arms. “Now look, momme loves sugar and so….momme kisses her, reads stories for her, plays with her and then gives cookies to her. Yes.”

“Yes!” shouted her darling daughter.

“So, if you want flowers you’ll need to help momme.”

“How,” said the curious one.

“You’ll have to water the plant…” “…like momme,” interrupted the sweet voice.“Yes, but that’s momme’s job you are a big girl and you get a bigger job. Do you want to help momme?”

“Yes,” said the little girl.

“Then…first give momme a big kiss and then give a flying kiss to the plant.” The little girl obediently kissed her mom and then gave a flying kiss to the plant. The little girl now on her feet, started wandering in the garden. Her mom took the watering can and continued with her work.

The next day she could hear the sweet voice coming from the garden. She was a bit concerned as to whom her daughter was talking to. She ran in the direction of the voice. She was satisfied to see that her daughter was alone and not with any stranger.

“Sugar, what are you doing here? Mom was worried,” she said in a concerned voice. On approaching near she saw what her little girl was doing. Her daughter was holding a story book. It seemed, she was reading a story to the plant.

The mom leaned to kiss the daughter’s soft silky hair. She sat by the steps and watched her little girl read the story to the plant in her own gibber jabber language.

Confessions of a Writer

I would like to confess something on WordPress today.

I’m not a writer; yes, that’s true I’m not. Wondering who gave me your address.
Not long ago, my sister introduced me to WordPress and through WordPress I came to meet so many talented writers. Yes, they are writers. In reading their blogs I have known them to have this writing habit right since childhood. Some started to write at the raw age of five and some seven and yet others at the age of eleven.

I’m still novice and if I compare (just an expression, I would dare not compare myself to these talented gifted writers) myself to them I’m just a toddler. Writing is a very recently acquired habit.

If I try to look at the root of this cause I will find “reading” to be its answer.
Many people love to read and many start reading at the age of ten or twelve. It was not untill graduation that I started reading books. Before that I only used to read my subject books. But when I started to read, I read and I read and kept on reading and am still reading.

In school I loved to hear others saying “I love to read books”. Everyone in my family was into reading and so books were found everywhere. I was often told “you should read books or maybe newspapers”. To save myself from any embarrassment in front of friends and family members even I started harping…“I love to read books”. When asked which book is your favourite or anything related to books, I would tell a story and escape the conversation.

When I was staying alone while working I really wanted to read books. While talking to a friend of mine I said, “Even I want to read a book”. The next day she got Da Vinci Code for me. Yes, you have guessed it right, this is how long I’ve been reading books, which is not too long.

The book was too interesting and controversial. How was I to take the book? I took it in the spirit of reading a novel. It was just a novel to me and I had to finish it. After that I read other books by the same author. Then walking one step at a time, I moved to other authors like Jeffery Archer, Stephen King, Ruskin Bond to name a few.

I didn’t realize that I was infected by a reading virus. I started reading books from various genres- self help, fiction, non-fiction, classic and spiritual. Only recently I realized that there is no cure for this “reading disease” of mine. Looking at my intensive reading habit I came up with a cure- read for atleast half an hour every day. Yes, I have to read for at least half an hour everyday, maximum hours can vary. Although, I cannot read for an entire day (it makes me dizzy and confused). Too much reading is like over stuffing my mind.

All this while I did not know that this habit will impact me to such an extent. I was feeding my mind with knowledge; after some time it was not able to take it anymore. I could almost hear the buzzing of my thoughts. At first I didn’t know what to do? After observing myself and consulting with the creative me, I came up with a solution. I started to write my thoughts.

I was amazed to find out that these thoughts proved to be the base of some story or prose. Sometimes they were roughly scribbled poems.

After writing and reading it out to some of my family members I was encountered with a much known question “So, am I a writer?”

I started ruminating. I realized that I’m as much a writer as a child is a painter. If a child loves to paint he/she doesn’t become a painter. So, much so if I write I’m not a writer. I love to write but I’m not a writer. The passion holds me firmly to a pen and paper but I know there are too many things that I need to take care of- grammar, punctuations, vocabulary to name a few. But I also know that I’m learning at every stage and with every step I’m enhancing my skills.

I write because I love to share my views. I write to express myself and more than that it is a cure for my buzzing mind with non-stop thoughts. So I write. I write as I’m not a writer but I know to write.

In response to: Writing Challenge: Writerly Reflections

The colour of my letter

 

I went to check the letters from the box; there were none except for one that I was holding in my hand.

I marched towards the door and took my RED paper knife to open the letter.

 

It was not a usual letter. It was written with love, from someone I knew. The writing was not in regular black or BLUE ink. My eyes were reading attentively through each word. Each word made sense as I connected one word with another and then the letter started to talk to me. When I reached the last sentence I understood this letter was far too important to be written in black or blue and so it had been written in GREEN.

 

I started thinking….

He could have written in red, which could have meant that he wanted to kill our relationship.

He could have written in black, it would have shown no feelings at all.

He could have written in blue, it could have meant a pale relationship.

But the fact, that he chose green suggested that he wanted to have a long lasting and ever green relationship.

 

So, I ran to my room; looked for my scrap book. I tore a YELLOW sheet (as it was one of the golden moments in my life). I wanted to show my consent so I choose a heavenly colour close to a shade of purple. I wrote, what my heart said in VIOLET. 

Then folded the letter and put it in, in an ORANGE envelope. Then very lovingly I took a string of INDIGO ribbon and glued a little bow on the envelope.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/07/daily-prompt-colors/

Food for my mind and soul

Food for my mind and soul.

Most of the times I have my timely meals in a day, and I wonder why do I have it?

Well! The simple answer will be to keep myself alive. But then I thought it’s not only that; it’s also to taste different things. Being a toddler the first thing we do is to see and listen and finally taste. I would say that a toddler starts tasting everything from edible to non edible items. Then slowly we start eating.

I have realized that the way eating keeps me alive, the same way reading keeps my mind alive.

When we go to kindergarten we get the taste of letters. Then as we grow old enough to read, we start tasting the edible and non edible items related to reading materials. Sometimes they would be funny cartoons and we just like the bright colours or sometimes it could be a story with a moral.

The whole idea is to keep on reading and eating all the knowledge that we gather throughout the course of our life. Unlike a healthy diet that we follow to keep or body fit we should read healthy to keep our mind healthy. We should try each and every cuisine but abstain ourselves from junk food. Or should I say too much of anything could be bad.

I could say that the pleasures of reading books are divine. I know I’m not being judged, but on the other hand I can judge a book or the cover of the book. I can say that I trust someone- and that someone can be a book. It will not leave me anywhere, as it sits quietly in my bag. I always keep a book in my bag. Whenever I’m lonely, alone or idle I simply take my book out of the bag and start reading. It is almost like a jinni getting out of the lamp. Books don’t cancel on you or judge you neither do they abandon you. They are just there.

They sit quietly at your shelves, waiting for their turn to be held by you and read by you. I like to read and nothing makes me feel better than that (of course something that makes my tummy feel better is chicken curry prepared by my mother). Therefore not a day goes by without reading, and so I can say that it is a food for my mind and soul.