September 28, 2012


*Engaged tone*
"The subscriber you are calling is busy on another call. Please try again later"
"I am sorry no one is presently available to take your call"
"You are getting a busy tone on this number."
"Can I call you back?"
"I'm sorry! You are not allowed to make this call"

And so life goes on
with unfinished calls
unsaid words
and a cellphone
that one wishes
would beep

September 25, 2012

Yes blog, I trust you with such random rants

Finally, there's proof to show to the world about how I am NOT "lucky", as they call it. That, if at all I have got something, it is out of tremendous volumes of hard work and effort and toil and tears. If something comes easy, I am pretty sure I'll lose it.

No, I am not being pessimistic. Just realistic.

Besides the point.

The truth is: I am definitely cursed. AND jinxed.

Go figure how someone can be both.

And no, I am not unhappy! I am just cynical. VERY cynical.

P.S: If you didn't understand head or tail of it, good. You were not meant to. This is one of those posts I write for myself, and sort of file it in my blog. It is the the witness to my life.

September 23, 2012

Short Story- 29

And she just didn't know when it all began-the tumbling of the blocks that held together her life. She always knew it was rickety; what with having the steps that carried a 'do not climb' board and a yellow danger tape cutting access to it from the world. So similar to her stern face when she walked by herself on the roads in the night- clearly spelling a stay away.

It all began to crack up just when she thought finally everything was coming together. Slowly she could see the banalities through the polishes. Why did they feed her fantasies as a child? Actually they had not, she fed herself those- always searching for the lost cloud, seeking the end of the rainbow. The unattainable had always fascinated her.

Any other person would have given up. But she was sincere to a fault, competitive to an extent that she just couldn't see her not win. A task at hand had to be completed. She was severe with herself, probably she was the harshest of her critics.

She had tried to gel the cracks. Put some m-seal and cover it up. But it widened instead. The chasm gaping at her with a foreboding. And she was scared.

But there was no hand to hold. No one to pat on the head and reassure. No one to just hold her calmly and not say a word. Her silence deepened with the cracks.

A loneliness so complete, it rendered her faint at times. A darkness so absorbing, she was slowly getting used to it. Five steps to the right, with a song, would make her happy for 23 minutes. Two steps left and down the ladder in the rain, would bring a smile for an hour. And then, once again- the darkness and her.

There was something to relish in this melancholy. It was a unique tale with no other contenders around. The reigning queen of depression.

Sometimes she grew tired of it all and she craved sleep.

© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall