Showing posts from October, 2017

A girl in the neighborhood

"Shall we not visit the classroom?" Shruthi asked Maria, the school counsellor. 
Commerce 3.  Out of the three girls missing from the school, two --Gauthami and Clara --came from that class.  
"Of course, that's a priority of the hour," Sara didn't have to think twice. 

A writer follows human myseries

This post is inspired by two talks I listened to recently.  The first one is in my mother tongue, Malayalam, by Sunil.P. Ilayidam. My post is not entirely about what he presents about Ramayana, which of course is enjoyable to listen, according to me, but only a small part of it.  (My apologies to those who cannot grasp my mother tongue

 He explores the questions, who is a writer/poet or what is it that motivates a writer to write a story.  Quoting Kalidasa, the ancient Indian poet, he defines a writer is the one who continues his creative journey after human sorrows.  Valmiki was a hunter -turned poet.  Ratnakaran was his original name. He turned to be Valmiki, the most significant Indian poet of all time at the instance he witnessed the sorrow of a female bird suffering the departure of her beloved male friend.  A hunter just shot an arrow through his heart and killed him.  That is the opening scene of Ramayana. 

Ilayidam carries on, in the onset of Ramayana, Valmiki was in search of …

Showing versus Telling

In creative writing, we always hear showing versus telling.  What does that mean? It means you create a scene in a story, showing all details rather than explaining it. Or do not make it expositional, or describe, only show.  For, e.g. instead of telling your character was angry, show how his eyes went red-shot, his mouth quirked in disgust, he stamped on the floor etc. 

Her Teary Eyes

She slipped into a sandalwood shade pyjama, pulled over her head a jacquard cotton salwar top and pinned the pleated maroon shawl on the shoulder.  Na, she wasn't going to wrap the dupatta around the neck. In the years, she had grown a little fat, the shawl flowing down straight would make her look a head taller than she was to compensate for that. She stood in front of the mirror on the dressing table, it not being a full length one, she couldn't figure out how the designer maroon sandal matched with the rest of the attire.  But she confidently presumed it would provide an elegant matching. With a self-pride oozing from her into the surroundings and a bright smile on lips, she took her purse, locked the room and stepped into the hotel foyer.  From there into the doorway and to the walkway outside. 

A Disobedient Boy

"Ngozi didn't do his work," Thandi shouted loud for the entire class to hear. She did it deliberately to make him look small, everybody knew it, and accordingly, they all turned their heads to peek in his direction and giggle.  Thiry pairs of eyes shamed him gave Thandi a sort of prideful satisfaction. Then she turned to the teacher, standing on one other side of the classroom. One more second, she stood there, then walked forward to arrange the homework books she had collected from the rest of the learners on the teacher's desk.  While doing that, she glanced at Ngozi a few times shaking her head to express her disapproval of Ngozi's laziness.  The teacher thought she was acting teacher and ignored her.

It was a Monday, after a long weekend, everyone in the class had got enough time to complete their homework. 

Ngozi sat lowering his eyes onto the desk in front of him.  The teacher walked up to him, and seeing her he stood up. His shirt a frayed one colour not eve…

Use of Language- a Treasure


   Anything valuable is a treasure. You come to possess lots and lots of useful things in life--both material and non-material.

My Book Review- Disgrace by J.M Coetzee

J.M Coetzeeis an award-winning writer who received Booker price twice, first in 1983 for his novel, 'Life and Times of Michael K' and in 1999 for 'Disgrace'. He won the Nobel Prize for literature in 2003. 

A New Light on the Horizon

I am taking part in The Write Tribe Problogger October 2017 Blogging challenge.  
This is my 2nd post in the series. #writetribeproblogger

Friday, October 6 # prompt- Short Story-A New Light on the Horizon
Today he slapped Yamini, his daughter.  She was arguing with her mother, at the dining table, then suddenly stood up from her chair, raised the plate in which she was eating with half-eaten food into the air and dropped it onto the floor. The fork and the spoon slipped out of the plate, hit on the tiled floor making a shrill sound and shards of plate flew in all directions together with the food.  And she stood there, without having any shame staring at her mother. He was coming to the dining room; he stretched his arm with a force he could muster and slapped her across her face.  She turned to face him with a hostile look and ran into the kitchen howling.  Shalini, his wife, sat stunned on her chair for a second, then shouted at him: “have you gone mad.”  Shone his son, yelled: “you’r…

My Favourite Frangipani flowers

I am taking part in The Write Tribe Problogger October 2017 Blogging challenge.  
This is my first post in the series. #writetribeproblogger

Monday, October 2 # prompt-My favourite flower-Frangipani

(courtesy to