Moss lands

A woman laughes without any hesitation cutting right through the neighborhood, reaching me on the 7th floor.

Small towns have large areas of quiet, parking and shaded greenery that lull you into a sort of luxurious laze. No wonder life seems more pleasant here. Looking down you’ll see just green cover, the coconuts trees give away the boundiers between homes, every house has them.

Maybe apartments makes voyures of us all. Natural vantage points and a view right into your neighbors home. I can see my neighbors at their worst, their uninhibited habits and routines, glimpses of who they are when no one’s looking. It’s like trees across seasons, changing habits and routines slowly but in circles. The same arguments, the same hunched positions at their tables.

I see right into the apartment across the street where others also look for the laugh. There’s no one we can see, only a few dogs sleeping on roofs. They make the best of the steep incline that the neighborhood is on.

I can smell the sea in the air so I stay on the balcony while the rest retreat indoors. It’s a smell you grow fond of.

A lazy motorists makes his way into his yard behind the apartment. He’s got a stream behind him and space he’s done nothing with. The moss grows green on his walls. All old house, old neighborhoods and old memories are closed off by green, green moss. Everything goes back to sleep.

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Apologies

I’m sorry, really I am. It was never my intention to steal your glass eye. I saw it by the darkened desk side as you dozed a cyclopes, and if Sinbad was anything to go by this was my time to strike.

What a treasure it was! Iris as green as an emerald sky, pupil black as the charcoal you draw with. I thought it might be something nice to remember you by, it had great potential for decor back at home. It might go great by my teal painted door. How it would gleam by my first edition Guide to Shogunates, a bust of mazdak, broken china and burnt feathers.

Yes, something to remember you by, an eye for an I! Surely the flowers I left should make up for it. It’s a fair exchange! In the land of the blind, all you need is an eye.

Holy man

“Don’t you know holy men can live without food or water for days? They never need glasses or medicine. We never get sick!”

The doctor stared. The holy man urged, “I’ll need a few pills and a new pair of contacts to convince my followers- for a few days tops.”

The real Ella

I knew the real Ella M.

A face on the wall, the plaque in the hall

The great dame of corruption

A legendary center fold.

But I knew the real Ella M

Her wit quicker than a whip

And deep seas of doubt that haunted

Her iron clad pronouncements

I knew the real Ella M

Her dark eyes hiding

Our shared​ happiness

A great moon over an ocean

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And I killed her.

Born to wait

The queue seemed to stretch for miles with people moving like they had all the time in the world.

I was tired and unsure of the ground below me. I looked around and decided that the people there were a sorry lot despite being dressed up like a carnival. The ones that smiled made me uncomfortable.

Eventually I reached the gate. Some guy there showed me a video- all sped up but vaugly familiar. I said “What a sad little story, you guys should make that a movie.” 

He said “The name’s Peter. That was your life on replay.” 

How people find my blog

Most of the 1000 vistors I got that this year are people who know me in real life, follow me on social media or on WordPress.

However WordPress has a “search term” feature that tells you how some lost souls came across your blog.

Here are the more interesting search terms that took people to my blog:

  1. Story of peeing of with mother others in paddy fields
  2. My poor malalala
  3. My poor malayalam.com
  4. Smelt strange
  5. Cume side rijhul
  6. www. How to make a ballal side
  7. Rat flower
  8. Public Press Word
  9. Window stories

The fear poet

Despite his failing mind, he knew the doctors were selling him the glow of cat eyes in the dark.

He knew. The green fluorescent flies had told him as they clinked Morse against the dying bulb. He pulled at his chain and smiled. The dog nearby wore a blank stare .

“Go away! When they’re through they’ll make a monkey out of you.”he shouted. The dog gritted his mirrored fangs and his orange eyes grow more incandescent.

He smiled wryly for the attendants to come in and sing like shattering glass over a glossy lake.