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A quick tale 18

Two people
She could not believe that these two people could ever have been intimate. Two old people who had very little to say to each other. Who had grown into strangers they barely recognised. With nothing but anger and discontentment left between them. She could not see how the couple could have made love. One sultry summer night many years ago. And yet there was undeniable proof in front of her. Staring from the mirror.


Shyam said…
Ouch... that's sad.
Chakra Sampath said…
Just read your quick tale 16 - left me shell shocked.. brutally true. you hav a way for words. Hats off!!
perspective said…
How often am i going to say how true here???

Its something that happens often in a country like ours, where marriages are between strangers...somewhere its this urge for sex irrepective of the person opposite...the women are made to know and feel that their job is only to reproduce. Once done, they lose interest and the two people remain strangers for good, either they are not compatible, or she doesnt enjoy it, as she never experienced an orgasm...or she complies sometimes for his need ... i dont know if he does the same...
~phobiac~ said…
Tell u what...every time I drop by and find a new post ....I really wanna post a comment....but cant find the right words to do we go again....
AF said…
Ammani, too good!

Uma said…
Ram.C said…
Pretty true about the marriage relationships nowadays.. eventhough it is on a sad note..good short tale.
anu said…
very true. i have wondered so many times as to how people can stay put together just becos they happen to be married to each other.compatibility-who cares! guess that is the secret of the long lasting indian marriages.
Amrita said…
Once again a 'stranger' in the mirror!
Too many things are taken for granted along the way and in the end, the discontentment and anger we see is their way of showing love.

I remember long time back when I was little and my grandparents used to be like this. A patient grandma and a short-tempered grandpa. He was the typical example of a patriatch with an ego. And then one day my grandma died- of cancer. My hale and hearty grandpa joined her, three months later. He just couldnt live without her.

Who would have known?
ammani said…
He had to follow her, didn't he? Who was left for him to fight with? What a story, last blogger! :)
ranjit said…
the tale tells *exactly* what i feel whenever my parents fight with each other.
you know mind-reading? :)
Anonymous said…
sad but true....
how could they? it must have been awful? something they want to forget?
how was it???

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Married for 31 years, 2 months and 17 days
Six cups coffee a day, brewed everyday of marriage
Three meals a day,
At least two dishes cooked, each meal-time
One snack for every Sunday
Big basket of clothes ironed every Tuesday
Average 18 items of clothing washed per day
Three children
1 miscarriage
One mother-in-law suffered
900 sq metre of floor space mopped, once a day
One caesarean endured
3 chicken poxes, 2 measles, 2 fractures, 8 diarrhoeas, depression, conjunctivitis every summer, 1 tonsilitis and countless common colds and flues
1 job held for 29 years
6 hours slept every night
Sex tolerated every 2nd week
Religious rituals everyone of them, carried out
Not one of them, believed in
Lived 52 years and some
Died exhausted

Overheard, “At least she had the satisfaction of having lived for her family”

The Saturday Poem

Found this in yesterday's paper. Again, I wish I'd written it.


Now and Then

"Now that I'm fifty-seven",
My mother used to say,
"Why should I waste a minute?
Why should I waste a day

Doing the things I ought to
Simply because I should?
Now that I'm fifty-seven
I'm done with that for good."

But now and then I'd catch her
Trapped in some thankless chore
Just as she might have been at
Fifty-three or fifty-four

And I would say to her
(And I have to bite my tongue)
That if you mean to learn a skill
It's well worth starting young

And so, to make sure I'm in time
For fifty, I've begun
To do exactly as I please
Now that I'm thirty-one.

-Sophie Hannah

Lost in Post

To a little boy

It cannot be easy being you. A follow-up act to your more devilishly charming, flamboyant older brother. Before you were born, I was convinced that no child could ever take the special place your brother had come to occupy in my life. I used to argue with your father you would always be a second-born. A runner-up. A bridesmaid (or a best-man, as you turned out to be). That you could never be the prized, cherished, celebrated apple of my eye that my firstborn child was. But how easily you tore down my flimsy little conviction. The minute I saw you, I knew I was gone. What was worse, I succumbed willingly.

My fears that you would be overshadowed by your brother have proven unfounded. Over the past year, you have come into your own as a person. Your brother demands and challenges our love and attention. You, on the other hand, are much more accepting of our distractions with him. It is almost as if you understand that he is used to being the star of the show for much of his…

I ask, you write

Okay, here's the idea. I ask you a question and you write a short story explaining it. Let me give you an example.

What happened when young Padmavathi was drawing water from the well to wash her clothes, early one Margazhi morning?

Annon's story

One morning when Padmavathi was drawing water from the well, she found Pettai Rowdy # 1 Govindarajulu inside the bucket! She dropped it at once and Govindarajulu went down and down and hit the bottom of the well with a Nung sound. His upper and lower teeth fused together and since then he has been fed intravenously. Pettai Rowdy # 2, Ragothaman Iyengar, who suggested this to Govindarajulu, now rules the roost.

After marrying Padmavathi, he is inviting all of you to a water drawing ceremony at the new well they dug in their house.

Jai Ragothaman Iyengar! Jai Padmavathi! Come one, Come all!


Here's a question for you.

What happened that made young Meenakshi change her mind about the parrot green saree she had originally chosen and go for a …