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A quick tale 32

A question of love

All her friends fell in love and married their lovers. Her parents found her a match. For a while she wondered why no one had ever loved her enough to ask her to marry him. But soon got over it. The man she married made a good husband. They had children and grew old together. This must be love then, she told herself.


Gangadhar said…
Hi Ammani,
I visited your blog several times!! Your narration of things is different and it is superb too...keep it up!!
Random Access said…
All the emotions are brought out in a sooper fashion...Yet another one this time around :)

Random Access
The search has just begun !!!
Shyam said…
Yup... that is love, too.
Anjali said…
wow.My post too is on love'smany facets,This Qt also is one of love's many angles I presume.Lovely ammani.
Eroteme said…
Aaaah! The irrelevance of love to marriage and conversely... Well captured. Really.
I wonder if people realise this in their lives and see a goat for a goat and a buffalo for one... ;-)
keerthi said…
Someone commented on thennavan's blog.. thot it relates here.

worlds shortest love story..
"Will you Marry me ?"
And they lived happily every after.

btw - qt32 very nice.
What is love, if it aint understood?
DR said…
How true! "Happiness is not having what you want. It is wanting what you have."
All of us yearn to be loved... and it's good that your story's character realized that she had received her share of love in the end!
I was just curious to know about your reading habits - so, I've tagged "U".
Balaji said…
Some marry the ones they love.
Rest love the ones they marry.
Man said…
> Rest love the ones they marry.

Or delude themselves that it is love.
zaratul said…
Hi Ammani

Isnt tat gal u mention ---------Urself.
hari said…
Hi Ammani,

That is the best form of love. And you have mentioned in a beautiful manner. Keep going.
Anonymous said…
Hi Ammani,
its amazing to see what you could do in few sentences..... most of your tales shows how much deeply you are connected to your roots....
Keep it going.
Balakumar said…
Comment by Anon "... most of your tales shows how much deeply you are connected to your roots..." - VERY well said!
very matter of fact, and lovely..:)
Prabha said…
Hi Ammani,
First time here!!
Very nice short stories!!!:)
blogSurya said…
May be mere coincidence on the subject of LOVE.Even I have tried to write a story on this...Please let me know your comments on this.
dinesh said…
Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't..but if she thinks it is, then it is indeed !
Love's often projected like a one word answer and it's hardly that simple ! One thing I don't quite agreeing with her when she thinks that's love ? or are you chiding for thinking that it is ?
AF said…
Hi Ammani,
Very well written, since the emotions are so well brought out. Very touched by this QT.
You rock Ammani! as I always say.

Take Care
thennavan said…
OT, you may want to delete the other blog you have or at least modify it (if you recall our email conversation about punaippeyargal) :-)
Arch Storm said…
beautiful...i jus cant help but wonder how Ammani manages to concentrate sooo many emotions in such few and simple words..
She has been my inspiration in my attempt to write a short tale myself:) thanks
tilotamma said…
I know everyone loves your quick tales but could you take the time to finish your post about why you fell out of love with Chennai, please :-)

And all the short-shorts fans, don't get mad, I think some of them qualify as poems/kavyam mmyself.......
Anonymous said…
Hi Ammani,
I admire your blog, no random ramblings.... to the point always.... Nice work keep it up :-)
and she may still be wrong...! Who knows what true love is! The "glass is half full" types believe that what they have is true love, while the "glass is half empty" types believe that what they do NOT have is true love.

In the end, marrying a person you know is just an insurance against the 'unknown'. Nothing more and nothing less.

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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.

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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.

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