365 Writing Prompt: Imperfections

Imperfections: in things, in people, in places add character to life. Tell us about an imperfection that you cherish.

When my daughter was in kindergarten, the teacher asked the little five year old girls and boys to draw a picture of her family.

My daughter drew a picture of everyone in the family including her aunt who was living with us at that time. When the teacher asked  who these people were, she proudly pointed out the people in the picture: “she said this is mommy Asgar, daddy Asgar, me, my baby sister and my auntie Asgar.”

Although it was not a perfect picture and I did not expect it to, this is one imperfection I cherish!

……………………….

https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2015/04/10/365-writing-pr…-imperfections/

 

Fiction:Vindictive

Fiction: Vindictive

Carmelita and Sarah were two girls, they lived in the same neighborhood, attended the same school and were in the same grade because they were ten years old.

Their personalities however was quite different, Carmelita was very competitive but Sarah was happy to get passing grades, you may think this cannot in any way cause any rivalry between them, how could they not be friends one may think, sadly they disliked each other, what can be the reason ?

I took them aside made no mention of their rivalry and invited them  to do something for me, “I want you to draw a picture of a dog.”

Both wanted to impress me they were busy drawing and crossing out , they didn’t show any sign of exhaustion, finally Sarah finished her picture and gave it to me, Carmelita took a few more minutes to get it done.

I went into my office posted both art work on the wall, to my surprise I noticed Sarah’s picture was much better than Carmelita’s, I walked out of my office before I opened my mouth, Carmelita yelled in a nasty voice :”Hers is better than mine, isn’t it miss!

 

: https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2015/03/13/fictionvindictive/

Fiction: Bedtime

“I am so sleepy I wish I had a bed to lie on,” cried Amelie!

Amelie’s mom did not understand why her daughter wanted a bed to go to sleep, ever since she was born only place she knew was the floor and a torn sheet where her mother always laid her, then she noticed a piece of paper with the picture of a bed, where did Amelie find this she wondered?

When she asked her daughter why she talked about lying on a bed, her daughter told her she has a friend, her name is Julie and that Julie gave her the picture of a bed.

Next morning Amelie brought her friend Julie to their little hut, Julie loved it, she thought it was the most beautiful home she saw, “this place is so pretty,” she said.

“It’s not as pretty as your home, said Amelie, you get to sleep on a bed at bedtime!

 

 

About me posted by Ranu

This morning I waited for the daily prompt, there was none.

I thought my blogger friend Leslie wanted to see my photograph taken by my friend Evie when I was in college.Here it is Leslie.

Evie had a camera, she liked taking pictures, she did not spend too much time, she was always busy doing something.

The day she took the picture we all had an autograph book to get everyone to sign in and write something. Evie wrote a few lines in my autograph book and then wanted to take a picture of me.

It is our college campus where we were residing at that time. I am wearing a sari, as far as I recall I did not own one, this one belongs to someone in the residence.

In those days I always wore Shalwar(pants) kameez(shirt) and Dupatta( a long scarf).

My Dad told my Mom one day.

Why doesn’t your daughter

put cream on her face

Or comb her hair like other

Little girls do?

She never saw a village

Yet I think

She is worse than

A girl in a village.

Even  those girls

Know how to dress up

Do you think

She will ever change?

https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2015/01/20/about-me-posted-by-ranu-4/

DP Daily Prompts: Reverse Shot

What’s your earliest memory involving another person? Recreate the scene— from other person’s perspective.

I am a  sales woman at a local  furniture store.It was early afternoon, I was moving around trying to help some customers,I spotted a  lady with her daughter.They were looking at some furniture, I immediately walked towards them and asked if they needed help.

They were pleased to see me, they needed to know about the sectionals in our show room. I showed them a picture of  one on sale.

One of them said, ‘I like this how long will I have to wait to get it?’

‘Ten days’ I  replied.

The mother ordered it and  went home.

I was happy I was able to sell the furniture.

About two weeks later the sectionals   arrived, I made arrangements to get  it delivered  to the customer’s house, a day later the mother came back and told me, she did not like the furniture, it was not the one she ordered. She showed me the picture I agreed it was different,

I told her: ‘maybe they shipped the wrong one.’

The lady was unhappy she wanted to return it, I tried to convince her to keep it, I even said : ‘We’d knock down the price some more.’

She was not interested , she asked for a refund. I waited a few more days hoping she’d change her mind, I also showed her a different sectional, it didn’t change anything, she was adamant and asked for a refund.

Nothing I said convinced the lady so I reluctantly refunded her money!

Permalink: https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2014/10/17/dp-daily-prompts-reverse-shot/

 

 

DP Daily Prompt: Snapshot Stories

Open the first photo album you can find –real or virtual, your call–and stop at the first picture of yourself you see there. Tell us the story of that photo.

This is a picture of me, it was taken by my friend, Evelyn Baptist, here I’m sitting on the grass, it is surrounded by some shrubs and plants, this is my residence in, Holy Cross College, Dhaka. 

That day most of us were thinking of starting an autograph,where we could get our friends and teachers to write something and sign our names, Evie went a bit further she wanted me to wear a sari and get my picture taken to paste on the first page of my book. I agreed, if you see this picture, I’m really not sure if you can tell I was nervous in my sari,I feared the pleats may come off, and make me look like a fool.I always avoided wearing a sari, this day Evie was firm, she said, “you have to wear it.”

I must have borrowed the sari from one of the girls, I didn’t have any. I felt at ease with my Shalwar Kamiz.

This is what I wrote on the first page:

Dear friends, 

Use your pen and brains

And do not let me ask in vain

When many years have passed away

And evening shadows round me play

Then shall this book of jest and truth

Recall the memories of my youth

Dear friends I once again invite

A few lines in my book to write.

Signed : C.S.

: https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2014/06/01/dp-daily-promp…apshot-stories/

 

(Patthika) Reader by Tagore Translation by ranu

English: Rabindranath Tagore ,Tamilndu,India (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

(Patthika)  Rabindranath Tagore

The wind blows at troubled speed,

the sky is overcast,

the peacock calls.

I did not work,  did not change,

the day is over, my hair untied___

I read your words.

O my poet tho,

I have never known you,

still your message embeds

a hidden image in my mind.

Your words render cloud and shadow

in a melancholic tune,

that brings tears to my eyes.

My heart yearns to understand you.

When and where you wake,

whose absence distresses you__

who is your beloved!

You are Indra, your wife is Indrani

You have painted a picture of her

with your affection.

O my dear poet ,

although the rhythm beats in my heart

I am lifeless,  a statue

I know not why I feel this way.

The woman is forever beloved

your songs praise her__

without reason your heart is elated.

Even if I had not heard her name,

nor seen her once

there is no loss in that!

If one knows not your sweetheart

one knows her by your song.

O my dear poet,

the spring is far-off

yet the blood dances in my veins.

The one you know appears

in this strange place,

as I stand among these strangers.

Your garland came around my neck.

the flowers wet with rain…

On some rainy evening your beloved’s

braid wrapped round you

the scent like a dream.

And in my heart, past lives converge.

O my poet,

know you not the soft melody

in my arbour of creepers–

You sang a song of sadness

of things that occurred long ago…

Your brooding melody

flowing into a marvel of its own.