Birthday Bash Relay. Excited on Second Place! Now for various WDC contests and activities |
Team Ahimsa ▼ My Turn ▼ For
Thanks! "2021 Blog Relay Winners!" "Note: They came, they ran the race, they conquered! ..." "Congratulations November 2021 Winners!"
|
Yeah, don't ban me. I was happy eating bananas. A Banana Bar would've been the ideal place for me. Don't ban me. If you like, ban Nanna. Yes, ban Nanna. After all, it was all Nanna's fault I got tipsy. Don't believe me? Ask my Dad, he was there. Ask him, I tell you. Nanna got me drunk when I was three years old. Sigh. Yeah, enough of the teaser, you want the story. So I had a cold and my parents were at their wits' end because I was sneezing so much. They'd tried everything everyone told them, from next-door-granny to the postman's wife, and even the Doctor, but my cold wouldn't go and I wouldn't stop sneezing. Finally, they tried Nanna's remedy. Not banana. So, ban Nanna. Nanna suggested a teaspoonful of brandy in a tablespoonful of honey in a glass of warm water. It was duly administered to my sneezy lips. For a few seconds it looked like it had worked. I smiled. I stopped sneezing. My parents were about to look up hopefully, when ... I hiccupped. Hic Hic. Then I tilted a bit, sideways, and walked - or rather, glided - into the table. Or I would've if Mom hadn't caught me. I was well and truly drunk. "It was just one teaspoon in a tablespoonful in a glassful," Nanna sobbed. "NOBODY gets drunk on that much!" "My daughter does," said Mom, through gritted teeth. I was giggling and swaying by then, and bumping into random furniture and tripping over my own feet. Mom was frantic. She was yelling at Nanna. Till Dad did something worse than what Nanna had done. He left the room. "Are you going to get help?" Mom yelled after him. "No, I'm going to get the camera," he called back. "She looks so damn cute when she's tipsy." (They didn't get divorced.) 309 WORDS PROMPT ▼ |
298 WORDS Pigheaded. Stubborn. Unwilling to compromise. Not a team player. I've been called all this and more, because I am pigheaded, stubborn, unwilling to compromise and not on board with a team that conducts any sort of classes for kids which compromise on the kids' benefitting. I will not tolerate any other consideration being prioritized over the participants getting short term and long term value. Therefore, my workshops for kids are workshops. They are not babysitting sessions during which the older child supposedly does Shakespeare while the younger one supposedly looks on. What winds up happening is it's a cover up to babysit the younger one for the benefit of the parents' social life. I'm not against parents having a social life, but not at this cost. Don't dump an eight year old into a Shakespeare session meant for age 12 and above. She'll feel intimidated and it might put her off literature forever. Even if I lose you as a customer, I won't let you dump that kid on me. Same goes for event organizers. Don't try to gain numbers by having five year olds in the same batch as 13 year olds. I won't buy your argument that they'll be good for each other. Everyone's pants will be bored off. Yes, I've walked out of meetings for these reasons and I've lost a lot of work over the years. I will not compromise on age group. This has got me into a lot of trouble with adults who have their own agendas. But it's heartwarming when those I have taught tell me how - decades later - they remember my sessions with fondness. By being strict, I created something real and memorable for the age groups I did manage to get through to and I'm so glad about that. Prompt ▼ |
When writing, I like to rhyme It just feels so sublime And when the thought ought to be caught, (is that rot?) with a sound to be found to make it resound well, I'll be bound to fly with feet on the ground! (am I being a dog hound?) So yeah, rhyming's my style I'll go the extra mile I'll heap the words on in a pile I'll make a folder of a file Without guilt, without guile (Don't lock me up in jaile!) I'll even let my spelling start smelling Cause I'm not dwelling on gelling With those who are quelling my telling of my feelings, dealings, reelings Ceilings or floors. Free verse? Yes, it's good, if you could do it well, then you should. But it's not just a sentence broken up vertically it's got to have something poetic to make it stick An interpretation, a metaphor a thought half stated at its core otherwise it's just prose that goes up your nose and tickles to make you sneeze causing a breeze PLEASE this is getting silly You've reached the word count willy-nilly STOP! We beg! Words: 188 PROMPT ▼ |
Words: 233 Creating chaos? Being the Master Monkey, the Mother of all Monkeys, the Most Mayhem Monkey? That's ME! That's me ... in my role as school librarian. Hey Hey Wake up. Are you okay? Yes, yes, I said I was the Main Monkey when I was school librarian. I was monkier than the students. I was the monkiest of them all. I know monkier and monkiest weren't words till this moment, but they are now. So yeah. I was librarian in a school. Let's say the library was my barrel? Roll out the barrel! I wanted the kids to have fun in the library. They had to have fun if they were to grow up loving books. Books had to be associated with friendship, joy, sharing and excitement. And that needs some amount of noise. Some amount of chaos. The rule in the library was 'Noise Please'. If you like a book, talk about it. Entice others to read it. Let the library be a den where you discuss your favourite authors, your most heroic characters. Let the love of books, the love of language, the love of a hobby grow here. Let there be people waiting to borrow the latest acquisitions, let there be the suspense of 'no spoilers', let there be chatter, let there be chaos! Let the library be a marvellous, magical, mystical, mysterious menagerie of monkeys! Monkeys who love to read! PROMPT ▼ |
Words: 263 Everyone was happy. Me? I was the happiest of them all. He was handsome, kind, with a sense of humour. He worked in advertising, too. In fact, he had his own advertising agency. What more could any girl want? Once married, I could join him and take over the copywriting duties. This sounds like it was a 'heart' decision, getting engaged to the guy. But you know, it was purely 'head' at the time. It was an arranged match. Yup. We'd met through a mutual aunt, my parents had done a background check on him before he and I set eyes on each other. Only when the criteria that counted in the community coincided did the couple converse. We got officially engaged within 10 days of our first meeting. There were some romantic days. There were some realistic days, getting to know each other. And the happily ever after was within sight. The hall for the wedding had been booked. The honeymoon had been booked. The outfit I was to be married in had arrived ... and then, one phone call ended it. His mother had changed her mind about me as a prospective daughter-in-law. I no longer fitted her criteria. Maybe it was because I fitted her son's criteria too well? We'll never know. So a decision taken with the head had left me heartbroken. And that is what I think. Decisions taken only with the head may be injurious to the heart. You have to find the head-heart balance. And when in doubt, remember, it's heartfelt and heartwarming, not headfelt and headwarming. PROMPT ▼ |
Words: 219 I like lots of fruits, but since the prompt asked me to pick ONE, I'd say the Mango. Mmmmmmmmango. The fruit which can be eaten raw - so tangy with a hint of sweetness, so good made into a salted pickle or a sweet one. So refreshing as a juice. Mmmmmmmmango. The king of fruits when ripe. Luxuriously, seductively soft. Soft on the fingers, soft on the lips, soft on the tongue. So sweet. Enjoy it plain, peeled and diced. Lose yourself in the juice. Add milk and shake it up. Bake a cake. Whatever you do, keep your mango safe, lest other mortals get tempted and steal it from you. I started the entry wanting to make the (rather obvious) pun of eating this fruit without any male companions (Man-go) but as I wrote, my reverence for this fruit took over and I thought it unworthy of mere wordplay. The admonishing of the rougher sex shall therefore not happen. Man may go, man may stay, the mango remains the order of the day. PS - Recipe? There is a reason 'recipe' and 'pierce' are anagrams of each other! My grandma's mango recipes pierced the soul of anyone who dined with her ... pierced as only the soft and luscious can pierce, so smoothly and gracefully. Share those recipes? Ah. Family secret. Prompt ▼ |
"Note:
48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt
Deadl..." No 'white Christmas' in India, but that's fine. We have the lights of Diwali, the bonds of Raksha Bandhan, the colours of Holi .... We have the festivals of the Hindus, Muslims, Jews, Parsis, Christians, Sikhs, Buddhists ... But that's not all. We celebrate more than religious festivals. We celebrate national events and sporting events. Independence Day, Republic Day, cricket matches ... We celebrate so much there is something to smile about all year round. So the song would go I'm dreaming of bright vistas Just see all those that are aglow Where you can always hear The people cheer Celebrating - not snow, but ho ho ho! |
"Note:
48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt
Deadl..." For me 'Wake Me Up' means Wham. Here's someone from this generation using the title. But wait - see the difference. That was wake me up Before this is Wake me up After. Does it mean Anything, really? So many aspects of being woken up So many choices to make Wake before or wake after? I'm awake now It's not 5 AM yet My Dad's helper has an exam So I've woken early to ensure everything is smooth. I don't have to do anything really But I just choose to be awake. Awake in case I'm needed. Not for anyone else, for me. To prove to myself that I'm a responsible adult. Being awake. Being woken up. Asking someone to wake you up Before After Setting the 'alarm'. Why is it called an 'alarm'? Is it alarming, to wake up? Is it more alarming, to slumber on? Waking up it means everything, really. |
"Note:
48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt
Deadl..." Some songs you can relate to You seem to get the vibe Some songs need to grow on you They're not of 'your tribe'. This one for me is the latter It didn't make me feel a thing And it didn't seem to matter The lyrics didn't sting I guess I'm old and rather stuck In what I like to hear And it's my bad luck That this song didn't make me cheer. If I looked up the lyrics and sang Along, maybe I'd empathise But I don't feel a pang Or want to harmonise. So I'll just hope that others Enjoy it more than I did All, my sisters and brothers Every man, woman and kid! |
Words: 234 Savita took down the curtain and wore it as a cape. It was important to feel the part, after all, while rehearsing. She had to get into the mood. She pinned the curtain on carefully and then positioned herself in front of the full-length mirror. She looked fine, she thought. She checked her front, then her side profile, then the other side. Standing at a bit of an angle, she began declaiming: "To be or not to be, that is the question." "Wuff, wuff, wuff," her poodle, named Poodlemere United, agreed. "Shhh, Poodlemere United. Don't be scared now, there's going to be a ghost." "Wuff, wuff." "You know the ghost is going to be my classmate, dressed up? You're clever." Savita faced the mirror again. "To be or not to ..." CRASH. She turned quickly, to find the floor full of flowers and water. The vase was broken. Poodlemere United had yanked at the table cloth and the contents of the table were on the floor. "What was that crash?" Savita's mother entered the room to find a bundle in a table cloth wriggling on the floor, and a girl wearing a cape guffawing on the bed. "Poodlemere United wants to be the ghost, and was trying to dress the part!" Savita managed to utter. "He's going to be a great actor, Mom!" "Oh dear, don't make me laugh now. Let's clean up this mess!" |