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 |   Birthday Bash Relay. Excited on Second Place! Now for various WDC contests and activities |
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Team Ahimsa ▼ My Turn ▼ For
Thanks! "  2021 Blog Relay Winners!"  ![Merit Badge in Blogging
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| All Words: 359 Your Muse and Andre have decided to collaborate. They want to write a song together. 6.) Tell us why they decided to collaborate. Cosmic forces are in play Our meeting was meant to be, today Like minds, like souls, like hearts Lyrics and melodies flowed from the start. And two voices rose as one Bonded together like sky and sun. Oh, the joy of this harmony Resonating, reaching out perfectly All the world stands still to listen To tuneful messages as they glisten Each word reaching something deep Some smiled, some laughed and some did weep. Actually, I don't think they 'decided' to collaborate. I think it was something pre-destined, something that was written in the stars. The acrostic they wrote together after they had hit the charts over and over, is proof that they felt this way too. It wasn't anything to do with them - it was to do with the cosmic forces that brought them together. Why does this happen? Just randomly? Or is it shared karma, from a previous life? Or maybe when two beings love something as passionately as these two do, their very passion is bound to bring them together at some point. Whatever it was, the collaboration was an epic one in musical history. Indeed, in the history of the performing arts in general. The music they created together reached many, many hearts. It inspired, it soothed, it cheered, it roused fervour. They were so deeply connected to each other that their connection with any audience had to be complete, all-embracing. There was a surreal feeling in the air whenever they performed together. "It was uncanny, man!" says a security guard who was on duty at one of their concerts. "I've never seen anything like it, never felt anything like it. I was supposed to be working but I kept getting drawn to the music. Had to finally put earplugs in and turn my back to the stage, to be able to concentrate on my job of watching the crowd. They're magic, that's all." Yes, some collaborations are magic, that's all.   |
| "Note:
48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt
Deadl..." I don't know. She's very pretty. She's got her full make up and jewellery and has obviously worked on her wardrobe. Yes, I'm jealous because I'm not as pretty, but that's not what this entry is about. This is about prettifying the ugly. She's getting an eviction notice, she can't pay her bills. Supposedly she's an ordinary person. So why does she have to be prettified for this video? Why can't an ordinary girl be saying these things? Not believable somehow coming from her. Is it about sugar coating messages? Is it about telling ugly people that pretty people go through problems too? Why this obsession with looks? I bet this young lady wasn't thinking about people who are about to get evicted, or about those which an alcohol problem, she was thinking about what colour lipstick would look best in the shot and which profile she had to show the camera. I couldn't relate. |
| All Words: 329 1.) What instrument does Andre play, why, and with who has he performed? Andre is a simple fellow. He loves everything to do with nature. He is also widely travelled. On a visit to India, he was fascinated by the Jal Tarang, and went on to learn how to play it, taught by none other than Vidushi Shashikala Dani herself. He learnt quickly and became her favourite student – so much so that they played together for All India Radio's 'Namaste Youth' programme. Back in the US of A, Andre went on to give live performances on the Jal Tarang. He had to introduce people there to this instrument and the vibrant sounds it can produce. He soon won over the skeptics. "There is a deeper meaning to using this instrument," Andre said, when asked. "Our bodies are made up of mostly water. We need water every day to live. So, we have to understand the rhythm of water, the poetry of its purity, the serenity of its soul. What better way to do this than by immersing oneself in its melodies?" While some are surprised by Andre's new philosophical bent of mind, his close friends smile knowingly. "We always knew that underneath that goofiness, Andre is a deep guy," they say. Those who were with him on his now historical India trip recall the first time he heard the Jal Tarang. "He went in to a sort of trance. His eyes glazed over and he had this tiny smile on his face. It took him a while to get back to normal after that." Obviously, Andre was deeply attracted to the Jal Tarang from his first encounter with it. He is now planning to ask some of his musically-inclined friends to learn to play the 'tabla' so that they can accompany him. "And maybe someone on the flute," he says, wistfully. We wish Andre the very best of luck in his  musical journey.About the Jal Tarang https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jal_tarang |
| All Words: 365 (incl the prompt) Your Muse and Andre have decided to collaborate. They want to write a song together. 7.) Write Their Song – This prompt may be a poetic form). Voice #1: Trees, trees, trees in the breeze! Voice #2: Bananas, bananas, bananas are manna Both voices overlapping: Trees, trees, bananas, bananas, trees in the breeze, bananas are manna Voice #1: Now baby, do be do be do Voice #2: Let me tell you a thing or two Voice #1: About life in the jungle where the animals live Voice #2: Partaking of what nature has to give. Voice #1: The jungle is pretty, the jungle is cool Voice #2: And every living creature knows it has to keep the rule. Both voices overlapping: Stay with what is natural; with what is true There's a part to play in life; for me and for you. Voice #1: Kill when you're hungry or for self-defence Voice #2: Not for sport or the photographer's lens. Voice #1: Live in harmony with every creature Voice #2: Don't poison your home with your toxic litter. Both voices overlapping: Keep the Earth clean clean: anything else is mean, mean You're not the only one who breathes the air: No noxious gases, please show you care. You're not the only one who drinks the water; Don't waste - leave it for your son and daughter. You're not the only one who eats the food; take only what you need and we'll all be good. You're not the only one who lives here, you know; Either get along or just go Voice #1: I guess what we're trying to say Voice #2: The Earth needs your conscience every day. Voice #1: You haven't learned your lesson in the last two years Voice #2: You stay arrogant through all your fears. Voice #1: Even after what you've been through you dare Voice #2: to indulge in petty warfare Voice #1: When will you get better, instead of getting worse Voice #2: You're turning every blessing into a curse. Both voices overlapping: So we say to you, please heed this call; or it won't be cool at all Learn some kindness, some humility; Or face the end of humanity. |
| PROMPT November 29th Imagine for a moment that you are near the end of your life. What do you want to have done that would make you feel satisfied? I hope someone tells SM to memorialize my WdC account! I like what Dad and I did for Mom. We took the hockey players from Dream A Dream (economically deprived kids - i think there were about 20 of them) for CHAK DE INDIA - movie about hockey - in the theatre. We paid for the tickets, the theatre generously gave Pepsi and popcorn. The movie stars an actor Mom liked, and the kids cheered as if they were i a real stadium. Mom would have been happy. We also planted nine threes in her memory, her birthday being on the ninth day of the ninth month. And we gave some kids chocolates. She loved chocolate! |
| PROMPT November 28th Hopefully a little change of pace tonight. Write about something intangible: faith, magic, energy, power, or creativity. Just choose one topic, and write about it. See my earlier entry and the comments on it: "Letting my fingers type - #30DBC" The voice in my head is tangible to me It's the emotional baggage that I always carry. It says, "You're the princess You don't do housework You sit around, we'll do it We'll indulge your every quirk." This voice, in reality spoke for years (thirty-seven) Now the voice is in my head 'Coz the speaker is in Heaven. Yes, I'm upper-middle class I had a maid to wait on me Who made my bed, cleaned my room Cooked the food, did the laundry I didn't lift a finger Anywhere at home And now that she's gone I feel helpless and alone. Oh, don't get me wrong I still have part-timers here But the voice in my head Is on full time, my dear! "That's not your job! Don't pick that up! I'll stoop and get it I'll wash your cup!" The trouble is, the voice Isn't real any more And if I don't do it Nobody does that chore. My bed is unmade, There's no soap near the sink Nothing is a habit I get tired coz I have to think! I once asked my aunt Was my maid a blessing or a curee She said - that's a choice you make It could've been better; could've been worse Now that she's a memory And her voice lives on in you It's your decision whether What it says is false or true. You need to grow up You need to cope You need to learn to balance The fatigue with the hope. Change your own habits! It can be done Let her voice guide you Through the chores one by one. She was the expert She'd guide you all right Let her voice not bring darkness Let it bring the light. And when you have done that How triumphant you'll feel! Because your victory Won't be intangible, but REAL! |
| PROMPT November 27th Things have progressed well in your town/city with the Pandemic. So well that you've been allowed to return to the office instead of working from home. Your co-worker Karly, is sneezing and coughing and refuses to wear a mask. Who do you call, or do you let it slide. Tell us why you would act that way. Tough one. I'd try to tell her. If that didn't work, I'd tell other colleagues. If that didn't work either, I'd go and 'rat' to a superior. If nothing worked, I'd stop going to office. It's not worth the risk. |
| (Open Prompt). I'm just going to let my fingers type. I don't know what my fingers are going to type about. Maybe they'll type about the mint tea I drank this afternoon, (yummy), maybe they'll type about the shampoo I like that isn't currently available at the chemist's. Fortunately, I have some and it'll last till he gets more stock. Maybe I'll type sad things like how grumpy I feel having no maid to wait on me like I used to for the first thirty-seven years of my life. But then, I'm happy just now so I don't think I want to go that route. I did love that maid, though. She was such a sweetheart. I cried without stopping when she retired. She loved Coca-Cola. She also loved to watch the musical program on TV. We didn't have a TV in those days and she had to go to the neighbour's place to watch her favourite show. She didn't like that much. since it meant being obligated to the neighbours maid. She was thrilled when we got a second-had TV from my uncle, who was upgrading to color by that time. Ours was black-n-white. Yep, I loved my maid.  (Pic: My maid and my Mom with me in the middle, on the train. I was off to stay with my aunt for a couple of years to complete college.) My cousins all had their own maids. The best maid in the family was my younger cousin's maid. My younger cousin (now age fifty) still remembers fondly how she curled up on the maid's knee and shared her glass of afternoon tea. So this blog is going to be about maids ... ? We don't have a full time maid now. Our part time maid has a grand-daughter who has mental and emotional issues. That kid is SO CUTE. She used to come over sometimes before Covid and play with Dad and me. She must be so grown up now! Okay, enough rambling for this blog. Thanks for reading! Thanks Kåre Enga in Montana  for![Merit Badge in Remembrance
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| PROMPT November 25th We all have something to be thankful about. In the United States, we celebrate Thanksgiving today. Tell us what you are most thankful for. 1. MY DAD. 2. My privileged status. I know this sounds a bit blatant, but I want to state it plainly. Yes, I know I'm privileged because of the family I was born in to and I understand it's something I have to be grateful for. 3. Everything in nature. 4. My family and friends, and all the people around me like regular drivers and shopkeepers who've known me for years and care of me. 5. My collections - postmarks, dolls, glass animals! 6. Snacks and meals and chocolate!  7. The Doctors and hospitals that took care of me so well when I was having eye problems. 8. Audio books that enable me to 'read' by listening. I love them now! 9. Top-loading washing machine! 10. JK Rowling, Paul Gallico, Rumer Godden, Enid Blyton and so many other writers whose works I enjoy. 11. About a zillion other things I can't think of now. 12. GOD. |
PROMPT November 24th In a previous prompt, I asked you to write about your best, or favorite teacher. Tonight write about your darkest teacher. Fortunately, I had a lot of good teachers. The one I have the worst memories of is my fourth grade class teacher. She was always quick to accuse a kid of the worst, without understanding the situation or the kid herself. I was bad at Maths, and so was the girl sitting next to me. One time, both of us (independently) made up our minds to really work hard and do well in a Maths test. Also, that topic was somehow easier to understand. When the test results came, we had each scored 19.5 / 20. We were thrilled as we got our papers, till the teacher damped it out by saying: "Partnership work, both of you" - implying that we had copied off each other. Now: 1. Neither of us had any sort of record of cheating. 2. We sat in the middle of the first row. 3. We had got the half-mark less for DIFFERENT mistakes. Not taking any of this into account, she publicly made that statement. I recall how hurt I was, as was the other girl. The same teacher, incident #2: My Mom was being admitted to hospital for a minor surgery (polyp in the throat). I was scared. Being distracted, I did badly on an English test, scoring only 50%. English was a subject I excelled at. We had to get the papers signed by the parents. Mom was packing for hospital when I took my paper to her. She picked up the first stationery she found and signed. It was a very light pencil and the signature wasn't properly visible. I didn't like to disturb my parents in the middle of packing for hospital. I took a pen and signed on top of the signature. The teacher refused to listen to me or to see the evidence of the pencil writing underneath. She accused me of forging my Mom's signature, kept me in when everyone else went for P.E., got the HIndi teacher to lecture me and so on. Next day I brought a note from Dad, saying Mom was in hospital and remembered signing my paper. The teacher said, "Why didn't you tell me your Mom was in hospital?" Well, had she given me a chance to get a word in, I would've! Horrible woman. |
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