Meraki

This is a story I wrote for RavenclawSam’s blog. There’s some good work there. You should definitely check out the other stories in this series of guest posts.

A Blast Of Random

The curator switched off the main light and looked back into the room. All seven paintings were lit by their individual soft lights. They were placed all around the room with benches for observation in the middle of the room.

Personally, the curator didn’t like this particular exhibition of paintings. They made him uneasy. He couldn’t point out why but they seemed to be eerily alive- especially in the dark.

The curator left the room in a hurry. It was 11.15 pm. He knew he was late. The wife would be angry. He checked the room once more before locking up for the day. His boss would have his head on a platter if anything were to happen to the paintings.

The room with the paintings was enveloped in complete dark barring the lights of the paintings. The room was quite empty and still. Yet something was breathing. Breathing, waiting…

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Gossamer

Mariana had been dreading her 21st birthday ball ever since it had been announced. She would be forced to be polite to all of the Dukes and Lords of her father’s court, who would then leer and paw at her under the pretence of wishing her. She just wished that people would ask before touching her.
She barely said a word when she was shoved into a too tight dress for the occasion and let her maids pull at her hair until it was in an acceptable state. After dismissing them, Mariana stared at herself in the mirror.
“I look terribly thin. If I eat a grape, will my corset pop?”
Giggling at the very un-ladylike joke, she left her room mentally preparing herself for the next few hours. Let the torture begin.

“Darling, who is that exquisite creature walking down the stairs?”
Edith sighed at her mistress. It was one thing to be indifferent about politics, but to not know the Crown Princess of the Kingdom was just insulting.
“Your Grace that is Her Royal Highness, Princess Mariana; whose birthday party you are currently attending.”
Katherine raised one delicate eyebrow at her lady’s maid, who apologised immediately for the sarcasm. Turning away, she narrowed her eyes at the Princess. Katherine was attracted to her immediately, she was absolutely gorgeous.
There had never been an instance where a man had interested her. She was different, she knew and so did her parents. Fortunately, they loved her enough not to force her into anything. But society gossiped and she was known as the Lockwood’s 24 year-old spinster.
Princess Mariana was tall for her age and carried herself with a silent grace. Her gossamer gown fit her perfectly up until her waist and then it flowed. She was smiling demurely as she tucked in a strand of hair back into her bun. Mariana was beautiful and looked every bit of the princess she was.
“I am going to go meet the Princess.”
Edith stared in horror. “But, Your Grace, you cannot. That is not how it is supposed to be. Her Highness is meant to meet all the important guests first.”
“Are you implying that I am not important enough?” asked Katherine coldly. “You are dismissed for the night Edith. Have a lovely one.”
She left without a second glance towards her maid. Infuriating meddler she might be, but she was efficient. Katherine wouldn’t replace her. Not yet, at least.
Walking across the ballroom purposefully with her head held high, Katherine drew a lot of curious looks. It was not every day that the daughter of Duke Lockwood actively participated in something. When she reached the Princess, she dropped into a curtsey.
“Your Royal Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Mariana took one look at the stately brunette with bright green eyes and flung herself at her. Surprised that the lady hadn’t pushed her off immediately, she tightened her grip on her neck.
“Please play along,” Mariana whispered. “I need to get away from these old coots.”
Katherine let out a laugh and pulled away. “I did not know you would be so happy to see me, Princess.”
Mariana quickly curtsied to the people that were surrounding her.
“I apologise my Lords and Ladies, but I have not had the chance to meet my friend in a long time. If you would excuse us, we will take our leave.”
The Princess smiled at the confused guests and led her ‘friend’ away. She smiled at everyone they passed, much to Katherine’s amusement.
“Where exactly are you taking me, Princess? Do you know how terrible it is for your reputation to be seen with me?”
Mariana didn’t answer and led her to an empty balcony. Once there she dropped Katherine’s wrist and curtsied.
“Forgive me for causing inconvenience. I had to get out of there before my corset or my temper snapped.”
The Princess startled as Katherine burst out laughing. “Is something funny?”
“My dear Princess, forgive me but I find the most inappropriate things hilarious,” Katherine smirked. “My name is Katherine, since you did not ask I thought I would tell you myself.”
Mariana blushed and offered her hand. “You may call me Mariana.”
Katherine raised the hand to her mouth and looked at the Princess.
“May I?” she asked and kissed the back of the hand when she was given permission. The Princess blushed and hastily took her hand back.
“I think we should head back inside. It was lovely meeting you; I hope to see you again.”
Katherine winked at her and laughed a little when the blush deepened.
“You will be seeing a lot more of me, Mariana. I hope you are ready for it.”
The Princess scurried off, eager to get away from the oddly charming lady. It was the start of a beautiful friendship and perhaps, a little more.

***
Another post for my Blog Birthday 😀

This is one is by my friend who goes by Evil_and_I_know_it. The word given to her was “gossamer”. She’s a hardcore Fangirl and writes great fan fiction. Especially Harry Potter ones. You can check out her work here.

Happy Weekend!

The One Time She Called Him The C-Word…..And He Never Let It Go.

Coco(a)nutz: *cute voice* Hola! No, my name isn’t really Coco(a)nutz. THAT would be NUTS. It’s a nickname given to me by his truly. *pinches OCD* *OCD smirks* I’m Arya Chaturgoonga. *scowls* Yeah,yeah. I can already hear you giggling.

OCD: *snorts loudly* Chaturgoonga! Gets me Every.Single.Time! I’m Oscar Christian Danford. And if you haven’t yet figured out why I call her Coco(a)nutz,then you’re dumber than you look! Hehe….kidding! Okay…it’s just that she is obsessed with coconuts. *Coco plays with the coconut charm on her bracelet* And she has this weird cocoa fetish. *Her eyes glaze over as she sighs dreamily* So there! Coco(a)nutz!

Coco(a)nutz: And I call him OCD, not only because his initials coincidentally happen to be so, but also because he is literally OCD. A total Obsessive Compulsive Disorder freak. Wait and watch. *ruffles his hair adoringly*  *He swats her hands away*  *He smoothens his hair neatly and quickly*

OCD: Oi! You’re ruining my perfectly set and parted hair. And she’s totally kidding btw. Just because I’m a creature of habit and hygiene, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m literally OCD.

Coco(a)nutz: *whispers* Germs! *OCD whips out sanitizer and wet wipes and scrubs his hands frantically* * Coco smirks* Haa! Told you so. *OCD scowls*

***

Fluffy Matrix Snuffles(a.k.a the cutest teddy bear in the world):  *bone-crushing hug*  And without further delay….Dudes and dudettes…presenting Coco(a)nutz and OCD in the prompt series – ‘Cocoa Beans and Crazy’.
The following story is based on Skcully’s (that’s me, Mia) prompt ‘callipygous’. To anybody who doesn’t know what it means….*hands them a dictionary* Yes. Callipygous means having shapely,beautiful buttocks. Read on after you’ve finished giggling.

***

The One Time She Called Him The C-Word…..And He Never Let It Go.

TRRRRINGG! Arya Chaturgoonga came blazing down the street on her beloved bike Catmobile, ringing her bell vigorously. Her brunette locks, held loosely together by a red bandana, tumbled wildly all over her shoulders. With a merry tune whistling on her lips, her nose in the air, she pedaled down the road and stopped in front of his house with a loud screech of her brakes. Oscar Christian Danford scowled.
“Sweet Baby Jesus,Arya! Do you always have to enter like a freaking Banshee?” he bellowed. “I live to piss you off.”She yelled back cheerfully. He stuck his head out of the window and gave her the finger. She grinned.
“Color me surprised. Punctuality is not usually your redeeming quality, yet here you are on time. That’s a first.” “Yeah,well don’t get used to it,OCD.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. And oh….Wipe your shoes on the rug before coming up,will you?” Arya grimaced. “Yeah,whatever. Geez…You are worse than my mother.”She muttered.
“Quite the narcissist,aren’t you?” he said,pointing at her T-shirt. It showed a smirking coconut sipping on hot cocoa with ‘COCO(A)NUTZ RULEZ’ written on it. She smiled prettily. “Using big words,huh? You see,this nerd designed it for me. The said nerd also seems to have come up with another smart-assed T-shirt.” She nodded at him. He puffed out his chest proudly, showing off his ‘SAVE WATER, DRINK BLOOD’ T-shirt.
“Already gotten into the spirit of the debate,I see. Ready,OCD?” “I was born ready,Coco. Let me just get the board. It’s on the top of that cupboard.Aaargh-” He groaned in frustration,not quite able to reach it. “Pass me that stool,Coco.”
He hopped on the stool,his head smacking against the ceiling. “Ow! Shoot…. this thing is heavy! Unhh….here. Take it.” She seemed oblivious to his trouble,her eyes glued…elsewhere. “Uh,Coco? Take this Hulk of a board,will you? And quit staring at my ass.” Her cheeks colored embarrassingly. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t.”She grunted. He smirked.“You were too.”
She snatched the board away from him and began scribbling furiously.
‘WIZARDS vs VAMPIRES’
‘Coco(a)nutz vs OCD’

She patted her pockets frantically. “Where is it? Where is it?” “Take a chill pill,Coco. What are you looking for?” “Ugh! I can’t seem to find my phone. Gimme a call quickly.”
JLO’s ‘Booty’ echoed throughout the room.
Awkward silence.
“Umm…Arya? Why have you kept ‘Booty’ as my caller ringtone?”
Big,big booty…What you got a big booty
(Work)
Big,big booty… What you got a big booty
She dove into her backpack,looking absolutely mortified. And shut off the infernal noise. She laughed weakly. “Why don’t we just start the debate?” He nodded,still looking confused.
He cleared his throat. “So,vampires have super-human strength and inhuman beauty and-” “Fat lot of good that super-human strength is if you’re Petrified. I bet Gandalf can set your vampire ass on fire.And boom…you are dead! Unless your stupid cape is fire-resistant. And inhuman beauty? Pssh. One word-Magic.”
“Immortality? Hah! Beat that.” He grinned smugly. She let out a bored yawn. “Philosopher’s Stone. Deathly Hallows. Old Bearded Wisdom. Next.”
He grinned wickedly. “Speed. You wizards may have your broomsticks and shit,but I could walk faster than you fly.” She reluctantly conceded to that. But she retaliated quickly. “Burnt in the sunlight. And sleeping in the coffins. Cough. Cough. Is it dusty in there? Say hello to the cobwebs.” “That’s a myth. We don’t get burnt in the sunlight-” “Yeah,you just sparkle like a disco ball.” He glared at her. “I meant, we wear Daylight Amulets made out of lapis lazuli to protect ourselves from sunlight.” She snorted. “Daylight Amulets that are enchanted by witches to protect your frozen butt.”
“Vampires come with the package deal of big,cold,scary and badass mansions.” “Dude,please. Just take one look at Hogwarts.”
                *Hundred light years and several heated arguments later.*

“What the! You bitch! I mean,witch! You really-”
“Oh yeah? You callipygous bastard! Avada Kedavara!”
“Wait,what? What did you call me?”
“Hmmph. You can call me a bitch but I can’t call you a bastard? Of all the hypocri-”
“No,no. What was that calli-what’s it?”
She had turned an alarming shade of pink. He flopped down to the ground, pulled out a Bounty chocolate bar (the most delicious blend of coconut and chocolate ever made,she exclaimed internally,her mouth watering.) and bit off a huge chunk,scowling. “I hate it when you do that. You promised you would stop using stupid,big-assed words like that.” She made an innocent face. “You mean pretentious words? It’s not my fault you don’t know your way around the dictionary.”
He sighed tiredly. “What the heck does it even mean?” She was suddenly fascinated by the rug,looking anywhere but at him. He huffed indignantly. “Fine. Have it your way.” She swiped his chocolate,and stuffing herself,muttered in a low voice. “Ith wath a comflimenth.” “Come again?” She blushed and whispered, “It was a compliment.”
He smiled half-heartedly. “I guess I’ll take your word for it. Now don’t get crumbs all over the floor.” She stuck her tongue out at him. He handed her dental floss. She stared at him incredulously.
“Seriously?”
“What? Dental hygiene is of utmost importan-” She cut him off with a kiss,her lips smashing fiercely against his. She sighed,her breath brushing his lips. “You taste like coconut chocolate.” He chuckled. “As do you.”
Later that night,he looked up ‘callipygous’ in the dictionary. And then his ears promptly turned beet-red. “Hmmmm….shapely and beautiful buttocks,huh?” He smirked. Time to have some fun.

    Owls….err,messages….exchanged between Coco(a)nutz and OCD.
OCD: Good night,my bootyful dudette. Oops….I meant beautiful. 😉 :*
Coco: I will pretend you did not just say that. Finally used the dictionary,huh? Also,not sleepy. Watchoo doing?
OCD: Ohh…nothing much. Just working my ass off on the Literature project. 😛
Coco: *facepalm*
OCD: You see,everyone else’s projects have turned out to be supermegafoxyawesomehot. I don’t wanna be the butt of their jokes now,do I? XP 😀
Coco: Haha…I get what you’re doing.
OCD: *devilish smirk* Do you? *sings off-key* Big,bad booty…
Coco: You’re never going to let this go,are you?
OCD: *cheerful,shameless grin* Never ever. I believe a certain somebody has to confess something.
Coco: Alright. I have a butt fetish. And that’s a mighty fine ass that you got there.
OCD: I am so flattered,Honey BUNny.
Coco:  Your booty is just asking to be spanked,if you don’t shut up! Go to sleep,you smug jackass.
OCD: LMAO. Good night to you too. Sleep tight and don’t let the vampires bite.
Coco: GuteNuit. :*
OCD: P.S- So if this were a movie….what do you think it would be named as? The Callipygian Curse…Booty Returns!
Coco: Asdhfnvdjghudjkfoskd!@#$!!!??!!
               
***
This guest post  is written by my fluffy adorable friend Sancho Nachos Panza or Suncheetah. She is the definition of demented fangirl. She will love all kinds of appreciation 🙂 Please do shower her with some.

Infinity

“After all this time?”

“Always.”

It is said that Rowling told a better love story in these 5 words than Meyer told in 4 books. Snape manages to undo nearly all wrongs he did with this one word (though I won’t ever forgive him for the way he treated Neville). Rowling sort of romanticized ‘always’ for all Potterheads. So this divides the world into two types of people: People who reply with ‘always’ and people who reply with ‘forever’, when they are asked ‘Will you love me the same way in future?’.
Basically, what one is trying to say, irrespective of whether you say ‘always’ or ‘forever’, is the fact that my love for you transcends everything else and I’ll love you at all times, on all occasions, for all future times. Thus comes in the concept of “Infinity”.

People who say love is stupid have something to rejoice. On one hand, we have Einstein who said that, “Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the former.” and on the other hand, we have people saying “My love for you is infinite.” Putting two and two together, it ain’t hard to say that love is stupid. I don’t believe that love is stupid. It may be expressed in stupid ways by stupid people but the very idea, the very concept of love isn’t stupid. The same goes for infinity. We may laugh at people who promise to be with one another for infinity but somewhere in the deep, dark corners of our heart, we are yearning to hear those words ourselves.

For me, the concept of infinity is a bit scary. What scares me is the fact that what if this promise is just another lie. I once read a quote somewhere – “I’m not afraid of heights, deep water or love. I’m afraid of falling, drowning or broken heart.” I’m not averse to making promises, but make promises you can keep. When you promise something to someone, they start having expectations from you. You just can’t go about making promises and then not fulfilling those expectations.
I feel it to be very ironic that things which are thought to be infinite need to be expressed in finite ways. As in, love which is thought to be infinite, needs to expressed with finite things such as gifts or flowers. Some like Shah Jahan build monuments like Taj Mahal for the ones they love while some like Shakespeare declare that “Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear’d with sluttish time.”  It is not that I’m against expressing love, it is just that I find it amusing. It just highlights that fact that opposites not only attract each other but are also necessary for each other’s survival. What is a hero without a villain, Yang without Yin?

Every person on this earth has a finite number of days to live. But yet, in those finite days, we experience moments of infinity, moments where we feel we have everything.  Why can’t we promise each other these moments of infinity rather than complete infinity? I know what I want. I would rather have someone promising me infinity in these finite days rather than love for infinity. Because those moments of inifinity aren’t easy to forget, what is easy to forget is the promise of infinity. If someone ends up breaking my heart, I would rather like to write “I am thankful for the little infinity we had.” rather than shedding tears because I was promised infinity and what I got was finity.

***
Back again with a post for my Blog Birthday. This one is by my college mate and fellow Fangirl Mallika. She is a brilliant writer and a terrific friend.

The word chosen by her was of course ‘Infinity’. There is so much of possibility in that one tiny word ‘infinity’.

Go visit her blog – The Confused Soul. I’m sure she’ll appreciate all your comments and appreciation.

Dainty

What do you notice about a person first?
The glint in their eyes or the mischief in their smile?
Their winged eyeliner or how they team a bright scarf with a skirt and manage to get the look you desire.
Have you observed the souls around and tried to soak in the tiny details of their simple being?
How they tuck in those tresses shyly behind their ears and look beautiful.
The way they curl their toes and and cuddle their knees when they shiver on a winter night.
How they hold a pen when they finish their first poetry, their dainty fingers smeared with ink.
How their eyes light up when they see their favourite dessert arriving in the restaurant.
And then the smile that adorns their face on a good hair day.
How their nose turns pink-red when they catch cold yet they never fail to look cute.
And the way they flaunt their pierced belly with that crop top.
I don’t know if it is beautiful to find someone adorable in parts.
But what is more important is loving someone as whole.
And I hope you do both.
-Shubhda Pujare
***
Diary of an Introverted Schmuck turned one on the first of April. To celebrate, I asked some of my friends to write poems or short stories on a word of their choice.
This poem is written by my friend Shubh on the word “dainty”. She’s so freaking multi-talented. She writes, she quills (brilliantly, if I may add), she dances, she learns languages…you name it and she’s done it 🙂
I’m sure she’ll love appreciation, encouragement and constructive criticism.

When Dreams And Reality Intertwine

  Mikaela ran through the shrouded labyrinth, knowing full well that this had to be a dream. Sleep was never a welcome distraction. Because in her sleep, she dreamed. Not dreams about unicorns and rainbows or buying the perfect dress for prom night. Nighmares. Terrible ones. Usually ones from which she emerged kicking and screaming. This dream seemed more perilous and threatening in particular. She halted for some air. All the running had left her breathless. She looked around her. The labyrinth stretched into two dark hallways before her. She was tired. This was usually the part in the dream when something really horrendous would happen and her loud wails would cause her mother to shake her awake. Her dreams somehow always seemed very realistic. This one however, had made it to the top of the list on the reality factor. Instinct made her take the right pathway. It seemed to be dimly lit and smelled vaguely of lavenders. Mikaela squinted her eyes to get a good look ahead. But it was the same as all the other paths. She could perceive nothing but darkness. She walked slowly, taking in the strange carvings on the walls which looked like distorted faces. Something about the faces enthralled her. She shook the chills which occasionally ran down her spine and walked deeper into the labyrinth. And then she stopped dead. One face on the wall grasped her attention, awaking an indescribable terror in her. As she took a step closer to it, the identity of the face dawned on her. It was hers. The dream had suddenly become a bit too real. She wasn’t even sure if it was a dream anymore. A sound of shuffling footsteps behind her startled her out of her reverie. It was time to run again. As she ran, she saw light streaming in ahead of her.

  Yes! Finally an exit! Maybe she could wake up now!

  But when she reached the end of the hallway, she saw a group of people who supiciously looked like doctors and some cops. There were a few patrol cars in the background with silent alarms

  Mikaela was bewildered. She couldn’t comprehend the situation.
Had someone been injured? She came to a stop as a doctor advanced towards her, a look of pity and horror etched across her face. And thats when Mikaela looked down at her hands, her face contorting with disbelief and disgust. Her hands were laced with blood.
“Is she the one?”, she heard a cop ask one of the doctors.
“Yes.She somehow finds a way to sneak away at night and the next morning we find her dishevelled and disturbed in her room.”, the doctor said.
“Is she mentally unstable?”, the cop asked.
What? Mentally unstable?
Mikaela was sure this was a dream. Panic seized her. She wasn’t crazy. But the doctors kept looking at her like she was.
“She killed her entire family in a fit of madness and was discovered later in a tunnel underneath their house not unlike this one. She was dazed and couldn’t remember what had happened”, the doctor replied, looking at her like she needed to be chained to a wall.
Words failed her.
Killed my family?
She was flabbergasted.
Hadn’t her mother just awoken her last night from a bad nightmare?
“She suffers from a sleep and identity disorder of sorts. And sometimes wakes up in a trance, unaware of who or where she is.”, the doctor continued.
Sleep disorder? Amnesia? What the hell was going on?
One of the doctors stepped forward with a syringe that looked like a tranquilizer. Mikaela opened her mouth to protest but was held still as she was injected. The night sky with stars aligned around the distant planets was the last thing she saw before she passed out.
She woke with a start, beads of sweat on her forehead.
“Are you alright sweetie?”, asked a figure beside her. It was her mother! She wasn’t insane. It had indeed been just a dream.
“She seems to be hallucinating too.”, one of the doctors said to his colleagues outside the observation room in which Mikaela had been placed.As the doctors walked out of the room, the last thing they saw was Mikaela hugging the air with all her might as if it was a flesh and blood person.
“Mom I’m so glad to see you!”, she exclaimed happily.
She wasn’t mentally unstable at all.

***

Diary of an Introverted Schmuck completed a year on the first of April. To make a big deal out of my Blog Birthday, I asked some friends of mine to guest post here.

This story is written by a friend of mine called Haya on the word ‘labyrinth’. She’s a terrific writer. You can check out her poems on her instagram. Drop some comments while you are at it. I’m sure she’ll love them 🙂

Chaos and Symmetry

He enjoyed the Sunlight
while she preferred
The star-sprinkled night .

Darkness scared him
and the lights itched
her innocent eyes.

The differences didn’t bargain their lust for one another.

They danced to the symphony of their heartbeats during the dawn and the dusk, and thus
found symmetry in their chaos.

***

Diary of an Introverted Schmuck completed a year on the first of April. To make a big deal out of my Blog Birthday, I asked some friends of mine to guest post here.

This was written by my friend Netra on ‘chaos’. Mind you, she isn’t a writer. She draws and is awesome at it. Netra is the one who made my gravatar profile picture. 

She has a Facebook page called PASSIONOBBY where she sells the cutest bookmarks and wands!

Thanks Netra! 😀

Eclectic

My mother calls me an “eclectic”

At first, I thought she said “electric”

As if I were a robot

Or some household appliance

With some manufacturer’s label

Describing exactly how to

Heat the food

Wash the dishes

Print that five page report that was due yesterday

What I was made of

Every function, component, and detail precise.

But she had said “eclectic”

Meaning I would love both rock and pop music

I would read everything from the newspaper

To the sci-fi novels about interstellar travel

To the picture books about magic chickens.

Meaning I would pair frilly tops with cargo pants

And I wanted that clean, slick look of modern décor

But adored the rustic, rough edge of vintage.

Meaning I would look for meaning

In cells

In the stars

In the pages of books

In my mind

And in my heart.

Meaning I wouldn’t be satisfied with just one.

“Eclectic” meant that I was born here

On the other side of the world

Far away from anything that resembled

The Filipino of my face.

Far away from a mother tongue.

Closer to the stereotyped

Maple syrup blood and politeness

Than the miles of rice and heat and dust.

Meaning that when I reached out west for the orient

I came back with eyes full

Of animated demons, and magical girls

Who would twirl their wands and save the universe.

I reached west for the orient

And came back with hands full of objects

Stamped with “made in China.”

I reached west for the orient

And found myself wrapped in clothes neither foreign or native

Eating food that was neither native nor foreign

Celebrating something I didn’t understand.

I reached west for the orient

Reached west for the orient

Reached west

Reaching so far west

That I had missed the orient entirely

And instead found mystical figures

With animal heads on human bodies

With control over the skies, and the sea, and the dead.

But like electronics, I was stamped

Skin tone

Eye colour

Facial features

My own name.

Oh, you’re Filipino?

Last name? Ah, good family. Knew your Lolo.

You speak?

No?

Born here?

Well, you should learn.

You cook?

Good. Good. Learn the native foods.

Native foods.

Made with fish that was imported frozen

Made with vegetables that wouldn’t survive the cold

Made with flavored powder that looked indiscernible from the sandy beaches

That the food was “native” of.

Native. What a tricky word.

When handed a “Check one box”

I stumbled

Between what I looked like

And where I was born.

Between what I ate

And a language I couldn’t understand.

Born in country that embraces origins

How can you bring something

That is already there?

“Bring a history,” they said,

I don’t have one yet.

“We are multicultural,” they claimed,

Well, so am I.

My mother calls me an eclectic.

Sometimes I wish she had meant “electric”

With the functions, components, and details

Written clearly on a label.

***

This wonderful, wonderful poem is by Leanna who blogs at Short Story Long Blog. She writes the most comprehensive book reviews. Do check her blog out! I’m sure she’ll love comments and appreciation here or on her blog 🙂

The prompt chosen by Leanna was the word ‘eclectic’.

Diary of an Introverted Schmuck completed a year on the first of April. To make a big deal out of my Blog Birthday, I asked some friends of mine to guest post here. Leanna’s poem is the first post and I’m so grateful to her for agreeing to write something. You rock, Leanna!

Wreakwords

Art is an integral part of what makes us human

The Tale Teller

Your go-to place for short stories, novelettes, dark humour, and out-of-the-world tales.

Ashwin Writes

One word at a time

Paperless Postcards

Paperless Postcards is the country’s first platform for non-fiction conversations. The website triggers various emotions in their open letters & other verticals

Priyanka K

Introvert | Blogger | Writer | Bookworm | Thinker

Simply Leha

Breathing in textures

THE BOMBAY REVIEW - A Journal Of Literary Things.

“I’ve always admired the The Bombay Review for its eclectic content. Kaartikeya’s passion for words and literature shows in every issue.” – Ananth Padmanabhan, CEO HarperCollins India

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