Dull Mornings
He could not make sense of what he was doing—or why he was doing it. Warm rays of the sun gleamed in from outside through the window in total silence while dry light from two screens sitting on his desk bought acute pain to sleepy eyes. Just yesterday, the Sunday morning, he was elated at this exact time. The touch of the handlebars felt strangely comfortable as he sped along the wavy, narrow path stretching through green fields of paddy.
Milo
Bright rays of the morning sun pierced through the tree canopies below as he peeked down from the rock’s edge. A cold breeze swept across where he was standing, illuminating the dying firewood from last night. He was determined, feeling a sense of purpose that had not felt in quite a time when he was working for the corporation. Bird songs from all directions mixed with the air in perfect harmony.
The Malady
Darkness from outside the window met his eyes while the sun was yet to rise. The drizzle had started around midnight, and continued growing little by little, sounding lazy along with the defeated feeling of a dry morning breeze. Not all mornings used to be like this, he knew there used to be better days. A pining for the happy days underlining the present thought passed through his mind as his head rested on the pillow for minutes to pass by and never return.
No Man's Island
The foot path winded into the woods among the giant trees. I was left with my backpack, and the water would last for only 4 days if my calculations were not far off. As I walked along the path, I tried to remember how life used to be back at home. The routines which seemed annoying back then seemed to be desirable, almost enjoyable, in light of the comfort of a boring life within civilization.
Memories of Nowhere
Cold breeze from the north was bringing in with it a moonless night that would soon be lit with a thousand stars. I just finished setting up the campfire. The jeep rests on its giant wheels a safe eight feet away, tiny LEDs of a light strip glittering around her roof like dormant fireflies. The patch of grassy land I’m camping on after a long day moving over rugged terrain roughly centers the eastern part of the sanctuary.
Rain and Sunshine
Around the world, two times or more Ridin' my cycle, flyin' by the sea Livin' the dream of boyhood me, Glidin' the clouds to eternity.
Thus Spoke Bologratus
Time flies when it’s good, flows slowly when it’s tough. Such is the state of time for the mortal beings. Those who are born of time, live of time, and die of it, are mercilessly taken prisoner of time. Not many above or below the scorching sun escape the all encampassing non-entity that is time. The best of the best men of the past had to go at the call of it, and so will be the matter of affairs for years to come by.
The First Day of an Intern (During the Pandemic)
The intern walks into the office, and sanitizes his hands every five feet or so with the wall mounted sanitizers once inside. Then he is escorted by an employee (not from HR, who are working from home) to the IT room where he is supposed to receive his company-issued laptop. Then he waits till the tech guys in the IT room installs the required software and adds his details to the (whatever) directory the company is using.
The Strange Spider Web
The boys were walking along a trail in the woods when suddenly a giant spider web came into their view. An equally large spider was at the middle of the web, waiting to catch a prey to fulfill its hunger. The boys were very much tired by the three mile walk, and they were thirsty too. The sound of water gushing in the stream in front of them made them want to walk straight through the spider web.
Thoughts at Sunset
The paddy field stretches a few kilometers to south-east. Several palm trees stand still in the same direction but not as far as where the field ends; a coconut field lies next to it. I look to my right and I see a baby-faced boy, sitting on the same stone wall as I am–I smile at his already smiling face. The boy is a brother of mine. The son of a younger brother of my father.