The way she conveys about the human relationships and their emotional turmoil, the physical universe is vivid.
Even a pimple is a prison riot in the jail cells of idealized femininity!
They were coming to terms with erosion, how it changes the balance of a landscape. Perhaps it was something all parents and children undergo as they grow older. In this world, they could not inhabit a house together, in the old way. They could not be mother and daughter in that way again.
“How can you keep track of those old, old things?” ( asks Sagar ). Because it is the lot of mothers to remember what no one else cares to, Mrs. Dutta thinks. We are the keepers of the heart’s dusty corners.
Home. I turn the sound over on my tongue, trying to figure out the various tenses in which such a word might exist.
Invisible flowers spread greater fragrance. Home is where you move fluently through the dark
Ocean is nothing but water drop upon water drop.
When the taxi took off with a belch of black fumes, my mother moaned softly. It was an eerie, nonhuman sound. I felt it taking shape in my own throat, the way one wolf might as it watches another wolf howl.
When I choose anger, do I have to pay a price? I’ll reply with another question: Don’t we all have to pay; no matter what we choose?
A human who finished top 3 in a school is a school level conformist
A human who graduates from a top university is an educated college level conformist
A human who takes up a job at a large company with salary is successful capitalist conformist
A human who gets married achieves marriage level conformism
A human producing child is parent level conformist
A human who eventually dies is a human conformist
The group called themselves ‘Human Terminators’. The members were from various parts of the planet Earth. The communication technology had enabled them to come into contact with each other. They were passionate about the same idea. To be successful, they felt every other human needs to be killed specially the kids, the old and those who were not willing to try their idea. And, they achieved their mission. But, the bigger mission still awaited to be done. They built a huge building which housed the only surviving 2,00,000 humans. It was firmly believed by them that a computer simulation was responsible for running of human lives. Things happened randomly in the lives of humans. Humans had no control. Humans will never achieve happiness, equality for all. So, better to destroy this simulator. And, they felt to defeat randomness they needed to do everything at the same time for 24 hours – wake up at same time, brush at same time and for same length etc. And, the simulator will die and so will the human species. So, on 24th September, 2316, they started practicing synchronization. They woke up at 5 a.m. Then, started brushing for 5 minutes at 5.01 a.m. and finished at 5.06 a.m. They were able to synchronize many activities.
But, they failed to synchronize the timing and length of finishing their toilet routine. The failure continued for 3 months. Some got very frustrated and committed suicide. In the end, ‘Human Terminators’ gave up.
End of fiction
The lost time,
The lost memories,
The lost opportunities,
The lost relationships,
The lost knowledge,
The lost compassion,
The lost innocence,
Never coming back!
Mr Truth, you trouble us a lot. Who are you? What is your character? Why are you dressed in morals? Or, is it not your reality? Are you same as honesty? We are bombarded with “honesty is the best policy”. Please clarify. Can you please stand up and reveal yourself naked? And, why verbs are added like “search for truth”? We have to search you. Why? Are you not present? Right here, right now. Maybe, we just want to fool ourselves and feign ignorance and deny your existence.