AtoZ2020 – Day 2 – Bhadra

I’ve taken part in the Blogging from A to Z in April challenge every year since the first edition way back in 2010. This year, I’m planning to try and resuscitate my fiction. That’s a task, and it’s nice to have some company to make it slightly easier. Bhavya and I are both attempting stories this year, on the same emotion/feeling words as a theme. To find out what word it is, you’ll have to read the story, and the badge towards the end of the post. I’m trying not to use it in the story or the title itself, hence the choice to double theme and use the character name beginning with the day’s alphabet too. I hope you enjoy!


The cuckoo clock started to announce the time. Sitting at the dining table, Bhadra counted them.

One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight!

Yet, not a soul stirred. Listening carefully, Bhadra could hear the soft snores of her daughter from the bedroom. She could imagine her grandsons turning on their side and falling asleep again. It was summer after all, and they had no school.

If she were home, she’d have gotten up at the sound of the rooster crowing. The first rays of the sun would have barely touched the newly asphalted road outside. Hurrying up, she would have bathed, and headed to the morning puja at the Krishna temple nearby. By seven, she’d have returned, and started preparing for breakfast. Spicy chutney for her soft idlis, or egg curry for the steamed puttu. When the old and broken grandfather clock showed eight, she’d have been seated at the table, ready to eat.

The sound of a horn brought Bhadra out of her reverie. Outside, the neighbor was taking his car out. His big dog started to bark its head off, wagging its tail. A newspaper boy zoomed past, throwing tied-up newspapers into compounds. He was late, again. A door opened near her, and her daughter came out, hair disheveled, rubbing her eyes.

“Good morning, amma,” she said sleepily.

Bhadra looked at the cuckoo clock. 8:02. It was going to be another long day.

The theme word for alphabet B is BORED.

Liked this? Read some of my earlier Fiction posts!

Vinay Leo R.
02. 04. 2020

Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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