Just the same… Always.

Fiction story for Blog-a-Ton 50 – theme: “Soulmates”.
 
The ceiling was high enough for Mariakutty, all of five feet, to stand without worrying of hitting her head. She stood, tied the pallu of her old kasavu saree so it won’t come in her way, and taking a broom, began to dust the room. It smelled musty. She made a mental note to tell Peter, her son, when he came home for Christmas from Bangalore, where he studied. Had the rainwater started to seep in again?

Birth of a poem …

I feel lazy right now; I want to write, yes, yet I don’t want to, like I need to hide, from words I spied that intrigued me, yet it’s in the words I can breathe free, I can be that me, I always want to be. I know for certain, marriage happens each time I … Read moreBirth of a poem …