Monday, 22 May 2017

The Vagabond


Source: Viewspaper


The engine roared to a start. The passengers were shuffling in their seats.

" I heard the roads are bumpy. " mumbled one to the other.

"Aye." came the reply, " Plenty o' curves 'n' heights. Best be prepared eh?" he said,
popping his pill. His neighbor rummaged through his bag for mufflers. The biting wind shouldn't get the better of him now should it?

 Lined in rows of four were cushioned chairs occupied by the travelers. The pouch in every seat had a sick-bag safely stashed, and a lot of them knew they'd need it.

"It's a long journey I s'ppose?" said another.

"Pretty long. I only hope we reach sooner." The rest of the lot nodded in agreement.

All except the one in the rear seat, who couldn't relate to the talk ahead of her. She wouldn't've minded if the journey were to be even longer. To her, it was to be endless anyway. A flight, a cruise, a ride, one after another.

The minibus was now in motion, the engine's smooth vibration gaining momentum. The faint rumble gave melody to the scenery without. One could feel the wind blend in with the soothing music.

She reclined in her seat, at peace.

The vagabond was home.


***

Hail to all travel lovers!  <3 



Linking with #MondayMusings


Thursday, 11 May 2017

From Fresher to Sophomore

Bit by bit we Hack your wit ;)



Number 311, the board read. A mess of a room sprawled with clothes aplenty. There were just so many of them! You think you’ve packed them all and the trolley bag’s zipped up and done with, only to find more of them lying about hidden under the bed, on the window grills or even in between the bundle of books. And then you would start all over again.

But then calling our room a mess would do injustice to the rooms of archi(tect) students; home to unwashed vessels of noodles and poster paints alike, and un-bathed artists sprawled on the floor with models/charts stacked on their beds (do forgive me for this reveal). While the most that our room had were piles of cloth. And lots of fallen hair.


Monday, 1 May 2017

The Race

Google Source


Faster! Faster! the voices screamed. His lungs were ready to burst, his head throbbed as if a hammer was breaking through from within. Every inch of his body ached, yet he kept running. Faster! They bellowed still. He knew he couldn't go any faster than that. Or maybe he could, but he just didn't want to. What was the point after all? he thought. To trudge his way till the end where he'd win some badge like everybody else, a badge he didn't even want...

His train of thought was cut short by another who'd just overtaken him in the tracks. It was no more surprising to find people casually jog past him while he struggled to drag himself forward. You're not trying enough! the voices screamed into his ears again. There's still time. Work harder! He clenched his teeth as he tried to ignore his aching muscles, mustering the mettle despite the hurt. Not until yet another one had crossed him with ease did he notice that he had hardly been moving ahead. His efforts had been in vain. I can't. he spluttered, staggering to a halt.


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