Six words story!

Today, the moon wants to burn.


Photo by Rahul

In school, I felt like Moon could have been described better. Better than the way I was told how it is not an original source of light. How the Moon takes it from Sun, bounces it back to us. No!

I know that the Moon has it’s own shine. And, it needs no definition of light. It’s surface, it’s material itself is so far from the materialistic conclusions about this magical bright.

I made a film, a tiny one, on this concept:

A short story about crowded weddings

“When are we getting out of here?” the neighbour’s kid is trying her best to annoy Pramokh, our neighbor.

Maybe never, I thought.

My mother was surprised to see me arranging chappals outside the home. Maybe because she never saw me work. Bengaluru teaches about living without your parents. And, I am putting it to use at home.

Our home is over-crowded like any Indian house during a wedding. And, it’s taking me forever to get the chappals arranged. How careless can my relatives be? Why is it so hard to leave your chappals like a normal human? 

“Come in, we’re having lunch in a few minutes. Are you fine? You don’t need to do this.”

My mom always derives her conclusions. She definitely never saw me do chores of any kind before. On her way back to the kitchen, I hear her mumbling “God knows what the city has done to my child”

But, I was only trying to help. Even when I knew it was as senseless as my job in the city. It’s weird what our moms are capable of. 

The weirdest of all was the Kolhapuri chappal pair. Both strangely too far from each other. Not because they were traditional, or that it’d matter for distance. But, one was on the verandah. And, the other was in my dad’s work-room. He works on the first floor. I don’t get it. This intruder must either be a kid or someone acting like one.

We’ll never get better, I blatantly thought. Still arranging the chappals.