I loved train rides as a child. The views, the open skies, the wind in my hair and the differences in terrain, people, customs, dialects and food would amaze me. To an eight year old, who's world was confined to roughly a ten square kilometre area in the city, train rides were portals to another world.
At nights i would sit up near the window and observe the black night and it's inhabitants.Electric wires running parallel to our train would run a marathon with us, going up and down, forming a crest at a transformer or a pole, and then descending into a gentle trough, then up again.... You could see blackened silhouettes of trees, poles and buildings passing by and the train lights reflecting on the ground whooshing past us. The moon was a co-passenger, tied to one of the bogeys with a really, really long piece of thread. The only thing constant were the stars and the soothing rhythm of the train chugging on slick rails. Rattle, rattle, rattle, rattle.
These sights, repetitive they might be, were an experience for young minds who look at the world with different eyes. Adult eyes don't see such things. Adult eyes only see things as they are.
Some years later, I became an adult and in the process of gaining the knowledge and capacities of a full grown mind, I lost my imagination and I had no way of finding it, till my daughter was born.
In her vivid imagination, there's little difference between the real and the imaginary. Bananas are telephones. Her toys have lives, preferences and names just like real people because her toys are real. Her cup of milk has chocolate islands. And Humpty Dumpty is someone to be scared of.
Everyday is a new discovery along with Anika. Everyday I look at things anew. It's like I'm living my life with Anika-colored-glasses so that everything looks new, possible, sparkly and good.
On your birthday, my darling little girl, I hope and pray that you never lose this capacity to imagine and believe. That you never fall prey to the obstinacy of a limited mind. That you always look and find wonder and ceaseless possibilities in the most mundane of things.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY GIRL! ππππ€
New short story on the blog, folks!
Immorality is not confined to a person or a place. Be it a temple a church, a mosque or any other place of worship, heinous and lesser crimes will be committed as long as man breathes.
This story is a satire on ritualism in religion and the obstinacy of human wickedness.
Please head to the blog to read, like, share ann comment.
Link in bio.
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#shortstory #creativewriting #fiction #ritualisn #flashfiction #ontheblog #ontheblogtoday #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #writersofig #writersofindia #igwriters #igwritersclub #writergirl #amwriting #bloggerstribe #bloggergirl #amateurwriter #fictionwriter #religion #humanity #immoral #rituals #evil #wicked #satire #funny #humour #comic #faith
Copyright Β©2017 by Pradita Kapahi.
This is too πππ πππ
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π. Yes. And it actually happened to me π
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Oh…soo sadd…π―
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No. It was funny, that’s why I shared it π
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π
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Hehe ππ
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πβΊοΈ
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Lolπππ
Love itπ
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Thanks a lot π Do you have kids too?
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No I don’t but friends and siblings have kidsππ
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Close enough if you have had to keep an eye on them π
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Lol! It also implies you are a foodie! π
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Oh yeah. Never thought of it like that. π
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Now you can ππ
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π π π
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Will be posting some foodie pictures for you ..in a post
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Oh, great! Send me a ping when you do. π
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You’ll get it on your timeline…..soon! I have picked waffle for you π
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π π π π. Thanks a lot
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π
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This is cute
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Thanks babe :* π
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Haha so true!
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π π
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Nice one Pradita
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Thanks π
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Welcome
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