#FridayFictioneers – Museum of old, chipped and broken

Image by Yours Truly!

Written for Friday Fictioneers

Thank you Rochelle for featuring this image.

Museum of old, chipped and broken

Is this a house or a museum??

What do you mean?

Just look around. It looks everything old, chipped and broken has found their way into our house. There’s this chipped coffee mug!

But I have planted rosemary in it.

And that old wooden crate.

It makes our bio compost.

And the broken pot, why aren’t you showing it the door?

Because it holds my precious roses.

He shook his head in frustration. She thought it was wise to stay mum about her latest find from the junkyard.

#WriteBravely – Forgetfulness (90 words)

I am taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words.

And today’s prompt is –

A lady in red in a labyrinth of hallways
#WriteBravely – Forgetfulness – Pic off Pexels.com


She was becoming forgetful these days. Car keys would be in the rice jar and her glasses would be in the shoes. Yesterday evening, she spent 30 minutes looking for her phone while it was in her pocket all the time.

She decided to see the doctor on the weekend.

In the night, she visited a palace with many doors and narrow hallways. She entered one room after another.

It was time to get up. She would get late for work. Time to return. But how? She had forgotten the way.

#WriteBravely – The tale of two cities (90 words)

I am taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words.

And today’s prompt is – Nurture

blue door in David Street, Darya Ganj, New Delhi
Darya Ganj, Delhi – Pic off The Delhi Walla

The tale of two cities

“I would like to visit Lahore one more time before I close my eyes. I want to feel the earth and smell the air of the city that has nurtured this soul,” said the fading poet. His friends and fans nodded in empathy.

A piece of news spread like wild fire in the silence of the night. Hearts raged and blood boiled.

The next morning, he was found in a bylane of Darya Ganj – blood-less, breath-less, life-less.

His friends and fans didn’t feel remorse. One city nurtures, another one takes.


#WriteBravely – Celebrate difference (72 words)

I am taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words.

And today’s prompt is –

peas in a pod
#WriteBravely – Celebrate difference

Celebrate difference

They were inseparable, like the Siamese twins, like two peas in a pod.

“Let’s marry!” Siya suggested.

“The world won’t let us live together,” replied Roma.

7 years later, they met again. Disillusioned. One ran away from an abusive marriage, the other threw out a cheating partner.

“Let’s marry!” Siya suggested.

“The world?” asked Roma.

“As if I care; let’s celebrate difference.”

They hugged each other so tight they looked fused into one.



#WriteBravely – Echo (120 words)

I am taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words.

And today’s prompt is –


A broken mirror reflecting a calm person
Write Tribe Festival of Words – Pic off Pexels.com


“I am leaving,” she said. He looked at her, like a patient mother would at her errant child urging him to explain.

“I am tired of taking initiatives – I proposed to you, I fixed the date of our wedding, I chose this house… it is always ME! I can’t take the lead anymore while you wait for things to happen,” she erupted.

He didn’t understand why should that be a problem? One leads, another follows. But his face remained calm.

“Please say something – shout, cry or slap me hard, just don’t keep sitting there like a Buddha,” she pleaded.

She shook her head, picked up her bag and slammed the door hard. He felt its reverberation for a long time.

(120 words)



#WriteBravely -Holidays and marriages

I am taking part in the Write Tribe Festival of Words.

And today’s prompt is –

A couple in a kayak boat in the middle of sea
Write Tribe Festival of Words

Holidays and marriages

“I think what we really need is a holiday. We have been very stressed of late,” she urged. He nodded without looking into her eye. He couldn’t remember when they had last looked into each other’s eye.

They went to Goa, where they had a romantic honeymoon 12 years ago. They did all the right things – ate, drank and soaked up the sunshine.

They came back and filed for divorce. Holidays don’t patch up broken marriages.


Word Count – 75 words




Image by Yours Truly!

Written for Friday Fictioneers


The country had never seen such bitter cold before. The cold had penetrated into his old weary bones.

He saw the golden flames of a fire in the distance and started walking towards it in hope. He might be able to request the people to share their bonfire with him. They wouldn’t refuse an old man.

As he walked further, the flames of the fire kept rising up. What he thought was a bonfire was actually a row of huts on fire. As people howled and ran around with buckets of water, he crouched, drawing warmth.

Funny little turn

Image by Renee Heath

Written for Friday Fictioneers


“Where do we go for our annual trip?” Sakina asked excitedly.

“Casablanca,” chimed Afiya as usual.

“Fes,” argued Sakina as usual.

Zahra kept quite as usual. She went wherever her friends decided.

The girls were talking nineteen to dozen while Zahra drove quietly.

Afiya shouted, “We missed the turn to Casablanca, Z.”

Zahra smiled.

“Good, now we can go to Fes instead,” teased Sakina.

After a few hours, “Zahra, we missed Fes too. Where are we going?”

In the evening, the girls, sprawled on the desert sand, were marvelling at the sky full of stars.

Old Broken Things


Written for Friday Fictioneer


“I bought it with my first salary.” The old man reminisced.

“Papa, I know, but we should sell the car!”

“It got my new bride, your mother home and carried you from the hospital.”

“I know!”

“I have had such good times driving it.”

“Papa, we must sell the car.” This time the steel in the voice was unmistakable.


Honest Lad


PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Written for Friday Fictioneers


“Don’t play cricket in the driveway. Something’s bound to break,” shouted Mrs. K at the bunch of kids before leaving for the market.

Who pays heed to an eccentric old woman?

Two hours later, Mrs. K returned to find her screen door covered in duct tape and a note stuck to the door.

Mrs. K,

Sorry for the door. But my mom says duct tape can fix it all. 🙂

S (who was not playing cricket. Honestly)