Family Ties


Its been on for seven days in a row.

Dripping hair, and soaked to the skin, I struggled with the umbrella stuck ajar. Nope this little monster would not give in either. Checking past yet another, in a string of flops for the day, I ran through to the street to the platform to catch the local train back home.
Its one of those long monsoon runs, lush greens and grey skies, full of din and flashes throughout the day. All good, one would say for a view from a room, not if you have to scamper around town for work, in the slush and mess under your feet.

Feeling the chill of the rain, metal of the train, my bones are numbing. And home is still a long way away.

All for a prospect client, who did a raincheck at later than last minute.

But, its been seven days in a row.

I’m losing hope and running out of money.

Cold and tired, I walk into my house. It smells damp, dark and lonely.

Warm and dry now, I brew a pot of coffee, I still cant feel my hands too well.
As the pot is about to coo, I hear the phone bell ring.
Not in the mood for another disappointment, I tend to my warm coffee, ignoring the call. I need some quiet, peace. Sigh, I need to take this.
As soon as I reached out for my phone, it quietened. Here we go again… the string of flops..

It was a call from my sister. Leading a busy life in a big city, in a distant land, she had all in life that I aspired for, except time. Invigorated by the coffee, and the one off call from my sis, I decided to call her back.

She chirped in a hello in here usual cheerful voice.
I being coffee invigorated but still mellow, managed a meek one.

Rounds of catching up and we end up reminiscing about summers, koels, monsoons and mangoes. Our hot cups of tea and steaming hot savouries to go with it. Oh just the imagery brought it all back, the warm and cozy evenings by the window side, chatting till late and sharing dreams of hers and mine.

Monsoons back in time, we had a handful of dreams still left to pursue, many more forgotten, strayed aside. The call didn’t last too long, she left me with ‘Just doing your best counts, just keep at it’. For me it worked like a crackling fireplace and blanket in a cold winter night.

Collected and inspired, I sat down to wind up the presentation for yet another client prospect to meet the day after. By and by, the pitter patter mellowed down and I could see the sun peeking by the clouds around sunset. A brilliant play of colors around the sky scape.

All in a days work, full of sunshine and rain.

For Sunday Scribblings prompt, ‘the Call’
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A thing of beauty

Getting back from sickness, I ve had a long lazy time in the bed for the last four days. Yearning to be on my feet again, I jump to the table with my laptop, reading the numerous feeds queued up in my content aggregator. And then in a glimpse, lying on the black and glass desktop monitor I noticed a white speck move.

Nearly dismissing to be my sick tired eye’s illusion, right there as before, I see it again, better, a bright white blob with fine white eight legs.

Before I could absorb its white striking beauty, it hopped onto to the matte black cabinet. To make its visual opulence even more surreal against contrasting backdrop, akin to a diva on a red carpet, capturing attention. There it landed, leaving behind a glistening silken thread working past the edge of the box.

Enraptured I got up, grabbed a colorful supplement from the Sunday newspaper – thumped it on the edge of the cabinet. Scooped whatever was underneath, and, the crushed ball of paper and all was in the garbage bin in no time.