Theme 142 - Platonic

From @flirtingshadows: She was his early morning wake-up call and late-evening, after-work chat. She exasperated him but he never forgot the days she made him smile. It tore apart the illusion of platonic love with the opposite sex. It took away from the innocence of a warm friendship. Yet, it made him feel terribly good about everything.

From @DrNiravParmar:

Deep in love,
Rational,
Understanding,
Looked great together.
But he had elder sisters unwed,
She was passing the marriageable age in her community.
'Love is not in holding what you love, its in letting Go.'

He found her a nice guy.
She stayes in touch with him.
He's still unmarried.
Her children call him 'uncle'.

From @minolajekar:

She sat on the table buttering her toast, even making that innocent little breakfast routine about sex. She sips her juice and smacks her lips.

He re-checks the napkin on his lap to avoid unnecessary height.  He visualizes hurting himself with a butter-knife when she replied to her mum, “no he’s my buddy it’s platonic”.

From @whiteness:

“What?”
“Well, uh-um, you know that I’m married and you are less than half of my age, I think we should stop chatting. Really it’s hard for me to say."
“Don’t be silly, can’t we just love each other without giving any name to our relationship? I think sex is overrated.”
Then they exchanged smiles.

From @NumbYaar: Sameer sat on the first bench only during Social Studies class. He would do his homework and read every chapter before it was taught. His agenda also included dropping the pencil intermittently and studying the teacher’s voluptuous body. There was something inexplicable about the fourth grader’s Platonic lust for Mrs. Anne.

From @roshd: She wore the pants in the house and brought home the bacon. He kept their house tidy and took care of their son. He was kind and faithful. He didn't excite her. His brother did and they started a roaring affair. She made him believe their relationship was platonic. Good housekeepers were hard to find.

From @tweettabulous: Rahul and me, the closest of friends… he, my 4 am person. Every first date, crush or heart break he'd there with whacky ideas or ice creams. When we moved in together, the neighbours frowned upon us. It wasn’t “ethical” they termed. Who cares? Love, in its purest form is what we share…

From @Greyllusionist:

Is it love?
Will she listen?
Or shall she chop off all touches?
Ah, touch! The word sounds so unfamiliar here…
Will I ever touch her? Do I at all want to? Does she?
Ah, so confusing and they call it love, hah! Nonsense!
But, how does Plato feel to be pioneering this perplexity?!

From @kunalbaidmehta: It was a small seed at first. Too small to even notice. But soon, the roots took their place. With every passing day, the roots grew stronger. Uprooting them now was impossible. This small seed of 'Doubt' grew so big, that it stopped differentiating between physical relationship and platonic friendship and ended a beautiful journey.

From @vchatting:

Father's untimely death left him to fend for his widowed mother and younger brothers.His responsibilities made him vow never to marry,quite like 'the Bhishma'.
Now 69, he lived with his brothers' ,who cared for him, in turns. He particularly liked to visit his second brother's house, where he could interact all day,with his buxom niece, whom he clearly loved the most!

Theme 141 - Macabre

From @DrNiravParmar:  She was so fond of him, called him 'Chocolate Chacha'. Got a sweet everytime she passed his house near the society gate.

As I went to call her home, there was a strange smell of cooking meat. The door -- bolted from inside. Peeking through the window, Oh My God! Her frock ! !

The cooker whistled.
Blank.

From @Greyllusionist: macabre, adj: Your expectations of love are so different from your definition of it.

From @deescjockey: The first line of vermilion ever to adorn the parting in her hair, glistened as she took to the dance floor with the delight and exuberance of a new bride. An hour later, the groom meekly told to stop dancing and fix her look. The vermilion had smudged all over her sweaty forehead.

Theme 140 - Nostalgia

From @DayaDarwazaTodo: A dusty knob. The door creaks. A hand impression on the window. Rusted wind chimes still making sweet music. A slight breeze. A rickety chair. Cobwebs all over. A cup that once had coffee - strong, with two spoons of milk, a cube of sugar. A tear rolls down. Life was once very different.

From @roshd:

These Mumbai rains bring back fond memories. Of school- waiting for a working day to get washed off. Of hot kanda-bhajiyas with tea to be had listening to Bon Jovi. Of my first crush- getting wet with her and that first kiss.

As it rains today I’m thinking- “Aaj kuch toofani karte hain”

From @SamridhiTrisal: It all came back. The places they used to visit together. The songs he used to sing to her. The letters he used to write to her. Those stolen kisses. Those long walks. Those beautiful conversations. A part of her knew she still loved him. But she dismissed it as nostalgia. And, moved on.

From @swordfish19: Saturdays meant getting up early, having a breakfast of eggs, bread and creamy hot coffee. And then as was our wont, listening to Beatles and crooning along with Lennon. Even today, listening to a stray Beatles song transports us instantaneously to those Saturdays. But those Saturdays won’t come back again. They are long gone.

From @deescjockey: We used to hang out in that corridor for hours. Legs stretched out, resting our backs against the ancient pillars, we discussed everything from life and career to sex, romance, movies, music, professors, religion, politics and history in no particular order. Once we rescued a puppy here. Lectures were optional. They've gated the corridor now.

From @NumbYaar: Rehan sat in a coffee shop, trying to light paper. His friends stopped him on time to snatch the lighter away. They were slightly concerned about his pyromania. Little did they know that the smell captivated him. It took him back to his hostel days when he burnt paper on a heater’s filament.

From @DrNiravParmar:

''Damn rains ! ''
roads blocked
office bunked
''how to pass day?''
''clean-up your cupboard''
files
memos
bills
books
lost wallet
certificates
old marksheets
first resume'
'a photo. Grainy, black-and-white. A bunch of boys in front of a school'

stares
smiles
grins
runs a loving hand on it
grin fades
blank

"Honey, are you crying?"

From @ponderpuffman: Aaji’s blanket. Mother’s secret. Anna’s watch. Father’s punch.  Broken walls in town. Poems that smell brown. That breakfast in Kayani. Her last letter in a magazine. Every day he remembered a thing to miss. Every day he found a thing to miss. He drank those tears from a glass jar. He named that drink ‘Nostalgia’.

From @Greyllusionist: I still take a turn of those old left away crossroads whenever I return to our hometown... we left for different cities that night... Haven’t yet touched the last chapter of the book that you left half-read then but flip through the old read pages everyday… They say nothing lasts forever but this seems immortal!

From @PeaceOVent:

The first look. Meeting. A date. Laughter. Holding hands. A kiss. Text messages. Phone conversations. Misunderstandings. Angry tears. Bidding goodbye. Moving on.

The first look.

Theme 139 - Shadow

From @punvati: A cloud drifted over the sun. Vishnu started, glanced about uneasily, took a bullet to the head and crumpled gracelessly to the ground. If life were a movie, portentous music would have played. A kilometer away, a farmer sat down. A sigh, a weary smile. Finally, some respite from the heat. A slow, joyful lilt.

From @rainandpeace: She shut her eyes as the shooting star she wished upon was engulfed by the dark folds of the night. She wished he was thinking about her. Her whole body –each molecule-yearned for him. But, she wept profusely whilst being in the silent company of nobody but the shadows that were her very own.

From @shruti_says:
The room looked like the aftermath of a paint-bomb explosion and Anna sat crying in the centre of it.
“What happened? Why is there paint all over the place?” she asked wiping her daughter’s face.
“I was trying to make her pretty but she keep moving and copying me.” Anna said pointing at her shadow.

From @deescjockey: He kissed like an expert; he had all the right moves; he know how leave a girl breathless. She had nothing to complain about, and yet she knew she could never inspire the same passion he had for his first love. She was living with the shadow of the man she once knew he was.

From @alwaystranquil:

Pfff  goes the cigarette tossed in the puddle, aftermath of our very own Mumbai rains.  The Chai still feels warm inside.
“ Bhaiyya Andheri Chaloge ?? She chirped. Drenched and helpless.
He lets her on board. Chuckles.
Darkness enshrouds. The Shadows stretch, beyond, into the unknown.
The rain resumes its never ending patter.  Pfff goes another Cigarette.

From @swordfish19: I must smoke after lunch. However, it’s too hot here near the equator at that time of the day. So, I stand below an elm tree near my factory enjoying the fag in its shade. Or shall I say I used to? They cut the tree recently. Now I smoke in the open.

From @roshd: How could she explain why was content to remain in the background like his shadow while he hogged the limelight ? That she loved him very much? That she lived for his smile? That he was an incurable romantic who treated her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world? That he made her happy?

From @ponderpuffman:

The beach was baking us that day.
Disconnected Mai was dripping away under the straw hat. Shirtless Papi was melting away on a dune.
Her shadow was cold and formed hibiscus patterns while his was a warm kaleidoscope.
Excited to see my shadow, I turned swiftly.
Nothing.

I realised, a shadow cannot have a shadow.

From @NumbYaar: The rising sun brought pain. The anklets tied tightly to his legs and the excruciating light through the windowpanes made his heart sink in resentment. He hated his relatives and their remarks on his mental illness. In the earth’s shadow, he found comfort.

From @DayaDarwazaTodo: She ran as fast as she could. She ran as far as she could. She ran for as long as she could. She ran till she didn't drop dead. The damn thing wouldn't budge. Like a ravenous monster, it chased her no end. She wouldn't get away with this one. The shadow it was called.

From @vagabondinact: Each night she missed him. Her whole being ached in his absence. Knowing that he would return with the morning sun, stay the day long with her was not alleviating enough. At times he was leading her, at times he followed her, but what she treasured most were the moments when he was upon her.

From @absoluteme:

He lived in a world-Black and White and Hand-made
His tools-candle light and lithe fingers and imagination

Butterflies fluttered and wildlife came alive and barren walls started telling stories
Tales were woven and unfolded and thrown as mesmerising silhouettes

The world moved to colours and hues and tones
He lives on in shadows

From @TheScotchGirl: Sarah left him because she was just not that into him. She didn’t want waste her time; it just didn’t work that for her. James on the other hand was floored by her. He killed himself. She attended his funeral, yes. But she couldn’t get rid of that feeling she was being shadowed.

From @Greyllusionist: shadow, n/v.: You cover me as the clock ticks and when you are tired I switch places... engulfed within, we draw imaginary lines and live two different lives... giving up on our individual existence. I wonder if you would allow me to merge the same way in reality, ever...

Theme 138 - Revenge

From @SahilBulla: I saw him murder my mother. The blood inside me boiled every time I saw him. The only way to attack him was when he was not looking. I rushed towards him ready to take my revenge. He saw me. He slapped me. I fell down dead.It was tough being a mosquito.

From @DayaDarwazaTodo: He had fallen in love. Not once, but twice. The first time it had taken an eternity to get back to normalcy. The second time around it was God’s revenge. This wasn’t allowed. It wasn’t accepted. This was different. And different wasn’t always good. He had defied nature. He had fallen for a man. Again.

From @flirtingshadows: The stage was set and the characters were in place. Everything had happened on cue. She only had to pull the strings and all would go according to plan. But somehow she just didn’t care. Her heart wasn’t in it. The idea of taking revenge had been more enticing than the actual act of it.

From @PWNeha: She often wondered about revenge. So far she’d refrained. But it wasn’t easy anymore. Those memories, those toxic memories… made her blood boil. Perhaps revenge would bring comfort.  Perhaps revenge might bring back her ability to trust. Better than running away from anyone who loved her. Or perhaps she was asking for too much.

From @mizarcle: She sat there making the perfect plan. She would wait until he got back from work. She looked at her bruises, he would pay for them. She smiled that evil smile.  He will have no place to run or hide, her hickeys will be avenged.

From @swordfish19: In the fish town, “manning” was a popular recreation. It involved sitting on the bank of a river or lake putting a long rope in the water, with an eatable attached to its end and waiting. Eventually a man would bite and he’d be pulled up, struggling.  He would then be fried or taken home.

From @TheScotchGirl:

James was abandoned when he was 6 years. He knew pretty well who his father was.

When he was younger, his father was an errand boy. Now he was this big shot business man. James was now head of the Administrable Offices for licenses. He saw the Fernandez application on his table. He smiled.

From @Whiteness:

“Thank you.”
“Oh, please don’t say that, I feel like a whore!”
He got up from the bed. She lit her cigarette thinking about her husband.
“Are you feeling sorry about it?” he asked.
 “I don’t believe in monogamy anymore” she replied, exhaling smoke.
"Why didn't you let me kiss on your lips?" he questions.

From @RBtrary: "His trembling hand slid into the bag and pulled the box out. From one-hand-to-other, the box was soon with the guy at the other corner of the room. The class-bully’s lunch-box was successfully hidden. He cried through the recess and the others enjoyed the Malpua after school. Revenge tasted ‘sweet’, and was served ‘cold’ too…"

From @JaaTeri: Blood dripped from the tip of the knife. He went for another strike, cutting the wound deeper. He seemed so pleased at seeing blood oozing out of the body, he didn’t care if it was dead already. He cut the body into pieces. Today, his revenge was complete. The dog that bit him was dead.

From @SpinandSwirl:

Hurt? She was used to it. Every dog has its day. There would be backlash. Ties broken. Names slandered. Public displays of defection. It reached a point where she almost expected it.
This one, was different. This one went deep. It commanded a unique requital. Silence, it would be. After all, indifference always trumps hate.

From @roshd: They were the local thugs turned politicians lording it over everyone else. Kishan was waiting on their table. They were drunk and abusing him for being an 'outsider' and a bhaiyya. But he got his revenge. He peed in the next round of beer. And served it with a smile.

From @Greyllusionist: You used to refuse sex on those trivial tiffs we had initially. And those mighty mute treatments which probably felt like mutinies in love. You won, I lost. I won, you refused. Yet, they were magnetic. There was a hysteresis in the hysteria. But, why the sleeping pills? It was my turn…

From @alienatedWind: With the knife she made another scratch. Avenge was all she could think of. Blood started to appear. It seemed she had finally got rid of the pain. It seemed revenge had been taken. But then darkness appeared. Realization was made. Those cuts and wounds were on her own flesh, and never ever on his.

Theme 137 - Sex

From @TheScotchGirl: Could it just be her or was she suddenly just needed some TLC. She didn’t have a boyfriend, was not dating.  Men in her office - MEH! She dialled her chuddy buddy; she could always be open with him. He listened and asked her what he always wanted to. “Night cap at my place tonight?”

From @QuratZafar: I’ve tried but lust never quenches thirst. Whenever I attempted to lose myself in another woman, whenever I burrowed my face in her hair, it was your scent that snaked to my heart and caused a physical pain. What do I do, Anita? Each part of my body clamors for you.

From @Greyllusionist: It was the first time we met, I was there for a job interview. "Come inside.", you said when I knocked at the door. We both knew there couldn't be anyone better, as I gave just the right response you were looking for, every time, as you questioned with your each move, on the table.

From @JaaTeri:

We were into a discussion on designing a questionnaire.

"In the profiling section, we should replace 'Gender' with 'Sex' and provide options as 'Had' and 'Never Had', I joked.

"Sorry, I didn't get that. Speak louder," said the smart girl.

"Sex. HAD or NEVER HAD," I repeated.

"Oh. Had. Had," she blurted out.

From @PeaceOVent:

She was sexual. Kinks interested her. She had read the Kama-Sutra, fascinated and repulsed in the right places.

'Bondage. What would that be like?'
'S&M, I could try that.'

'Having a threesome would be so exciting.'

Truth was she couldn't trust anyone enough to touch her like that. Pop goes the cherry. Well, not yet.

From @filmyPurna: On paper,she was a scorpion,the starsign which was supposed to be best in bed.Practically,she was 23 and had zilch experience.Her mom thought she was hot.A prude,marriage would unravel many secrets,would it live upto the hype,or would it be marital rape.

Theme 136 - Change

From @TheScotchGirl: She could not believe her mother wasn’t going to think about her! Dad had passed away, what just 2 years now & she’s already engaged WTF! How could she do this to me or Dad!  She had no choice; she had to accept this slimy Mr Mehra as her step-father. She felt unsafe & exposed.

From @The_HappyNoodle: That space under your feet is now ominous. I can’t remember what you moved like. Some say like a storm, and some say death. But I remember the bends in your brain, your stillness, and your absence. And the way you wrapped yourself in sheets like a cocoon, waiting for change. Are you still waiting?

From @swordfish19: We went fishing once. At one point, I slipped on the river bank and my clothes got soiled. Having no change of clothes, we decided to head back immediately. On the way, we had tea at a roadside stall. After taking our change we realized that we had a flat. We had a spare though.

From @tanyachopra08: “What would it take for me to truly be bold with my dreams?” she thought to herself.  She was 24 and it was the most difficult phase of her life yet. She was fancy, single, and footloose. Beautiful. Still her inner world was a contrast. Unrequited love, wonderment, emptiness! All she needed was... A Change!

From @flirtingshadows: “To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.” An old friend, whom she longer was in touch with, had shared this with her. But it was a litmus test for her. To gauge the state of her mind. Her mantra for life.

From @roshd:

I looked at him on the hospital bed looking sick.
"Relax man it's only a bad case of food poisoning"
"Just hope so. The pain is unbearable"
Incorrigible hypochondriac, I thought. "You worry too much.Time to change.Let go"
That night he was operated for an ulcer. He is OK. Maybe I've gotta change.

From @dasCapital:

“Look in the box there.”

“No.”

“The dashboard, then.”

“No”

“There isn’t any in the wallet?”

“No, baba.”

“Sorry Bhaiya , aage badho. Change nahi hai.”

“Behen ke *****, Teri maa ki *****, Behen****. 5 min se khada kar rakha hai. Nuksaan kara diya bho***ke.”

The light turned green.

Change , as they say.

From @NumbYaar: Rajiv had 2 minutes to his interview. He had been hoping to get the job for a while. And finally when he was close to achieving what he so badly wanted, he was running from pillar to post. He hated his helplessness. If only autowallahs carried change.

From @PeaceOVent:

The cool breeze enticed her. Marine Drive was home. She had come there to end the internal struggle.

It was time for a life makeover. New job, new haircut. If she was lucky, new love.

From @absoluteme: People come to me with aspirations and confusions, hopes and reservations. I get to know them as they stand bare whispering prayers and curses to forces unknown. I give them refuge and audience, and change-the one thing they all seem to want. I, on the contrary, think it's over-rated. I am an 8x10 fitting room.