Archive for July, 2011

Billet-doux

Posted in From the heart with tags , on July 22, 2011 by madhuripratinidhi

Velib !

There was a long queue and there were certainly 20 more people before Veronica could reach the ticket counter. She saw the bald man who was getting cranky and could  hardly wait for his break. It took few more minutes and the bald man finally slapped her a ticket. She ignored his rudeness and just walked over to choose a bicycle and there it was, an over-used black cycle. She grabbed the handle but felt a shake from behind.

‘Bonjour’ ! he greeted her with a perfect French accent. That extremely charming face did not impress her, she chose not to answer back. She inserted the key and rode away.

Veronica stopped before Cathedral Notre Dame de Paris. She was mesmerized by the architectural brilliance. She fell for it even before she had taken a tour of the inside. Her eyes met a treat as she walked in, so much that she could not describe nor marvel the beauty of it beyond a point.She could not decide what to memorize as every inch of the interior was breathtaking. By noon she finally realized how famished she was and decided to binge on local delicacies in a cute cafe across the street. She had a satisfactory lunch and washed down her grub with a glass of red wine. Although the wine did not make her feel tipsy, she deserted her bike and decided to take a walk.

She strolled down a narrow lane..At first she thought  it was just one house but then she noticed the similarity. It was the painters’ lane. Every house had its owners touch to it. She walked into the small gate and came to a halt.

She saw a man painting so effortlessly seated on a high-stool and his back to her. Every stroke seemed so bold and fearless.  She was bemused ! She was tempted to enter the patio instead lost herself staring at the painting. He suddenly turned back, she blurted out a hello and saw that familiar smile spread out. She felt embarrassed and utterly failed to say something sensible to explain her presence there.

He walked up to her and invited her to come inside. She almost said no but a second thought led her to a magical space. Every painting in the room virtually spoke to her and she could not hold back her compliments.
He offered to paint her on the canvas and she felt delightful and instantly agreed to it. Two hours later she saw herself on the canvas like never before. She had never realized how pretty she was until this moment. She thanked him and got ready to leave.But he persuaded her for dinner cooked by him. She confessed to him that she could not decide which part of the day was the most favorite after the meal.

The next morning, it was already time to leave city. She reached the airport an hour early. She killed time visiting various duty-free stores and picking up goodies for family and friends back home. The final boarding call was announced, as she was proceeding towards the gate she heard her name and she knew it was not the airport authorities.She looked behind and there he stood with the painting in one hand and a single lily in the other. He bid her goodbye.

Back home she was looking at the painting, she found a small sign on the right bottom corner and only then she got to know his name. As she was hanging the painting an envelope fell on the ground. She ripped it open to find a picture of hers riding the cycle. She turned it around expectantly for a message and there it was…..

Celebrated Chef ! :)

Posted in Uncategorized on July 19, 2011 by madhuripratinidhi

It was a busy morning. People were swarming in. The regulars tried their best to get seated at their usual tables. They all wanted to be served first and in less than few minutes.

Mr.Buggy, the chef at ‘8.am It’s breakfast hour’ loved this morning rush-hour. He had spent the major portion of his life here. It practically was his home. He was the host and the eaters were his guests. And this was a life he was not dissatisfied with. He was a man of contentment.

He swirled the pancake high in the air and it did not disobey him. It landed back on the pan. The toast popped out just fine and right in time. The self-created maple syrup tasted heavenly. The cappuccino he served was a hit. The chocolate-chip cookies melted within seconds in the mouth. The muffins bloated out just about perfectly. He was the creator. The dishes were his very own creations.

Buggy never had a bad-day when it was about food and cooking. Hungry souls always popped up before him. and he never let them down. Once fed, they became undoubtedly loyal. People did not forget Buggy and his delicacies. This is why he loved being the guy he was.

He retired by mid-afternoon. His shift was through. He reached home. He smelled the yummy steak and his wife appeared with a glass of iced-tea. For Buggy this was the favorite moment. The chef who fed innumerable stomachs quenched his hunger at his wife’s kitchen. The King here was a mere follower now.He relinquished his title of ‘host’ to his wife but he did not complain.

Buggy dozed off for his siesta with a smile on his face. His time of glory would be up the next morning again !

What is meant to be !

Posted in Uncategorized on July 10, 2011 by madhuripratinidhi

The bistro was dimly lit. The walls were filled with classic murals. He sat there flipping through the monthly sports local magazine. He was casually dressed in a grey  button down shirt and jeans. He finished his coffee, it was an hour now and he knew she would not come.

It was their third year together. He had asked for one dinner and she had reluctantly agreed. He hoped to make things right. The fights had begun to turn deep. It had affected his career. He had been spared of the previous match. His coach had yelled at him for losing out on those several early morning practise sessions.

He looked out of the window for one last look and there she stood in a yellow evening dress. He smiled and thought of the sentence he would begin the conversation with.He had a hundred thoughts running in his mind. He was framing the right compliment. He did not want this to go wrong.

She entered and walked up to him. They just looked at each other. Words failed him. He was so overwhelmed to see her standing before him that he almost did not hear what she said.

‘Ryan, it’s over’ !

Lying in his bed, he was still thinking if this is what she had said.

The phone rang. The machine played it for him. It was Coach yeller in his loudest tone ordering Ryan to be back on the field the next morning.

He now knew what to chase and that was something he was good at. Unlike his relationship he did not have to think which way to run or how hard to kick to the goal. He was simply good at it. Ryan, the soccer dude was back on track !!!

Sand Castle

Posted in Uncategorized on July 9, 2011 by madhuripratinidhi

She was swinging on a self-made swing of rope tied up high on a tree savoring a Popsicle.Her mother gazed at her beautiful daughter from a distance. She was just 10 but independent already. The swing she sat on was an evidence of this trait of hers.

Maira finished her pink Popsicle and smiled at her mother contentedly. She ran out to play with her friends.Her mother reminded her to be careful. A typical motherly instinct that speaks every time automatically. Maira reached her friends place and together they walked to the beach. The sun made their hair shine and their faces were flushed with the heat. But that did not stop them from their tiny mission for the day. They started piling up the wet sand and collected the shells and tiny pebbles which looked like gems in the beautiful evening light. The next half hour proved worthy and Maira and her friend managed to build the walls of their huge dream castle.

The Sea and the Sky seemed to meet at a point and people freezed this moment in their cameras. An hour now, the castle was safe and strong with doors and windows. Maira adorned the castle with gems and her friend flagged the castle with a tiny paper flag she had made with their initials on it. It was a breathtaking sight, had the castle been made of thick concrete and the world’s best decor it would be no match to this creation.

The girls brushed off the sand, cleaned themselves and started to walk back home. Maira entered home with a glee on her face and her mother knew the little architect had outdone her yesterday’s work. She quietly began dinner and looked at her husbands picture on the wall and tears slipped down. Maira stared at her mother with innocence and told her that she had managed to build the castle, little did she know that her mother knew better. Maira shared a gift with her father who was a mason and now watching her from the sky.The little girl gave out a big yawn and slept next to her huge teddy-bear but her mother never grew tired of her angel.

Although the giant wave carried away Maira’s castle, was yet unmatched to her pure hope and strength.

Hello world!

Posted in Uncategorized on July 9, 2011 by madhuripratinidhi

Welcome to WordPress.com. After you read this, you should delete and write your own post, with a new title above. Or hit Add New on the left (of the admin dashboard) to start a fresh post.

Here are some suggestions for your first post.

  1. You can find new ideas for what to blog about by reading the Daily Post.
  2. Add PressThis to your browser. It creates a new blog post for you about any interesting  page you read on the web.
  3. Make some changes to this page, and then hit preview on the right. You can alway preview any post or edit you before you share it to the world.