It wasn’t to be
The storyteller had it all wrong.
It wasn’t thataway.
The words weren’t right, for that song.
Music, in soft violins and harps
Played in enchantment.
Perhaps, perchance, their tale
Would find denouement.
Till then, when stories lullabied
In hope of creeping into dreams,
They meandered, in that very hope
And played on, in plotted schemes.
Would they be, what they were meant
Where, they were meant, in that tale?
Of a happily-ever-after? Did they really want to?
And into the sunset, afterward, sail?
Did they just!
And that was just another one to add to the list
Ever growing each year, in words, in hearts, here
While this rambler, scores yet another number
Singing, or trying to, of Love, pretending to be a seer!
Let love shine on.
Let love love you.
Let there be just that one, too.
Look! Turn around! There!
Her mother loved that name, that sound, that sigh, literally, ever since she’d seen Aishwarya Rai (sheesh, she’s not that beautiful, especially now!), and that song, in Devdas. And so the obvious happened, when she was born.
She despaired, however, of being called that – that was her name. Ishsh. On her birth certificate, in school, and God-help-her, it made her the butt of all jokes, in school and college. Really. It was made all the worse, as she was ‘cute’.
Finally, she was in a position to do something about it. She had the wherewithal, so to speak. She’d graduated, despite all odds, with that name, and secured a ‘Government Job”. At, happily enough, The Department of the Registrar of Births and Deaths. And that, even more happily, was close to the Department that published the Gazette Notifications.
At 24, newly-employed, determined to change her fate, that lay entrenched in her name, she marched into a notary’s office to prepare the necessary documents. She saw him, seated at the far table, young, unusually kindly-looking, serene, welcoming, and well, easy on the eye. She presented her problem, with the necessary indignation; he listened patiently; waited for her to finish.
“Mishh Ishsh…” the way he said it, for the first time, before hastily correcting himself, was most appealing. Strange.
“Yeshhh… errm… Yes?”
“Why would you want to change such a beautiful name?” Earnestly.
That floored her. For the first time, her deep-seated animosity towards her name wavered.
The Team “Zing’in”, from my school, my kids, comprising of students from Class 9, five of them, won a chance to attend a story writing workshop, yesterday, in Coimbatore (info in pdf file above). It was great fun, and educative with it. One of the activities was to write out a 25o word story, or part thereof, fleshing out a character, with the Hook, Hold in it… 🙂
I’m not sure if any of the teachers present tried to write, but I sure did. This is the result of that experiment 😛
And, yes, i love to limerick || Have tried to master the trick || Of the a a b b a rhyme || 'Tis a joy truly sublime || When a verse comes out slick and quick!
A Quest on Overdrive ... :) 