Flash Fiction

An Old Tune

Flash Fiction

Jhui-Mui [Source – Pixabay]
The Khejri Tree [Source – Wikimedia Commons]
The happy branch. [Source – Wikimedia Commons]
The state tree of Rajasthan. [Source – JaipurThruMyLens Blog]

Nibbling the leaves and thorns, reaching for its yellow flowers, suddenly, Jhui-Mui the little goat made a novel request to the Khejri tree, “please tell me a story.”

Jhui-Mui’s mum and other goats chuckled a bit, then continued surfing the shrubs spread around the Khejri tree for shade, water and love.

The tree which gave, for centuries, both food and medicine to all, with its ground bark to make a flour during the very many parched famine days, and its deep-deep roots that held the soil and directed the researchers to the cool water table, the desert’s old friend, Khejri, knew a pocketful of folktales too.

The Khejri tree told Jhui-Mui the little goat about a four-hundred-year-old tree, one who belongs to its own family, but lives in a far-off desert, alone on a barren hill, with roots fifty meters deep and long groovy, harmonious branches that welcomes every traveller and every story.

“What is its name?”, asked the beady eyed, happy Jhui-Mui. “The Tree of Life”, replied the Khejri tree and hummed an old tune that filled the arid air with cool magic.

No one spoke, everyone listened then.

*The* *Tree of Life* (*Shajarat-al-Hayat*), humming an old tune, in Bahrain.
**[Source – Wikimedia Commons]**

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“Smile”, says the Girl and Laughs

Posted on February 21, 2021 by Jagriti Rumi Camera Edge Of The Cliff Flash Fiction Funky Humming Mountains Mr. Tambourine Man by Bob Dylan Picturesque Smile

Flash Fiction

**The grand mountains and the evening sky = peace.**
**Image by enriquelopezgarre from Pixabay**.

What a wonderful, serene scene this is… I love mountains.

[Dev breathes in the cool air, then walks ahead and clicks pictures using his new camera; the funky-funny-machine-like clicking repeated sound is in sharp contrast to the peaceful silence present.]

Hmm… Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me/ I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to/ Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me/ In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come following you…

[Dev walks ahead; his rough shoes making imprints on the kind earth; he continues humming and the wind plays the tune; he then stops and clicks another photograph.]

Who’s that? Does not look like a tourist… she is… why is she standing… on the edge of the cliff?

“Excuse me, you are standing on the edge… the cliff is quite steep… just, just be careful.”

[The girl does not pay much attention to him; she is looking at the grand mountains and the evening sky.]

What is with this girl… she is clearly… oh!

[Dev suddenly starts running; camera in one hand, he rushes, gazing like an eagle at the girl.]

“Hey! Wait! What… what are you doing?”

“Calm down, it is alright”, said the girl curtly.

[Dev halts; panting he takes a step forward and then looks up in the sky; he then presses his forehead with two fingers and sets his hairstyle before looking at the girl again.]

“I thought… I… I thought you are about to jump… sorry!”

[The girl smiles and goes back to looking at the picturesque scene. Dev feeling embarrassed hits his head gently and starts walking away.]

“Will you click a photograph for me? Such a peaceful place this is”, said the girl mesmerised by the view.

“Oh, yeah, sure”, said Dev.

Should I take her photograph or just the mountains…? Oh, she is looking at me and smiling, definitely posing for the camera.

“One moment, please”, said Dev.

[He changes the settings on his Canon DSLR and then gets ready to click the photo.]

Hmm… she is beautiful…

[As Dev sets the frame with the girl to the left side and the mountains in the centre, the girl takes a step backwards and jumps. The camera slips from Dev’s hand and he rushes towards the edge.]

Oh, no, oh, no!

[Dev gulps dry air and peeks down the cliff, he cannot see her anywhere. His heart beats madly and his head starts to spin.]

What just… she, she… jumped!

**Where do you go my lovely where do you go I wanna know my lovely I wanna know…** **[Source – Pixabay]**

[Dev again looks down, a gush of wind hits him, this time it is playing another melody. Dev fails to recognise this tune. Dev steps back from the edge of the cliff, takes out his cell phone and turns; he dials the emergency helpline number and looks up. The girl is standing with his camera in her hands.]

“Smile”, says the girl.

[Dev blackouts. The girl laughs.]

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Ambitious? Yes.

Posted on February 10, 2019 by Jagriti Rumi Ambitious Epic Faith Grand Life Mountains Night Jasmine Passionate Silence Path Storytellers

Flash Fiction

The flowers are ambitious by nature.
Image by Marisa04 from Pixabay

Gori knows not where the path leads to, the wet air, the dusky flora, and the mysterious tunes do not guide either.

Soaking in the newness she walks forward.

And why is it that we always choose to walk ahead, why does not the uncertainty collapse us?

If we stop to rest, if we feel defeated, if we turn back embarrassed and ashamed, we still reach, in some time, at the glorious hour of a beginning.

The tired, wounded, and sullen eyes once again look up, once again fathom the depth, once again find the path.

Taking the rope bridge, climbing the echoing mountains, crossing the glassy rainbows, Gori saw that valley where her loved one awaited her.

The gush of wind cheered her, the dew heavy leaves blessed her, the clouds played the drums for her.

And why does it seem that the whole world dances when we dance and the whole world moans when we moan?

How come we hear the call when there is a concrete silence around us, when facts dispel hope and when dejection raises a toast?

In anger the head is alone, when rejoicing the heart holds it all.

The illusion rudely reveals the reality and Gori faces the brazen cold marshland.

What happened to the beautiful valley, to the lover’s promise, to the perfect dream? Hush! The monster rises, its shadow darkens Gori’s faith.

Thundering sky strikes with lightening that Gori catches with her bare hands. Heaving, she runs towards the monster.

Why is life so epic, so grand, so ambitious? Why do the storytellers talk about ‘once upon a time’?

If the legends appear amused by the mundane, then how many of us are at folly for it is the ordinary that becomes extraordinary?

The tales have never ceased to be melodious, we live perpetually enchanted.

Gori starts walking, leaving behind the triumphant air, gravity shining on her forehead.

She resumes the journey as a narrow track becomes visible to her now, a solo night jasmine tree on the way, showers her with its flowers, Gori takes its fragrance along.

Gori knows not where the path leads to, soaking in the passionate silence she walks forward.

Are the night jasmines very ambitious to wait for and shower a victorious warrior and not anyone else? Yes, they are.

**Shine-shine, you two!**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

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Farrukh and Coco

Posted on June 7, 2018 by Jagriti Rumi Farrukh And Coco Forgot Goodbye Like An Idiot Look-Look Retracing Smiled

Flash Fiction

**Our house and Farrukh’s car.**
**A painting by Coco.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

In a hurry Farrukh forgot his wallet on the desk and left.

Down the stairs – nod to the watchman – walking towards the car – caressing hair – quick glance at the car window – slipping hand into the pocket – pausing for a second – no wallet – retracing steps – opening the door – “I forgot my wallet like an idiot” – bedroom – long pause – returns and bids me goodbye.

I smiled at him.

Just a few minutes ago Farrukh came to get his car keys. Of course, I tried to tell him about the wallet, but he didn’t listen and cutely replied “see you in the evening, Coco”.

Now, Farrukh will come back for the third time, yes he will, he has forgotten to put my food in the bowl. Look-look, it is empty.

When he returns, I will go near the table and bark loudly, for he has also forgotten his wrist watch there. O Farrukh!

**Coco – a portrait.**
**By Farrukh.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

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Incomplete

Posted on February 14, 2018 by Jagriti Rumi Chantal Eyes Her Footsteps Incomplete Joy Music Notebook War Windowpane Wooden Floor

Flash Fiction

**Open the window and smile.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

Chantal didn’t finish the story. After gazing through the few lines that she had written, her search for a known voice abandoned her.

She sat near the window, still holding her pen, playing with it in a steady rhythm, Chantal thought of something and rushed back to her seat. She wrote in her notebook–

It appears as if the joy within

Knows nothing about the war within

And vice-e-versa

Pausing for a moment, she then closed her notebook with a rough jerk. Chantal got up and walked back towards the window, this time leaving the pen behind, letting it rest on the table.

Her gait reflected her confused, unsure, restless state of mind. Chantal took a deep sigh and then without giving it a thought, wrote the word ‘Incomplete’ on the windowpane; a hazy layer of fog on it allowed her to.

Chantal’s eyes fell on something interesting, something which was moving towards her house, she smiled. Her hand poked her cheek as she pondered over the matter.

Suddenly, she opened the window and shouted, ‘Hi, how are you? It has been so long…’

A muffled voice replied, it made Chantal laugh heartily.

A smiling Chantal then closed the window and ran towards the door, opened it and left. Her footsteps on the wooden floor made a fine music.

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Sunflower Smile

Posted on November 30, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Crayon Forever Gin-soaked Hour Rosy Glow Soul Sunflower Smile Sunlight Tiny White Daisies Warmth Winters

Flash Fiction

**The sunflower warmth just touched you.**
**Image from Pixabay.**

Smile that sunflower smile, I love to see your beaming face, eyes closed and the rosy glow. Oh, come on! Remember those winters how we huddled to be in direct sunlight… warmth of the burning star touched our souls, and we smiled.

Peeping through the bushes, the sunlight always made me feel like I am in a photograph – yet to be taken.

While the tiny white daisies were busy decorating and tackling the mad wind, blushing, swaying and often taunting it for impeding their progress, the sunflowers stayed glued like a crayon drawing on the wall, letting the sun seep within.

Seeing the clouds approach, the sunflowers never trembled or rebuked the sky’s spongy friends… for the sunflowers could feel the presence of that warm burning star, part of it now stored inside them.

Maybe that’s why sunflowers’ signature reads ‘Forever’ rather than their glowing name. Oh, how lovely!

Now just smile that sunflower smile, I love to see your beaming face, eyes closed and the rosy glow.

**Smiling sunflowers and the gin-soaked hour.**
**Image from Pixabay.**

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Crane on Turtle Candlestick Holder

Posted on October 11, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Blacksmith Capture Childhood Contorted Crane on Turtle Candlestick Holder Flamboyant Frame Friends Hai Hai! Japanese Vintage Memories Molten Metal Never Fades Old Random Thought Time Two Kids

Flash Fiction

“We are old friends.”
“Hai-hai!”
**[Japanese vintage candlestick; source – ebay]**

Our blacksmith picked up the mould and studied it. His expressions were not discernible, but the sweat on his forehead highlighted his precision as he poured the molten metal into the mould.

Whilst he worked, many frames, metal shapes – some contorted, some flamboyant – stared at him, acknowledging and appreciating in utter silence.

Our blacksmith, on his way back home, saw a little kid who was standing against a wall along with his friend, wasting time, living.

That little kid whispered something to his friend and they both started following our blacksmith, copying his gait.

A silly game, a random thought, a reason to smile.

Dear reader what does time say?

Time says it is next day.

Every frame, every metal shape was eagerly waiting for our blacksmith. Roller shutter made its habitual noise and our blacksmith entered his workshop, and along with him came his two buddies, those two kids we saw earlier.

Quickly they went and stood next to his grand table, jumping with excitement.

Our blacksmith finally showed them what was now ready in the mould – it was a crane on turtle candlestick holder.

The two kids laughed and so did our blacksmith. He said the crane and the turtle were friends and the kids inquired if he had seen something like that in real.

Our blacksmith nodded and said that when he was their age he went with his father to a lake side and saw a crane standing on a turtle’s back.

Childhood memories capture time that never fades.

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Ellinikí Glóssa

Posted on September 2, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Dreamy Ellinikí Glóssa Flash Fiction Greek Language Message Paper Secret Sunflower Time

Flash Fiction

**Cherubic bookmark.**
**[Source – Pixabay]**

A crumpled piece of paper, resting in an old library book, smoothened by time.

Intrigued by it, Bakul quickly rushed to a corner. She read the words loud and clear ‘Ellinikí Glóssa’.

Unsure of what it means, she fabricated a story– it is a secret message meant for someone. Yes! Beaming like a sunflower beams on seeing the sun, Bakul crossed the corridor, then the stairs. Students saw her and thought, ‘ye to gayi firse’ (she has lost it again).

Bakul looked at you, yes you, the reader and said with dreamy eyes and a wide smile – “Let us find out what the secret message is.“

A turn and Bakul bumped into her teacher.

“Sorry Sir”, “Bakul! Be careful girl! And what’s in your hand, what are you up to this time?”, “Sir, Rekha Ma’am is looking for you”, “Quiet Bakul, show me… eh… Ellinikí Glóssa… so now you’re interested in Greek language, hm?”, “Sirrrrr… this is in Greek?”, “Don’t waste your time and submit your assignment by Monday, okay?”

Bakul nodded. Sir turned to leave, then stopped, “Where did you say Rekha Ma’am is… in the staff room?” “Hee-hee-hee”, “Bakul, wait, you silly girl!”

Alone in the corridor, she looked again at you, yes you, the reader (don’t you remember?) and said with starry and mischievous eyes– “Am I interested in Greek Language?” She then winked at you.

Well, she must have found out the answer to this question by now. What do you think?

Anyway, peace out!

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Two Blind Crows

Posted on June 9, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Alive Death Dreams Nowhere Question Story Two Blind Crows Window

Ra-ra’s famous window story.
[Image from Pixabay]

Ra-ra: Why did the window go SHUT… who closed it SHUT… my question is just HOW?

Ra-ra’s friend Coo stays quiet, looking absolutely nowhere.

Ra-ra: S-H-U-T shut, right when I was about to pick my share and leave…

Coo: I believe you, it has been so many years since you first told me this story.

Ra-ra: (astonished) Many years you say, gone nuts…? It happened an hour ago.

Ra-ra: Coo, this ain’t the time to argue.

Coo: A while? He died ages ago.

Coo: You’re standing fine, 900 years have passed.

Ra-ra: 900? I have come flying from the west port of Oraffa city just now.

Coo: Oraffa city? Hah! Blind dreams!

Ra-ra: How dare you? I can see very well… you can’t, you blind ugly funny-sounding bad crow!

Coo: I said blind dreams… didn’t call you blind.

Ra-ra: Oh, oh-my, then let me apologise.

Coo: For what? We are blind, the world knows it. Yet…

Ra-ra: Blind we are, yes, yes… very much… (mumbles).

Coo: I’ll complete my sentence… yet we are still alive.

Ra-ra: (flaps wings) Death sentence, I have been given a death sentence and yet I am alive.

Coo: Cool-cool yourself Ra-ra. We are together in this.

Ra-ra starts sobbing, mumbles again.

Coo: I am turning left.

Ra-ra: (softly) Left?

Coo: Turned.

Ra-ra: Wait for me!

Coo: Can’t.

Ra-ra: I think I also turned left unless it is the right, or it is somewhere in the middle, who knows.

Coo: Not me.

Ra-ra: (laughs) You’re funny!

Both Ra-ra and Coo stand quietly. Coo speaks after some time.

Coo: Hey Ra-ra, you never told me your famous window story.

Ra-ra: I didn’t? How come?

Coo: That’s the truth.

Ra-ra: Well, then listen… the window was SHUT before I could pick my share… someone just closed it SHUT…

The two blind crows talked facing what they thought was the left.

**Two Blind Crows**
**[Image by Santa3 from Pixabay]**

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Unforgettably Yours

Posted on May 19, 2017 by Jagriti Rumi Everything Flash Fiction Forget Not Happily Journey Life Mistake Nothing Remember Smile Stories Unforgettably Yours Worshipped Time

Flash Fiction

I dare you to forget not. Forget what not? Try to remember… remember that day when…

… for the first time you crawled… you struggled to walk… you hopped all along… you won a race… you tap danced with grace… you came in style… you left wearing a smile… you befriended the walking stick… you crawled for the second time…

… for the first time you were loved… you were pampered… you were jealous… you were told to share… you were lonely… you made a friend… you believed in dreams… you knew true joy… you hurt yourself… you stood up… you worshipped time… you quietly realised… you happily understood… you loved them back…

… for the first time you felt you knew absolutely nothing… you followed their path… you managed to survive… you built a new track… you knew right is right and wrong, wrong… you travelled in time… you accepted the change… you thoroughly read writings in brief… you said of course… you said not at all… you repented and laughed at the mistake… you cheered your take… you declared that you still knew absolutely nothing…

Everything is forgotten on the way, but the journey goes on… the journey that is unforgettably yours.

**“Don’t forget now, alright? Go, leave, carry on!”**
**[Image by Lin Tong from Pixabay]**

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Greetings!

A storyteller, following the ancient tradition of cave chroniclers, standing in vrikshasana (the tree pose) on a hill top (it is sunny, but windy), breathing in and out stories (relishing it all, but at times overwhelmed), declares animatedly that she will continue to – tell stories, share rare story gems, and connect with the pacy universe while also keeping the website ad-free.

Big thanks to my readers. Stay tuned!

Also, a humble request to the new subscribers to check the spam folder after subscribing. Silly (but necessary) confirmation emails often land there instead of the bright inboxes. Merci!

Ya-hoy!

Chiming Stories (formerly Home Chimes)

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