Tag Archives: death


Whenever I am offering condolences to someone on the death of a loved one, tears well up in my eyes. They run down my face. I try not to sob as my voice chokes on every word I say. I feel a fool. Come on! I don’t even know the person. Can someone explain why this happens to me?


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. 


Forever Young

If I can have the face and figure I had at eighteen, why not?

But there is a contingency to it. 


With the above I would like to have the same knowledge I have now. Only and only then I will drink from it.

Then again if it entails living forever, I won’t drink. I would like to remain the same as I am now till death comes.

I remember as a child when I saw my dead mother, my thoughts were of dodging death. Stories abound in every culture of fountain of life. I thought when I grew up I would search the world for it. As if it was an easy thing? Ha!

As a teenager realization struck that roaming the world alone, unprotected wasn’t a choice. The world was a dangerous place, and going alone was a folly. I never ventured anywhere unattended.

I did read the chilling story of a man who searched the world for fountain of life. He wanted to escape death. When he reached it, he was delirious with happiness. He was about to drink when he noticed old people lying about the place, who couldn’t move at all. He found that those were the ones who had drunk from the fountain.

They were living forever, wishing for death to come and death wasn’t coming.

Forever Young

If there were a real Fountain of Youth, would you drink the water?


Photo Credit: Google

From You to You

My darling younger self,

The days you are living now will soon become a distant memory. At the end of October, next year when your fifteenth birthday comes, you will have acquired a stepmom by then. Life will be harder to live. Don’t lose your sanity, and hang on to God.

Father will change. He will be loving no more. Don’t take his harshness to heart, because in the year after next he won’t be alive. These are the last years of his life. Be loving to him, and to your two younger brothers and sister. In the years to come they are going to suffer more than you ever did. I am sorry to spring this on you.

Keep away, and beware of the uncles and aunt you have. They only have their own interests at heart. Don’t be too trusting.

From the elder you.

Twenty years from now.

Dear Love,

Are you still hanging out there? Hope life doesn’t have more surprises for you, and you haven’t lost heart.

Take care, and be alive.

From Me to You.

From You to You

Write a letter to your 14-year-old self. Tomorrow, write a letter to yourself in 20 years.

A Soul Rejoices

I am answering yesterday’s prompt.

I was deadbeat yesterday. I reached my bed (the previous night) at 2.30 am (preparations for food). Got up at 5.10 to answer the Fajr Prayer, then headed towards the kitchen to resume what further needed to be done.

I made two sweet dishes, so that the ladies had a choice. In between I managed to make breakfast too. Then prepared a huge bowl of salad. The chicken pieces which I had coated with my special mixture (a day before), I put them in the oven to bake. Last item left was Chinese fried rice. It was to go with Gen Tsao chicken which I had done a day earlier. 

For the past many years when it was my turn to invite someone for food, I managed by inviting them to a restaurant. Yesterday was really an uphill task by doing the cooking myself. It would have looked odd inviting people to a restaurant for a reading of the Quran.

I am glad I held the rememberance for my (late) husband. I was afraid I may not be able to manage.

All that food doesn’t reach a soul. When people gather to read God’s Book, Angels come, and watch. They go, and tell the dead person’s soul, “your ……… did this, and sent God’s Blessings on you”.

And the soul rejoices. 


Game of Groans

Think about an object, an activity, or a cultural phenomenon you really don’t like. Now write a post (tongue in cheek or not — your call!) about why it’s the best thing ever.

Time 2013, and Now

Time, and 2013 came up when I looked up one of my favorite blogs. Since today I am short of time I will write about today. I invited a few ladies for lunch for tomorrow. I have to do all the preparations. 

On 2nd August is my husband’s third death anniversary. I have invited the ladies for reading of the Quran. This occasion is for praying for him. I will be traveling that day, so I am having the rememberance earlier.

First, and foremost was getting mint leaves from the outside vegetable patch. It’s over run with weeds. The weeds flourished with abandon over mint, tomato, and strawberry plants. To get at the mint leaves I pulled out handfuls of weeds. Underneath I unearthed Bannana peppers. 

They are lovely. Aren’t they? And the smallest was cute.

In the morning I had given a list of things, and money to my son for my culinary efforts for tomorrow. So before he left for office, he brought home what I wanted.

I have to do the cooking, and cleaning. Hope I survive!



______ is the new ______

Click over to your favorite blog, and pick out the 4th and 14th words (that aren’t “the” or “an”). Drop them into this phrase:

“_____ is the new _____.”

There’s your post title. Now write!

But You Never Came Back

My dearest mother, I find it strange writing to you. I never wrote you a letter before. Honestly it never entered my mind. Even if It had, you no longer had an address to write to.

I have grown up without you. I have never known you as a person. Tell me when you were turning your back on us, did you wonder how we were going to fare without you in our life? You left without saying goodbye.

My memory is of the day you finally left home. Father had reached home during your last night. He was sitting in the Hujra (outside living rooms for menfolk)  with men relatives, and neighbors sitting with him. You were laid outside on a bed in the courtyard. Women sat near you. You quietly lay without moving.

I came to sit beside you, and tried to wake you up. You didn’t open your eyes. They remained closed. As I hugged myself to you, I found you cold, and hard. You were no longer warm, and soft. Then the awful realization struck that you might be ill. I touched your face, and you weren’t responding, and that’s when I started shouting, and crying to make you get up.

Lala (elder brother) swooped down on me, and picked me up. He tried to stop me from crying. I wouldn’t stop, so he took me to the Hujra. Father held me in his lap, and told me not to cry. As more guests came, and father got up, I came back inside. I sat beside you mother, and cried, and cried. My cries had no effect on you, but it made Lala come back, and took me to father again.

The second time I made it back inside I sat on the verandah steps, and watched you from there. With the fear of Lala taking me away from you, I was crying soundlessly.

Then the menfolk came inside, and women left your side. Lala held me to his chest, and told me you were being taken away to the hospital. Once you were well enough, you would come back home.

But you never came back.


Dear Mom

Write a letter to your mom. Tell her something you’ve always wanted to say, but haven’t been able to. 


Daily Prompt: Fearless Fantasies
How would your life be different if you were incapable of feeling fear? Would your life be better or worse than it is now?


Everyone has their own plethora of fears, either big or small. Through fear courage gets born. You can’t let fear take over. If that happens your life ceases to exist.

When I was young I was afraid of the dark. I had to have a lamp burning throughout out the night, beside my bed. When there was a power cutoff I would wake up from deep sleep, with a cry.

That habit never wore off. I still need a dim light (now as a necessity too, so that I don’t bump into things) to sleep. A battery light takes over when there is power outage.

After my children were born, I was fearful of leaving them through dying myself. In my daily prayers one was asking God to spare my life till my children grew up.

I was fearful about dying, and lying in a grave. Then I had a talk with my daughter. She doesn’t remember this talk. She asked me:
Have you harmed someone through words or deeds?
Have you done something of which you are ashamed now?

My answer was no.

I don’t remember her exact words, but that was the day I stopped fearing death. She took away my fear.

I step forward through my fears, and take refuge with God, certain with the feeling that He will take care of me.