Tag Archives: dust

The Lemon Trees

There are two —no make that three lemon trees in the village home. One sprouts huge lemons every year, but they are few in number. Probably their large size exhausts the poor tree. It gives birth to a lesser number. The other two are laden with lemons. When they are still green, they are partly hidden with green leaves. When they ripen, and get yellow in color, the two trees are a lovely sight to behold. 

I first have a look when I open the bedroom windows, and see them laden with lemons. I think of lemon preserves, and drinks. I mentally remind myself to find time to pluck them, but time is the one thing I never have. 

I am busy with cleaning the house which remains close due to my absence from home country. Believe me when I say there is ton of dust covering each, and everything, and it saps my energy to zero while I am busy cleaning. At the end of the day dust clings to my hair, face and clothes. I can even taste it in my mouth despite swishing water into it before drinking. I’m bone weary as evening approaches.

When I’m about to step into the car for departure, I remember the lemons. I ask the watchman to get them. In a span of fifteen minutes he plucks some for me to take along. I tell myself maybe I will have more time. 

By the time I manage another visit — the lemons are gone, and the trees are bare. The watchman has harvested the trees for himself.



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




Help me to regain my life

Life that has ebbed away

Alas! How quickly it drained

Leaving me helpless — a lifeless form

Unable to move, eat and play

Pray tell me how do I get it back

Or I will remain

Immovable, devoid of life

Becoming part of dust that’s here to stay




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


Dear Home

I am glad I reached you finally. It has been a long journey. I am so tired. Today I came thrice to the gates but Hafsa (my downstairs tenant) wasn’t home, and the locks on the gates wouldn’t open, because they were changed. As darkness covered the horizon you let me inside.

I climbed the stairs wearily to my upside domain, and fumbled with the keys to open the outside door. Tons of dust littered the floor of the verandah. When I stepped into the hallway, and then the bedroom, both were equally full of dust. I stared at the open dressing room window with dismay. It must have opened with the force of a storm. It looked like someone had poured brown mud over each and every surface.

I located the vacuum cleaner, turned it on, and made a pathway for myself to the bed and bathroom door.The vacuum cleaner has breathed its last. It couldn’t survive that much dust. It was too much for it’s delicate Japanese stomach. 

 I went to the kitchen. It was in the same dirty state. The adjacent pantry’s window was open. I put the groceries I had bought in the morning on my kitchen table. I reminded myself to switch on the water heater. I tried to ignite the gas. The gas igniters didn’t work (I had two). I went to search for match boxes. None could be found. I was mad at myself for forgetting to buy them in the first place. By this time my hands were covered with dust , and nails were dirty too.

I found the matches in one drawer, and managed to light the water heater burner. I came back to the kitchen and heated the food given to me by my brother in law’s wife. I did the dishes with cold water. I had forgotten whether I had gloves or not lying some place. I found them later after I got three more pairs from the market next day.

Dear home, I am happy to be here although my hands are in a terrible state in trying to make you clean.


Literate for a Day

Someone or something you can’t communicate with through writing (a baby, a pet, an object) can understand every single word you write today, for one day only. What do you tell them?


Into the Sandstorm

Daily prompt: Sudden Downpour
It was sunny when you left home, so you didn’t take an umbrella. An hour later, you’re caught in a torrential downpour. You run into the first store you can find — it happens to be a dark, slightly shabby antique store, full of artifacts, books and dust. The shop ancient proprietor walks out of the back room to greet you. Tell us what happens next!


I look with dismay at the short, ugly man who has suddenly materialized in front of me. I feel at a loss for words. He mistakes me for someone he must have been expecting.

Now who in right mind would enter his shop, unless that person did have any business with him?

He beckoned me towards the books section. “Come”, he said when he noticed I wasn’t following him. I took hesitant steps in his direction. He searched for a few seconds, then took out a dusty volume from a shelf. There were layers of dust on it. I coughed, and choked on the dust, as he shook the book to dissipate the dust. It enveloped, and clung to me.

He held the book out, and thrust it into my unwilling hands. I was opening it when his shout startled me, “Noooooooo….. You take it home.”

It was like telling me to leave. I picked my way through the artifacts, and was out in the rain again. I pushed the book inside my coat to save it from the rain. A taxi cruised to a stop beside me. I gratefully opened the door, and gave directions to the driver for home.

Once I reached home, I went into the kitchen. I draped my coat on a chair, and sat down to open the book. Some strange power made me do it, as if it was in a great hurry.

The first page was empty. I turned the page. There was a picture of a hot sun shinning on a barren desert. Right in front of my eyes a sandstorm started. I was whooshed into the picture. The grains of sand hit me, and I was blinded. I couldn’t see anything.

As if from faraway I could hear my bewildered father saying, “Now where is she? I saw her going to the kitchen.”

Into the Sandstorm