Tag Archives: photo

My Baba

M5 on her bunk bed.

I hugged my son in law, and told the little one, “He is my Baba. I’m going to take him along with me”. Thoroughly alarmed M5, her hands went round her father’s neck, she denied my words, “No, he is my Baba”.

“No, he is mine”.

“Why didn’t you bring your own one?”

“I don’t have one”.

“You have”.


“S uncle”.

“He is my son”.

We all were laughing by then.

Yesterday Nola was taking me for a haircut. I was putting on my sketchers, when M5 told me I couldn’t wear TJ’s (her brother) shoes. “These are mine”. I pointed out to her. She insisted that they were her brother’s. I explained to her that TJ wears shoes two sizes bigger than me, so I couldn’t possibly wear his shoes.

At that moment TJ strolled by wearing his own. M5 spotted him, and was satisfied.

Later on when I was wearing my flip flops she noticed, and chastened me once again,”You cannot wear my mother’s footwear”.

“But I’m not wearing your Mama’s. Her’s are bigger than mine, and besides the one she wears were bought by me”. She kept staring, trying to believe me.

She brought me her drawings to show them to me.

The black lines are meant to be the earth, and the orange one is the sun.

Here the black and blue lines are shown as earth, and the shape in the corner is the moon.


Some years back I bought a couple of CDs and copying paper from a store in Michigan. With the help of those CDs, I copied my second grandson Sn’s photo onto a cloth. He looked so cute. I was aiming for a cushion for my sofa in the lounge.

I think it’s still lying in my sewing room back in my birth country. I didn’t complete it, and it’s lying incomplete. I don’t remember the reason. I used to be extraordinary busy in those days– with my home, husband and family.

This time when I go for a visit back home, I hope I have time to complete it and bring it here with me. I will make another one of my younger grandson IB. The two cushions will give me glad feelings, that though both of them are physically far away from me — their photos will grace my home.



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


Born to be With You

When I first learned about my best friend D, I was a bit skeptic. Will she suit my temperament? Will we be able to build up our friendship? Will I be able to trust her?

My trust over the years have been eroded so many times that I have lost count of the times it has happened. And the truth is I have forgotten how to trust? I view the world with wary eyes. My initial suspicions gradually subsides to accept friendship from other people. Even then I keep an eye open convinced that there maybe a nasty surprise around the corner for me.

D became my best friend. I confided to her everything about myself —– my worries, my day to day happenings, what I disliked, liked, my favorite foods. Each and every party, and wedding was described to her in detail. I could chat to her about everyone with ease, never fearing that D will divulge my secrets.

The friendship stretched over twenty years. I felt safe with her. She never revealed what I told her.

Then the time came to say good bye. I was shifting to a far away place. I never wanted anyone to know about us being friends. With a heavy heart I said my good byes.

“Dear Diary I am letting you burn, because I don’t want anyone to find what I confided to your pages”.


Born to Be With You

Got a soul-mate and/or a best friend? What is it about that person that you love best? Describe them in great detail — leave no important quality out.

A Dog Named Bob


IB playing on his 2DC upside down. I caught this photo from upstairs.

IB (my youngest grandson) has gone to Peshawar. He along with his mama, and Sn (brother) is spending summer vacation there. I won’t be seeing him loading his chocolate chips waffle onto a plate, and drenching it with maple syrup. It’s his favorite breakfast. I miss him.

We go to collect our mail from the mailbox at night, when we have our 2-3 miles walk. The mailbox is at some distance from our home. No blue jay lurks at night, must be safely ensconced in its’ nest. Though I have seen blue jays in the mornings in our backyard.

I don’t keep pets. I have to say my daily prayers, and that means my clothes shouldn’t be defiled by a dog, or cat touching me. So no dogs, or cats for me (I don’t yearn for them anyway). That means I will never have a dog named Bob.

A Dog Named Bob

You have 20 minutes to write a post that includes the words mailbox, bluejay, plate, syrup, and ink. And one more detail… the story must include a dog named Bob.

Five a Day

You’ve being exiled to a private island, and your captors will only supply you with five foods. What do you pick?


I must have a mug full of milk with two tea-bags to begin my day. The milk has to be Lactose free, otherwise my stomach can go haywire. The captors won’t have to finish me. I will conk off within a week on my own.

Without fruit I can’t exist. My lunch consists of apple, banana, grapes, nectarine cut into bite size pieces, and sprinkled liberally with walnuts. My late husband would pepper me, “why are you so delicate?”
I had no answer. Then, one day a friend provided the answer, “tell him you are not a weed, but a rare flower in his garden who needs care”.

I eat Halal meat only. So if that’s not available, I will ask my captors to get me fish, or catch my own. I will have to learn fishing, provided there are fishes nearby.

Nuts are an important part of my food. Almonds, walnuts, pistachios are favorites, and I keep supplies handy with me at all times. In case of un-availability peanuts will do.

If there is nothing to eat except for bread made from whole wheat flour that will be a God-send. I have seen poor people whose only diet is wheat bread, and they still survive.
So maybe I will survive too.


Does it really matter?

Call Me Ishmael
Take the first sentence from your favorite book and make it the first sentence of your post.


Does it really matter?
This is the sentence from the book, “Looking Back Texas”, by Leanna Ellis. I finished this one, and another one, “I Dream of Genies” by Judi Fennell.

A few pages of the first one, and I was like ugh….. How much more I can take? I can’t abide endless talking. It drives me nuts. I put it aside, and picked up another one to read. Then there was no one to take me to the library. I was bored with nothing to read.

I was back to Looking Back Texas. OhOhOh! It turned out to be riveting. I raced from one chapter to the next. In the end what is usual for me, I couldn’t wait to find out what happens at the end. I must tell you here, my this habit is deplored by family members. They wonder why I can’t go through the suspense of a story?

When it’s killing me that’s the only recourse left open to me.

Archie leaves his wife Betty Lynne after a marriage of forty six years for a younger woman. Betty asks him before he leaves, as to what she should say. He says to tell everyone that he has died.

The story is hilarious. Betty arranges a funeral, and people get frightened by seeing Archie alive, when they are thinking him dead. They think it’s a ghost.

The other book, I Dream of Genies was all about genies, a talking cat, and magic. Eden (the genie), and Mat (her mortal hero) go through a whirlwind of frightening situations. Mat finally frees Eden from slavery, and from the clutches of an evil vizier who wants her for a wife.

Both books were unusual in their subject matter. I couldn’t tear away myself till I finished them.


Dust Gathers

Sweeping Motions
by Ben Huberman
What’s messier right now — your bedroom or you computer’s desktop (or your favorite device’s home screen)? Tell us how and why it got to that state.


Dust gathers through the open window
Settles there, till I clean it away

Receipts, and letters occupy one spot
I have to look, and sort them everyday

The iPad screen gets finger splotches
Cannot help it anyway


Give Them Back

Reader’s Block
by Ben Huberman
What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without reading a book (since learning how to read, of course)? Which book was it that helped break the dry spell?


My first book: I still remember it. It was Hans Andersen Tales. With it, I discovered a whole new realm, and I was the explorer. My elder brother lent it to his friend. I never got it back.

My collection of books grew. All the books by Jane Austen, Leo Tolstoy, Naseem Hijazi, Agatha Christie, Charles Dickens, PG Woodhouse joined my bookshelf. There were so many others whose names I have forgotten now.

With father’s death, we shifted to uncle’s house, as he became our guardian. From uncle’s home my marriage took place. I never got my earlier books back again.

There was a long stretch in between. Books came back in my life, once Peshawar became a permanent home. Most of them are second hand, no hard covers, unlike my first collection of new, hardcover books. Most of the books are by Judy Picoult, Bapsi Sidhwa, and Imrana Ahmed.

Between books Woman’s Weekly UK (for cooking, and knitting), Woman and Home (UK), Good Housekeeping (US), Needlework and Craft (US), Stitch Craft (UK), kept me company.

One relative took a large collection of my beloved Woman’s Weekly, and Stitch Craft. They reside in her home now permanently. Once or twice I asked for them. Didn’t get them back. I stopped buying them, cause I knew they will eventually shift to the relative’s home.

People you think are reasonably good, turn out to be book thieves. They take your books, and that’s the last you see them.

If you remind the book thieves, they say the next time they come, they will remember to bring them back.

Fed up with a friend’s excuses, I went unexpectedly to her house. When I got up to leave (inside I was gloating with glee at getting my books back), I asked for my books.

Without a change of expression, she came out, “Oh! Sorry I lent them to my friend………blah, blah”.

My ears started ringing. I was speechless. I desperately tried to control my anger, and despair. I felt like kicking her. It would have been very satisfying. I knew I would never see those books again.

Here, I get to read a variety of books from the Fort Bend Library. Recent favorites are: in science fiction- books by Ben Bova, and light fiction- books by Carolyn Brown. Ben Bova writes about future habitats in space.

One happy ending is reading e-books on IPad. No one can borrow them or take them from you.


Edge of the Frame

We often capture stranger in photos we take in public. Open your photo library, and stop at the first picture that features a person you don’t know. Now tell the story of that person.


Last year IB (my grandson) was taking a Judo Karate class. I was snapping pictures of IB, and inadvertently took a photo of a stranger. He was sitting ahead on my right, and his head and left shoulder is visible.

His name is John Fielding. John is a Software Engineer working from home. His wife Ann has a 9-5 job, so John has to bring his two sons Bret and Max to the Karate class.

The Karate class is for the duration of one hour. To save time on coming and going John stays in class. Most of the parents are doing the same thing. The Karate teachers have no objections to parents watching their kids.

John has brought his laptop to the class. He sits in the class, and does his work too. Outside it is 90 degrees, so it is better to stay in the class. When his sons are doing their moves, he watches them.

The class is over. He shuts down his laptop, and gets up. He can now take his sons home.

When he reaches his home, he is going to give the children milk and cookies. His wife will be home soon, and then John can retire to his den, leaving the kids safely to their mother.

Edge of the Frame

190 Days Later

Daily Prompt: back on January 21st we asked you to predict what day # 211 would be like. Well July 30th is that day — have your predictions held up so far? Is this year turning out to be as you’d expected?


On January 21st I wrote “Will They Come True?”

It was about my hopes. Disappointment faced me ahead.

I didn’t predict.

What future holds, can’t predict anything

How will it be when it comes

I take each moment as it sashays

Into the future no one fathoms

I was late in getting up today. I took a notebook with me downstairs. I was hoping to write my post plus having my breakfast.

What was in store for me?

IB (my grandson) was watching “The fox and the hound”. All thoughts of a post were forgotten. It was the moment where the hunter lights up a fire at one end, and at the other end is the hound.

IB didn’t leave my side. He kept talking as I washed the plates and cutlery, and stacked them into the dishwasher. We went outside to water the tomatoes, Jalapeños and strawberries. IB was watering with his water gun. He wanted to show me how to rain. He squirted up making me drench with water from head to toe.


We came inside. I was in a hurry to finish my chore, but he kept insisting on playing his Survival Game with me. Probably he thinks someday in the future his Dado would need to know how to survive.

He was bent on making me eat a crow again. I repeated what I had told him earlier that it wasn’t halal. He opted for a duck, but finally caught a fish instead. He made sure (not letting me do anything) that I was looking at his endeavors as he cooked the fish for us to eat.

I have finally escaped. How?

His mom took him with her for a drive to the shops.

See you can’t plan one moment ahead!

190 Days Later