https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/childhood-revisited-2/
Childhood Revisited
Sure, you turned out pretty good, but is there anything you wish had been different about your childhood? If you have kids, is there anything you wish were different for them?
Take it slow, cautions my brain
Hurry, hurry, hurry, chants my heart
Between the two, I am a mess
So indecisive! That’s me
I let it slide for days on end
When it’s over, and out of my hands
So why do I have a heartache in me?
(Sheen)
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/baggage-check/
Baggage Check
We all have complicated histories. When was the last time your past experiences informed a major decision you’ve made?
I was saying my Isha Prayers before sleeping when my son knocked on the door, and said, “Mom! Please pray for safety as there is a flood, and tornado warning”.
Through out the night there was a merciless torrent of rain beating against the roof, and windows. There was so much noise, I couldn’t sleep. Anyway it’s calm now, and the sun showed its’ face briefly before hiding his face in the watery sky.
Thank God there wasn’t a living nightmare.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/nightmares/
Nightmares
Describe the last nightmare you remember having. What do you think it meant?
From M1, M 2, to M 3 (my grand daughters), all of them write well. They wrote interesting stuff on their grandfather (my late husband) every now, and then — but never a single word about me. Please don’t take it that I mind — never. I was their most loved figure (after their mother) in their young days. I haven’t attracted them enough in my life time to write a single word about me.
Tell me, how do I attract a famous writer who doesn’t even know me, or heard about me?
So, I have no idea whether someone will be interested in writing my biography.
Or the idea is to write which writers I like? I have written sufficient number of times in my previous posts. No sense in repeating again.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/your-life-the-book/
Your Life, the Book |
From a famous writer or celebrity, to a WordPress.com blogger or someone close to you — who would you like to be your biographer?
How dismal the thought! But If I have to survive I will try to do any work —teaching, cooking, sewing whatever.
When we were living in Sylhet (Bangladesh) my (late) husband, and I did some bartering (or you can say exchange), of our own. Sylhet was a place where pineapples grew in abundance.
We used to send pineapples to friends in Chittagong, and Dinajpur. In return we would get mangoes, and Lichees. We had our fill of mangoes, and Lichees in those bygone days.
Women of poor families in the village used to help my mother-in-law in housework—- cooking, doing laundry, and cleaning. In return m-I-l would give them food for the family.
Till this day (back home), when I need fresh wheat flour, or corn flour from the village flourmill, the mill owner keeps a part of wheat, or corn in exchange for grounding the rest.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/barter-system/
If the world worked on a barter system, how would you fare? Would you have services to barter? Would you be successful, or would you struggle?
Photo Credit: Google.
I had bought different gauges of wire, chemical solutions in four colors, and two shades of green papers. I was all set to go to a friend’s house to learn from her the mystery of making the flowers.
In those days every other home had the flowers framed, and hanging. I learnt how to make the flowers, but I never made a framed picture of them, because I didn’t want them any longer.
We (the children, and I) were living in Quetta, while my (late) husband R was in Sukkur. When R was at home, I would make two dishes (for lunch, and dinner) early in the morning before ten o’clock, so as to have the rest of the day for other activities. Since R wasn’t at home, so one dish sufficed for us.
My friend Farida’s children, and mine were more, or less the same age. My children accompanied me to Farida’s home.
Farida explained to me how the flowers were made. It was super easy. You only had to bend the wires into various shapes for petals, leaves and stems, and dip them into the solution.
By the time we finished it was lunch time. Farida insisted we stay for the meal. I sent my son home (we lived near by) to fetch the Zucchini meat dish I had made for our lunch. All of us converged on the dinning table.
I put a serving spoon full of what Farida had made for lunch in my plate. After the first bite my eyes were watering, and my nose started running. Blindly I gulped a glass full of water down my throat. Even another glass didn’t do the trick of extinguishing the fire in my mouth and throat.
My children, and I ate our own food. While we found our hostess dish too fiery, ours’ was too bland for their taste, and liking.
To each his own, that was proven.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/ring-of-fire/
Do you love hot and spicy foods or do you avoid them for fear of what tomorrow might bring?
I don’t do lists. I used to write them, and lose them. I could never hold onto them. My list used to magically disappear out of sight. After reaching home I would remember what I needed.
Top of ten foods I like:
Mutton Rice preferably made with (young goat’s meat, which doesn’t smell), chick peas, raisins, and almonds.
Chinese food: GenTso, Chicken Wings, and Chicken Soup.
Chapli Kabab. 
Home made Icecream.
Nuts like Almonds, Pistachios, Walnuts, Pine Nuts.
Fresh Fruit. Top of the list — Lichees.
And other fruits.
Vegetables: I love to eat vegetables. My son doesn’t like turnips, bitter gourd, and butternut squash. If he spies the above mentioned vegetables, he turns in a second from a genial person to a very disappointed, and annoyed person. Back in the days when he was a student, and living at home, I used to take extra care in making another dish of something he liked, and put the smile back in his face.
All photos: Thanks to Google.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/the-satisfaction-of-a-list/
Who doesn’t love a list? So write one! Top five slices of pizza in your town, ten reasons disco will never die, the three secrets to happiness — go silly or go deep, just go list-y.
An enlarged framed photograph (of me) hung on the back wall of our king size bed in our old bedroom, when my husband was alive. I look out of it holding in my hands white flowers of Motia. It was taken by our son, who was camera phobic in those days.
It was Eid day. I was expecting more guests in the evening. I had come out to gather the white flowers to make the rooms smell nice, when my son snapped a photo. It was a lovely shot — catching the brilliant green of the grass, and trees, the violet pink shade of my dress, the orange, and yellow streaks of the setting sun in the blue sky; the riot of colors of the sweet peas behind my back, and the red geraniums which bloomed in the flower pots.
The photo lies in the attic now, as are the other photos; except for a framed photo of my husband in uniform which is in the hallway. The colors have gone away.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/roy-g-biv/
Write about anything you’d like, but make sure that all seven colors of the rainbow — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet — make an appearance in the post, either through word or image.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/from-the-collection-of-the-artist/
A hundred years from now, a major museum is running an exhibition on life and culture as it was during our current historical period. You’re asked to write an introduction for the show’s brochure. What will it say?
“Hi! You look revolting today”.
I look here, and there, not realizing my looking mirror has spoken. This is the first time it has spoken to me, and I am afraid it may be a ghost. The “Others” in the house have gone out, and I am the only one at home.
A quick search of the room shows no one is about —- no ghost is visible, as I cast fearful glances around.
“I am talking to you”, the looking glass tilts suddenly to flash the light at me, and I catch its’ movement.
Its earlier quote strikes my fuzzy brain, “why did you call me revolting?”
“You look pale, and there are dark circles round your eyes”.
I am afraid of going near it, so I don’t look into it. I wonder aloud, “looking glasses don’t talk”.
“They do! Haven’t you read about Snow White’s stepmother’s mirror?”
“Oh that! It’s just a story”.
“Stories are based on true happenings”.
As I think over it I hear the movement downstairs. The Others have returned, and IB (my grandson) knocks, “Dado, come downstairs to eat.”
I follow him. “Oh me gosh! I totally forgot the interview.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/the-interview/
Interview your favorite fictional character
Flowers and Breezes 