KaYa - Collection of Stories

The walls of her home in Kollam were painted in despair and that dried up her soul in all her visits since she had joined the university at Thiruvananthapuram. So, every chance she had, Arathi ran back to the acres of land and the inhabitants that didn’t judge her. It was one such evening, a cold one in June. The heat of the summer was catching up to the PG student’s lives. All heftiness of papers, journals, projects, so and so on. The bus ride from Kollam to Kazhakuttam was two and half hours long, or ten to twenty songs and a nap long. But on that edge of the day where sun parted with the clouds and the absent moon shed light instead, there was only one song in her playlist on loop. There was no nap, no sightseeing, just a song looming through her ears, dancing with her on a deserted land faraway. Her smartphone’s keyboard memorized the words ‘Rangapura Vihara by Agam’. She was excited to meet them, to be in a concert, and that too her favorite band. All along the National Highway,

Bincy’s alight into the metro city hasn’t been a smooth transition. Kochi demanded more than what she had, her strength, both physical and mental. Even she wasn’t aware of what the city had in hold for her. Always, life demanded something heavily from her. Once it was her loneliness, then a breakup, and when she finally gathered her senses, her parents sworn to their duty to marry her off. She was a good human, a kind heart. So, every time she visits home she hurries back, not to come back but only to not stay. Why would anyone want to give her away? The wit’s demise in the hold of culture has been a debate that never had an end. Inside the bus under the scorching sun, the passing wind lifted her hair a little. The curls danced on the window pane as she held her head high hoping for better challenges, maybe easier ones. Other than the soothing melody that hummed through her earphones and into her lament thoughts, she was so out of company. The driver was busy driving of course, and th

June drenched into her window sills Darkness of the moonlight filled her room Like ember disappearing into the tree's breath His sweat met hers over the waist line Their eyes meeting elsewhere, shut in ecstacy. Both souls rumbled wordless dances One followed the other, into an abyss. A dying star passed through the void cavern Mouths gazed as the forbidden soul's thirst was put out. Half painted walls whistled a melody damp bedsheet covers gossiped with pillows Bodies with breath floated in the night Souls met through lips, of ripe red lipstick. Birds didn't fly, cats didn't roam Clouds didn't stop, fences never closed Only the thirst remained; to live within love.

Deep rooted caves or pearl white shores,  Into dense little cities or furnished woods I will follow the trail of your rested scent. Hopping through each stones of time One moment, one second Following them etched footprints,  Through seasons, through calenders. To watch in peace, in the end What the world holds for us Just pain, or more pain?  But never regrets!

Lavender mousse like eyes, Butterfly blues in mine. Untold secrets in layers, Wrapped with dusky curls. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! We met without haste, No destiny to taste. We set far from nest, To the land of many tales. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! Your moonlit face oblivious To the noon street theatrics. Paintings blurred in puddles Canvasses branched through thoughts. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! We crossed armies of metal Nimble hands held tight. We crossed arrows of doubt Feeble hearts held straight. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! Harsh sun came down upon Pressing the burn of heat. Sour sea pulled back out Holding her breath and breeze. Under the shades of still life, We marched into the day! We laughed we lived We talked a bit All those words mouthed Not knowing time passed Under the shades of still life We settled into the day! As clouds moved over For th

Hi, I have a name, an identity, but i don't think it matters to you. It doesn't matter who I am, but the only thing that does, is what I convey. So, let's keep all the distractions aside and focus on the point. Have you ever wondered how bad we feel when we hurt someone, intentionally or not. And then when we realise what we did, gently try to sooth that blow with a magic word, 'Sorry'. Recently, I went through an incident where I was at the receiving end of an apology. That's when I noticed that, in the same way knowing my name hadn't mattered to you, that apology had no effect on me. That's when I realised after we hurt a person's feelings we apologise to them, but for ourselves. Even though it is directed to them, it's our heart that's losing weight. The apology is asked not to make a change in the other person because the damage once done is never retracted, it stays. And we know that, every time. That's how we slowly lose a soul or a

     Only hours remain to see another one of those calendars hit the bin. Or in some households, it will eventually wrap itself around the notebooks closely for another couple of months. I remember being excited to switch from the old manorama paper calendar (Because Thilakan said 'calendar manorama thanne') cover to the harder and glossy covers of elite brands with bright pictures.       "You will eventually come back to me" the thoughts of the newspaper stayed printed in bold black ink at the corner. As the months started to wear out after the summer, so did those wraps. The next fight between the brothers will be for the sports page. (But we avoided the ones with sunken faces of Sachin and Ganguly, with all due respect).       The year turned out surprisingly to me. We slowly came out of the lockdown when my hopes were high to become cavemen and cave-women, as a family. It was a pleasure to meet friends, family and people on the streets. During the covid season, no

After hearing the act he is about to commit, the retired police officer Muthukumar travels a bit back into the past to his time in Madurai. Besides, the trio needs to overcome a challenge around the prison. The Tale of the Tommy! -Sreeju  Episode 2: Operation Dhruva *Ten Years before, R2 Police Station, suburbs of Madras*      For the sting operation, four other subordinates had accompanied Rajeev to Madurai that night. The cavalry arrived in late at night as to not invoke suspicion among locals. They had intel that many local communities helped the convict they were looking for.      So, he was keen on maintaining a low profile during the entire operation. His office at Kerala had already informed their arrival, but the station was almost empty other than the one constable who stood guard for that night.      “Where is everyone?” Rajeev inquired to the guard in a surprised tone. The guard just smiled at him for some time and explained what was going on while scratching his head. There

June 19. Happy Reading Day. On this auspicious day for a reader, I am happily introducing a new story in front of you which will be a series with episodes every week until the end. The genre of the story is a raw drama with slight suspense. It is the story of a retired police officer called back to do a small job in a prison as a favor. Read and enjoy and wait for the upcoming episodes. The Tale of the Tommy! -Sreeju  Episode 1: Taking duty.                The gate of the prison was heavily guarded than usual for an evening. Even though Muthukumaran hasn’t worked at one before, he knew the place from his brief visits during his service. He noticed there was a huge crowd of cameras and mics across the barrier. ‘It might be some sensational case.’ He thought.             At the gate, he introduced himself and handed over an envelope. He was welcomed inside suddenly but the reaction of the constable upon reading the letter made him curious. The young officer was surprised for some reason,

A Letter to Mankind Time changes. Time heals. We are all aware of the nuances of time and its linearity in our life. It is no surprise that indirectly time is not only an essence of life but also a requirement like air, water, and food. And we saw the diversity of time and the extent of its effect on changes in 2020. It started somewhere in the ending months of 2019. Like Global warming and Pollution, we left the new danger unheeded with our careless attitude to nature, as we always do. Some people take a stand to say that Corona and its spread made some positive remarks on our lifestyle and the world around us. But it is hard to find those minute joy impending over the mass destruction of life and livelihood, it had presented in its course, and still going on. Maybe a Chinese bio-war or a medical experiment went wrong, or probably the mistake of the hungry guy who ate the bat with the virus. No one knows, and will never know, how it all started. But one thing is for sure, it happened

Taped into some old music, It's been long since we talked in rest. I remember the last time, It didn't turn out to be the best. We had our differences, I knew But we talked through it, u should know U said you liked movies a lot, with pop and flakes I said I'll stay up until 2am, if that's what it takes. Am at the top of the world, girl When you said that, you'll be mine. Now look at me, I'm under the hell But you still say that we a dream. Look at us, babe, through your heart You can lie to me in a pale old morning But you know deep inside, when the dusk is falling, That you and I are meant to be, in a wedding. I said I'll wait, for another eternity Even if it means there is no sure reality, Money, looks, personality? I never understood what I lacked to rectify. I don't wanna put you through that You said as you hung up on me Leaving me alone just like that I wish you came back to check on me. Days passed, years rolled, time changed We met again at a sh

Where Lilies fall.                  “Joseph, make sure that the arch can stand the wind. Be careful.” Kevin requested the decoration supervisor as he entered the vibrant hall. It was lit with chandeliers and warm lanterns everywhere.                 Xavier’s recreational hall was getting ready for another event for the dusk. Facing the white-sand shores of the Indian Ocean, the place was breathtakingly beautiful.                 The guests were slowly pouring in and Hailey, the golden retriever, distinguished Kevin’s cologne and followed his footsteps. He stopped and gave her a ruffle over the head, as the tail wagged and ears bent backward highlighting her puppy eyes.                 “Everyone is running around and you are playing with Hailey?” a familiar sound enunciated from the hallway. Kevin looked up to see Mr. Sharma with a playful giggle.                 Kevin wrapped his arms around the unexpected guest. “You came?” he shouted in excitement. Patting on his back, Krun

An Innocent Canvass Life starts when you are born and education starts at school. Well, it is a myth if u ask me because education also starts from the moment we are born. It is rightly said that home is where we pick up habits, and knowledge too. That's why the nature of parents can determine whether the kid becomes a human or the enemy of the world. Mind you, this conversation ahead might not apprehend the absolute logic of a child's brain work but my intention is simply to look at things with a child's innocence and find some answers you were having trouble finding before. Hope you find it interesting. "A... B... C... D... E... F... G... H... I don't know what comes after that" Little Lenin sounded confused. "Come on now, son, study well for we are spending so much money on that." his mother expressed her worries. "Are you worried about my education or just about the money, mother?" the boy asked without any intentional prejudice. "