Tag Archives: breathe

Wrinkles.

As my breathing turned laborious with every tick of the smallest hand on the clock, the touch of the metal felt colder against my burning toes. I had wound up in a hospital bed after 87 rounds around the Sun, give or take a few, depending upon my father’s memory. I tried to move my feet away from the bedstand but it required too much energy, much more than I could expend. Tears rolled down my face, tickling my hot face, nestling in my week-old stubble, but there was none to wipe them. My hands lay by my side, feeble and wrinkled. I reminisced the touch of wrinkled hands on my skin over the years – the grandmother who nursed my fevers, the mother who taught me to cross the roads, who I later accompanied to hospices, the wife who died in her sleep while she held my hand. That touch of wrinkled skin is what I longed for again, as I lay breathing my last, my skin on ice and fire at the same time.

Graciously Yours!

Breathe.

Her husband sat her down at the bed. She’d just taken a hot water bath. She placed her towel on her shoulder to soak up water from her wet hair. She inhaled deeply. This wasn’t the first time she had to answer the questions. This wouldn’t be the last.

“How did it happen?”

“What did he say?”

“How does it feel?”

“When exactly did it happen?”

“Did you see it all?”

Once again she closed her eyes and recalled the moment. In a flash, it was all over. One second she was at the pavement, the next she was on the road, the head of a dying man on her lap, blood drenching her clothes, tickling down her skin, shock overriding the bile building up in her stomach.

She opened up her eyes again. She was ready.

Her husband instead said, “It must be difficult for you dealing with the accident. Do you want to eat outside or should I cook?”

She breathed again!

Graciously Yours!

Burnt by Cold!

The outgoing winters always have a track record of leaving me fumbling with a runny nose or a sore throat. As expected, it happened this time around too. But what happened next was un-thought of earlier. In one of my impulsive phases, I shot a question at a few friends.

The answers left me speechless and also glad that for a change, I caught a cold which didn’t affect my brain. Or did it?

The question was : If I cut my nose, will it help me get rid of my cold?

Person 1 : “You surely won’t be able to breathe.”

  • That sounds like my answer – 90% of the time. But I was in the 10% bucket right now. So that’s not coming from me today, at least.

Person 2 : “I tried to Google it. But I couldn’t find anything concrete.”

This is my favorite answer! From my favorite person! And for you, all I’ll say today is :

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Person 3 : “No. Mad woman!”

  • Okay! I got you. Jeez. Relax. I am not really going to cut my nose off, irrespective of how much I’d like it to be sharper and longer. But, nope, not cutting it off!

Person 4 : “Drink some ginger juice. Steam some water. It’ll help get rid of the cold.”

  • Nah, this one ain’t a doctor. But this one worries about me, sometimes a little too much to get the humour in the question, probably! Just saying. 😉

Person 5 : “You could try it. If it works out, let me know as well. I’ll join the club.”

  • Someone help me out now! It’s important this one joins my club! She is after all, my sister! Yes, the craziness runs in the blood!

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Person 6 : “Definitely!”

  • Surprised, I asked the person another question. “What do I do with the blood?” Yes, there was a response. “Pass it off as pomegranate juice and give it to someone to drink!” Speechless!

What would you say to me? Go ahead, sharpen your wit, improve your humour and answer me.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : The cold’s gone now. The nose is still there. I wonder if Voldemort is jealous of me. 😛