He Turns...

[Querida]

Hello Hubbers, as many of you know i do try my hand at poetry. But try as I might whenever I go to write a narrative the lines are too short...i find myself cutting out all the connecting bits and well end up with stanzas instead.

So with all that said, I'd like to try an experiment, since I cannot seem to write of anything lengthy or continuous...I will try to write glimpses. small situations only. Please join in if you'd like. :D Please forgive me in advance for editing errors.

[Querida]

Then he turns....

She had an inkling when she spied that collar through the window. When was it ever straight, if not for her?

She thought why not? Nothing but a pleasant surprise.

Head down, eyes askant she shuffled down the aisle, he made a slight motion of his head. Her heart leapt into her mouth!

All the way at the back she sat. No.
At the next stop, five seats away. No.
Next red light, a good view at three seats away.

His fingers combed his hair, smoothing down those same, sticker-uppers. Hesitating upon a spot, which was slighter year by year. She noticed, of course. He knew. But she could not bring herself to care. What of age, it was unfair to us all.

After all, how newly to critique what eyes had burnished fondly for so long?

His cellphone rang, never was he a ringtone person.
"I can't stand those bleeps and blips!" He would say.
Though for her, she had a ring just for him
She would still blush, how juvenile of her...even when knowing the international melee surrounding her, would hardly know the significance of "Ivanthanaa".

She set her cell to silent...in case he called. It would be too soon, a little more wait.
How funny it would be to get off right after him. I should grab his arm, no kiss his cheek...no haha, how young do I think I am?...I'll cover his eyes, yes that was doable.

"Does this bus get off at Carson Street?" she knew that husky voice. She leaned forward slightly, peering at the figure heaving her form on to the aisle.

Aah yes, at Nitin's school, her son was Nitin's newest friend. Oh well, if she said hi, then it would not be nice to appear oblivious.

She never could do that. Impassiveness was beyond her. Her face would blush a bronze and her lips would straighten into lines.

Poor woman, I should go help her, though we had all managed hadn't we? We all somehow acted like it was the most normal thing, inwardly knowing we were as clueless and scared as the next.

Daina! That was her name, she has sat quite near him, perhaps she will notice him...and then me..what will she think? A spat perhaps?

[Querida]

No, Daina does not notice a thing, so lost in her world. One hand pressed to her back, Daina rubs her swollen stomach in slow circles.

Aah, all those constant worrisome-stirring thoughts all for the sake of a face I hadn't seen yet...but I loved already... I wonder what Daina is thinking? What i wouldn't do for a plate of dahi vada? Haha, that certainly was my fave crave!

Almost there, she breathes out. The bus jerks to a stop. A tall, reedy young woman steps on. The woman catches her breath. Irritatedly pushing her loud red and blond curls behind her ear. Furtively she looks around for a seat, though plenty are empty. She pauses, walks straight up the aisle and turns mechanically to the left, and sits beside him.

He rubs his face. He always was one to be uncomfortable with strangers. She had always had to be the gracious host. How many times did her friends ask "Isn't it time for him to quit being so formal?"
Cold, distant, almost rude was more like it, but they wouldn't say that. Like he didn't approve. That was true too.
"Well hon, I just told him how scandalous you all are!" trying her best to laugh convincingly. They'd join in, relishing it like one of their many old, inside jokes. The matter was then put aside until of course, another visit.

He reaches over and takes her bus transfer, his lips murmuring, fingering the printed time at which it expires.

Perhaps, she has asked the time, or asked to borrow a ticket from him?

The woman reaches out and straightens his collar.
He pulls away suddenly. Acting out a look of mock shock.
And then he leans toward her. So close. Closely enough to....

She can see a grey, old postbox, dented on all sides with splotchy green script sprayed across its front... how odd that she can recognize such a mundane fixture of her neighbourhood.

She pushes the stop button, the sign "Passenger Requests a Stop" lights up weakly.


Five stops before our stop.

"Geetha!" Daina calls, motioning for her friend to hold the door open for her as well.

He turns.

[Shakthiprabha.]

Q,

:clap:

I feel sharp pain of stab, as I read the story.
Sharp, crisp narrations :) :clap: although I would like to add, it was more like reading a 'prose poetry' :)

Congrats! Your first attempt is a huge victory :clap: I supp It does create impression in readers mind and as an author uve won!

I am always a fan of 'blunt climax' which comes in so unexpected and definitely it did come in very hard :(

The finish was perfect

"He turns!"

thats it!!!! A blow for him and her and the readers! Anything if added would have spoilt the story.

Impact is slapping! (dunno whether to smile or put a sad icon :D )

[Shakthiprabha.]

Youve kindled my desire to write 'short-stories' (I had written couple of short stories in tamizh ) :)

[pavalamani pragasam]

Congrats, Q! You demand my undivided attention to read your story, comprehend it, appreciate it and admire the delicately woven undercurrent of thoughts differentiated in normal & italicised fonts.
Hmmm...I am not still not sure if I have got it correctly. The heroine, Daine, is pregnant, her son's classmate is Nitin whose father is the hero in the story described as a reserved, kind, a bit absent-minded gentleman. What are daine's feelings for Nitin's father? How are they related? :roll: I am clean bowled! :confused2: May be I am a bit dense or too preoccupied than usual! :o

[Shakthiprabha.]

pp maam :shock:

Now, I wonder if I got it right :?

Heroine is NOT daine, but gita ! :|
Nitin is her son ! (gita's)
and the gentleman :roll: is nitin's dad i.e. her husband!

Daine has no feelings! Shez just there as on onlooker.i.e. co-passenger.. Its gita who is narrating it :oops:


oh my god....


I really am thinking if I imagined my own story now :? :oops:

[Shakthiprabha.]

Nitin whose father is the hero in the story described as a reserved, kind, a bit absent-minded gentleman.

:roll: :|

yeah she decides to surprise her KIND man, but instead hez too kind to give her a NOT-SO-PLEASANT surprise!

Thats how I got it. Picture that 'redhead' as someone distinct than daine and gita. Now, Place her right next to him(dad of nitin). Thats the way I understood the story :oops: :|

[Querida]

pp maam :shock:

Now, I wonder if I got it right :?

Heroine is NOT daine, but gita ! :|
Nitin is her son ! (gita's)
and the gentleman :roll: is nitin's dad i.e. her husband!

Daine has no feelings! Shez just there as on onlooker.i.e. co-passenger.. Its gita who is narrating it :oops:


oh my god....


I really am thinking if I imagined my own story now :? :oops:

I'm so sorry you two! :oops: :ashamed: Shakthi you have got it right!!! and PP Maam I understand where your confusion stems from...I have gone back and edited some of the text...hopefully it is clearer...

Shakthi....I wanted to write you a nice long thankyou and reply...that is why i was waiting for tomorrow :D really you have warmed my heart with your comments....please yes do share your short stories!!!

[Shakthiprabha.]

Q,

ur job is quite appreciable esp like how pp maam pointed out, those italics to distinguish her thoughts. I suppose daine adds to the confusion. If not for her, the story would have gone in crystal clear.

but then daine is needed for the whole climax to come to a shocking stand still.

Its when daine calls out for gita's name, 'HE TURNS'.

[pavalamani pragasam]

:rotfl: What a dunce I am!
SP! sorry for confusing you!

[Shakthiprabha.]

She can see a grey, old postbox, dented on all sides with splotchy green script sprayed across its front... how odd that she can recognize such a mundane fixture of her neighbourhood.

She pushes the stop button, the sign "Passenger Requests a Stop" lights up weakly.

Five stops before our stop.



I loved these lines Q. So eloquently put, hiding all strong emotions, yet picturing the pain in most subtle way.

[Shakthiprabha.]

:rotfl: What a dunce I am!
SP! sorry for confusing you!

:D I think its elusive way of Q's narration. She always writes the same way. Thats why I said prose-poetry :D

[Wibha]

Q :2thumbsup: ur narration is great....

like sp says prose-poetry :) it's really good :clap: :clap: :clap:

[crazy]

What am i supposed to say ....by icon says it all :clap:

Good Job :thumbsup:

[Querida]

Shakthi really you have touched my heart through and through....how very well you knew what i meant! :ty: you picked up on so many points..each of them endearing to me :bow: :bow: :

...i was in a tizzy when i found that the narrative at points could be confusing but that swept away by your rescue of all the correct points...and yes isn't it horrid how much fondness can paint such a "reserved, kind, gentleman" picture of such :x man?

...the struggle between poetry and prose...it was hard not to break into lines or just keep the main points...even some unintended rhyming got in there! :lol:

...the sudden slap as you say...yes really wanted to end off with a jarring effect... :)

...oh my goodness :o :o :o i could not believe...it was like I had been talking to you about the story before I even wrote it....how did you know....:exactly: :exactly: i soooo wanted to convey the immense pain by diverting it to such a blah object (the post box, the bus signal light) one that would not normally deserve such pointed attention!

....and yes as always...the only point that always made me dislike short story is a) wanting to be as blunt as i was in the poetry b) having to spell it all out...that you called it elusive...what all i wanted to achieve...all outlined by you....i am truly happy to have a friend like you...the words "thank you" pale in comparison to what i feel...but still they are the only words I have....so :swinghead: THANK YOU SHAKTHI!!!! :swinghead:

[Querida]

PP Maam of course what is a story without your reassurance...and just as in "Indigo" and "Verbatim" you are here for me...thank you...your words always give me the motivation to continue :bow:

Crazy, Wibha both of you have followed me throughout my scribbled ventures...and just when I think...i have made no impact...I have turn poetry into puzzling words only....there you two are with your encouragement...I thank you for this: :ty: :ty:

[Shakthiprabha.]

Q,

I would like to confess something here.

If someone asks me "Name ur no.1 favourite english poet (now also author) in hub"

My answer was, is and would be "Querida"!

No second thoughts!

:bow:

keep up! :thumbsup:

[chevy]

Q,

I would like to confess something here.

If someone asks me "Name ur no.1 favourite english poet (now also author) in hub"

My answer was, is and would be "Querida"!

No second thoughts!

:bow:

keep up! :thumbsup: I too would like to confess , my fav poet and author (not restricting to the hub alone) is Q!!!!!

and I must also confess some of the poetry makes me desperately want to ring up my english teacher and test their knowledge..sorrry..clarify some doubts... hehe..

[Sinthiya]

Q, wonderful story...well-written, simple and crisp...:thumbsup:...looking forward to reading more of your work...:)

[Shakthiprabha.]

and I must also confess some of the poetry makes me desperately want to ring up my english teacher and test their knowledge..sorrry..clarify some doubts... hehe..

yeah :lol2: such rich choice of words! I cant help admiring every bit of it :)

[thamizhvaanan]

Que... needless to mention.. .. kalakkals :thumbsup:

I have to admit that I had to read the story once again to be sure of what I understood is right :P

Yea .. as u said you were struggling to get rid of the poetry and make it pure prose ... but I think, the unique style made the story look polished.. :)

All the best for ur future stories :thumbsup:

[MADDY]

simply blown away by the narration style, queri..........implicit narration at its best..........wish i could write in this style one day :)

[Querida]

:bow: :bow: :bow:

You mustn't spoil silly a new timer...sweet how my own faves call me theirs :ty:

Sinthiya :ty:
Thamizh :ty:
Maddy! you have your own style...it rocks!..no need to say one day!

[NM]

Queri,

As with your Scribbles and Indigo, this is simply astounding! I read it the other day and guess i couldn't find words to express my thoughts and feeling, hence this little post of mine a few days late :oops:

You really should seriously think of writing and publishing short stories plus poetry/poems! Such talent should not be wasted. :D

I was thinking of you as I was reading Jeffrey Archer's short stories - short, sweet, abrupt :D

[Querida]

Thank for thinking of me NM :D ( a hug emoticon would go here if this were yahoo :P)...well NM I have tried before entering writing contests esp poetry but have been turned down...I keep it to the back of my mind...cause i am seriously awful when it comes to dealing with disappointment...but thank you all the same!!!

I sometimes really do think you all spoil me too much...I am so very used to my papers being torn up with criticism and corrections...my grammar is abhorrent...and here i am not being merely modest...I have enough evidence! :lol: :oops:

[madhu]

wow !

Q ! :clap:

nice narration ! we can just feel the emotions of the characters as our own !

what to say ?

I cant even turn ! ( to read other articles, for a while ) :thumbsup:

[P_R]

Good one Q !

Have always toyed with the idea of making a story out of journeys in TTC. The motivation vanished as I stepped out. The moments "inside" are pregnant with untold stories.

The fractured storytelling style was impressive. Had to read carefully and piece things together.

That the moment and theme may be less than universal but is quite important to the narrator was brought out quite well.

Keep writing :thumbsup: