ChirpyQuill

  I am privileged in many ways. I share the company of these compassionate and feeling individuals who have the innate ability to comprehend every one of their life experiences more profoundly, in many more dimensions and colors than most people. They are bold and unafraid to show their soft underbelly, and they pour their souls on paper for the world to see and perhaps even judge. It is a privilege to be in the company of these brave, exalted writers and poets. Some fight with swords, we make love with quills. Our fearless leader threw down a gauntlet in our band of merry writers, go forth and describe the sound of a gong, he said. I pondered for weeks on end on the premise of this article, it was onerous, infuriating even, describing the sound of a gong. How indeed? A gong sounds like, well, a gong! Or does it? I had a eureka moment one day. He had not meant the sound or the instrument in its literal sense, had he now? As I let that sink in, I remembered that feeling of euphoria,

Men from far and near have tried to enter my beautiful home. One rang the bell only once. I couldn’t hear it ringing, so he must have left without trying again. One rang the bell everyday, that too multiple times a day. I didn’t open the door.     I had been hearing a lot of rumors about that one! I just didn’t feel safe letting him in. One rang the bell just enough number of times to get my attention. I opened the door just enough, albeit, with the security chain on. We had a brief chat, but I just wasn’t buying what he was selling. I instantly caught his bluff and sent him away. One even tried to break in without ringing the bell, but I screamed so much that the neighbors called the security. That indeed was a close save. Yet, another one waited patiently by the door, thinking it would miraculously just open someday. He waited and waited come sun or rain or hail. To this date, I don’t know why didn’t he just ring the bell? What was he afraid of? Was it that I wont open the door or th

Chapter 1 : Startled, Shai wakes up again in the middle of the night. The same dream, The same sound. The Sound of The Gong.... 'Wake Up Kay....Your loud snoring is now sounding like a gong in my dreams." she laments to her husband sleeping peacefully by her side. "Only if...." she mutters beneath her breath and walks away to the window overlooking the mountains in the sleepy town of Solan Shai aka Shailaja and Kay aka Kamal met during their college days in Pune. As different as chalk and cheese they hailed from different cultures and cities. She, a Mumbai girl & He a Delhi boy. Their craziness and zest for life bound them together. They married and settled in Mumbai. The daily big city commute was strenuous but love prevailed during those early carefree years. "Go to sleep, Shai" Kay gently pleads placing his hand on her frail tense shoulders. "Did you see him, Kay?" "No."  His heart was aching within... "The mountains look so

  I was happy. It was 6:30 am, Nov 18th 2023 and I was there, at the starting line of JFK Ultra in Boonsboro, Maryland. That was the only promise I had made to myself for this race. That I will show up. There had been enough reasons to not to. But Gods of Ultramarathon held my hand through them and let me be there. I was grateful. The shot rang in the air and all 1020 aspirants, on cue, started their slow march of madness. On the far side of the 50.2 miles, a round metal piece with a generic engraving of “Finisher”, was pulling them like the Ring did to Frodo. It had power over them that they couldn’t resist. It had had power over them way back, 3, 6 months ago when they lay in their beds but could not sleep. It’s madness corrupted them to change what they ate and how they lived their lives. Now they were in the vicinity of Mount Doom and the Metal’s power was palpable. They were gonna get to the other side and destroy their prior self. The self that wasn’t an Ultra athlete. And so the