The mad scientist

“What are you working on now, mad scientist? “

“A car.”

“A car? When did you turn into a mechanic from a mad scientist?”

“You’ll know.”

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“What a cute Ambassador!”

“You love those old cars, right?”

“Yep. Very much.”

“Go on! Sit in it, and feel it!”

“Can I?”

“Of course!”

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“Wow! These seats are so comfortable! Plump, plump, plump. You can push them back and just relax. Forget about the world.”

“That was the intention.”

“What?”

“Nothing!”

“Have you thought of putting in a TV? It would make this car so much….more cosy.”

“This car doesn’t need one.”

“What?”

“Nothing!”

“Why are you going all mysterious on me?”

“You’ll know.”

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“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Just two minutes more, please. Hold on!”

“Okay, but why don’t you tell me what the big surprise is?”

“You’ll see. Very soon.”

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“That looks just like Turkey, from the coffee table book I have!”

“It is Turkey.”

“Eh? Gone crazy or what, mad scientist?”

“No, I haven’t. And, yes, this is Turkey. An isolated, very pretty part of Turkey, that is.”

“Kid me not. You can’t drive to Turkey from India, that too in just 15 minutes.”

“Yes, but you can fly.”

“What? Now I’m sure you’ve lost your marbles.”

“Put your head out the window and you’ll know.”

“Woah! Why are there so many gas balloons on top of the car?”

“They helped us fly here.”

“In a battered old Ambassador car?”

“Yes.”

“They cannot.”

“They just did.”

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“I can’t believe this, mad scientist.”

“At least now, you should.”

“Yes, now that I have checked with my own eyes.”

“Liked it?”

“LOVED it. How can I not? Turkey was a dream for so long!”

“Worth the effort then!”

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“I can’t believe you just proposed to me in Turkey, mad scientist.”

“Well, I did. And you said yes.”

“I still can’t believe it.”

“That was the plan.”

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“I can already see tomorrow’s headlines, mad scientist. Mad scientist takes fiancée to Turkey in magic car.”

“When will you stop calling me ‘mad scientist’?”

“I can’t. That’s what I have always called you, since the day I saw you hunched over those test tubes in your lab, your hair all over your face, looking super cute.”

“Yada yada yada.”

“Can I call you ‘cute mad scientist’ instead?

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This entry is for the prompt at Magpie Tales for the week.

I wrote this story in a sudden burst of inspiration yesterday, and I am not sure if it makes sense to everyone the way it did to me. Plus, it has been a long, long, long time since I wrote any fiction. Do let me know how you find it! I would love your honest opinions.

You – 4

You push back
With tender fingers, full of love
Stray tendrils of hair
Escaping my bun

My heart pulsates
Eager, hopeful
Memories assail
Of beautiful days of wooing and romance

You bring bursts of brilliant colour
Turquoise and purple and orange
To drab days, with these little gestures of yours
How do you work your magic so?

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For the three words for the week over at 3WW – Drab, pulsate, tendril

She

A single fluid motion was all that it had taken, apparently. Just the tippling of a few drops of secretly obtained liquid into her food.

What visions had she had just before the end? Had she known that her mother-in-law had won the tug-of-war with her husband? Had she known that her beloved husband would crumble to pieces and become a mindless puppet? Had she known that she was going to join a long league of women, statistics that would be published in newspapers now and then?

She looked so peaceful in her slumber, so innocent, in her pink and white salwar kameez. As if she had known everything and accepted it.

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For the week’s prompts over at 3WW – motion, peaceful, vision

I hope…

I hope we grow to be
The kind of people
Who, for their 25th wedding anniversary
  Would squabble, map spread out over laps
Pointing, exclaiming, dreaming

Heading off then to a place loved
Like a beach-side cottage in the Andamans
To watch the sea rising and subsiding
From the window
Lying on the bed, arms entwined

Reading, now and then
Talking, a lot
Of nothing in particular
Watching boats
Distant in the horizon

Paddling in the waters and learning to snorkel
Gathering shells as keepsakes
Boating, and writing memoirs
Watching orange and pink sunsets
And the playing of starfish and turtles

Eating out at nearby shacks
Returning, to hang up our coats
Next to each other
On the hook by the window
Placing our boots below the sill

I hope we grow to be
The kind of people
Always with wonder for the world
Travel companions forever
With souls that never tire

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For the week’s prompt over at Magpie Tales

Picture courtesy: Magpie Tales

The first kiss

She doesn’t remember the date or day when he had kissed her for the first time, but she still remembers how it had felt. As if it had been just yesterday.

She remembers the exact moment when something had changed in his eyes – something had come into his eyes that had not been there before. There was something beautiful – almost possessive – in the way he put his arm around her waist, pulled her near, and kissed her, soft and tender, on the street, in full view of anyone who cared to watch, not that there was a huge crowd present or anything. A line had been crossed, in a good way, and they had entered into a bond which was different from the bond of friendship that they had been sharing till then.

She had been wearing his coat – scant protection against the rain that had been beating down since morning, which he had insisted that she wear, anyways – and she could smell the lime of his cologne. They had gotten lost in the moment, and hadn’t even noticed that the umbrella that they had been carrying had dropped to the ground.

She remembers how he had tasted of coffee and chocolate that day. How her knees had buckled with the kiss. How she had felt all woman. How she had wanted more. How she had felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. How she had felt like the only woman in the world. How she had suddenly turned into a princess. How the kiss had felt like a warm hearth on a heartless winter day. How she had felt enveloped in rainbows and roses and sunbeams and stars and everything beautiful, all the stuff of mushy movies and books. It had felt charming, romantic, a gesture from another time.

She hadn’t been able to name the strange but beautiful sensation that emerged in her heart, but it had felt like something she had been waiting all her life to arrive.

There had been nothing vulgar, nothing cheap, nothing slanderous about the way he had kissed her. And in the way she had kissed him back. It had felt natural. She still remembers how everything had felt magical at that moment, destined, as if that was the way it was always meant to be.

When she had come to, she had realised that that moment had been one of the very few times she hadn’t been terrorised by the thought of meeting a man just like her ex-husband, a man who had loved giving her big, fat bruises on her face if she refused to kiss him. She had realised that she had been bruised, but not scarred. She had realised that she had walked away from her ex, really and truly, and from all the sorts of pain he had inflicted. She had crossed over from darkness to light. She had allowed herself to. She had tided over the dreadfulness and she had, really and truly, arrived home.

Their kisses in the rain had never ceased after that day.

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For the week’s Magpie

That day, during dinner at our house

I couldn’t take my eyes off her that day, during dinner at our house. I was captivated by her milky white skin, her perfect features and her soft, soft hair. The diamonds that glittered in her ears drew my attention. I was entranced by her beautiful, manicured hands, and her deep red nail polish that was the exact shade of her lipstick. The elegant way in which she moved her fork and knife and daintily picked at her food mesmerised me.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her that day, and marvel at how smart and beautiful she had turned out in life – quite the street-smart businesswoman, so different from me.  And, to think that she and I had been so similar, soul sisters, in fact, back in our college days! My mind couldn’t stop wandering to those days, and comparing her then and now.

I loved her all the more for laughing with me the same way she used to back in college. Internally, she hasn’t changed one bit in these 6 years, I thought. I was glad I had bumped into her at the supermarket a week ago, and invited her over for dinner.

She seemed to like Jim too, and complimented him on what a wonderful pair we made and what a lovely house we kept.

If only I had come out of my reverie that day, during dinner at our house, I would have noticed that Jim was mesmerised by her, too. Completely, utterly, smitten. 

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For the week’s prompt over at Magpie Tales.

It has been a long time since I have attempted fiction, so please to pardon me if I have gotten a little rusty! 🙂