Fallback careers

I avert my gaze from a monstrous HVDC transmission textbook, and  I see my vision obscured with vivid images that persuade me to pluck a pen from the stand and scribble a drabble.
Whatever happened to my passion for engineering? If at all I had any. But what I do know is that creative writing has definitely proved to be my best companion. It alleviates my mind and works as a good stress buster.
So now I’m pretty sure what my fallback career would be if engineering doesn’t really work out for me. Just like I have this inclination towards writing , you might have towards painting , singing or some other extraordinary talent. Honestly , you must never give up on these. Because they are the ones which are substantial solace when everything else in your life starts falling apart.
So the next time you start feeling a little queasy and uncertain about your life , I urge you to make the right decision about your career and cling onto dear life.

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The pink syndrome

Whoever has the pink syndrome? Not me, though. A plain accepted or rather a stereotypical thought among the men and some other eccentric women is that pink goes well for any girly equipment. Whether it is a silly frock or any equipment used by women, they always come in pink or shades of pink. This makes me wonder. Am I the only girl who has a strange distaste for the colour pink? Right since my childhood years, I’ve never really understood why pink is supposedly considered to be a girly colour. I don’t comprehend the insane logic behind the same. All my life I’ve considered all colours equal and do not have a strong inclination towards pink.            Yet every single time I’ve shopped, the women’s section has always been pouring with pink dresses , pink accessories and moreover, even any styling equipment turns out to have this nasty colour.
Why don’t they go for blue, green , purple ? Ugh. I’m no fan of the silly Barbie pink .
I remember going to a shop once when I asked for something and the bloke showed me a whole box of pink products and I nearly gasped. Is there really no other colour existing or are they restricted from being used by women? Jeez. I never really can say enough of this.
I’d just wish to say everyone that pink is not a girl’s colour for god’s sake! It’s a just a plain mild shade that perhaps looks good on some women and honestly speaking, stop stereotyping colours.

The mirror of positivity

We always have those times when at home or anywhere else, a mirror hung on the wall grabs our attention like no other.
Whether it’s just a pane of glass on a reflective window or even a teeny weeny piece peeking out from the most extraordinary of places, we stop by and glance. And there are other times, when we gasp at these reflections, wondering how we changed so much overnight.  Well it could also mean that the light effects in the area could have transformed you into a better looking person or unfortunately ugly. So this makes you feel that a mirror is more so an illusion and you never really know when to believe what you are seeing.
I’ve experienced the same when I’ve travelled places. The mirror in my home seems to be awfully obedient showing only my best self and that’s why it turns out to be my favourite. When I encounter my ugly self in the mirror of somebody else’s home, I just stop and gasp . Disoriented  as I feel, I don’t really know which one I’m supposed to believe and which one I shouldn’t. This is how I termed the situation as ‘ The mirror of positivity’. Those are the ones which reflect your best self and infuse you with a great deal of optimism.
Likewise, there are people who could be referred the same way. Some point out your best and persuade you to believe that you are unique and equally wonderful. There are also others who constantly undermine your abilities and point out your not-so-good self. Which is why we need to ascertain what kind of people alleviate our growth and always stay with them. Maybe then we would could focus on our best selves in these mirrors of positivity and embrace a delightful living.

Those times

That day we first met

Your eyes spoke substantial

And I pranced in their depths

Like another silly butterfly.

I remember the way

Gray patches on the sky

Spoke for us

And gently burst into silvery Droplets

that you called ‘tears’ .

The perfume that I wore

And your searing scent

Still lingers on my mind

And I never cease to turn

Into a foggy mess

Of nostalgia

And then you gazed at me

Feigning emotions after emotions-

When my fingers trembled

With apparent tension

Between just the two of us!

And when I think of the times

We sat together In that very place-

Like we knew each other since years

I’d felt the deceit in your eyes

But I only shrugged it off.

The way your lips twitched

On every mention of your name

Like you hated it

I should have known That it was not the name

But the person who said  it

That made you wince in discomfort.

And I would dismiss my feelings away

Like a shepherd does to his flock of sheep

But in vain-

For they are not dauntless enough to flee;

Likewise, the sentiments that I felt.

And now I breathe hard

and hold back the tears

Whenever I think of those times

I momentarily had thought you to be mine!

copyright © Varina Rasquinha 2015

Change

Sojourns

Of meandering changes-

Wafting soft brevity

Of lilting time

Into the protean whispers of

Evolution.

One that could turn ivy of the
monsoons

To sunflowers of summer.

Change-

Like the dew drops on an early
morning

That succumb to the scalding afternoons

And turn swiftly into oblivion.

Change is for the living.

One that we adore and equally abhor…

Haiku 6

Milestones

Grimace alongside

Dirt-caked asphalts.

Flash fiction

Pallid sketches of twilight dance on the frontiers of his face. The creases on his wrinkly shirt murmur despicably as they stick to his withered body. He crawls closer to my feet. I’m no drunkard’s mercy .I scoff.
I look up towards the sky. The moon was at its fullest tonight.
I see an overview of the houses that sat with their torsos clinging to each other. They mock at my loneliness.
Somewhere in the neighbouring streets, dogs howl wolfishly.
I look down at the man gathered at my feet and imagine his wife sitting by the window in anticipation of her husband as she puts her children to sleep.
The stars of the sky camouflage as sunlight creeps with the first breath of dawn. I dim out. I’m a street lamp and my work is over for the night. I close my eyes as the city comes to life.

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Hanging by a thread

The darkness shrouded her thoughts;

But her soul rekindled the flame,

amidst the precarious moments that she fought!