Pink – The Chosen Envelope

Pink- The Chosen Envelope

The Chosen Envelope

As the Pink envelope lay on the table, tasting the dust with her family of envelopes closely kept together, she couldn’t help but wonder when her time would come. It had been ages since Pink’s elder brother was chosen to hold a letter within him and be delivered to their owner’s lover.
The owner— Pink recalls— was Lilly, a girl who bought her family from a gift shop. Lilly always decorated her envelopes with sparkles and ribbons and made cute heart symbols on them. That’s how Pink knew that Lilly sent them to her lover. ‘Has she got herself new envelopes?’ The mere thought sent a shiver down Pink’s folds. Don’t be paranoid, she sighed.
‘There comes Lilly! Finally my time has come.’ She rejoiced on seeing Lilly slide the chair of her writing table.
‘Congratulations Pink! It’s your day!’ Whispered her sister who hid below her.
Lilly adjusted her glasses which had turned hazy due to some reasons. It was the first time that Pink witnessed Lilly crying while writing a letter. The ink made wet pits in various spots wherever her tears landed on the page. Pink, on the other hand, forgot everything about the joy of becoming the chosen one. Pink was worried for Lilly.
Once Lilly was done pouring her heart out in the letter, she folded it neatly and picked up Pink. She opened Pink’s flap and placed the letter inside, neatly gluing it together. Today, there were no ribbons nor any sparkling glitter but only a 3 line address. As Lilly carried Pink to the mailbox, Pink couldn’t help but feel pity towards her, ‘What went wrong with my dear?’

The next thing she felt, however, was absolutely nothing. Lilly clutched her tight as she descended the stairs but as she was about to slide Pink in the mailbox, she saw her ex-boyfriend walking hand in hand with his new girl & her whole world came trembling down on the petty letter in her hand that had his address on it.


Post Script:

Last month, I wrote this short story as a submission to a huge writing firm but unfortunately there hasn’t been a reply yet. (I’m sure they’ve tons of better submissions.) Nevertheless, thanks to them for the lovely muse and to make me think what goes in the mind of an envelope. One of my personal favorite tales!
And did you know while I was gone, all the post were posted by a great writer friend of mine: Pooja Mukherjee. Find all her posts here: Author
Have a happy weekend!


©The Honest Fabler
©Image Credits- Google Images

Inner Joy (A Happy Heart)

“Happy” is just a word. It doesn’t mean anything more than a random jumble of letters that I decide makes up a word. Happiness is a rush. It is also a slow burn. It comes all at once but it also builds up like a plotline with intense suspense. Everything builds up to one apex.

It can’t be something superficial, or something that only lasts for a day or two. It’s something that affects your entire life. It lasts. It burns inside of you and it doesn’t go out. That is happiness.

Happiness is a warm feeling. When we are happy we feel a sense of meaning and purpose in our lives. The journey to happiness is not achieving success or having enough things, it is not productivity or affirmation from others. The road to happiness is a life of purpose where our desires extend far beyond meeting our own needs and into the rich world of service to others.

How we feel about ourselves, the joy we get from living, ultimately depends directly on how the mind filters and interprets everyday experiences. Whether we are happy depends on inner harmony not on the controls we are able to exert over the great forces of the universe.

“The real happiness is to enjoy the scenery when on a detour.”

“Happiness is a sunbeam which may pass through a thousand bosoms without losing a particle of its original ray; when it strikes on a kindred heart, like the converged light on a mirror, it reflects itself with redoubled brightness. It is not perfected till it is shared.’’


©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google Images

WOMANHOOD

|| Womanhood ||

The word which was alien to me struck in my mind. Out of curiosity, I went to search its meaning from the “Collin’s Advance Dictionary” which states —Womanhood. The state of being a woman rather than a girl.

I’m not sure whether the dictionary talks about only physical or mental status into account or not. So, the very term is baffling to me.

I remember once my father called me in the house when I was playing Holi with some guys and girls in the street, albeit, I played in the same manner last year. His strange behaviour puzzled me.

I went straight up to the terrace and watched my brother who is 10 years elder to me continue having fun with them. I was given no valid explanation for such behaviour, apart from the concrete statement that “I’m grown up now”.

I still didn’t find out what does that “grown up” meant at that time, I always wondered, “Have I attained womanhood?”

Simone de Beauvoir wrote in the ‘Second Sex‘ that “One is not born, but rather becomes a woman.” & in today’s context the quotation finds its meaning. I don’t know at what point of time I was termed as a “woman” but the world, present or past is witness to the fact that the very term has brutally mutilated the wings of independence of an individual.

Womanhood is just like a GPS chip that is installed in an experimental animal. A wild animal in a forest which help to trace out their position.
I can relate myself in ‘Oceana’ just like ‘Winston Smith‘ of 1984 being always in the radar of ‘The Big Brother’ . This Big Brother is not an individual but the society of unknown and virtuosity, which is more concerned about me than myself.

I found myself sitting beside ‘Simon de Beauvoir’ struggling to find the lost identity. I found myself among the stones in the pockets of ‘Virginia Wolf’ drowned in the river. I, too, felt suffocated with ‘Sylvia Plath’. I wander madly to search a true and divine love for ‘Kamla Das’. I’m fighting with the Government so that ‘Mary Ann Evans’ could be known by her real name & so that no woman needs the shelter of ‘Masculine Umbrella’ to prove her worth. Even after trying so hard I was lying on the roadside of Delhi and watching my end coming near.

I don’t know whether this struggle will ever end or not but I’m never going to give up. I’ll never let me fail whether Constitution grant me reservation or not.
My ‘Womanhood‘ is my territory and I am learning to reign it. I don’t fear to fight and protect it.
Despite having cropped wings, I managed to flay to the space.
I speak loud in the Parliament so that everyone can wake up.

My Womanhood makes me the creator. I am a Mother and a Nourisher. I am the deity as the holy book suggests but still I have an unending war to fight with my own people and it will continue till the time unknown. In the bottom line I would like to quote a verse in Sanskrit

यत्र नार्यस्तु पूज्यन्ते रमन्ते तत्र देवताः ।
यत्रैतास्तु न पूज्यन्ते सर्वास्तत्राफलाः क्रियाः ।।

Let you all find whether it is a satire or an irony.


©The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee

©Image source- Google Images

The Secret Sister of Awan Alee

The Secret Sister of Awan Alee

Before you start your journey with Awan, I would like if all of you read my note about it. 

Author’s Note.

The password is “sister” (Ignore the quotation marks)


17th August 2016

Dear sister,
Hello shaqiqa! How’ve you been? It’s been 18 years since we talked, that’s sad I know but I’ll surely talk to you more often from now on. 🙂 To start with our introductions, I’ll go first: I now live in India, isn’t that awesome? I came here just a few days ago. As you know our country has an active civil war which is just getting worse and thus our parents decided that I should stay away from all of it. Amongst all the places that we could afford, India was better than the rest. No complaints though, I’m happy over here. Last 9 days have been great! (Until today, of course) My hostel room over here is wonderful, I share it with 2 guys- Naveen and Azure. Naveen (aka the buffoon) is the heart of our entertainment. The TV room is always packed with students so unsurprisingly it’s out of our list of places to hang out. It’s our hostel room where we hang around most of the time and Naveen is the one who makes us not want to count the tiles on the floor or the petty cracks on the smoggy walls of our building. Long live the buffoon! Azure, on the other hand, is a bit shy. Like me, he’s new to this country. He’s from Iraq by the way, next to our Syria! We’re the only people he talks to, all day. So far we made many acquaintances since we have to spend 4 more years together (That’s how long it takes to do engineering in India.) and it’s great to know people from so many different cultures and traditions. Oh, it’s so selfish of me to talk about myself, I’m sorry. Let’s get to know you. 

Here’s what I know about you: You’re beautiful, you’re elder to me because I want to call you didi. Didi is what they call an elder sister in Hindi. I like our Arabic term ‘shaqiqa’ too but didi sounds cute, doesn’t it? So, you’re…Uh… Let’s say 22 y/o, not too old and not too young. (PS don’t worry I’ll never mention your age again, promise) Now, you must be wondering why I need an imaginary sister as my diary. It’s due to 

  1.   You’re not my “imaginary” sister, you’re my “only” sister! This brings me to the reason why I’m not happy today.
  2.  Yesterday was a holiday on account of something called “Rakshabandhan”. 

The term being completely foreign to me and Azure, Naveen explained us it’s meaning and I still couldn’t completely get it. But the general idea is that the sister of a brother ties her brother’s wrist a string that translates in Sanskrit to “a knot of protection” and the brother promises to protect her and I guess you understood the meaning and also the reason why I suddenly needed a sister. Today looking at the hands’ of the guys in my classroom I felt envious. It brought all the mixed feelings I ever felt about other people having siblings and me having none, burst out all at once. I kept my peace all day but now that I couldn’t sleep- the clock says 1:23 a.m.- I had to do something and this is how I’m gonna fill in the empty space of my life.

Hush, I’m back. I went to wash my face. You know, I love the feeling of living on my own, oh the responsibilities that I have *sigh* I wish I could tell you all about it now. But tomorrow I’ve to wake up early, water supply is limited from 6-6:30, so good night! Happy dreams. See ya soon. 


PS- The idea of having an imaginary sister as a diary is inspired by my own life. 😛
The next part would be posted next Tuesday, stay tuned!
©The Honest Fabler
©Cover credits- Google Images

Hunger Games

The baker’s son walked out the door
with a burnt bun and a swollen cheek.
“Feed it to the dogs!
You useless thing.”
Yelled his mother after him.

Moments later the pain
was replaced by satisfaction
when the homeless girl ate
after a week of starvation.


©The Honest Fabler(Hunger games- excerpt)
©Cover credits- Google Images