Across oceans

Yet another stream of incoherent/coherent(take it the way you want) thoughts ...

at shores of time,
together they played
twisting the mantle of time.

vast was the pool
of the ocean blue,
that they tried to empty.

time stayed still
with their laughter-fill,
but then it came
with a warp
torn apart swiftly,
thrown into the mantle.

she laments still
at shores of time,
'O brother! O brother!
My friend of old'

across oceans
souls still search,
for their friend of old,
yet unbeknown.

Strange dreams

Once again I fell asleep on the couch, in my desperate effort(which later turned out to be not so desperate) to fall asleep. It was pretty cold, but still I managed to sleep without a blanket. That's the only reason I could think of, for the strange phenomenon of remembering a dream (people don't normally remember their dreams). But there was one line, which I said to myself that I remember in particular about the dream with a sheet of paper in hands, 'Hey, this is too funny. I should take a blank sheet of paper and write about it'. And I believe that's what I am precisely doing now, though technically it's just typing.

Osama Bin Laden and the pressure cooker

Yes, that's the title of the story inspired by my dream. It's alright, you can laugh. Part one of the story goes like this ....

'It's so unusually cold', I said to myself as I tossed and turned in my bed at my home in the tropics, unable to sleep and disgruntled, complaining to myself.

'Ding dong', there rings the door bell. 'Oh well, that gives me a reason to get up, this early', I said to myself staring at the wall clock. The clock hands showed the time to be precisely 6:15 . 'Whoever is at the front door, has great timing', I went on rambling to myself as I dressed. And being my usual self, I dashed down the stairs to get to the door.

That's the way I normally get to 'the door' from my upstairs room, back at home. O, I miss this!

Without doing any harm to myself I stood at the landing of the stairs, staring at the ornate doors still pondering, 'Who could be the bugger on the other side of the door?' I moved to the door, unbolted and unlocked it, opening the heavy door slowly to the visitor. Wolla, there stood my younger cousin who had just finished high-school that spring, and his band of brothers.

Even with my natural quality of precarious lacking in observational skills, I still managed to see their disarray of clothes. 'Well. come on in', even as I said it my cousin Tom looked a tad embarrassed and I continued in my most amicable tone(mimicking after my father), 'What are you waiting for, another grant invitation?'

The three teenagers filed in through the front door with my cousin trying to give a logical explanation to their ramshackled appearance after a night out. 'We missed the last bus home, after the cinemas yesterday night. But then as we wondered what we'll do, we saw the bus here and boarded it', said Tom.

'And you boys spent the night in the bus?', I replied, rolling my eyes.

'No', he lied through his teeth. From the expression on their faces, it was evident that those gangly boys had done something close to that. 'We slept on the porch', he said nervously eying outside.

'Oh, then you must have seen my ma and pa, leaving early', I said still observing the nervous train wrecks before me, 'Why didn't they let you inside?'

'Hmm, well, we went to grab a cup of tea from the store. So we missed them', Ayaz helped on his faithful friend.

'There is no point in getting them to contradict themselves this early during the day. I can catch them at it later. Besides they look exhausted', so thinking I inquired, 'Why don't you be seated? I'll get you some breakfast.'

As I was about to steer myself to the kitchen, George asked, 'Can I have some milk, please? If possible warm?'

I gave an apologetic look at the boys who were huddled on the sofa, rubbing their hands together, 'You must be cold. Let me get you some blankets.' After bundling the boys in light blankets I inquired, 'Would you boys like to have cocoa in your milk?' With their mute nodes, I left for the kitchen to make some breakfast of pancakes and toast and tea and hot cocoa.
This is a most unlikely thing to happen when I were at home.

While serving the breakfast I gently prodded them with light questions as to why they were really at my home. I glued together, the few bits of clues that they accidentally dropped through their answers and found that my prodigious brother is going to give my family a surprise visit that day. Still with what little the teens said, there wasn't a definite answer to where they spent the night. And Tom did not trust me with secrets as much as he trusted my brother, for I was plain outrageous to him, simply because I shared the necessary facts with the older generation. For this reason alone, the boys in the family like to keep their sisters in the dark.

Well, there is some truth in this part.

To be continued ...