Klash of the Konfessioners

March 19, 2016


Filed under: Uncategorized — The Musketeers @ 4:27 pm

Nandini Sen

Heave, push, shudder…. Heave, push, puuuush.
The white blanket shuddered, the loose snow fell down the slope… And the heaving and pushing went on from beneath.
After an eternity the tiny green shoot with a curled leaf peeped out of the ground.
A robin came out of her nest and rejoiced at the new birth…. The shoot sprung out and announced Spring.


Richa Gupta

The car was crawling along in the rush hour traffic. She looked out of the window and stared at her reflection in the glass. She was scared…had been scared and worried for over 6 weeks now. Her decision to become a single mother was already a very bold one but to do that at her age, it was downright risky. She had battled every criticism and stood her ground. She wanted a child…she wanted to be a mother.
There was no husband to go with her, no one who will hold her hand and even though she had accepted the fact, it still brought a pang. This was her first ultrasound… she bit her lip to stop from crying…she prayed that her body was providing a safe and healthy environment for the baby.
An hour later she walked out and looked around. For the first time in months realizing that all the snow had melted. She noticed tiny daffodils growing outside the doctor’s office. She placed a protective hand on her belly where her baby was growing….safe and healthy. In her empty life…Spring had finally arrived.



Clatter of the window panes woke me up. A cool easterly was blowing the curtains away. The sky was turning deep red, but the sun was yet to be seen. Koo-ooo, koo-ooo, a koel was singing somewhere. Ki-ki-ki, the female responded only after a few calls. I used to get irritated by this sound. Not now.
I glanced at the wall clock, it was still ten minutes to six. She must be standing there, under the mango tree, books clutched under her arms, waiting impatiently for the rickshaw. If I miss today, I won’t be able to see her for next five days. Damn these board people, why keep such long gaps between two papers.
I got up with a start and leapt out of bed. Ouch, my legs, they hurt.
“What happened” my wife asked turning lazily towards me, “why in such a hurry?”
Then I realized. It has been more than thirty five years, but Spring still reminds me of that dusky niece of Khanna Uncle, who came in our colony, to write her Board exams. She never came again, but her innocent round face with mischievous smile is still fresh in my mind.



the eternal season of hope.
tweeting and chatting, the happiness contagious
ask the dancing murmuring.
Flowers popping, smiles blooming.
But ask me,
what i liked the most,
and I’ll say spring cleaning.

That one time of the year, I went down to the old outhouse. The out house itself should’ve been gone. Just like all the things inside of it. The only living thing was that old creeper on the dead wall. But a million lives lived through here.
Dust covered time. The cleaning uncovered memories. But every element told stories. Old photographs hung theirs. Fridge magnets that journeyed here. Diaries from journeys that made me who I am but I have most definitely forgotten these details. And somewhere under the scripts, scribbles and doodles, lies a gold embossed diary that reads ‘Klash’. I flip through the pages till I spot a blank one and begin to write.

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