Klash of the Konfessioners

July 10, 2011


Filed under: Uncategorized — The Musketeers @ 11:33 pm



1.goodby; may you fare well: Farewell, and may we meet again in happier times.
2.an expression of good wishes at parting: They made their farewells and left.
3.leave-taking; departure: a fond farewell.
4.a party given to a person who is about to embark on a long journey, retire, leave an organization, etc.
5.parting; valedictory; final: a farewell performance.
Origin: from Middle English  faren wel; usually said to the departing person, who replied with good-bye .

Kunal Sen (149)

Can you imagine all this from the point of view of a girl, who until last year, had done it all: loved two men and then unloved them, ran away, wrote songs, saved rivers, cried along; a girl who became so unabashedly independent that the mere thought of companionship, of sharing a room, a dream, a life; turned not only disquieting, but downright offensive? And today she finds herself in an unmanageable Benarasi-silk saree, replete with incongruous jewellery and traces of tears in lowered eyes, her once peroxided hair tucked under the ghonghta on her head. Throwing rice behind her, she exchanges one abode for another and starts worrying about things she had never thought of wearing before; safety pins, heavy earrings, key-chains and surnames, while trying to find her own identity in her new life, a life that for some odd reason, she didn’t get to pick.

Frank (148)

Lisa’s parties always bring the whole bunch together. But tonight the usual crowd from school is joined by family and neighbours. Tomorrow Lisa’s leaving for Brazil, to spend a whole year as a volunteer in a favela – but who believes that?
“If she was my daughter …,” a man proclaims, rocking slightly, for emphasis and on account of the beer.
The  women have already talked their throats sore and are cooling them with champagne. Isn´t this supposed to be a celebration? – Lisa´s final exams, Lisa´s plans to study medicine next year, Lisa´s adventure  – like a giant rock blocking the entrance to a safe haven.
Her friends are dancing to fast music. In between words like drumbeats:   “useful”, “far from home”, “culture shock”, “her boyfriend?” He`s zigzagging towards her. The strobe lights go berserk: “No,”  “worries,” “always,”  “be my,”  “girl.”
Lisa turns around, ‘I´m not leaving to remain the same.’

Divenita (71)

Jumped in the puddle
Splash on your face, embarrassed!
Earned your angry gaze

Your nascent bosom,
And the captivating looks
Took my breath away

Who was it, with you?
Looked like, was deeply in love
My heart burned

Your eyes moist, I cried
I cursed him every minute
And prayed for your life

Prayers were answered
You earned a beautiful life
It cost me my life

DokSaab (117)

I could see him through the window.  They were about to leave. He was looking so handsome, calm and pale.  I so intensely wanted to go hug and kiss him.

Don’t bother me Vipin, I’m busy.
“I’m going, Honey and just wanted you to give me a hug.”
Come on! We’re not newlyweds. And you’re just going to the office.
“But my day goes well when………….”
You…… ok, tomorrow I’ll give you a hug and a kiss too, God promise.   

I tried to run out and catch him but my legs became weak and shaky. I shouted but he didn’t respond. He kept on lying peacefully, draped in the white sheet, rose petals scattered all over him.

ruSh.Me  (149)

“Well, hello, we meet again!”
‘Hello, yourself!”
“Yes, it’s almost like a routine now!”
“Ha ha, a 7-to-8 work schedule!”
“I was sort of waiting for you, err.. as in.. waiting for it!”
“Oh! You were missing me?”
“Yes. No. Not out-of-my-head missing.  Just a general eagerness.”
“So how was your day?”
“Mildly interesting; the kitchen tap suddenly started spewing water; the maid didn’t come today and eternal blame game between the 2 women is never-ending!”
“Wow that is certainly a productive day, as per my standards; my existence is purely at the mercy of system.”
“No, don’t say like that, I love meeting you at these god-forsaken times; and parting again, till tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s terribly sweet of you! I remember the first time we met and you hated me for burning the life out of yo…”

Lucita darling, put out the candle, will you? The power’s back!

Genuine Fake(150)

That early morning phone call and I knew Shantanu wanted me to wake up for his big day. I turned on the bed and watched the fan blades cut through air. It was unusually quiet.
As the curtains fluttered, giving me glimpses of the rising sun, I thought about Shaan. His gregarious instinct, impulsive choices, vague ideas about ‘freedom’ and his chivalry made him so attractive… his dedicated nonchalance toward commitment and its various instances, made me crack up; just as the same time the morning did.
I looked at a photograph of us. We always were different. Yet we dwell together, side by side. Like two islands divided by oceans.
And we’ve come a long way at that.
Amidst our whirlwind romance, a wedding at twenty, a quick divorce and now, his second wedding…We never said farewell.
The phone rang.  “It is time”, he exclaimed.
“Is it?”… I choked.

Jennifer (144)

Au revoir
There is this crescent shaped void
that overlaps sometimes
sleeps like red bricks
burns like charcoal on slow sand
sinks like quicksilver
rains rapidly on a thing
that looks like my
mind someday.
On other days
it’s just a non existent
clueless something
minus me.

It spells like thirst;
lip-syncs in
quick succession like
an unapproved mumble.

There is this indescribable emptiness
that is suave
handsome, incisive
divisive, territorial
irresistibly resistant.

Almost like a silhouette of a map
in between
the weather and a country; forlorn
like an ageing coliseum or
a frayed manuscript.

There is this space that
refuses to fill
refuses to die
yet throbs like an uncut vein
thinks like the


between the words and the
entourage of wounds…

Your absence remains an incision
painfully visible
and undeniably

Kshitiz (150)

Bags on shoulder, books in bag
Stars in eyes, Ideas in head
Education was for sale, grades had a price tag
Resistance met rejection, on a thin line we tread
But we tried

Arms of steel, smart as a whip
The officer rejected us, on his radar we were just a tiny blip
Recommendations met purses, we had to come again
But we tried

We got the uniform after numerous tries
We were the police, its pride was our prize
Our colleagues got cars, we had scooters
But we tried

The city was burning, bullets were spraying everywhere
Duty had called, terror had struck & we were there
The bullet had made a 6mm hole in your heart
Freedom met death; your name was on the martyr chart
The city still explodes, the politicians still promise
Your sacrifice has become a story of the dead
Goodbye my friend, you tried.

Sowmya (132)

Goodbye bills and nasty ills
I will never worry about you again
Goodbye seconds and leftover chicken
Now I can feed the entire nation

Goodbye heat and unfulfilled treats
I will now have silk under my feet
Goodbye buses and crowded trains
And to all the daily pains

No more waiting in line or trembling for favors benign
I will just click and snap to get a solitaire fine
No more nine to five seven days a week
Luck, laughter and lust will make the day mine

I will gladly say ‘I do’
What if he is fifty-two
He has three houses and cars few
Not to mention the swimming pool blue

So I have compromised
Few years for the wealth desired
I am happy and signing
Here is to new beginnings

Mandappa (129)

Goodbye is too good a word girl
farewell is just as kind.
it’s all kinda unnecessary for all the pain you’ve left behind

but fare the well o pieces of my heart
i know i let you hurt. and how.
you should be gone now

for the occult snake can poison you.
with its fangs as harsh as life.
but that pain doesnt compare
to a beautiful butterfly. bleeding you dry.

ouch. the pain to see your beauty queen
bare her teeth, that lil vampire sheen.
but that doesn’t hurt as much when your dream.
she whispers. i love you through her sweet smile
as she bites you neck deep.

Goodbye’s too good a word girl.
Farewell is just as kind.
Fare the well o pieces of my heart.


You dressed me for school, you made me lunch
Mom, you & me, were the happiest bunch
I was your princess & you were my king
You taught me to walk, run & swirl
Cause Daddy, I was your little girl

I got big & had my own friends
You were always there, to see me through the bends
Met my prince, he was from a different culture & caste
When people came to know, everyone was aghast
But you came & straightened all the curls
Cause Daddy, I was your little girl

You lie in the bed on life support
The doctor says, we will have to wait & watch
My little boy, my husband, lot of things I have to see
The hospital bills are a bit costly
Goodbye Daddy, I ask to take you off support
I hope you understand, Cause Daddy, I am your little girl

Utsav (150)

Childhood: A Missed Farewell

We were advised against it but,
Were stupefied enough to play with fire.
Tried to take off and touch the sky,
Wasn’t us! Birds created this burning desire.

Could run faster than anything that moved,
It was a belief that had no cause.
We must have been too young back then,
For we never knew all things went by laws.

Got burned and bruised, but mostly scolded,
And finally had to follow the word.
Started living an experienced life, not ours,
Never heard of the things we never heard.

Time flew, seasons drifted, and
Years were merely a thing to celebrate.
I didn’t need the word anymore,
My life was mine and things seemed great.

My nephew begged me to play today,
Finally I ran and won, but without the joy.
Was suddenly struck by this realization, that
My oldest friend had left, without saying goodbye.

Pinkrose Petals (150)

The night was dark and silent
As we lay in our beds
Praying for the loving family
No pillows for our heads.

Visitors come
They see our little smiling faces
But there lies a different world behind our smiles.
For us life is a torment, full of stresses.

To get a home, home sweet home
The longing is more longer
Waiting for our turn to come
When life would take us away, to foster.

We don’t know where have we come from
and where would we go
Tomorrow again someone will come
And one of us will go.

The rest of  us with broken heart,
Sing for his future so bright.
He would see this world so big
We will live with  woeful plight.

Now we lay here in the darkness,
With thoughts racing through our heads.
Hoping to get a family,
When, we would get up from our beds

***Since we hadn’t specified IST in our deadline, Richa (living in the USA) was technically within time when she sent her take well past midnight and we could not refuse her a chance to kompete***

Richa Gupta (104)

Once you were a child
So sweet tempered and mild
You had so many ambitions and dreams
Fulfilling them…so hard it seemed
There was a mountain of hard work
From which you never shirked

Guided by teachers your goals were set
They taught you the good, the better and the best
Today you can look back and see
All your work and patience, that was they way to be

You are going out to join a new world
Let your life glow and shine like a pearl
People with choices… like you… are so few
With sad and happy hearts we wish you “adieu”



  1. divenita: thanks so much for voting in and being the first at that.

    kshitij: thank you, yes the pace is more even, lush and relentless, unlike for example, the thought-duel like last entry (‘Highbury’) where you needed that silence and breathing space and interjection to set up the pay offs. there was an element of the repartee and the contradiction and the comeback, while this is more one-sided.

    jennifer: that is quite spot on. actually, it is interesting that any metonym also by default helps feed the stereotype….and while on one hand, i do love Breakfast Club and its use of that kind of transmogrifying disintegration but i can’t even start with such clarity in characters let alone prototypes….i love my flawed ones living in their own sort of contradictory idealism….even here, i don’t think she’d be able to change…..she might remain a neo-nazi chick but one in a taingai saree with fire in her eyes…. that’s interesting to me… and that the before and after is all happening at once and these guys won’t basically change….and i love that thing about them.

    frank: thank you. i never really consciously thought about the start-to-finish coherence and equanimity while posting this, this again, is as much a fragment and as less a stand-alone as the previous pieces; but i agree, that it is at least a recognizable fragment rather than a jigsaw- piece without a reference point.

    genuine fake: thanks a lot for those words…for a while there i felt this could be perceived as having misogynistic undertones so am gratified that the interpretation goes quite beyond that rather surficial reading because she’s spectacular… the downside though is that i don’t normally do sharp, coherent that well so this might’ve just been one of the exceptions than the rule.

    utsav: grateful for your vote….

    doksaab: thanks a ton, felt this fit within the realms of the theme word and is straight only in its attire. i fully agree that the template, the shell is less impervious, almost a hook in a way.

    sowmya: thanks for taking the time out and voting

    musketeers: you give me far too much credit there….btw, the hall of fame wall is amazingly, commendably maintained……could never do it….marveling….

    Comment by Kunal Sen — August 4, 2011 @ 11:58 pm

  2. Congrats Kunal 🙂 Way to go

    Comment by Jenny — August 3, 2011 @ 7:03 pm

  3. Congrats Kunal.. Well deserved!

    Comment by divenita — August 3, 2011 @ 4:42 pm

  4. Final Points Tally:
    Kunal Sen………….9 (2 Divenita +2 GF +3 Utsav +2 Sowmya)
    Frank……………..5 (2 DokSaab +2 Jenny +1 Avvari)
    Sowmya…………….4 (2 Kshitiz +2 Neha)
    Jenny……………..4 (2 Kunal +2 Richa)
    Divenita…………..2 (2 ruSh.Me)
    DokSaab……………2 (2 Frank)

    Comment by Knk Klash — August 3, 2011 @ 12:53 pm

  5. We don’t think we should wait any longer to declare Kunal Sen the winner of July Klash!!

    Kongrats Kunal, you’ve influenced Klash in a big way!
    We’ve increased the word limit, and we are not rigid about including the theme word in the takes just because of your tenacity (I dont know if that’s the right word ?)
    Please mail us the next word at submissionsknk@gmail.com (please give two choices for us to choose from) You can see the past words we’ve done at https://klashknk.wordpress.com/hall-of-fame/

    Comment by The Musketeers — August 3, 2011 @ 10:43 am

  6. I am soooo sorry….my vote is for Jenny…the last lines have been haunting me ever since!!!

    Comment by Richa Gupta — August 3, 2011 @ 10:25 am

  7. Votes so far:

    Kunal Sen………….9 (2 Divenita +2 GF +3 Utsav +2 Sowmya)
    Frank……………..5 (2 DokSaab +2 Jenny +1 Avvari)
    Sowmya…………….4 (2 Kshitiz +2 Neha)
    Jenny……………..2 (2 Kunal)
    Divenita…………..2 (2 ruSh.Me)
    DokSaab……………2 (2 Frank)

    Comment by The Musketeers — August 2, 2011 @ 8:42 pm

  8. Sorry sorry for the delay….My vote to Kunal....Thanks for all the encouraging komments and thanks Khsitiz and Neha for your precious votes….Wanted to komment but could not!!!

    Comment by S — August 2, 2011 @ 8:37 pm

  9. Votes so far:

    Kunal Sen………….7 (2 Divenita +2 GF +3 Utsav)
    Frank……………..5 (2 DokSaab +2 Jenny +1 Avvari)
    Sowmya…………….4 (2 Kshitiz +2 Neha)
    Jenny……………..2 (2 Kunal)
    Divenita…………..2 (2 ruSh.Me)
    DokSaab……………2 (2 Frank)

    Yet to vote (amongst the participants)

    Guys, should we wait for there votes?

    Comment by The Musketeers — August 2, 2011 @ 1:04 pm

  10. Farewell is a painful word for me. I always weep, often sans tears, whenever someone departs. I used to cry when my dad used to drop me at the school gate, and then when I dropped my son at his. I have always a fear maybe we’ll never meet again. Maybe reading Kabir Das’s couplet in early school days left this scar in my heart,
    पत्ता टूटा डाल से ले गयी पवन उडाय, अब के बिछडे कब मिले दूर पडे है जाय.
    So I always say फिर मिलते है while departing, hoping that we meet again.

    Now the comments. Its becoming so difficult to comment, with so many takes, and each so beautiful, that I feel humbled to read them and comment.

    1. Kunal Sen……………
    All my life (now in my fiftieth year, I can use this phrase) I’ve considered the traditional “Vidai” as parents giving farewell to the newly wed daughter. Your take makes me realize that farewell is not a one way affair. The girl also gives farewell to her parents and her past. Very beautifully described, and no, this time I hadn’t to read it even twice to understand. Maybe I’m getting used to your style of writing.

    2. Frank……………
    Three Klash old, and I’ve started liking your takes. I would definitely love to read more of your works (outside Klash). You’ve so beautifully created the ambiance of a farewell party. Lisa, like Claude, seems to be aloof in the crowd.
    p.s. Thanks for the vote, Sir!

    3. Divenita……………
    After fourth or fifth read the meaning of your poem became clearer to me. Only have some doubts on the last stanza. Lovely!

    4. ruSh.Me ……………
    Fantasizing while the power’s gone! Or is it the Candle talking to the match-stick? The conversation was interesting, but couldn’t get the association with the theme word.

    5. Genuine Fake……………
    I’ve always loved to read your takes. They are always so mature in thoughts. This one is so easy to read, touches the right chords, and makes a big impact. The theme word is used very well.

    6. Jennifer……………
    Jenny, your takes most of the time go above my head. They sound so good to read, but very difficult to understand. This one , to me , appears more about separation than farewell.

    7. Kshitiz……………
    Farewell to the dead soldier, nice concept, very patriotic, and read in the times when bombs are blasting at every nook and corner of the nation, very relevant.

    8. Sowmya……………
    ‘Farewell’ to all your problems, nice witty use of the theme word. Loved reading it, a welcome break from the heavy serious interpretations of the theme 🙂

    9. Mandappa……………
    Good to see you in Klash again. Sorry I couldn’t understand your take this time. Maybe I should give some more time to it later.

    10. Neha……………
    Daddy’s “little girl” letting him go! No this is not Mercy killing as Jenny interpreted it. It would have been euthanasia, had the Daddy been begging to die. You’ve very skillfully crafted a situation where the daughter has to choose between emotions and reality. Would things have been different if a son was in the same situation?

    11. Utsav……………
    Utsav, how long have you been out of the school? Because you reflect the sentiments I have 32 years after leaving the college. Very true, we don’t realize when our childhood leaves us, without a farewell. Good thinking.

    12. Pinkrose Petals……………
    Depicting how the children at a orphanage think, that’s so nice. I have been to some orphanages and interacted with the kids. They are lovely and innocent. Good take.

    13. Richa Gupta……………
    Richa ,don’t tell me you wrote it when you were in class 8th!!

    About my take, I always try to make farewells very sincere and warm. Many years ago, I went to see off my father at the taxi stand. I can’t forget the look in his eyes. I will repent all my life why didn’t I hug him while leaving.

    My vote: to Frank.

    Comment by DokSaab — August 2, 2011 @ 12:37 am

  11. Ah! Late Again.. 😛 Wanna sneak in my vote as well, for KUNAL 🙂

    Comment by Utsav — August 1, 2011 @ 8:26 pm

  12. Yes, indeed it is getting late. I would’ve really liked to comment on the pieces, but I cannot type this entire thing out through the phone. Will komment later.. For now, my vote is for KUNAL. I completely agree with Frank, on the flashy, sharp and very nice imagination of the post. It almost felt real, while reading the post out. Cheers, GF

    Comment by GF — August 1, 2011 @ 3:18 pm

  13. Thank you Frank!:)

    Comment by divenita — August 1, 2011 @ 2:01 pm

  14. Ah! Hope to explain it . Perhaps, on Facebook

    Comment by divenita — August 1, 2011 @ 2:01 pm

  15. Thank you Kunal. I would love to read your older pieces 🙂

    Comment by divenita — August 1, 2011 @ 2:00 pm

  16. Thank you 🙂

    Comment by divenita — August 1, 2011 @ 1:59 pm

  17. Thanks Jenny..Tried something new :):)

    Comment by divenita — August 1, 2011 @ 1:59 pm

  18. Its getting late, will comment if i get just a lil bit of time but excellent entries like always
    My vote Soumya

    Comment by Neha Agnihotri — July 31, 2011 @ 10:49 pm

    very flashy, sharp to the point and very coherent; if you wanted to you could be a very successful writer of flash fiction; indeed I think you´re one already.
    half a life in five very precise stanzas and a really unexpected punch line. I also like the absence of all but the most necessary punctuation and the deliberately abrupt rhythm which leaves you kinda breathless.
    heartbreaking and very modernist in its torn-apartness, its fine – quiet but intense – balancing of observation and participation. The impossibility to say farewell and/or receive a reply one can live with peacefully is a very big theme, rendered not only economically but also beautifully here. Three cheers for the word limit!
    quite mundane when compared to your gripping last entry, but expertly done nevertheless. No need to put the punch line in bold ink, though, it´s good enough without it.
    An entry that keeps getting stronger till the crescendo at the end. Would have preferred a little less description and maybe a bit of dialogue right at the beginning or, come to think of it, in the whole first part.
    Very nice to read a free verse poem by you again; I looked up your “India” poem and tell you frankly that I love it very much! Lavish use of adverbs and adjectives throughout in this piece, most of them justifiable, but I like the more memorable sentences better, such as “burns like charcoal on slow sand/sinks like quicksilver” or “forlorn like an ageing coliseum or a frayed manuscript”, which also set the tone for the piece. Identifying myself through the painful presence of an absence & through the ever-burning scars gives the theme word depth without being morose.
    An honest and deep-digging political poem, original and moving if you don´t concentrate on the clumsy rhymes (sorry, but what good are rhymes without metric verses?); I liked the refrain-like repetition of “But we tried” and it´s simple but very effective change in the last line – that´s true literary ballad style.
    I basically agree with Jennifer here, especially as far as the theme and the underlying irony are concerned. Although I´m not a fan of simple rhymes they work much better here to juxtapose the easy solution and the underlying subplot.
    with interesting bits and pieces but too confusing in layout and punctuation to leave a deeper impression.
    You are right, even when we have to take full responsibility for our parents we remain, deep down, their little children, full of longing for the lost security and love they used to bestow on us. Liked everything except the rhyme in the last stanza.
    A more lighthearted but nevertheless seriously and well written mourning for the lost, limitless joy you feel for trivial things and activities when young. I can identify with that.
    Simple and striking at the same time. “We” does not always do as a good point of view but here it´s just perfect because the children in the orphanage all feel the same – until they are taken away.
    interesting and quite touching in its juvenile innocence.

    Comment by Frank — July 31, 2011 @ 5:38 pm

  20. I really hoped I would be able to write at least some comments, but couldn’t managed any time. But, after going through each entry, one better than the other, I liked Divenita’s the best, my vote to her!

    Comment by ruSh.Me — July 30, 2011 @ 7:48 pm

  21. ‘Love me or hate me but you can’t ignore me’ works brilliantly for the narcissist 🙂

    Comment by Jenny — July 30, 2011 @ 2:05 pm

  22. Thanks a bunch Kunal, return to form is inevitable I guess when the postman delivers pain.

    Comment by Jenny — July 30, 2011 @ 2:00 pm

  23. Kunal: A poignant piece yet again, written with an ease that takes the character far beyond the purview of a prototype. I enjoyed the dissonance you created through the obvious comparisons between her & her. What lingers is a haunting echo, a disembodied voice that represents a woman’s turmoil through muffled sounds; an involuntary disassociation from her own identity. It has brief foggy, glimpses of Rituparno’s Raincoat through a palpable non-redemptive, unuttered, hushed undertone.

    Having said that, a “knock my socks off” kind of a piece is long overdue now.

    Frank: The most striking aspect about this write is the sense of pace, music and rhythm you manage to create, and effortlessly at that. The irreverence, the bohemianism that is indirectly meted out through multiple POVs is intriguing for me. Stunning juxtaposition of strobe lights, stuttered phrases; all vividly unfolding in slow motion becomes the cynosure of the piece. Love the nonchalant, emphatic, enfant terrible closing line. And it is the first time she speaks. Cuts like a knife. Warrants a sequel.

    Nivu: Noted the chronological recursion, chuckled at the child-like pitter patter pithiness of the verse too. This write somehow remains comme ci, comme ca for me. I missed the full blooded sagacity that you’d managed to invoke in some of your older pieces.

    Dok Saab: This entry reads like a companion piece to Kunal’s entry for smoke, replete with the billowing sheet and all. I have to confess that it is impossible not to adore the simplicity with which you write, the sheer affability and sincerity of your characters is commendable. Loved the lull, the interminable quietness of it all. The theme perhaps could be reconsidered, since we’ve read quite a few of those in the recent past.

    Rush.me: Your last piece does stand tall and hence there could be an immediate impulse to instantaneously compare notes. I think the conversation could have been salt and peppered slightly to make it more engaging, while celebrating the mundane and relieving the apparent ennui; allegorically so. Appreciate the deployment of dialogues only, something I have wanted to experiment with; only to procrastinate eternally.

    Genuine Fake: “Amidst our whirlwind romance, a wedding at twenty, a quick divorce and now, his second wedding…We never said farewell.”

    These are pretty much the lumbar- spinal lines on which your piece rests a quick synopsis to whet an appetite for a pre and post accounting. Stunning, stupefying almost non denouement kind of a closure that leaves one parched-mouthed, gulping sobs in ambushed corners. A promising entry.

    Kshitiz: Your poem instantly reminded me of Yusef Komenyaaka’s lines ‘I go down the 58,022 names, half-expecting to find my own in letters like smoke’. While I might not applaud the syntax completely, I do respect the integrity of purpose with which this piece is written. The poem does succeed in drawing attention to the magnitude of loss, an abhorring sense of helplessness and painfully silhouetted existence that people lead .Yet the poem lives, breathes, survives.

    Sowmya: The story of a gold digger, bidding all her perils adieu in 132 words. Not bad at all. I’m all for strategically placed, epicurean dash of humor thrown in for good measure. Flamboyant, street-smart and a cheeky write this.

    Mandappa: Now that you’re here, the Klash crew can finally say “Land ahoy!” Yours is a rather curious piece, in line with all the feline inspirations in the past to give us a vixen like vampiress.This reads to me like a largely lyrical colloquy; very eccentrically non punctuated, lower cased e e Cummings verse. Brings to mind also ‘Quartier de la Madeleine’ and the blood thirstingly gripping Olga Kurylenko. Quirk of a write.Bitten.

    Neha: You’ve chosen a rather potent underlying theme. Euthanasia and passive mercy killing have always raised a debate; the right to live at the cost of dignity of life.Loved the fact that you simply interweave a father-daughter relationship amidst the rather cumbersome and emotionally fraught situation at hand.

    Don’t we always remain Daddy’s little girls, pony-tailed, polka dotted and pristine?

    Utsav : Your piece for me is a cross between Majidi’s ‘Children of heaven and the Kite runner. What strikes me is the essence of a good hearted purity, a time when children were children, not smart-mouthed miniature adults. In a strange way, it was also an evocative piece in being able to stir an apprehension about the times we are in and headed towards. Gone are the times when friends wrote feverishly; notes to each other, in little papers torn from the last page of a notebook, writing all penciled and scrawly.

    Pink Rose petals: Oliver Twist meets August Rush. Sensitive retelling, tugs at the heart, brownie points for that. Orphanages and dormitories bring to mind painted white iron beds, an unnerving sense of solitude among multitude of pillowed white others. This anticipation and illusion of a place called home. Who isn’t an orphan waiting to be picked, to be found?

    Richa: “People with choices… like you… are so few”

    Had read somewhere: Listen to the quietest whispers of your mind. They are telling you the choices that will help you the most. Simply writ but we’ve read better from your pen and you know that.

    My Vote : Frank

    Comment by Jenny — July 30, 2011 @ 1:49 pm

  24. kunal sen;-“Elegance”, is the word for your writing, it flows freely throughout

    Frank;- Your clean sweep of neat & crisp write ups continue

    Divenita, I personally have a little difficulty understanding the concept even after reading it so many times, Maybe I completely misunderstood the underlying essence of the write up

    The last two lines & the famous Doksaab, was back to what he does best, Cheers!!!

    Rush.Me, Innovation at its best, just coming up with such an Idea, Applauds

    Genuine Fake, Full Justice done

    Jennifer, I don’t know how you do it, but you astonish everyone, every time

    SOWMYA, WOW, wow, WoW, If I was the judge you would win it right now, I personally loved it, adored it, worshipped it. Crisp, Clear, Clean, Elegant, Conceptualization, Treatment, everything about it is so good, a master piece for me.

    Mandappa, Awesome write up, brilliant theme
    Neha, the idea of a grown up girl choosing over her family & life & letting her dad die is the most controversial write up I could think of given the word farewell & I feel you have done to it full justice, CHEERS!!!

    Utsav , hats off for the simple yet touching portrayal of life.

    Pinkrose Petals, Simple, Beautiful, heart touching, Excellent Write up

    Richa Gupta, adored it, Lovely rhyming, sweet as sugar

    My vote Sowmya

    Comment by Kshitij Agnihotri — July 30, 2011 @ 9:46 am

  25. frank’s klash, worth reading and re reading. the feelings of lisa well expressed deep from the heart and the heart that is broken ,yet strong, it is something like you mix the bitter and sweet together, when we have this experience then we understand lisa or the poet frank better. i like expressions of frank as he showed the struggle of the lisa going as volunteer to a far off country . lisa: I´m not leaving to remain the same.’
    my vote for frank joussen

    Comment by avvari shouri — July 29, 2011 @ 8:10 pm

  26. Frank

    This is quite loyal to the theme and I find myself smiling at the employment of humor at those few unexpected places. There is a sense of the bourgeoisie here that is more pervasive in this piece than say its Salingersque usage (i.e. as a contrast, usually with jarring, tragic, hyper-real consequences). Having said that, I honestly cared for your little, lonely boy more than I cared for Lisa….


    The ‘Economy in expression’ is evident, and I recall some of my older chronological pieces, especially, Children of Marx.., that were less so. But even now, I personally quite like them magnum-opuses with their sub-plots, linkages and layers. The breezy affability of the piece and internal consistency is undeniable and has its odd charm.


    Again, there is one line in your piece that I totally dig: ‘I so intensely wanted to go hug and kiss him’ . In fact you could even heighten the realism further and actually get into the minute, lascivious details. This remains my favorite entry of your last three or four. On another point, with writes in general, that are primarily conversational pieces, yes, I tend to favor the more colloquial and nasty exchange; ornamental yet bare-naked, even if in melodramatic codes. I’ve never developed the gift of the succinct and the functional. But we’re beginning to digress….


    Am sure you weren’t only competing with the others but also in a way, against your last entry. I read this as being about a flame and a moth that works also as an allegory for a fragment of conversation between a housewife and her homecoming husband; and in both cases, the couples’ rapturous, destructive co-existence. Preferred your last write though as I think that went deeper by seemingly trying less hard.

    Genuine Fake

    In contrast to the last couple of your entries, I totally welcome the heedless abandonment of the rhyme-poetry form here. This one is in the same vein and tone perhaps, as your short airport saga, ‘Daymnn’, but unlike the lighter tirade-tones there, this one refreshingly is more irrevocably damaged and more imperfectly beautiful in all its sweet intrigue and abrupt, lingering poignancy. ‘We’re all little islands, stuck in our own private worlds of hurt’; the feisty, unnamed narrator brings that out spectacularly well. Accomplished work!


    A return to form and form evident throughout that underrated gem, ‘A Note to follow sew’. A haunting, hypnotic turn by Elle Fanning as ‘Phoebe in Wonderland’ got me looking up ‘Tourette’s’ and your second stanza is Elle personified. I love also the following stanza and its graphic visualization of a state of mind. While in comparison, the beginning is more inhibited and the last-third teeters dangerously close to the generic precipice, the piece is more than salvaged by the loud, unfurled scream of a climax comprising the last four whispered lines.


    I guess I’m still grappling with the amalgamation of rhyming and campaign slogan-like language. But that’s only my opinion and I’m aware of a huge following still for the verse-chorus form. The leftist is me does like a political subtext to any write, so that I enjoyed, plus the honorable intentions of the write. Maybe I was craving for the lyrical depth and fervor of an ‘Ekla Chalo’ or the underground irreverence of a ‘Hille Re’.


    There’s a melancholic core to this, and an expression that begs to be unleashed from the shackles and constraints of the rampant rhyming that seems almost forced by the fourth stanza or so. But I still maintain, that there remains an intriguing, maybe even sinister, super-plot to this work and I love that envelope, signed or not.


    I presumed that the surficial hastiness in the write was deliberate and with that handicap, noted that the text seemed almost apologetic for the very form it was in, and I loved that irony, that bit of self-conscious iteration, that bit of Brecht.


    ‘But you came and straightened all the curls’ is a magical line in its bleached vulnerability and docile sheerness. And it is a ‘can’t get enough of’ kind of magical! The rest of the piece is more contained and straight-up.


    Even more than the structure and the actual text, I liked the concept and the theme of mourning the passing away, of that time in our life when catching fireflies was the most important thing. It has the joyful, urchin tempo and fragrance of juvenile delinquents, and plucked strawberries.

    Pinkrose Petals

    The idea of using the emblematic orphanage to emphasize the bittersweet impact of a farewell is sublime, and since it is intended to be written from the point of view of a child, the rhyming, simplistic form is inevitable and therefore, understandable.


    The use of the second person narrative is interesting and I like the kind of pre-boarding school, pre-departure vibe it evokes amongst the group of little, impish, sweater-clad children who have come to see it off, and are making funny faces in the meanwhile.

    Vote: Jennifer

    Comment by Kunal Sen — July 23, 2011 @ 10:58 pm

  27. had to say this….my entry looks so juvenile…coz i wrote it when i was 13 LOL i wrote it for the graduating class then…but lost the guts at the last minute and it has been sitting here never read by anyone :)so thanks Doc Saab…saved by a technicality 🙂

    Comment by richa — July 22, 2011 @ 10:49 pm

  28. Kunal Sen — read it thrice.. it is so beautiful! 🙂

    Frank — You have the power to take people with you in the story and you have done it yet again!

    Doksaab — A huge impact in few words

    Rush.me — Loved the last line
    Kudos to your idea

    GenuineFake — Like two islands divided by oceans — Nice 😀

    Jennidi — like a perfect music piece you hit the right strings and created a perfect rhythm

    Kshitiz — Nice Imagery

    Souwmya — Reading your write, these lines recur:
    I am happy and singing
    Here is to new beginnings

    Mandappa — snakes and vampires touch i liked

    Neha — your poem was extremely sweet. It rung in my ears

    Utsav — i could relate to most of it

    Pinkrose Petals — glad you made it here. A scene, so tough to describe but you did it well.

    Richa Gupta — An apt farewell song!

    My vote is for Kunal Sen

    Comment by divenita — July 22, 2011 @ 8:23 pm

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