“Wheeeeeee”, she shouted as the carousel spun them almost parallel to the ground.

It was her first time in an amusement park. She had never seen so many colors together. Never felt so happy. Never known that this world existed.

Her daily existence as a “boy” at the restaurant had meant seeing dirty dishes, people shouting commands, aromas of delicious food, sleeping behind the kitchen counter, cleaning tables and eating leftovers from the last meal.

Until this morning, when a young girl saw her cleaning the table and said, “It’s children’s’ day today. Would you like to celebrate with me?”

© 2015 Ankita Kala

Friday Fictioneers this week!


Trust is a big word. Faith is a better word. Ignorance is sometimes the best word.

© 2015 Ankita Kala



In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Boundaries.”

© 2015 Ankita Kala

Mission Color-it-All


“Agent M, have you landed?”

“Yes, Control. I’m hiding on their dinner table.”

“How does one hide at a dinner table, Agent M? We’ve surely taught you better hiding skills.”

“I’m pretending to be a normal mouse, Control.”

“Oh, OK. Look around carefully. You will find colorless surroundings. Your aim is to spread color. By the end of mission there shouldn’t be a single speck of black or white around. How will you proceed?”

“I will. Oh no! A little guy is trying to pick me up. What should I do, Control? Control! Help! AAAAAAARRRGGHHHHH……”


©Ankita Kala 2015


Friday Fictioneers challenge again!

Of skies that speak a thousand words

IMAG0588 IMAG0587

© Ankita Kala 2015



And the world of melancholy starts to grow on you,

Engulfing you in its folds,

Shadows and darkness,

Comfort and pain,

All together,

Together, forever…

© Ankita Kala 2015

An Everyday Conversation


“Isn’t this wonderful, mom? We have a whole section here that we can furnish to our liking!”

“Are you sure you’re done with the furnishing?”

“Why yes! Don’t you like it? A simple sitting arrangement,nothing fancy.”

“Doesn’t it seem a bit incomplete to you? I mean what justifies the existence to three chairs around a table?!”

“It’s modern fashion, mom. Quirky, something that stands out.”

“As i see it, one person will have to stand out if a normal seating environment was to be considered!”


© Ankita Kala 2014

Fork People

“Fork people?! Again?!”

“Really! These people need to get accustomed to the fact that just because our party’s election symbol is a fork we haven’t necessarily stuck one in it already!”

“Why is it so hard for them to believe we’re back to contest the elections?”

“Because the last show we had at an election was nothing short of a catastrophe.”

“But this display of hatred has to stop!”

“What display of hatred?”

“I got my straw in this today at the café”

And then he brandished these.


Friday fictioneers again!

© Ankita Kala 2014




“Cloud-gazing!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, so this was the plan!” laughed her friend.

They were sitting on the rooftop of their hostel.

“That’s why I asked you to bring that camera.” she explained further.

“But” her friend hesitated.

“Huh?” she questioned with her eyes. “I asked you to bring the camera your great-grandfather, the Duke of Emesterville, had. The one you said he bequeathed you?! The one which can take moving photographs?! The one you mentioned on our orientation day?!”

“I… I… There never was one”.

And the clouds began to pour.


After a long long time, my attempt once again for Friday Fictioneers.

© Ankita Kala 2014


And dreams start again

As she knew they will

Trying to lure her towards them

Trying to make her believe she will

Get what she wanted

Achieve what she willed

But scared she was of pursuing them

Remembering all those she had to kill

The scathing wounds though had started to cover up

The crevices had started to fill

© 2014 Ankita Kala

No chance again

She sat looking at the rows and rows of empty tables

The diner was almost deserted

He was coming to see her today

How long had it been?

Her mind failed to register

January? They had last ‘met’ at new year

And after that…. the preparations, the engagement, the fights, the wedding, the tears, the last time he said ‘hi’ to which she never replied, her birthday on which he just dropped a text wishing that god bless her….. the silence.

She thought of getting up and leaving, he was already 50 minutes late.

No chance again.


This week’s entry for Friday Fictioneers. And with that i’m back to blogging :)

And it feels great! Great! GREAT!

© 2013 Ankita Kala

In the thick of things

This is where i stand today,

With no will just a twisted way,

The sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach has deepened,

A capsized ship sucking everything with it into the sea,

Suction so hard my insides feel empty,

So sensitive i feel my breath going unto my heart,

Yet so senseless the degrading words pass right through me to the other side.


The fields are empty for want of rain,

And i’m standing in the middle of parched land,

Broken into chunks by lack of water,


Water’s no use anymore,

These scathing wounds are too deep to fill.


Looking up at you.


Not by my own stature but by your words,

This is my tattered soul, perforated now….

© 2013 Ankita Kala


The Regular

Another week, another Friday Fictioneers challenge!
This week Rochelle gave us the above photo prompt, the credit for which by the way goes to Ted.

They had put the bottles, well whatever was still remaining of the bottles, back onto the shelves.

The small and big lights were glittering here and there reflecting in the mirrors cautiously put above cracks on the walls.

Everything had been restored to perfection.

The earthquake had shaken everything away from the bar, even customers.

And they expected that she would have decided to leave all the same.

But as soon as the sign outside turned green, the first person to come sit behind the counter was her grainy form.

And now for the explanation which is absolutely necessary here. She’s a ghost who’s a regular at the bar. I really think it was necessary this time!

© 2013 Ankita Kala

The Last Goodbye


Photo credit: Kent Bonham

For this week’s Friday Fictioneers Challenge, Rochelle gave us this prompt.

And here I present my interpretation…

The car stopped outside the church

She stood admiring the colorful walls

Each color reminding her of something he had worn on some day when they had met

She noticed the light reflecting from the windows

And in her eyes swam the flashes of lights passing by

As he drove beside her on some day when they had met

She reminisced how that light used to reflect in his eyes

Lighting up his face along with his smile

The same face she was dreading seeing inside

Inside the building

Inside a coffin

She wondered how he would look


Maybe ashen

Just like her…

© 2013 Ankita Kala

Weekly Photo Challenge: Culture

2011-10-03 17.42.38

For this week’s photo challenge, the theme is culture.

And this picture is what i chose for a comeback of sorts.

I haven’t blogged since close to two months properly and what better than God’s name to make a start!

This picture is of an Indian temple at the time of Aartiwhich is the time of paying obeisance. This is a small part of what I perceive is the Indian culture.

Hope it marks an auspicious new beginning!

© 2013 Ankita Kala



Photo credit Beth Carter

She was lying face-down behind the front seats of the dilapidated car.

The seats’ backside was shorn down to steel railings covered with rust which kept bumping into her as the car moved.

The tyre kept on the other side adding to her feeling of being crushed.

She lifted her head slightly to see that the kidnapper had gone out of the car, leaving his cap on the passenger seat, his goggles hanging on what could be called a dashboard had it been in a normal car.

And the only thing she could think was – Is this vehicle going to survive this kidnapping?

© 2013 Ankita Kala

Weekly Photo Challenge: Forward

2013-01-01 17.40.29

The house at Godric’s Hollow


Photo Credit : Janet Webb

The place where that happened which changed everything

James and Lily Potter’s cottage

The splintered walls seem to be coming out from the impact of the curse

In broad daylight James’ old maroon chair’s back looks at odds with the colorless surroundings

The roof is still caved in at that first floor portion where he-who-must-not-be-named uttered Avada Kedavra

The fence glows white as soon as Harry touches it

It knows the touch of its owner

The dilapidated cottage whispering to him

His parents’ laughter

His own chuckles

The toy broom whizzing

The history waiting to happen…………..

© 2013 Ankita Kala

The Reclining Man Square

Once, a statue was being erected in a busy street in China, when it was discovered that the legs of the statue had broken in the transit. The town mayor was to inaugurate the statue in a few hours and everybody got nervous about how to replace it in the meantime.

The clever workers realized that using two hinges they could support the statue in a reclining position.

And that is how the Reclining Man Square was born!

© 2013 Ankita Kala

The day I scored my career best

“You alive or what?” shouts a harsh voice in my ear.

“Huh?” I somehow manage to sputter.

“It’s ten-thirty, in case you’re still alive.”

The world sharply comes into focus. My head is aching from the strain of not being able to sleep till eight in the morning and all the over-thinking that had been going on while tossing and turning during the night.

I am more fashionably late than Coco Chanel for my game.

Oh, by the way, I’m the striker for my field hockey team and we have a BIG game starting at two thirty today.

I bet you would ever find a soul as careless as me!

In my grogginess I manage to catch the faint click of the front door as my wife leaves for work after waking me up so lovingly.

When televised events like a national level hockey match fail to lure you into attending them, you know you’re too famous. That’s what happened with her.

Anyway, I’m ready in twenty five minutes.  Call someone fast!

Gathering my duffel bag and keys, I sprint out the front door.

It’s a beautiful day. The weather is just perfect for a good game.

I put my key in the ignition and start my machine. I’ve driven for about seven minutes when suddenly it stops.

Oh hell! I’ve forgotten to refuel it again. My petrol tank is empty and I have barely enough time to make it before the warm-up.

Now what? I rack my brains and the first thought that flashes is Luke! Oh yes, my savior, the friend made in heaven who lives only ten minutes’ drive from here.

He agrees to come over in a jiffy.

Hehe. Luck god, you can’t play with me today. It’s my day to play at the field.

I’m calm when he arrives and quickly settle into the passenger seat. He eases the vehicle onto the road and we start.

There’s cool wind blowing outside now. We are joking and talking animatedly while the stereo blares in the background.

He stops at a t-point red-light. We continue to chat.

I’m calm now. We’re going to reach well in time.

The light turns to green, we start moving slowly, he’s looking at me and i’m looking into his eyes when suddenly in my peripheral vision I see a dot approaching behind him. Before I get any time to react, the dot comes closer and closer and suddenly, BOOM!

The motorbike has rammed into the driver’s side. Luke is unconscious and there’s a deep gash above his left eye. I notice the blood trickling down his left cheek and the clock ticking on his left wrist almost simultaneously.

Surprisingly, the bike driver isn’t hurt that bad except for a few bruises. The passersby haul him into a standing position and then come to look at us. I can’t feel any pain anywhere so I presume myself to be fine.

We take Luke and the biker to a nearby hospital. The doctor gives me a few bandages to cover the hitherto unseen bruises on my arms.  My worries over Luke disappear in a jiffy when I see him smiling askance as soon as he regains consciousness.


“You are so gone.” His grin widens.

“Has his mind been affected?” I ask the nurse.

“Your match.” He laughs.

Oh shit!

I glance at my watch. One thirty-two.

Were I a thief with the crown of Queen Elizabeth in my bag and I had to run with it to that field and it would be mine, I swear I still couldn’t have run any faster than I did at that time.

Huffing and puffing, my nerves jangling in my head, I dodge the nurses and ward attendants. I lose count of the cuss-words I heard in the background. I just run and run to the door where to my surprise there are no taxis.

What, I ask a passerby who just looks at me as if I’ve asked him the atomic weight of barium.

No taxis, I signal towards the road.

He shakes the newspaper he’s carrying in his hand. On the front page, in bold letters, is written – “PUBLIC TRANSPORT STRIKE”

I cannot write here the profanity that escaped my lips at that time.

Spitting and sputtering, I break into a run towards the stadium that’s roughly eight kilometers from here.

The world dissolves into a blur of colors by the time I reach the gates. My watch says two eighteen.

My team-mates are looking at me with the same expression as the gentleman outside the hospital.

I know I’m quite a sight by now.

Half-choking on my breath, I ask why they aren’t in the field.

“God, save this soul here”, utters my goalkeeper.

All the others are smirking to themselves.

And it is precisely at this point that I fall sideways to see a big screen on the right that says, MATCH CANCELLED.

For the prompt exchange this week, Corinne at gave me this prompt: You wake up one morning as a professional hockey player with a huge game that afternoon.

I gave Michael at this prompt: Friendships that went sour

Days just go by

Everyday there’s a little prayer

Everyday a little renewed hope

Everyday it gets quashed

Everyday I break a little more

Everyday it’s silent begging to the skies

To whoever would listen to my trampled soul

Everyday it’s a grave new reality sinking in

Everyday a new pinprick leading to another hole

Maybe in some other life

these pinpricks won’t necessarily lead to pain

And when clouds gather in the skies as a promise

there would indeed be rain

© 2013 Ankita Kala


As a little girl I liked writing a lot (Yes, I know so did you! That’s why we’re all here, right!). It won’t be wrong if I say it was my second love. Don’t ask what was the first! ;)

Whatever I experienced, I’d always make it a point to commit it to paper.

All that I dreamed of would become a fairy tale about some princess and later, when Harry Potter came into the picture, about a common girl discovering what a great witch/fairy/<insert any imaginary creature who’s the heroine of the story> she actually was! Sometimes i’d conjure up a story similar to Barbie movies, at other times it would be something similar to a Panchatantra lore.

All that I felt would become prose. In the starting years, rhyming schemes were strictly adhered to and special attention was paid to the ‘grow-throw cry-try’ routine. But a few heartbreaking events and one encounter with modern poetry later, rhymes ceased to matter. I could freely concentrate on words and emotions instead of racking my brains to find a rhyming word for orange that matched the mood of my poem.

But as I grew older, the writing turned to subjects like French Revolution, Atomic Mass, Marginal Utility, Capital Adequacy Ratio, Hedge Fund,………….. you get the picture?!

Which left me wondering where I had gone. Where was my dream world where everybody behaved the way I wanted them to?

No, i’m not a control freak. What i’m referring to is the refuge you escape to. The place where you go whenever you want to have a silent moment of reflection. The place that welcomes you with open arms when the real world disappoints you in some way.

Then I started a blog. The sole objective of which was to vent out whatever was ricocheting off the walls of my brains at that point.

Nobody I didn’t know knew about it. And considering the fact that I hadn’t told anybody about it, nobody I knew knew about it. No followers, no likers. I thought my content was worth that only. Me and my solo sojourn in the blogosphere.

Around this same time a friend of mine started a blog showcasing her work in the field of art (you can check out her work here) and we got to discussing blogging in general. I didn’t tell her about mine since it was pretty personal till that time. All that I wanted to rant about to anybody, I ranted to my blog.

When i visited her blog (on WordPress), I was amazed at how people from across the world had visited it! All I knew about blogging till then was that you write something and then people read it (I remember wondering to myself in childhood that I may somehow be related to Einstein because of my capabilities such as outlined in the previous sentence). But here was something absolutely different! I remember my friend telling me that the best thing about WordPress is it’s community.

After much deliberation I decided to switch my blog to WordPress after one year of blogging aimlessly. And man, am I delirious with happiness or what!? The community has overwhelmed me! I now open up my WP account the first thing on switching on my laptop in the morning. Much progress for a Facebook addict!

In the few days that I’ve been here I’ve read much more on world topics beyond the usual ones than I did in probably the whole of last year! Topics for which I always craved, no let’s make it CRAVED, and devoured the newspapers whenever they mentioned them. I’ve written so much in the past few days that I’m actually thinking of becoming a dedicated blogger. Now I have much more of what I consider an online presence than I ever thought possible there!

My heartiest thanks to all those who make it such a rocking place to be in! A place which makes me believe that there are people out there in the world who may take out their precious time to read what this soul somewhere is thinking. And for welcoming me with such open arms!

May we grow and learn together improving not just ourselves but the whole world with us!

P. S. – I don’t know what title would suit this post. Any suggestions?

© 2013 Ankita Kala

Weekly Photo Challenge: Unique

Weekly Photo Challenge: Unique


A switch flicks in the mind suddenly,

Let’s put an end to this sorrow.

Where there hasn’t been a yesterday,

Nobody can guarantee a tomorrow.

Living in reflected glory,

The ivory of someone else’s smile to borrow.

How many times can one impale,

the same heart, the same arrow?

© 2013 Ankita Kala

The Reluctant Traveller – Part II

“The more i travel out, the more i travel within”

“When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in.” – D. H. Lawrence

Picking up from where i left last time (Part 1)
The inconsequential stuff – interview ended, and i set off in the city i had always admired from far off.. Dreaming about a city of glitter and glamour, always moving, doing something big and monumental every second..
And what did i see?
A coexistence of the two ends of the spectrum – a city of blinding lights and a city of grime and slosh.
But this is not what i wish to elaborate in this post.
There is simply nothing that can help you understand yourself better than being alone somewhere. I realised it that day.
Wandering around in an alien city on my own, i could think of nothing except the simple joy of being alive, of the common threads that bind humanity, the language we all speak with our expressions, the ……………………………..
I reached a local railway station. Being absolutely new to the system, asked a lady all about it. Now, what i had experienced before was people telling you what you wanted to know, in the fewest possible words and then moving on to their work. But this lady!? She explained everything to me and then even came to show me where to buy my tickets from.

My elders had always told me to confirm stuff from atleast one other source. So i asked another person the same thing i had from the previous lady. Of course the info was same. But faux pas – the lady was walking right beside me and had heard all that i asked the second person! I was duly flabbergasted (wink wink). But surprise of surprises, she half-hugged me and said it’s a wise thing i’m doing. Her words, “haan inse bhi confirm kar lo. Achi baat hai.” My cheshire cat grin must have made it obvious to her what i was feeling.And then came the actual train journey!

I’ve travelled in trains innumerable times before. In sleeper classes of all kinds of tiers, in chair cars, in steam engine trains, but this was so different!

Firstly, all the silver color you would see in a compartment, the seats, the bars, the handles – it’s glam! And the real thing? Standing on the moving train holding just a bar and hanging out! Oh yeah! So filmy! Just what i had seen in the movies! Purrrrffffeeeecccccttttttttttt!!!

And gawd these mumbai women are so daring! They just don’t believe in resting! Unlike any other public transport, the occupancy starts near the compartment door! Only when there’s no place at all near the door do they reluctantly take the seats! Superb!

My idea was to squeeze in the best of Mumbai in the time i had. So i headed for Marine Drive.

Significance – a) it’s the most publicized place in the movies about the city.
b) i had never been near a sea.
c) it was near (and near the sea :P).

So i got off the train and after asking for directions, started walking in the direction of what i believed was the way to Marine Drive. The weather was beyond beautiful! Light drizzle, clouds prancing in the sky, strong wind (which, incidentally, led to severe permanent disability for my umbrella), a beautiful road on my right, nicely carved lampposts, my hair flowing in all directions…….bliss!

I continued walking. Enjoying myself thoroughly. And noticing out of the corner of my left eye the vast muddy ground stretching as far as my rain obstructed view could permit. Why on earth would a space-deprived place like Mumbai have such a vast wasteland, I remember thinking to myself.

A few steps further. There were people sitting on the boundary between the road and the wasteland looking toward it. What’s wrong with them, that’s my brain again!

And then, Oh my god! Is this the sea?! Haww! NO, REALLY!

Turns out the wasteland was actually the muddy sea! No wonder I couldn’t recognize it, I had never in my life seen a sea before. Such hyper idiocy can only be done by yours truly.

So, i started enjoying my view of the sea while walking walking walking…………….

Tell me i didn’t see this coming! Even this post has turned out to be big! Guess i’ll have to tell the rest of the story in another post!

© 2013 Ankita Kala

The Perfunctory Hug


He just came over and hugged her. Her stiff body was as awkward as her feelings.

She was just so angry at him. She hadn’t wanted a hug. She wanted to be pleased, to be coaxed, pleaded to. But he was upset. Her taunts had impaled him to the point where his innermost insecurities had come to the fore, haunting him again.

He wanted to make amends. So did she, but after being worshiped, so to say. But it wasn’t something he was prepared to do.

It had been months since they had seen each other. Months of bitterness and sorrow. They had been fighting like anything. For reasons they both knew but failed to admit to each other.

Her obsessive behavior. His incessant rants. His unfulfilled promises. Her skyrocketing expectations. They had all taken a toll on their relationship.

She was averting his gaze, looking everywhere but at him. His eyes, boring into hers, seemed to be asking why were they at this stage.

“What is your problem?” he asked.

Quickly getting out of his arms, all she could manage was “Nothing.”

And that was where it ended. They didn’t even say bye to each other.

She just ran and got into the tram on the other side.

Their perfunctory hug remaining the only evidence of what could have been a fairytale.

© 2013 Ankita Kala


I feel so so away

away from people

away from humanity

away from my life

away from the world i know

it’s like i’m in a dream

a bad one or good i don’t know

it’s like a story i’ve read but just that i’m living it now

and i don’t know how

i should do that or not

i should be here or not

it’s just that i’m here right now

it’s just that i’m away

©Ankita Kala 2015

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Broken.”

One Eye Closed




Padma Bhushan, Padma Vibhushan and Padma Illusion

An organization held an award ceremony for one of its departments. The whole department used to sit in one particular building. The head of the function was also stationed in the same building. All people who had been employees of the organization for 3 and 5 years were awarded badges of honor in the ceremony by the head in a glittering ceremony. It was a good function. The awardees were teased about these being their Padma Bhushan and Padma Vibhushan.

But shortly after, a few things came to light. There were some categories of people who did not get awards even though they qualified as per the number of years they had served in the organization.

The first category was of people who belonged to a particular area of work within the function which was considered outside territory because there happened to be a separate office for doing their background work. Never mind that these people worked in the same office as others and contributed as much as anybody else in the general working of the department. These people wouldn’t have gotten any award, no matter how long they may have worked for the organization, because hey, they were outsiders!

The second category included people who were initially hired as temporary staff due to whatever reasons and then later absorbed as employees by the organization after working for, say, 1 or 2 years on temporary basis. For these people, the time of 3 or 5 years would be calculated since the day they gained permanent status.

These are the people who fell under the category Padma Illusion.

And this is what set me wondering, could this be the case with most things out there….

© Ankita Kala 2015