Tag Archives: Hall and Oats

Forgive and forget? Or hate and burn?

Daily PromptDo you hold grudges or do you believe in forgive and forget?

Forgiveness doesn’t always come easy. One might assign spite or towards another but in turn the giver is the burdened. Not because you let them know you hate them necessarily mean it matters to them. Forgiveness is energy conserved.

Hate, I’ve come to conclude, is fruitless passion. Still, it doesn’t makes forgiving any easier because the want to loathe, the need to hurt can be overpowering. Spite is an all consuming flame. It is much easier on the pride to act in such a manner but then pride is no promise of a lighter soul. Then ‘easy’ itself is no guarantee of happiness at the end of the day.

The above is on a much more extreme scale of things.  Continue reading

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Postcard

Hi everyone, I’m terribly sorry for not visiting in such a long time, sadly enough posting these days end up just being an afterthought. Today is Phagwah, the festival many of us Hindus celebrate to mark the beginning of spring. Today we throw coloured powder and water on friends, family and agreeable strangers (who can be of different religion and race) not only for the new season but also to commemorate Krishna’s fondness of pranks. This week’s Ermilia’s Picture It and Write! reminds me of the holiday, particularly the clouds. So here’s my bit. It’s been a while.

via Ermilia Blog, click the pic to see original prompt.

The pain at my temples throbbed like the beats in a Hall and Oats song. I stayed home today, and work was out of question with all of the indecision and confusion and plain all out frustration that had condensed into a dripping orb in my chest. I take a sip of the stuff of the bottom of my mug and nearly wretched. A day and a half old black coffee can do that to a body, served me right I supposed, I hadn’t gotten around to change the grounds. Nevertheless, picking it up made me feel a whole lot better for it revealed a recent postcard from some picturesque lake in Scotland from my best friend Riley.

It wasn’t very hard to believe such serene beauty was real, I grew up to long stretches of road with views of sun-lit cane fields on one side and rice on the other, took shade under coconut trees and shared that ever sentimental sky. Instead of feeling homesick, I wanted to pick up and drive off to where the sky met the ground in the far flung horizon.

The likes of lochs and miles of impossibly high mountains were utterly magnificent to my eyes that never beheld them.  Continue reading

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