tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85279082506309949052024-03-06T02:13:42.472+05:30Deepa's KaleidoscopeA sky full of stars all over the place. A mess of unfinished thoughts, of chaos and order, randomness and direction, of conflict and clarity, mind and soul. A speck in the universe. And a whole universe within me.<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.comBlogger200125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-28942415169309170532021-07-14T23:21:00.006+05:302021-07-15T07:51:23.861+05:30Silly Little Things<div id="fb-root">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvyQ91PJ_FUhQt6Gq4jSs6DoJwdKkF7O9iLZ2UCHFe6N9_5pHiopDlCRiU4A1gXtoqsWchNILrqivUv-yrd6-mumHou_bLEy2p8HXovIZyDfNVGXOGHphHFYu2chCTdsPxHEbNBy8qzc/s1200/ab61335ee5ded1c4b28d55f155d1017467a887f0.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvyQ91PJ_FUhQt6Gq4jSs6DoJwdKkF7O9iLZ2UCHFe6N9_5pHiopDlCRiU4A1gXtoqsWchNILrqivUv-yrd6-mumHou_bLEy2p8HXovIZyDfNVGXOGHphHFYu2chCTdsPxHEbNBy8qzc/s320/ab61335ee5ded1c4b28d55f155d1017467a887f0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />‘It’s going to be such a drag, I don’t understand your enthusiasm,’ comes the response, as we park. <br /><br />‘Absolutely not. It’s going to be brilliant. Look at their IQs’ I counter, alighting from the moped. <br /><br />‘Hello?! All the more reason to. High IQs. All Brains. No fun talk,’ pat comes the reply. <br /><br />‘You should also attend. It’ll be fun, come on,’ I plead, hopeful. In all honesty, I want to meet the who’s who of the industry, but I am also bored to go through the day all by myself. <br /><br />‘No way, duh! Call me when you change your mind!’ <br /><br />‘IF. Not WHEN. And I won’t,’ I retort angrily, irritated at the assumption that I would change my mind. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***</div> <br />I look at the hall clock. Again. I must have probably looked at it 216 times already in the past hour. How much longer can I endure this? I wish I hadn’t walked away so haughtily. It makes calling that much difficult. I browse my contact list, pausing, feeling stupid and finally hit dial. And feeling foolish, I instantly hang up. <br /><br />Two seconds later, the phone rings. Oh well.<br /><br />‘When … when you’re done with that stupid event of yours, I am at the Aleon café right opposite the campus, walk over,’ and the call gets disconnected. I look at the phone, dumbfounded. Such arrogance. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><br /> I enter the café with a sigh. Skipping past a few tables, I finally take my seat and look visibly sheepish. I get an eye roll in return. <br /><br />‘Fine, you win. It sucked!’ <br /><br />‘Your hazelnut cappuccino ma’am,’ says the waitress, as she sets the cup down, in front of me. <br /><br />‘But … I haven’t ordered yet …’ I say, as she trails off in the distance. I look up to see another eye roll. <br /><br />And despite my annoyance at the initial assumption, followed by the absolute conviction that I would be walking out of the event to the perfectly timed order now, and a brilliant choice at that, I inadvertently smile. It’s warm, heartfelt and ends in a toothy grin. <br /><br />‘You know me too well,’ I quip, beaming. <br /><br />‘I am doomed,’ comes the deadpan response, with the clarity that knows there’s no escape. <br /><br />I burst out laughing. <div class="fb-comments" data-href="https://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/07/silly-little-things.html" data-numposts="3" data-width="850">
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-85708753268105939182021-04-30T22:50:00.004+05:302021-04-30T22:52:05.754+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: Z<div id="fb-root">
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}(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));</script><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI07hJAg2wft1EvFC-sso3ZrPtxvHyGa-a81wUEq3yWCxbC5A185Wgc12zds4vfUbmsRfoAY2wYbgxyB9U0L40xpaunCm6zyQr1nomvC2LmFoCFSWCnnVkgFP_4x90-JcV-tAWd_MXHcU/s560/blogbanner_zombieprep_560x140.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="140" data-original-width="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI07hJAg2wft1EvFC-sso3ZrPtxvHyGa-a81wUEq3yWCxbC5A185Wgc12zds4vfUbmsRfoAY2wYbgxyB9U0L40xpaunCm6zyQr1nomvC2LmFoCFSWCnnVkgFP_4x90-JcV-tAWd_MXHcU/s320/blogbanner_zombieprep_560x140.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic Credit: CDC (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>Z</b></span>ombies? You mean for real?”<p></p>“Yes D, a zombie apocalypse. It's gonna happen.” <br /><br />“Been watching too many movies?” <div><br /></div><div>She flips me off.<br /><br />“Predictive programming. Those vaccines be running all sorts of mutations.” <br /><br />I roll my eyes. She continues. <br /><br />“They create the virus. Then the vaccine. Then it’s Zombieland.” <br /><br />“Easy on the conspiracy theories now, alright? Stay away from the news, you going crazy” <br /><br />“Hey, if that ain’t true, why do the CDC, the Americans, be prepping folks about it?” <br /><br />“The CDC what?” <br /><br />“Oh yeah. They got zombie apocalypse prep education going on man, don’t believe me do ya? Google it!”</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Note: While Covid continues to obliterate a ton of human lives and the rest of humanity works round the clock to minimize damage, the air is also rife with conspiracy theories and whatnots. The American CDC page created a decade ago dedicated to preparedness to deal with a </i><i>Zombie apocalypse </i><i>(I wasn't kidding, <a href="https://blogs.cdc.gov/publichealthmatters/2011/05/preparedness-101-zombie-apocalypse/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>!) </i><i>has picked up steam again - this time linked to vaccinations. And there are several <a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/magazines/panache/is-covid-19-a-bioweapon-five-conspiracy-theories-around-coronavirus-that-will-shock-you/the-biggest-humanitarian-crisis/slideshow/74870568.cms" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">others</a>. Conspiracy or not, I hope the world heals and we come out of this stronger and kinder as a species. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>This last 100-word micro-fiction (it's a wrap!) is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. Gonna miss writing these! The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span></i></div>
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</div><a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-61160707633355115842021-04-30T09:52:00.012+05:302021-04-30T11:25:26.037+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: Y<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VbsQkmfEm-4/YIuFQ-Br37I/AAAAAAAB_l8/B_EjRWrloscMMiWStypd2CrT6AqQOkkowCLcBGAsYHQ/s747/Capture.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="747" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VbsQkmfEm-4/YIuFQ-Br37I/AAAAAAAB_l8/B_EjRWrloscMMiWStypd2CrT6AqQOkkowCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Capture.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>Y</b></span>ou and I, we walked around the sacred fire. Vowed to be together. Until death did us part. Now you’re gone forever. And here I am, all alone. Your dying last call haunts me. I feel lost, disoriented. Like onboard the spinning teacups ride at Disneyland, remember? <br /><br />The mobile's shrill ring pulls me out of my reverie. <br /><br />“He faked it,” says my brother. “he’s alive ... ” He pauses. “In Indore, with his mistress.” The teacups stop spinning, I sway from side to side. <br /><br />That evening, the police drop you off back at our house. Until death do us part.<br /><p></p><p><i>Note: In a bizarre incident, a man took advantage of the rising Covid deaths to fake his own death and eloped to Indore to be with his lover. More on the story <a href="https://www.republicworld.com/india-news/law-and-order/man-goes-missing-after-telling-wife-he-has-covid-19-found-with-lover.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>. This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span></i></p>
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</div><a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-48076557060269910892021-04-29T23:16:00.009+05:302021-04-29T23:30:12.564+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: X<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMk8Fc1TPFsE6BcPmyq8Um5YMDfuo4O7bkhvYI45k9x6FpaLGAAn5L3pcyUuGg_CrwjWUnWvdRuJZ-AlKC45a61JMZdqWJd2JZ-9cUmYVnAGOCBn97Upoag28cbcmJhh8OGc_UtFRZek/s1124/Capture.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="1124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMk8Fc1TPFsE6BcPmyq8Um5YMDfuo4O7bkhvYI45k9x6FpaLGAAn5L3pcyUuGg_CrwjWUnWvdRuJZ-AlKC45a61JMZdqWJd2JZ-9cUmYVnAGOCBn97Upoag28cbcmJhh8OGc_UtFRZek/s320/Capture.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: carscoops</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>X</b></span>JB 029, ran the plate. Nothing suspicious, not stolen,” says Trellis, shutting the laptop. <br /><br />“Hmm, something’s not right,” I counter. I watch the SUV – a Dodge Journey – weave its way in and out of traffic. Erratic, changing lanes. Lockdown has been driving a lot of folks crazy. <br /><br />“Could be high. Or drunk. Tag him,“ Trellis orders, decisively turning on the siren. The SUV slows and comes to a stop, I walk over to the bulky SUV. And I do a double take. <br /><br />He looks up at me with the most adorable eyes. <br />He can't be more than 6 years old!<br /></p><p><i>Note: 5-year old Adrian Zamarripa drove off his mother's SUV (yep!) after a spat when she refused to buy him a Lamborghini (a real one, not a toy!). Leaving home with $3, he was apparently driving down to California to buy himself the luxury car, when the Utah police spotted the erratic driving and pulled him over. The only reason this makes it to Covid Crazies edition is because this happened during the Covid-19 era. The number plate is fictional. You can read about one such incident <a href="https://www.carscoops.com/2020/05/good-samaritan-offers-5-year-old-boy-who-drove-off-in-family-suv-a-ride-in-a-lamborghini/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>. This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span></i></p>
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</div><a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-16500424770124621362021-04-29T08:23:00.003+05:302021-04-29T08:23:27.538+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: W<div id="fb-root">
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<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-clTllAaT0M4/YIoeWdWdiWI/AAAAAAAB_cI/UH50r6DcpTQBWc4t0o_X9rdf3a2ItzFXwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/6356495_080520-wls-iteam-goudie-bank-robberies-masks-6p-vid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-clTllAaT0M4/YIoeWdWdiWI/AAAAAAAB_cI/UH50r6DcpTQBWc4t0o_X9rdf3a2ItzFXwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/6356495_080520-wls-iteam-goudie-bank-robberies-masks-6p-vid.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: abc7news</td></tr></tbody></table><br />“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>W</b></span>hy was I not informed of this earlier?” He roars, his voice resounding across the station. Captain Matthews is furious. Not a single officer dares to respond.<br /><br />“Send the sketch artist over to my office, NOW!” he orders, striding back into his cabin. <br /><br />6 minutes later, the sketch artist Yun Chi sits facing the Captain, bowing his head in mortification. He wonders how to make this easier for the boss. <br /><br />“How can you not get one good sketch?” Matthews questions. </p><p>“Erm … the teller couldn’t … everyone wears masks now,” Yun Chi pauses for effect. “They all look the same.”</p><p><i>Note: In the coronavirus era where everyone is expected to be masked for safety, groups of bank robbers in disparate incidents have taken advantage of these mask requirements. You can read about one such incident <a href="https://abc7chicago.com/some-bank-robbers-take-advantage-of-covid-19-mask-rules/6356487/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>. This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span></i></p>
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</div><a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-82212044207017379402021-04-27T23:32:00.005+05:302021-04-27T23:54:48.634+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: V<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vlbD_IVaHqw/YIhQIZ8ntDI/AAAAAAAB_XM/ZFupILFAGkwudj-o3RIINwtrsiCQ5lwJgCLcBGAsYHQ/s399/Capture.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="195" data-original-width="399" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vlbD_IVaHqw/YIhQIZ8ntDI/AAAAAAAB_XM/ZFupILFAGkwudj-o3RIINwtrsiCQ5lwJgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Capture.PNG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Times of India</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>V</b></span>erification ID?” She repeats my question, wearing a blank expression. <br /><br />“Quickly, madam. Look at the queue,” I retort. With 13 lakh individuals, this Kumbh is a recipe for disaster.<br /><br />From the folds of her saree, she retrieves her ID. I type in the identity number and wave her along to get her Covid test done at the next counter. <br /><br />The ping on my laptop screen draws my attention. I frown. An NCRB alert flashes on screen. I open up the report and gasp. Krishna Devi was reported missing at the Ardh Kumbh 2016. A whole 5 years later, she’s back. <span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><i>Note: Krishna Devi, reported missing 5 years ago after the Ardh Kumbh held in 2016, was finally identified in the 2021 Maha Kumbh Mela and reunited with her family. More about the news <a href="https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/dehradun/lost-at-2016-ardh-kumbh-in-haridwar-reunited-at-maha-kumbh/articleshow/81961568.cms" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>. The above conversation is a fictional setting built on this context. </i><i>This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span></i><p></p>
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</div><a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-66770561449590020022021-04-26T09:17:00.004+05:302021-04-26T17:06:56.054+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: U<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kqZUxybbSKM/YIY2bK1JB7I/AAAAAAAB_N0/mqFOYeBbuO8AHkUfk8MY-8rcJY8aFsojwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Master.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1360" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kqZUxybbSKM/YIY2bK1JB7I/AAAAAAAB_N0/mqFOYeBbuO8AHkUfk8MY-8rcJY8aFsojwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Master.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Times of India</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>U</b></span>madev Shankar, the politician, steps forward as the white oxygen tanker winds to a stop at the barricades. He garlands the driver Ramnath, praising him for driving 18 hours non-stop to get oxygen to dying Covid patients. The counter-productiveness of the photo-op completely evades him. <br /><br />Ramnath’s phone pings loudly. He reads the text and smiles. A full toothed grin for the cameras. In a neat diversion, the original oxygen tanker, painted brown as a camouflage to mimic gas tankers, has reached the hospital in time. He poses with the empty one that he drove here for all of 10 minutes.<div><br /></div><div><i>Note: In a completely <a href="https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/indore/netas-hold-up-oxygen-tanker-for-2-hrs-for-photo-ops-in-indore/articleshow/82127035.cms" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">despicable and cringe-worthy move</a>, politicians held up an oxygen tanker for a photo-op 2 hours in Indore, causing grief to patients and their families waiting for that oxygen back in the hospitals. If not the virus, lack of common sense, logic and empathy will definitely do us in. </i><i>This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span></i></div>
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</div><a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-52082377158920237502021-04-23T19:11:00.041+05:302021-04-23T20:51:01.279+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: T<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Ysz_BwaRow/YILgchKvQRI/AAAAAAAB-28/-EkREQaAxbAaBURkMpH8SH2DHCPYsBWugCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/mumbai-lockdown-blue-skies-clean-air-and-pristine-beaches.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Ysz_BwaRow/YILgchKvQRI/AAAAAAAB-28/-EkREQaAxbAaBURkMpH8SH2DHCPYsBWugCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/mumbai-lockdown-blue-skies-clean-air-and-pristine-beaches.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he road lining the seashore lays empty, its grey asphalt stretching infinitely into the distance. A lone wayward vehicle appears from time to time and disappears leaving behind a trail of dust. It has been thirty eight days of this new routine, a routine previously unheard and unseen of. <br /><br />Mingling crowds are no longer visible; the hawkers by the shore no longer peddling their wares. The only sounds that interrupt the silence are those of the waves crashing on the rocks, a rhythmic melody. <br /><br />Free from the desecration of their habitat, dolphins swim playfully and courageously closer to the shore.<div><br /></div><div><i>Note: As countries around the world locked down, the lack of human intervention turned out to be a blessing in disguise for nature and wildlife. From <a href="https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/politics-and-nation/coronavirus-lockdown-unusual-sightings-of-animals-in-india/civet-takes-a-zebra-crossing/slideshow/75230907.cms" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">nilgai to civets</a>, <a href="https://indianexpress.com/article/trending/trending-in-india/humpback-dolphins-spotted-in-mumbai-is-not-a-rare-phenomenon-7199031/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">dolphins</a> to <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/news/animal-news/giant-lizard-climbs-store-shelves-thailand-7-eleven-n1263483" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">giant lizards</a>, they were all back out in the open reclaiming their space. </i><i>This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span> </i></div>
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</div><a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-37875174533879563592021-04-22T17:57:00.013+05:302021-04-22T22:50:15.142+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: S<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U0R7wS1cpAI/YIFopBbtXWI/AAAAAAAB-xE/WQf-3YD0yE80B75Uusfn9-dGBW-grC0AACLcBGAsYHQ/s765/3_765x530.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="765" height="139" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U0R7wS1cpAI/YIFopBbtXWI/AAAAAAAB-xE/WQf-3YD0yE80B75Uusfn9-dGBW-grC0AACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h139/3_765x530.webp" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Indian Express</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>S</b></span>hare my screen?” <br /><br />I freeze. How do I do that? Math, not computers, is my forte. I could describe logic and solve problems in my sleep. Damn. I should have let Alex teach me the workings of these conferencing tools. My heart pounds faster. <br /><br />Out of the corner of my eye, I watch my 8-year-old slide towards my desk. I try to wave her away. Persistent, she skillfully locates and clicks the Share Screen button, rolls her eyes, and slithers off soundlessly. I pray that the interviewer did not catch that. On screen, I watch him break into a smile. <div><br /></div><div><i>Note: When the pandemic struck, teachers all over had to make huge shifts to their ways of working - both physical and psychological. Not only did they have to learn a whole new world of remote teaching methods, they also had to find innovative ways to keep children involved over a screen. And that meant longer hours before and after the actual classes. This post is dedicated to the teaching fraternity - the ones that shape the world - and extended to their families for their support. </i><i>This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span> </i></div>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-39545270487173355552021-04-21T17:57:00.001+05:302021-04-21T18:37:19.767+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: R<div id="fb-root">
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<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWcGKaRhJiMikX1KMuSTOBSCMOpDDYrhBJ2wbuowLHlHyaLlpJwznTMFSp70wbf6NTQGawRqEtZZ5hCOLbSr8CoUpA9ajySxq649hpJfc74-w8tkbZa7A6TWYUp-zOqWZkleopMVOjK_E/s450/depression-suicide.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWcGKaRhJiMikX1KMuSTOBSCMOpDDYrhBJ2wbuowLHlHyaLlpJwznTMFSp70wbf6NTQGawRqEtZZ5hCOLbSr8CoUpA9ajySxq649hpJfc74-w8tkbZa7A6TWYUp-zOqWZkleopMVOjK_E/w200-h200/depression-suicide.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />“<i><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>R</b></span>asam</i>, piping hot. 2 mins,” Mom yells from the kitchen.<br /><br />Tears well up in my eyes. I feel betrayed, angry, bitter. My chest feels heavy. My head aches from having to bottle up my emotions. I should have been at Dubrovnik of King’s Landing. With my friends. And yet here I am. Sequestered indoors while they tour Croatia. <br /><br />“Relax, <i>chinna</i>,” she says, walking in with a bowl. <br /><br />The pungent smell hits me hard, makes my nostrils burn. The held-up tears come gushing down in a torrent, but end in a smile. With a jolt I realize I can smell again.<br /> <p></p><p><i>Note: Rasam is the south-Indian version of spicy-sweet soup, and often consumed for it's associated health benefits, This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span> </i></p>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-89811566727348052712021-04-20T18:13:00.001+05:302021-04-20T18:13:15.021+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: Q<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-buqTdTchOL8/YH5aSVMOJUI/AAAAAAAB-eM/kI7bJ5FEtTU9aHvK6THMVJFfQax5kATlgCLcBGAsYHQ/s759/Spidermam-759.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="759" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-buqTdTchOL8/YH5aSVMOJUI/AAAAAAAB-eM/kI7bJ5FEtTU9aHvK6THMVJFfQax5kATlgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Spidermam-759.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: The Indian Express</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>Q</b></span>uick Mama, you’ll miss him,” my 6-year-old bounces to the window, as if on an invisible trampoline. <br /><br />“Oh honey, Spiderman can’t come out from the TV!” <br /><br />“But he will, just watch!” <br /><br />Nate stands to one side, chuckling at our son’s antics, and winks at me. <br /><br />“Lockdown imagination running havoc.” I remark, rolling my eyes. <br /><br />“Honey, listen to your Mama…,” <br /><br />I watch Nate’s jaw drop and his expression go slack. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I follow his gaze to the window. Clinging to the outside of our home, Spiderman waves to my grinning son.<div><br /></div><div><i>Note: Two martial arts teachers dressed up as Spiderman to cheer up kids in England amid coronavirus lockdown. You can read more about it <a href="https://indianexpress.com/article/trending/trending-globally/martial-arts-teacher-spiderman-coronavirus-lockdown-england-6348586/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>. While the premise is real, the above conversation is fictional. This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span> </i></div>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-40118439541287000232021-04-19T19:38:00.001+05:302021-04-19T19:38:04.717+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: P<div id="fb-root">
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<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XnIHV9MBvM0/YH2NOrQPsDI/AAAAAAAB-cU/yTMm4j3tmjg4sXB3fQ8B7HadXd0p3JMcQCLcBGAsYHQ/s312/Capture.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="222" data-original-width="312" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XnIHV9MBvM0/YH2NOrQPsDI/AAAAAAAB-cU/yTMm4j3tmjg4sXB3fQ8B7HadXd0p3JMcQCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/Capture.PNG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Sea Mashable</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>P</b></span>PE Kits? How on earth?” I am not sure if I am imagining things, but Kian confirms it.</p>“First the lockdown and now this.” I comment aloud. This could mean the end of our wedding planner business. Kian sits scratching his beard. I can almost see the gears turning in his head. <br /><br />“Think about it, Myra,” he says with a grin, “we can totally do this. And sell it, like hot cakes man. Make it memorable. Covid is here to stay. Let’s milk it.” <br /><br />Three days later, the couple’s PPE kit themed pre-wedding photo-shoot pictures go viral on social media.<div><br /></div><div><i>Note: In the midst of all the negative news, comes a heart warming story of two front-line workers in Malaysia, determined to make their special day memorable. Read more about it <a href="https://sea.mashable.com/culture/14344/malaysian-couple-hold-ppe-themed-wedding-shoot-after-falling-in-love-at-quarantine-center" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></i>. <i>While the premise is real, the above conversation is fictional. This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span></i> </div>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-58559089413926988322021-04-17T17:52:00.005+05:302021-04-17T18:03:12.324+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: O<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eTP-C6NPD-E/YHrSWzEh1xI/AAAAAAAB-NE/HpT61J1iQi0xMuJOlHQKCui73K4m-qUwACLcBGAsYHQ/s796/Phonebrands.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="796" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eTP-C6NPD-E/YHrSWzEh1xI/AAAAAAAB-NE/HpT61J1iQi0xMuJOlHQKCui73K4m-qUwACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Phonebrands.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>O</b></span>ne Plus Nord 5G, latest!” he exclaims, looking for telltale signs of interest on my face. <br /><br /><div>“Here, OPPO F19 Pro. Best in class camera. Or Redmi? Bestselling phone today.” <br /><br /> Not finding what I look for, I mutter a Thank you and turn to leave. That night, I open up the Amazon app and flick through phones, finally placing my order.</div><div> <br />The Samsung Galaxy M51. <br />One factor setting it apart from the others – Country of Origin: India. <br /><br /> A silent, somewhat patriotic, but mostly pissed off vow to shun products from the bat-eating powerful communist nation attributed with the origin of Covid.<div><br /></div><div><i>Note: </i><i>This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span></i> <br /><br /></div>
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</div><a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-85098696869888956132021-04-16T18:01:00.001+05:302021-04-16T18:05:32.262+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: N<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7cZzdf9c6TM/YHku6ARDxZI/AAAAAAAB-A0/lcSqUDIAg5Uc9grAQAXpFZtnu6IqbT1kQCLcBGAsYHQ/s537/N%2BApplicances.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="537" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7cZzdf9c6TM/YHku6ARDxZI/AAAAAAAB-A0/lcSqUDIAg5Uc9grAQAXpFZtnu6IqbT1kQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/N%2BApplicances.PNG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Shutterstock</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">N</span></b><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">ah, something’s wrong. It’s the first time ever that he’s so disinterested.
Earlier, we would meet every single day. Now weeks pass by with no contact,” mused
Kia, standing in the garage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Weird! It’s the opposite for me, I can’t wait for him to
leave,” remarked Vu. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Oh, he’s tiring me out too,” agreed Kelvin, from the kitchen.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The lockdown-restricted lazy IT developer lounging on the
couch, stuffed Doritos into his mouth and started a movie on Netflix, as
the indoor appliances – the Vu TV and the Kelvinator fridge exchanged guilty glances,
feeling sorry for Kia parked in the garage. </span><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><i>Note: </i><i>This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></span></i><p></p>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-81135040767813109432021-04-15T18:41:00.001+05:302021-04-15T18:41:15.724+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: M<div id="fb-root">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ri8wwqT29fk/YHe-1DmMhbI/AAAAAAAB97I/frKzyQH2FOwRIpoad2mwcL7tyzyrbDjWgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/Food-sold-in-movie-halls-is-unusually-expensive..jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ri8wwqT29fk/YHe-1DmMhbI/AAAAAAAB97I/frKzyQH2FOwRIpoad2mwcL7tyzyrbDjWgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Food-sold-in-movie-halls-is-unusually-expensive..jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>M</b></span></span><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">angesh, come on! There’s hardly any margin in film
distribution these days,” said Tyagi. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Rate’s fixed. Pay me
20, I’ll get the decision reversed.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The new law mandating theatre owners to allow patrons to
bring in outside food into the theaters was hitting revenues hard, especially
considering how on-premise eatables were exorbitantly priced. It was time to bring </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">back </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">control into the hands of film distributors and theatre owners. Basically,
show-time.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Fine. 20. Get it done.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">That night however, in an unexpected decision, the
government enforced an indefinite Covid-19 lockdown across the state, and their plans went up in smoke.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;">Note: Hari, thank you for the <a href="https://twitter.com/Hardik4Society/status/1380181507780661250/photo/1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">picture prompt</a> suggestion for today's post! </i><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;">This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <span><a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="color: #cccccc;">. </span></span></i></span></p></div>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-69059509974422586272021-04-14T06:30:00.007+05:302021-04-14T22:56:46.714+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: L<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gu9HYcLvHY4/YHL0hJqpHnI/AAAAAAAB9pA/AzZzMvhCL0QxrIBqKbnnLdi2fP5lWV3MACLcBGAsYHQ/s976/_116676871_gettyimages-1208856065.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="976" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gu9HYcLvHY4/YHL0hJqpHnI/AAAAAAAB9pA/AzZzMvhCL0QxrIBqKbnnLdi2fP5lWV3MACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/_116676871_gettyimages-1208856065.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Getty images for BBC</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">L</span></b><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">et it go, Shilpi. Sometimes we women should learn to ignore.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">I feel myself tearing up, unable to speak. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“He’s not all that bad, right? It’s just bad timing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">I look up at her, disbelieving, begging for her to understand.
Unfazed, she continues. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“It’s difficult for them, being cooped up at home all the
time. Lockdown has made it tougher for them.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“What about me?” I want to scream, but no words come out.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“It will be fine, you’ll see. Just stay out of his way, you’ll
be OK.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The smoldering red welts on my back know there’s no escape. </span><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><i>Note: </i><i>The lockdown that brought several families closer together giving them the much overdue time together, also reared its ugly side at the other end. </i><i>An epidemic in its own, complaints of domestic violence throughout India and the world soared during the pandemic. More <a href="https://www.thehindu.com/data/data-domestic-violence-complaints-at-a-10-year-high-during-covid-19-lockdown/article31885001.ece" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>. This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></i><p></p>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-11116878729052263852021-04-13T18:30:00.005+05:302021-04-13T18:30:00.224+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: K<div id="fb-root">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mVJtQcEkErM/YHLwNWN7XYI/AAAAAAAB9o4/1YedJmGAoSIRUdxQXjsFjEBb3DfQq7fBACLcBGAsYHQ/s958/Entrepreneur.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="958" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mVJtQcEkErM/YHLwNWN7XYI/AAAAAAAB9o4/1YedJmGAoSIRUdxQXjsFjEBb3DfQq7fBACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Entrepreneur.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">K</span></b><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">eep that phone aside when I am talking to you,” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Why don’t you understand? I am happy and successful, doing
what I like.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“And what about marriage?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“What about it? Why the urgency?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Oh dear God. I curse this lockdown. If not for this, you
would still have been working in that stable job.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Which I despised. From the core of my being. Thanks to
lockdown and remote working, I could finally start my own pet-care venture.
What’s not to love?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“But you …”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“No buts.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“This isn’t a normal job.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Never wanted one.”'<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Hey, don’t you walk away …”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;">Note: This 100-word micro-fiction written ENTIRELY using dialogues ONLY and gender-independent on both roles, has been penned for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></i></span></p><p></p>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-23858022524234755792021-04-12T18:30:00.004+05:302021-04-12T18:50:08.656+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: J<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0nYz3yOnXBM/YHLttpbPdZI/AAAAAAAB9ok/HwxHY_BXpYAOIFBoNUeMt2J6kgGPw0dLgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1920/10_cloverfield_lane-0.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1005" data-original-width="1920" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0nYz3yOnXBM/YHLttpbPdZI/AAAAAAAB9ok/HwxHY_BXpYAOIFBoNUeMt2J6kgGPw0dLgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/10_cloverfield_lane-0.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Cloverfield Fandom</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“</span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">J</span></b><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">uoron yoerie muelban. FALKRIF.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">The automaton reversed direction, mechanically gliding back
to the cockpit. The 1200-tonne amalgamation of steel and corboroxizone, gyrated
12 degrees northward, changing direction mid-flight, re-charting their course away
from Earth. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"> </span><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“That was genius, Gramps,” exclaimed 7-year old Sonspoa, 83
years later.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"> </span><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“We did what we had to do, champ. The virus spread. Millions passed.
Lockdown was imperative. It was painful. But infra-red concentrations thinned. The
only way to make ourselves invisible to the Alverki invasion.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Aww, you were a hero, Gramps,” crooned a
blissfully ignorant Sonspoa, unaware of the destruction history had left in its
wake.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Note: This is the first time I have ever attempted something around these lines and I must say this is totally out of my comfort zone! This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></i></p>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-6856369301508626382021-04-11T18:30:00.008+05:302021-04-11T23:54:27.802+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: I<meta property="fb:app_id" content="129276353881886" />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3dfZ-Xri4VI/YG_iQK6o2MI/AAAAAAAB9ZI/wAH5Cx4jLqMUECDxkAOytn2L4O6EuJyxQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/russian-hospital-fire.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3dfZ-Xri4VI/YG_iQK6o2MI/AAAAAAAB9ZI/wAH5Cx4jLqMUECDxkAOytn2L4O6EuJyxQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/russian-hospital-fire.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: The Indian Express</td></tr></tbody></table><br />“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>n here Doctor, NOW.” Operating surgeon Dr. Filatov said, his deep baritone firm and commanding, leaving no room for argument. <br /><br />The intern’s eyes took in the other doctors and nurses in the OT focusing on the task at hand, sensing the urgency palpably visible under the surface. Around them, the fire continued to spread. Plastering on the roof started to wilt and he could see hot embers wafting down. <br /><br />“We have enough Covid deaths already, Doctor. We do not need more because we couldn’t do our jobs right.” <br /><br />The intern met his gaze in awe, and silently returned to suturing. <div><br /></div><div><i>Note: This 100-word micro-fiction is inspired by a recent news article about a team of heroes - doctors in Russia who continued to operate on a heart patient even as the hospital was on fire. You can read the news article <a href="https://indianexpress.com/article/trending/trending-globally/russian-doctors-operate-on-a-patient-while-hospital-was-on-fire-7258177/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>. The scene depicted above is fictional though and </i><i>written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-86796639118702252652021-04-10T18:30:00.006+05:302021-04-10T18:30:00.403+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: H<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MsgIHiJyiOA/YG_Y1obi1kI/AAAAAAAB9Ys/bB6kXR9xQE0by6gkzXRbxyqVT3N2occOwCLcBGAsYHQ/s460/h.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="244" data-original-width="460" height="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MsgIHiJyiOA/YG_Y1obi1kI/AAAAAAAB9Ys/bB6kXR9xQE0by6gkzXRbxyqVT3N2occOwCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h170/h.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>H</b></span>ave you gotten your test done?” asked Arun, massaging his temple. <br />“I’ll get it done tomorrow Sir,” replied Deepak, coughing again. <br /><br />Arun was exhausted. With 2 weeks to go for his exit, Deepak had stopped working, claiming illness. The new guy wasn’t up to speed yet. Arun sighed, wished him a speedy recovery and disconnected. Employee relations with employees on their way out was usually tiresome barring exceptions, but ever since Covid-19, the excuses came easier. <br /><br />“Thanks Sir,” said Deepak, as he disconnected and switched his focus to his McDonald’s meal, ready for the next Netflix run of the day.<br /><p></p>
<div><i>Note: This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></i></div>
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</div><a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-61520556318652623212021-04-09T18:30:00.024+05:302021-04-09T19:22:24.798+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: G<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VoaIVAN0AY4/YG1HfBST4FI/AAAAAAAB9EY/dQUp4rrrBoo1zkQliFaBGOUd3f0GGIz5wCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/e33116e0496f6a986385ff7a42b143be.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="427" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VoaIVAN0AY4/YG1HfBST4FI/AAAAAAAB9EY/dQUp4rrrBoo1zkQliFaBGOUd3f0GGIz5wCLcBGAsYHQ/w134-h200/e33116e0496f6a986385ff7a42b143be.jpg" width="134" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 36pt;">“</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 36pt;"><i>G</i></span><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 36pt;"><i>ajavadana beduveee …</i> “. Soft musical notes waft up to my
balcony from the downstairs apartment. I sit cross-legged on my swing, soaking
in the smell of a fresh morning coffee, swaying gently with the breeze, poised
for 72-year old Jaya Aunty’s daily music practice, my very own daily form of meditation.</span><p></p><p><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;">“Oh God. I can’t
focus,” a young voice breaks the melody.</span></p><p><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;">“Come on Ma. Our work from home and Karthik's school. That’s priority. Not this. Just stop this for a few
months.”</span></p><p><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;">I hear Jaya Aunty go
quiet. In that instant, not just one, but two hearts break.</span></p><p><i>Note: </i><i>The much-older generation and the much-younger toddlers who have been under house-arrest have had it the worst. The ones in the middle have still found ways to keep themselves entertained. Let's try and keep ourselves sane and give everyone around us a chance to find their mental peace too. Live. But more importantly, let live.</i></p><p><i>This 100-word micro-fiction was born from a conversation I was having with Amma - of struggles faced by the different generations during lockdown. The story is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">. </span></i></p>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-7071997900845507292021-04-08T18:30:00.004+05:302021-04-08T18:46:43.098+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: F<div id="fb-root">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VZ5CpVSowcE/YGxYsTg1S6I/AAAAAAAB9BE/pTJxXg91twcecWWZyive0Lybhy_YgPw4wCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/81441290.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VZ5CpVSowcE/YGxYsTg1S6I/AAAAAAAB9BE/pTJxXg91twcecWWZyive0Lybhy_YgPw4wCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h150/81441290.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Times of India</td></tr></tbody></table><div><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span lang="EN-US">“</span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">F</span></b><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">ive thousand ONLY, you
think you can break lockdown rules?” snaps the man brandishing the municipality
badge. Sporting aviators indoors, he struts around with an air of arrogance,
while his mask having slipped under his nose, rests on his mustache. Not one
of the 54 masked individuals at the wedding venue dare to expose the irony of the
situation though.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">“But ... we
have only 50 guests. Minimal staff for catering also.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;">“Give it </span><i style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;">Saab</i><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;">, you want us to come back and
bother you?” murmurs the assistant. I watch as my uncle helplessly dips into
his wallet for the cash.</span><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span></p><i>Note: This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">. </span></i></div>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-5639362102950656182021-04-07T18:30:00.006+05:302021-04-11T20:50:42.003+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: E<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bxJDdZR9hLA/YGxUlu_qE8I/AAAAAAAB9A8/9hohcCxVlwQSYKsXXluZm1lH0hnNQ0xWgCLcBGAsYHQ/s924/e.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="924" height="173" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bxJDdZR9hLA/YGxUlu_qE8I/AAAAAAAB9A8/9hohcCxVlwQSYKsXXluZm1lH0hnNQ0xWgCLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h173/e.PNG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Marketwatch<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">E</span></span></b><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">xactly! It’s a good thing the Covid lockdown happened. Take
it as an ominous sign, Jeevan,”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“How can you
say that, Ma? It’s just bad timing.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Perfect
timing to call it off. Eh, if they cannot even afford to spend lavishly for
their only daughter’s wedding, how will they …” The rest of her sentence
trailed away under <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Jeevan's </span>scorching glare. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Anyway, we
found you that match. We’ll find you another,” said Pa, with a note of
finality. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">That night,
driven by a renewed feeling of commitment, and a desire to disregard societal
expectations, <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Jeevan</span> and his newfound-love Anushree eloped.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium;">Note: This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">.</span></i></span></p><p></p>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-36623593845605621322021-04-06T13:58:00.005+05:302021-04-06T14:21:55.375+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: D<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pbuiH7VnXBk/YGwa92cS9tI/AAAAAAAB8-o/d_zDcEN2EqwVjasaOCwvX29T8RgkObmgACLcBGAsYHQ/s368/Masks%2Bselling.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="368" height="166" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pbuiH7VnXBk/YGwa92cS9tI/AAAAAAAB8-o/d_zDcEN2EqwVjasaOCwvX29T8RgkObmgACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h166/Masks%2Bselling.PNG" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: Matrubhoomi</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">D</span></i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">as rupaiiya, bas</span></i><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">.” Ten rupees only.
The countdown timer at the signal was at 67.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“What
are you entertaining him for, Riya?” remarked Tarun, scrunching up his nose in
distaste at the lad in ragged clothes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“Where did
you get it from?” Riya pressed. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Didi</i>, you want?” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“This is so
dangerous,” she reiterated. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">“You buy? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Das rupaiiya</i>. Take one,” he pushed. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span color="windowtext" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Tarun eased
ahead as the lights turned green. Riya shuddered in her seat, watching the boy
in the rear view mirror, vowing to cut up masks before disposing them as the
boy continued to peddle used masks as new.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><i>Note: This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">. </span></i><p></p>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8527908250630994905.post-68556112619674732612021-04-05T11:50:00.004+05:302021-04-05T13:28:03.852+05:302021: Blogging A-Z Challenge: Covid Craziness: C<div id="fb-root">
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<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rhJX2tTh2xg/YGqliE1VCPI/AAAAAAAB83Y/xGfTg14IgHgUh3o5v3KwSLa8UEx0mH7aACLcBGAsYHQ/s378/Camp%2Bcancelled.PNG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="378" height="147" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rhJX2tTh2xg/YGqliE1VCPI/AAAAAAAB83Y/xGfTg14IgHgUh3o5v3KwSLa8UEx0mH7aACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h147/Camp%2Bcancelled.PNG" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pic Credit: GHMC at Hans India</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>“<span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;"><b>C</b></span>ancelled?! Big deal, try next year,” remarked Taru, perplexed by her friend’s extreme dejection. <br /><br />“It was my only escape, Taru. A getaway,” countered Ajju. Taru rolled her eyes at him and faked a heart attack. Dramatic statements warranted dramatic reactions. <br /><br />“You have a great home, rock solid family, everything provided for. What you wanna escape from?” <br /><br />Ajju tore up the cricket camp cancellation notice, courtesy of the Covid lockdown, watching as the pieces fluttered to the ground. <br /><br />“Let it go, you won’t understand.” His father’s deadline for him to join the morbid gravedigging family business inched closer by the day.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Note: This 100-word micro-fiction is written for the Covid Crazies 2021 Edition of the Blogging from A-Z Challenge. The entire list of 2021 posts can be accessed <a href="http://deepa-duraisamy.blogspot.com/2021/04/2021-blogging-z-challenge-is-back.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">here</span></a><span style="color: #cccccc;">. </span></i></div>
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<a href="https://fictionpies.com">Deepa from FictionPies</a>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08190726711949079567noreply@blogger.com16