The Chronicles of Miss Shola

The blog's epitaph: Miss Shola came and went as she pleased

Archive for February 2011

A perfect sunset

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You don’t need to have a good camera nor be a good photographer to take this postcard picture.


Written by Miss Shola

February 23, 2011 at 2:24 pm

Posted in Shots

The Scent of Change

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A whiff at first and then it disappears,
Plays hide-and-seek for a while to allay your fears;
Just when you hope it has changed its drift, you sniff it
Charging towards you with all its might;
It envelopes you in its fervor, leaving no place to hide
Suffocates you to tears, taking you in its stride;
But it’s only when it has passed that you smell it,
The sharpness of it, that lingers for a long time.

Written by Miss Shola

February 22, 2011 at 2:50 pm

Posted in Poetry

The Reader

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Another flipkart package arrived for her today. This time a much bigger brown box with the same logo tape plastered all over. This was the ninth box that had come in the three months of us staying together. She had asked for my credit card last week; I should have known. But it was too late now.

I had got used the routine of her opening the package. It began with her walking determinedly to the kitchen for her favourite yellow knife (otherwise her gait is lackadaisical even as dinner is burning in the pot!), followed by making a small slit in the package, then a bigger tear in that unyielding cardboard, and as her excitement would get the better of her, she would put the knife aside and tear the package apart with her bare hands.

Today three voluminous books peeped out from their egg shell. She ran her hands over all the books as usual and held them up to her nose. The touching and smelling was important before the tasting. It was all a part of the gastronomical experience, including the licking at the end which went on for days until another package arrived. She picked the thickest of three and turned it over to read the contents of the back cover (as if she didn’t know), and then without further ado flipped over to page one. She slumped down on the settee and in flat ten minutes was prostrate, head up, legs perpendicular and crossed, book cradled between her arms. And that pretty much sealed the weekend for me.

But as I observed her from a distance, my wife morphed into a small girl in a flowery frock with her curly hair restrained into two plaits, splayed as she is wont to now and absorbing every word of her Enid Blyton. The small reader was allowed only one chapter a day and she wanted to eke it out as much as she could. Nothing else filled out the hours better than this; but there were only so many books that could be bought. That was then. Now with free abandon she transported herself into another world; one full of mysteries and realities, humour and drama, plots and narrations, and characters as beautiful as her.

I left the room and let her be in that world for as long as she wanted to.

~ Dedicated to the girl with quirky earrings and flat chappals.

Written by Miss Shola

February 1, 2011 at 6:40 pm

Posted in Shorts