Thursday, September 30, 2010

Scooby and Spirit.

Harini: Hey Scooby! How was your day?

Scooby: Pretty good! Just finished my pedigree, shall we go for a walk Harini?

Harini: Not now dear I am exhausted, let’s watch House.

Scooby: You can watch your dumb TV later; let’s get some fresh air in the twilight. You know I like this time better, rather than dark.

Harini: Why, are you afraid of the dark?



Scooby: Not really. But I see spirits then, they sometimes make me eerie.

Harini: Oh Jesus! (My hair stood up). Do you see ghosts around?

Scooby: No, No , Not ghosts, but cloudy spirits floating. They are rather harmless.

Harini: Are they around all the time? Do they kill people? How do they look like?

Scooby: Easy Harini! They just float along, minding their own business, but some of them prattle, which annoy me. Most of them are totally cool; these spirits are the ones carrying ideas around the world and connecting people with similar thoughts.

Harini: Are there thousands of them around then?

Scooby: Yeah, but very few fluffy and light ones, most of them are dark which are either too grumpy or prattling. They tell me there were lots of fluffy and light ones, but not many left these days. Many of them were dudded*, when pollution starts accumulating on their frames, they become heavy and finally drop on soil. Dudding is the scariest that that can happen to these spirits.

Harini: Oh I see! Can I see them as well?

Scooby: I don’t think so. You see, you got to have my kind of eyes. And it is better for you not see or hear them. They growl about your fancy factories, cool cars, magic mills and all the fascinating things you humans are proud of. They can’t actually be your friends.

To myself: Good god, now we are dudding spirits.

* Dudd = Dead + Mud ;).
** image courtesy joanohmcgregor.com.

My Little Light



Light burning on blue candle is like fire on clear blue water,
smelling like a wild blue flower. The light is constantly looking
upwards, sometimes swaying with the mild wind blow, but never the less
standing on its feet.

I wonder doesn’t it get tired of its erect posture? May be no, may be
it enjoys blissful unison with wick and wax.

This elegant candle is left, to lonely burn in the middle of the dark room.
I feel it is looking at me with sad eyes, pleading me to sit beside
and give it warmth. It is a bold fire burning for survival, rising
from its own tears looking around for a pal.