The Yellow Butterfly

It was a beautiful night. The snow sat still and the stars shone bright. Andrea’s house was the tiniest on the lane yet the lights wrapped around her roof and the fence made her house look the prettiest. She lived alone. Her children had grown up and had settled in other cities. Her grandchildren visited her once a year in summer. But t onight, she was not going to be alone. Tonight was Christmas night. It was going to be a special night.  Tonight, she had invited all the people she loved. Andrea had cooked a delicious meal of chicken and steak. She had baked her famous fruit and wine cake and made a special batch of choco chip cookies. The table was set with cutlery and candles. The Christmas tree was beautifully decorated and around it laid wrapped gifts for everyone, handpicked by Andrea. Just as the clock struck six, her people walked in.  First one was her best friend, Lucy with whom she had shared her entire life, followed by Lucy’s husband, James. Then walked in he

This is the story from the times when Tigers did not have stripes and when they were just plain bright orange.   Once upon a time, Mr and Mrs. Tiger and their son, Little Timmy were travelling far and wide in search of a new home. They came across a big forest. The forest had lush green trees, tall and soft grass, fresh blue water, cool breeze and delicious food to eat.  In it lived many animals-little ones, big ones, not so little and not so big ones, short ones, tall ones, not so short and not so tall ones, long ones, stout ones, not so long and not so stout ones, slow ones, fast ones, not so slow and not so fast ones, wriggly ones, crawly ones, winged ones and scaly ones.  The three Tigers loved the forest and decided to make it their new home. When Little Timmy went to the forest school all the other kids marveled, “Wow. You are so bright and so orange!” Soon Little Timmy had made friends in his class-Jim the elephant’s kid, Henry the Giraffe’s kid, Zazoo the alligator’

*Crump*  *Crip* *Kudum*  The leaves and the twigs broke under my shoes. I was panting and puffing and sweating. Ashu dada called out, “We are almost there!”  I put my head down and kept climbing until there was no more to climb.   “Guys, you got to see this!”  I raised my head and lost my breath.  We were standing atop a hill overlooking the the magnificent snow mountains. The Dhauladhar range covered in white swept across our eyes. The sky was a true ‘sky blue’ and the sun shone on the tallest of the peaks.  I was in heaven!  And to prove that the cities lay on the other side cramped up like little ants.  At Triund  and Photograph by me :)  Once I had gotten my bag in my yellow tent I sat outside and lay on my back  watching the soft fluffy white clouds breeze by, taking in every bit of the snow wonder. The snow mountains looked no less than a bowl of vanilla ice cream sprinkled with choco chips. If only I had a spoon that would fit what I could see! 

It was raining. I entered the cafe disgruntled. The stupid rain had wetted by library book. And my date was running late.  So here I was drenched with murk and water expected to dry off and sit in some corner reading a wet book as my date would make a late entrance. I headed straight to the counter to order a coffee. I saw no one. I yelled, “Will I have to make my own coffee?” A boy got up from under the counter and smiled apologetically, “Sorry. I will make one for you. What would you like?”  I forgot what I wanted. He had twinkling puppy eyes and his lips wore a warm smile. His words seemed like a song that I didn’t want to end. He looked into my eyes intently waiting for me to speak.  I wanted him. I wanted him to keep on talking to me.  “I would like one hot chocolate.” “And would you like some toasties to go with it?”  I wanted to say, “Whatever you say.” But I said, “Yeah cool.” Okay now keep talking. I asked, “Will you get the coffee at my table o

Zubu laughed when others cried.  Zubu cracked up when he saw someone falling down and getting hurt.  Zubu became happy when he saw people sad.  Such was Zubu. People detested him. And called him The Little Devil.  Whenever Zubu walked on the streets people shunned him and ignored him. Zubu used to chuckle taking great pride in this treatment.  Zubu had no friends. And no family. As a kid he lived with a wretched, unloving aunt who had died too leaving him alone.  Zubu used to spend his day laughing at other’s miseries and then just before the sun had set he used to sit on the cliff overlooking the sea watching the orange yolk sink in the waters. Somehow this routine made him happy. But not the happiest.  Once Zubu was walking on the street when a bus sped and stopped a few feet away.  The bus sped away as fast as it had stopped. There was only one person who got off. The bus almost knocked down the person’s luggage. Seeing this Zubu roared with laugh