Mani made the last deposit for his Mini. He had patiently painstakingly saved for a long time.
The salesman, smilingly rang up the deal and handed him the keys. He climbed in, turned the ignition, put it in gear and drove off.
Entering his village, in a cloud of dust, with children ran alongside crying, “Its Mani Anna, its Mani Anna!”, he drove home.
His Mom peered out amazed, wiping her hands in her seelai. His sister, her pavadai tucked up thoodapam in hand, stood open-mouthed. His father, in muddied dhothi and sweaty bare-chest, smiled proudly.
For Mani, it was worth the money.
#There is a play on the word MANI, sound and meaning. In Indian languages, it can denote bell or its sound, a jewel or beauty, a name meaning ‘a sound guy/girl’ or ‘gem of a person’, or time and Mani sounds like money. I have used all of these meanings and sounds in my writing!
#In Tamil language, Anna, seelai, pavadai & thodapam mean big/elder brother, saree, long skirt & broom respectively and I have tried to portray a village scene!
*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s beautiful photo prompt © Kent Bonham
Father, help me walk in love,
Sowing accord in discord
Knowledge in ignorance
Blessing in curse
Light in darkness
Comfort in distress
Fellowship in fight
Harmony in noise
Safety amidst danger
Courage in fear
Fact in fiction
Truth in lie
Gain in loss
Life in death!
The baubles in the candlestick enticingly twinkle, the inclosed color and hues.
The pristine jar by it, draws with its sparkling crystal clearness, reflecting the light that falls on it
The window glass refracts light through it, driving away the gloom before it.
The polished stone mirrors in its glossy surface the hidden, revealingly portraying.
I surround myself with glass, as beauty and beast, a silent word.
Bolstered by strong frame, it stands firm.
Crafted with care, it shines in glory.
Polished, it reflects all around.
Neglected and careless, it shatters irrecoverably.
My epitaph – reminds me of the human soul.
*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s beautiful photo prompt © Janet Webb