FRAME 48 STORIES

Creative Inspiration

Renu Kaliyath

He had been sitting in his studio, with a lump of clay to be molded. Hours had been spent thinking about this lovely lady who crossed his path daily to fetch water from the river. Today he had decided to make a sculpture out of her beauty. But since morning nothing had evolved. Then he noticed the cigarette box on the shelf and felt that his inspiration would come, if he had a smoke. He lit the cigarette and took the first puff, the smoke went in warming him, he got his mojo and started to create a beauty..

Yeah Yeah, I have heard that a countless times - Smoking Kills. Believe me, I know it. They even say smoking is a slow poison but then I am in no great hurry. What they don’t realize is that the smoke helps me. It helps me drown myself and disappear. After all, I am a genie and a genie is supposed to disappear in a wisp or cloud of smoke. It would be so undramatic to disappear just like that. So here go smoke rings and there I go … Poof !! .

True Story

rajA

I am 80. As company executive I sat in conference room with smokers. I let people smoke in my office. I let friends smoke, drink and eat in my air-con bedroom. In the 1980s awareness started about the dangers of smoking. Yet we would have long dinners with many smokers at the table. Had NOT realized that Passive Smoking also kills. Near 70th birthday, I was diagnosed with CPOD. I have no old smoker friend alive . P.S.: My Twitter friend in USA has heeded my advice and given up smoking. .

Dreams Led

Madhvi

He had enough of "ifs" and "buts", only if he had kicked butt. All eyes were busy refueling the chopper, didn't he knew, as to when the next test flight, was to take place. "No smoking or signs of ignition, within 30 meters of refueling of an aircraft", the sign read. Hooked to cigar smoking, it had almost cost him his career. It's good that the aircraft body was grounded, and the carbon dioxide fire extinguisher were placed in position. The source of the fire, was traced to a pack of cigarettes, setting alight the battery charging unit..

Free Immigrant

hetal

He closed his eyes, took a deep drag and exhaled slowly, preparing himself for the pretense once again. "All is well. I may be promoted this time . I'll send money soon." He'd assure them. Same banalities, same promises, same lies. What choice did he have ?  His father spent his savings to send him abroad. He however, quit schooling after the first semester . He had only wanted to get away from home; he wanted freedom.  Unknownst to them, he was working odd jobs and living under the radar of the DHS as an "illegal alien." .

The sky is all blue, the trees are all green, the sand is all red, the roads are all black, the buildings are all huge, the people are busy, the children are playing, the oldies are sitting, the poor are all starving, the tea is all black, the glasses are all empty, the whiskey is all brown, the nights are all black,the mornings are cold, the earth is round, the galaxies are filled with stars and black holes, life is a music people in our life give it a specific rhythm. These are the "Weed Trips".

Farewell

Naveen Rane

Dear cigarette, All these years you have been my best companion whether I am happy or sad. You have been listening to my inner voice without judging me. Though you turned yourself into ashes you gave me ideas, relived me from stress of everyday life. As they say all exciting things must come to an end. Tomorrow my wife is delivering our baby and my baby’s face will relive me from stress, so here I am to say final good bye to you. .

Last Puff..

srujana adhikari

Mohan was taking final puff from the cigar. This concert would be his big break and he has to control his tears. He would be singing one of the songs which she had loved. He hears his name being called, throws the cigar on floor and runs to stage. He starts singing trying his best to be calm, failing miserably. He sees her face in the last row smiling, encouraging him. He closes his eyes and wishes her to be alive..

His still lips drift apart and an addiction crawled into his brain. His closed eyes nestled up comfortably amidst puffs of fumes. His facial muscles relaxed and her soul freed from the yearning of conversations. He inhaled that blank moment swiftly and discarded the fake affirmations one by one. Each puff veiled bottomless longing, his tears dried and escaped into the world as smoke. He lied to himself once, nobody can wait forever, wound heals, pain departs, and that’s the way we live. I’ll celebrate life.” Life chuckled ‘Play with philosophical versions, but I won’t be an easy call.’ .

....ONE LAST TIME

Deepankar Goyal

"One last puff", he told himself. He thought he would never smoke it again. But his mind had fallen prey to the hashish and he could not control the desire ever for when he was high he was able to reunite with her. His lost love. Soaring in all glory with her kaleidoscopic beauty. He could not resist her. .

To smoke or not to smoke!

Harshad Mokashi

A cigarette is lit up, the world coughs in smoke. Say no to smoking shrieks everyone. Every morning a sip of coffee is his cue, So many he smoked, but every next one, Feels like something new. Now the whole day he lives in smoke, why worry about tomorrow? or about "kya kahenge log?" Be it work-stress or argument with his father; or yet another break-up. He burns his memories just to light one up. Cigarette is a subterfuge, to the soul a cloak. Life is too short my friend, Don't sear it in smoke..

The Only Thing that Could Defy Him

Jayashree Gajjam

He couldn't be more miserable than today. As he took another photograph out with a shaky hand, a silver lining twinkled in his eyes. It was him smoking, barely twenty, taking a serious decision of joining forces along with his friend. The photograph was in black and white, depicting the whole story of their lives, how they either lived or died. No mediocre things in between. And the whole scenario of 1965 war flashed through his mind, how he managed to breathe till the end and how his brother-in-arms was awarded with PVC posthumously. .

Misperception.

Sejal Waghmare

I was waiting for my bus. Being 8 month pregnant, I am unable to control my mood swings lately. I noticed a man sitting nearby. He was smoking, and staring at me. Which was enough for me to be judgmental towards him and I started passing comments. He realized my agitation instantly, and tried to make a conversation which irritated me more. 'Relax, let me explain' he cleared his throat, and threw away the cigarette. 'My wife and I were expecting our baby next month. But just an hour ago I got a call, we lost him'. I think, I misjudged him..

Killing time

Anuraag Lakshmanan

Walking out the hospital, Ash lit up a cigarette. Although the years had deadened the sensation, he could still feel the mild, momentary rush of nicotine coursing through his veins, calming his nerves. Not much time left, they had said. He couldn’t disagree. After all, wasn’t smoking the best way to kill time? Eleven minutes a cigarette. .

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