The indicator bulb in the observation room came on again: thankfully, this time it didn’t flicker and go off. Continuous power was critical. The preparations for the operation were complete: the man shaved, the electrodes attached with conductive jelly. Keith had performed the operation many times but every time was nerve-wracking. It was, after all, a matter of life and death and time was running out. The man had started whimpering in fear. Keith threw the switch, sending 2000 volts surging through the man. The execution by electric chair was over. Keith switched off the light.
"This is a historic day. I have managed to install solar bulbs at this school in need after lot of effort. Our beloved Mantriji has spent Rs 100000 from his own MP fund to illuminate this temple of learning. From now on, no child in this facility will have to face darkness ever again The paid crowd clapped as the local leader continued his speech under the name board which read 'Shitiz school for blind'
An impostor...this bulb, Crafted by man, In my world stygian. The filament,a yellow light strutting , And a dim brightness feigning, To erase my darkness,threatening. But it's The Maker's will It clings to me still, You can't my brightness kill. I live and hold mysteries, To my bosom,fast, Made more mysterious, With the shadows you cast. I am the treasurer of the Sun, You can't render me undone. But your efforts won't go in vain, You'll be man's aphotic illusion , Their might manifested, When the bulb's turned off and on, At will,again and again!
A light that sparkles, May not illuminate our lives, What appears from afar? Is it a flicker of promise or a stellar? A shattered fantasy, A deluded spectacle, A callous essence, Devoid of its valour. The realm spins torpid, It progresses at its pace, It guides as it lights, Like neoteric visions those shine. Darkness devours it still, Glimpses of peril amidst it, The splendour of gloom eluded, You squint as you search for sight. The shroud of emotions, The one we all dissimulate, While we beam outside, Inside mind propels senseless, A heart still recuperating, Not frozen yet!
Tiny burnt hands could not reach it. He wished to peek into it. To know if it was real, what he wondered. He imagined the universe inside it. Searching for the flickering stars and imagining the faint warmth of a dying light bulb kept him busy when he had no work to do. Bulbs and the swirls of burning tungsten were all he had in his life. Heat and broken shards of glass were his playmates. He worked in the bulb factory.
Westinghouse sniggered, "Tesla, Edison was ousted from his own company." "So I hear, sir." "By the way, what is your take on Einstein's Theory of Relativity?" "Can space be curved? Can something be conjured out of nothing? It is like giving attributes to a man-made God that doesn't exist." "Edison had similar thoughts against Alternating Current. He promoted Direct Current tenaciously." "He was scheming in his ways, unlike us. He used the Electric Chair as a tool to scare people against AC.", a critical Tesla mused, while eyeing the glowing replica of Edison's carbon-filament bulb in his laboratory.
GlockSupreme maneuvered the hovering module over a huge deserted construction. Its favourite passing time was to travel between universes at black hole sub-particle speed. The tenth secondary fold of the Universe sent it today on a blue Planet, which seemed to be populated by some primitive beings killing each other and by weird iron and stone structures. GlockSupreme wanted to feel with its tentacles the interiors. Nice games he would play. It turned its body into pure energy and dashed ahead. Sudden silence and a burning feeling. GlockSupreme had just given life to the last unbroken bulb on Earth.
"You look beautiful " He looked deep into her eyes and heaved a deep breath. "Don't." A deep blush spread from her head to neck as he playfully pulled the string of her backless dress. "Are you sure about it?" He nodded. Short of breath and profusely sweating, he stared blankly at the flickering bulb overhead, as a tear rolled from the corner of his eyes. "I am sorry." She didn’t speak. It was the longest pause of the entire night. "Please, don't .." She hastily picked her dress and left. The quivering bulb overhead, died a natural death too.
Had I known that heaving sighs can dry the marrow and shake the soul, I would have seemingly come prepared. Tonight I would rather die than cry. Being a man sure is a curse. Sooner or later you have to unearth everything. Treasures, secrets, love. And not knowing that the heart is but a black spot on the sun of your being. Now living is not an option. I hope that death contains much less than this. But what is the value of hope post blackout?
Isn't it amazing? I asked her. She did not say anything. I tried once more but she did not respond. It was only when I met the instructor there that I realized that she was blind and deaf. I felt really sorry for her and it just came to me that sometimes the light does not count if it is meant to be dark. Why not value the light already before it gets too dark to matter?
You aren't on the wrong side. Just because we are associated with evil doesn't mean we actually are. We had a peaceful co-existence with our counterparts until they began siding with the aliens to prolong their power over time, so much that they even termed it ‘Day’, which means the time of light. Be not afraid of this thing called war. We are here because, the other side fears us. The key is to keep the aliens burning long enough to destroy them. Without adequate breaks, they perish. They shall be their own nemesis. Let darkness prevail!
It's all a bit sneaky, this life thing. Binding you in the socket, like an ordinary bulb. Putting on a bright mask, even though you're burning inside. Someone, something controlling you against your wish... hastily, excessively, unfairly. Essentially experiencing superlative zenith as well as abysmal nadir. Gradually you lose the power to burn; you know it's the final turn. Unpredictable. Unwarranted. If you're lucky, you’ll die a hero. Else you’ll get trampled midway by antagonists like better and bigger LEDs. But thou shalt not fear. That is the gospel here. Happiness is serving the needy, not garnishing the greedy.
Enclosed in that storeroom, by mistake, she reminisced that day. The day, years ago, in this same storeroom where they had made their vows under the flickering light of a yellow bulb. His hands rested on her love handles, her eyes fixed onto his', their lips softly caressing. Years passed, vows forgotten but love remained albeit with a new meaning, every day.
Weary and beat, Kabir's throat was parched. Grappling for water in the darkness, his hand accidentally upturned the glass and water spilled out. He licked it from the ground and thought of Her. As he did frequently. Her eyes. Her laughter. He tried to giggle childishly, but his body ached. The flickering light reminded him of the inhuman and incessant electric shocks. That he could tolerate, but he suffered from not meeting Her. His Love and Life. Once He'd said, "I love you like mad." The asylum bore witness to yet another tragic love story.
“Oh darn! Not again! This is the third time in the day” snapped Tom sitting in the darkness. “I don’t think it’s the power cut this time.” Said his flatmate Eddy. “Look the neighbors have light.” “I think I have a spare light bulb, let me change it, you show the flashlight” Eddy added. Tom “Ok, have you ever thought where the light reaches it finds the darkness is already reached there, waiting patiently. The mighty darkness it’s everywhere.“ Eddy “The way I see it, the light is winning. Remember there was only darkness in the beginning.”
A flickering bulb hangs over me. My body is burnt, killed and listless. My tyrants show me my little daughter’s photo. Her angelic face gets my heartbeat racing. Then, a blow on head gets me drifting again This time, I see my wife. She looks as angelic as the day she left for heaven. I try getting closer to her, but then I am hammered back to life. The bulb overhead keeps switching on/off. Its a choice. Off and I continue living with my wife. On and I continue living for my daughter. I wish the bulb didn’t exist.
"7.9 on magnitude caused 5500 deaths and counting. Rainstorm has worsened the aftermath. " "Empathising won't be enough. We should do more of what we have planned. The medical supplies are ready. Dispatched for the airport." "Ready to test your knowledge and help the devasted? " "Yes sir. I've always wanted to help people. This seems one of the best ways. But what if I fail? " "My child. Don't let yourself down looking at difficulties ahead. It's the beginning. I'm always with you. You're taking the light there. It's better to burn out than fade away."
She remembered getting into the ICU with a heavy heart,With a watery smile He said "so you know I'm departing to a better place". She asked "what will I do without you?" He replied "Look at that light bulb, even when I'm not around and the darkness doesn't let you sleep, like the light I'll be shining on and watching over you guiding you through it all". And with that he departed. His eyes didn't shut, but he was gone. Forever.
Light slipped through the stained glass of the bulb, dappling the walls. The room was dimmed under the light, fighting to stay lit. He laid there in silence, motionless just staring absentmindedly at the constantly flickering bulb. The toll on his body fighting an aggressive disease was obvious, yet every night his tired eyes kept admiring the bulb’s determination to fight for its life. He slipped in & out of consciousness trying hard to focus on that twitching speck. His Parkinson’s had been a slow decline. His vitals tanked. Eventually, that night the bulb gave up as well.
‘Living in electrified village seems distant' Worker Rohtas said Contractor offered him a drink and said 'Forget it ' Rahul angrily asked 'The houses in the centre of village are electrified but why are we still gasping & struggling in darkness of misery' Contractor rreplied 'Netas in the pocket of Landlords whereas Workers in the armpit of Contractors' Rohtas quizzed again 'But one of us is Mantri, he used to sell tea, Will nothing changes in our life' Contractor said laughing 'He is no more one of you as He has become Mantri ji, one of them'
She had my eyes. Victory! Happy tears. Fair like an angel, my reason to live now. She held my finger at the thought, baby already giving me assurance. So beautiful, was my very own. I touched her cheek, she smiled. Awe! 9 months and labor, all pain clean sweep. Afraid to carry the tiny tot, but still enthusiastic. It was the most beautiful feeling this life could bestow on me. I wished I could live in that moment forever. Now I only rewind. She started crying as the lights went off. I never saw light after that day.
Lighting your soul is an inevitable step in the journey of life. This picture looks like a mean soul who is not emitting the inner brightness, goodness and happiness to even its closest proximity. What is the point of having goodness within and not sharing it with your loved ones around or the society, as a whole? Don't keep your brightness within, because brightness shared is happiness doubled. To open doors of heaven for yourself, share the good part of your soul with dark souls around and show them the bright world of light and happiness.
"We had talked about this. It has to be me because Sparkplug is still very young and needs you to take care of him." "Hey kiddo, don't trouble mommy too much, ok? Be good. I will miss you." "Me too!" Later, "Why do we have to do it?" "So that the rest of us can survive. We get electricity only if we burn on the altar." "Ma, what will happen when there is nobody left to burn anymore?" "They will dispose our colony and replace it with a new one."
Without turning back I was running. It was pitch-dark and the road was deserted. Should reach a safe place first was the ultimate aim. Dresses soaked in adrenalin tsunami. Run, run was the only command of brain. Subconscious mind was checking whether phone, wallet were safe. Distant dim light was like an oasis. Finally reached the station and jumped into the running train. Inner self was dancing in delight while feeling stolen jewels in the pocket. I moved to the window side as there was a breeze. Someone who was already seated there raised a gun against me OMG
He came once in a fortnight or sometimes a month. Wearied because of the failing business, achievable promotion or unpaid debts. Her body still sore from the bruises of the past encounters. Fretting the present. She can't escape the rough caress, the smell of alcohol or the robustness of his arms. She surrenders to the vow she took at the altar. Saying 'no' to him was profane. Few years back she had imagined candle lights and musk scent around. But now as she looks up to the one bulb, all she sees in its light is darkness ahead.
New doctor:" whats wrong with this patient" Nurse: she gets agitated when she sees bulbs New doc: do you know why Nurse:she used to be a perfomer at an old club , and the make up room was full of these yellow bulbs, she just keeps shouting bombay velvet when she sees them Doctor:get the white lights in her room.
"stop playing with the light" said a feminine voice in the dark corner "arghh, whats your problem" said a rough male voice from another " well for starters this house does not have any one here staying for years and , it does not have a electricity connection" said the feminine voice " this flickering dusty bulb makes me feel alive for what i was" said the male spirit.
She preferred the darkness. The night concealed the blood spattered on the wall & the clotted blood on the floor. She kept the lights off at all times. She was obsessed with it. She always turned the lights off. The air was thick with smell of blood. She stepped out to get some fresh air. She sensed ominous dark clouds. She heard a CLICK & hurried inside, only to find a single bulb on. The deep dark blood was fresh again and was now flowing towards her. She turned the light switch off. The bulb refused to die.
When she sneaked out of his life, she even sucked out every breath in him. Nothing remained. Not even matter; matter is but Shakti as creation. His world is dead, a shapeless dark void. His soul: a glitter of self immolation.
An old man sat shivering inside a tent with two hikers, Jassi and Manmeet. The ground was wet and the bulb flickered violently. The storm was gaining momentum. “It was a bad Idea, coming here at this time,” Jassi said and Manmeet nodded. “No” The old man smiled, “If that was the case, I wouldn’t have experienced your gracious hospitality.” Jassi and Manmeet looked at each other. The bulb glowed. The old man chuckled and then vanished. A boulder flew over and crushed the tent with its occupants. Death had come by the tent to say hi.
She didn't feel like getting up from her bed. Even if she managed to, she'd just go sit still on the couch. Like a zombie. She'd been feeling low for a while now. Never felt like doing anything. No enthusiasm for activities she used to love doing. No happiness from any corner. She could not be sure why she was feeling like this. Darkness all around her. A voice in her head said, this is how depression hits you. The realization was like a ray of light in her dark world and she knew she had to get help.
“What do you think of yourself? You’re just six years old. At the age of wiping your nose, you’re playing with electricity?” And a sudden slap imprinted on his right cheek, he trembled but his eyes were still clinging on that wire, which was connected with a lighted bulb. When his mother threw herself on cot with sombre expression, he resettled that wire, near that window which opened into his friend’s home. He knew “It has been raining outside and his friend was not able to read under road-light today.” Now smile found its way on his teary-lips.
For every time she sat in a dark room, that little lamp gave her hope. That one blow had killed her soul. Every second that went by, she was weeping inside yet smiling outside. She didn't want to be an example of a tragedy, but an inspiration of getting through hell. She still believed that scars are proof of the living, symbols of strength, not a reminder of pain. For every time she sits in a dark room, that little lamp gives her hope that one day, she will live by her name; light up lives and spread smiles.
It was a dark night made darker still by the gathering clouds pierced by occasional lightening. She sat stitching buttons on her son’s school shirt. The light in the verandah bulb was flickering. Must be a loose wire somewhere, she muttered. Suddenly: a flash and a cry. She ran inside to find lightening had struck the black blanket on the metal bed. Her heart froze thinking of her son asleep; But then the cry? She turned and found her son standing inside the bathroom door; his hand at his mouth stopping the cry that had escaped.
"Shivani, do tell me, as to what queries those instructors, put forth you, so we get a cue as to what to expect", barked Ashish. Not a moment passed by and Amson chimed in, " Viva's a bit or a lot impromptu, when the trio heads it". Unaffected by their mindless repartee, Shivani, headed into the cabin. No longer had she seated herself, did the wholly of questions came her way. She answered all, calmly; only to be caught off guard by the next. "What holds the base of an electric bulb?", all she could utter was, "Interlocking slots".
Year 2030. Science Museum, New Delhi. "Son, look at this, when i was a young boy, we used these at our homes" A bewildered Rohit retorts "These lit up the house you mean?" "Yes, it was before even the tube light came into being, the poor could only afford this" "Eew, such a dull light this emits dad, I am almost having a headache, how could you even read under this light?" Rishi Mathur, smilingly replied "Yes Rohit, it was under such a bulb that your father studied for 15 years before topping the IAS entrance"
"tup tip tup tip..." daddy tap is leaking please fix this tomorrow. Dad are you listening !! thak thak .. daddy open the door please thak thak !! Ohh God what happened why dad is not opening the door.. "Door opens" what happened to the lights ..!! i can’t see anything properly "then she entered the room and door gets automatically closed". she get very scared and started crying. A guy tapped her back and lot of other people joined him and they all started singing "Happy birthday to you"...!!
While cleaning the old rustic trunk of his father, he came across things that his father called memories. He kept few aside to throw after rummaging through the trunk. Right then, his father walked in with a disconcerting look. His trembling hand picked the bulb, stared at it and said "son, you know this was the only source of light for me as a student. Despite flickering many times, it never went off, it only made me stronger as a person. It’s not a thing but my camaraderie”. Finishing the sentence, the old man walked away with the bulb.
“I didn't send you to town for this. Go get a job.”, babbled Amma. “Your eyes hurt.”, Rohan answered, scribbling on his sheet. As he stood up with his tools, Amma maundered, “Four years of struggling for us and all you do is wander around with tools”. Rohan sighed, “This village needs me.”, he said as he left. A week later, he woke her up at dawn. “What?” “Come.” “You're weird.” “Like mother, like son.” As she stepped in, the bright bulb over her sewing machine stunned her core. “Let there be light.”, said Rohan, wiping her tears.
She peered at the book. The light bulb in the tiny one room house, flickered, making it harder to read. How could she study this way? She shoved her book across the floor. Sometimes she wanted to scream at how unfair life was. They were good, honest people; they didn't deserve to be poor! But Papa never let her crib. Papa would say, “Don’t let your circumstances limit you! Abraham Lincoln studied under streetlights; you at least have a bulb of your own! Chin Up Girl. Fight!” She could never let Papa down. She picked up the book again.
“You are looking pretty” Rahul said. “Sure! I mean this bulb is so dim. Can you even see me?” Wife Replied “Baby there is some problem in power supply, but its more romantic, its bit like a candle light dinner. We can see what we want.” He said “But I want to see more” She replied “this is our wedding night and there should be enough light” “now what” He enquired “Nothing, I will sleep now it is too dark to do anything.” She said “You can’t do this” He begged “Yes, Am not doing anything” She said
Husband: Just switch off the light. Wife: Just wear the blanket over your head, it will make you feel dark. Husband: Now a days why do you keep the light on. Wife: Because our son sees the light and feels happy. Husband: Your are fighting against the hope. Wife: Who know's when god will bestow him a boon. Husband: Don't be stupid. Wife: I don't want my son to see darkness, if by god's miracle he gets vision in his blind eyes.
Remote deserted village. Fewer people. Negligible resources. Place with no electricity, away from concrete jungle, in the lap of nature lived a blind woman with hope in her eyes, longing to see her only daughter become doctor one day and a 'developed' village. One fine day, long vacations prompted her to visit her mother, only to find her in ailing condition. Darkness refused to cooperate. Restless daughter made rigorous efforts to lighten the village and start treatment. Bulb in the dark room finally glowed; as her mother went into an eternal deep sleep; with smile on her lips.
It’s almost 1 am. 6 years old Rashed is still awake. Rashed’s mother is sleeping beside him. Rashed still scared within. He knows it’s a temporary fear which will be gone after few days but these few will be horrible. He heard this monster will come again. Today afternoon, monster came and shook everything. He was shivering but not sure if it was due to fear or cold. Rashed’s fear is increasing! The light on the roof shaking and swinging. He hugged his mother tightly. “Mother!! wake up! That earthquake monster has come back.”