Reminiscences of Crushed Desires

There’s no perfect rhyme or reason, no particular time or season, to reminisce about things, events or people. An old photo or a mere walk down an abandoned lane can bring a rush of memories and before you know, you are spiralling down the rabbit hole.

In the evenings, on my ride back home from work, I’m lured into realms of mindless reminiscences. Pondering over this and that. Ruminating about ifs and buts. Quixotic expectations and half-baked desires, long forgotten, follow me, bore into my conscience. I falter. Lose my way. I miss a turn or take a wrong one. It’s become habitual.


From a sanguine yesterday:

When I left from work, the sky wasn’t as dark. Last vestiges of amber analogous to the last vestiges of faith; the insufferable ache of resigned hopes. A chilly wind blew over my face. Perhaps, not all’s lost, not yet. A shimmer of eager anticipation for the unknown. A strange caprice settled over my heart. At ease, I exited the parking lot.


From a desolate fortnight ago:

An unfamiliar face, drooping shoulders, with quivering hands, she extended a chit. ‘Noah’s Ark. Caesar Lane.’ The scribble read. ‘How far is it from here, honey?’ her confident voice enquired. Sweet and sharp, at once, the senile woman bore her eyes into mine.

One second. Two. Three. Four.

“Noah’s ark… Hope you know where that is now?” He smiled mischievously. The kiss had caught me unaware. For 5”, the world appeared just fine. For 5” 9, you do wish you were taller. As if reading my mind, he stooped a little. And I caught a glimpse of the dangling yellow board, overhead. Glowing under the Christmas lights, with the apartments’ name on it – Noah’s Ark. I smiled too.

“Is it very far, dear?” She almost pleaded. That word ‘far’ pulled me back. Yes, he was far. And I, just a forlorn figure.

Noah’s Ark. The south of where she wants to be. How did she get here? Directing would be an attempt in vain. Several silent seconds pass. A pair of tired pale blue eyes stare at me. I contemplate getting her seated in a rickshaw; I help her mount my scooter instead. 35 minutes later and 11 kms farther, away from my route, a composed elderly touched ground under a glowing yellow board.

A heart pounding inside my chest, the blood degrees cold, the mind adamant, ruthlessly reiterating, “Noah’s ark… Hope you know where that is now?


Winters are poignant, beautifully remindful of times, then and now. I love winters for the same reason that I loathe them.

Asha Seth

50 thoughts on “Reminiscences of Crushed Desires

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      1. Keep writing my friend! Lucky to reach here! God has ways to send angels in form of like minded friends here! And WP is doing great job in creating a platform for us to meet and enjoy each other’s work! Lots of love 💖

        Liked by 1 person

    1. I love to create writings that last long in the memories as a reader. I’m happy to see it works. 🙂 Welcome to my space, dearest. Merry Christmas to you. 😉


  1. I feel annoyed at myself that I couldn’t understand the reference in the last one. You have written it beautifully, but sadly, it is beyond me. And, I know how frustrating it can be to explain. Would it be asking too much, though?

    Liked by 2 people

      1. True, true. I thought so; that’s why I was hesitating. But, appreciate it. I’ll write to you, and hopefully, I’ll have my own “Eureka!” moment. 🙂


    1. Finally understood! Thank you. 😀 Now, I realize that it was right there but wonder why I failed to grasp it. 🙂


  2. Loved reminiscing the winter and its nip through fond memories of your days spent in the chill.
    You’ve got a beautiful blog Asha and prettier still portraits painted in words from your mighty pen.
    Keep up the wonderful work!

    Liked by 3 people

  3. quite an view of time spent winter style. It is a time for reflection especially on a day like to today with snow falling from the sky blanketing the ground dominating the sky chilling the air.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Very true! I’m sure that different sections were written at different times. It’s like you were in the middle of something, things struck and you kept on noting them down. I enjoyed this compilation. Winter is indeed surreal.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Well guessed, Chandan. These were written on different days and of course, in myriad moods. I felt it would be a waste to let the memories of memories pass. 🙂
      Thank you for waiting a while here. Hope you’re doing great!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yeah I’m doing good Asha! What about you? Hope you’re enjoying this christmasy season 🙂

        ‘Memories of memories’ – right! Let the abstraction grows and when we are have a stack of them, we can think of making our ‘memception or memoriception or whatever variant of inception’ (gotta think of the title though). Have fun 😛


“I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.” ― James A. Michener

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