Home sweet home.

In my paternal home which is located 40 kms from Jaipur, and is very old, people say they have seen an old man in white attaire with long white beard along with a big and very long snake, which too has a beard. They are mostly seen by people who are not from the family or the people who enter the place with wrong intensions.

We’ve been living in that place since genrations and never encountered any such thing. Still people are afraid of entering the place after the dusk falls. Recently an old lady who was appointed to do ‘pooja’ daily in a small family temple located in the oldest part of the house, which also is hovered by the looming hills, got her leg fractured. When she was asked how it happened? She said she saw someone in white attire with long white beard who appeared sad or not happy with her efforts, so in her hurry she slipped on the steps and fell down which led to the fracture. But when my uncle who lives in the village itself, went to check for it, he found nothing of the sort.

On every ‘Deewali’ night many from the village gather at the foothills of the hills adjoining our place, waiting for the snake to appear and the hill to glow in golden hue, which according to them happens only for a flick of a second. But is visible to only those who are considered blessed. Very few people are left who have got the chance to witness this phenomenon along with the old man and the mythical snake.

In our family they believe that the presence of the snake denotes the presence of wealth hidden by our ancestors in our home. And the old man is none other than one of them, who is looking after the family home and the family. His presence is felt by many in our home but not anyone from the family members. Once I remember as a child I heard a story from old village man who said that my grandfather in his youth tried to dug out that wealth. He had sent my great grandmother to his city home in Jaipur and he started the search. Here in city that very night she got a dream, where an old man in white with long white beard appeared and warned her saying that if she wants her son to be alive she should stop him form digging the area or else he will die. As this is not for him but for the fourth genration. The next day my great grand mother started back for village and asked my grandfather to stop all that. That was the first and last time anyone tried for the hidden treasure. But the appearence of the two pious beings is still felt and are seen from time to time.

I know it’s weird but it’s true. I mean whatever I told you is true but that doesn’t mean I believe in all this. But old families do have such spooky stories, don’t they?


📒 📕📜 📃 📄📓 📔📙 📚 📖= Blank

Blank canvas on an easel


I can’t even fathom a world without the wondrous words that encompass our everyday way of life.

All my fellow writers here at “The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch” have given their take on what it would be like without words and most of their stories are compelling, to say the least.  However, it was glorious words and their creative minds that conjured these amazing stories, and figments of the imagination.  Now, imagine if you will… Never having been able to read their stories.

The truly astounding world it would be to not have the existence of words.

How would we communicate?

How would we describe the beauty or decay all around us?

How would we assist the illnesses without text to serve a patient?

There wouldn’t be a world where children could learn history because there was no documentation to record such events.  There would obviously be no reason for English courses because there are no words to learn.  There would be no education at all.

No religion

No more poets

No more stories

No more news

No more internet

No more brochures

No more advertisements

No more maps to decipher longitude and latitude, what would we consider North, South, East, and West?

No employment, no currency.

No more music, because songwriters, chords, and lyrics would not exist.

The sun would rise, and the sun would set.

The moon would rise, and the moon would set.

But, how would you even describe this phenomenon without words to guide you.

How would we even communicate;







We as a world would have a blank canvas within our vacant minds.

Just imagine…

We wouldn’t be able to because we wouldn’t know the difference if we tried. It would be a world without the sound or written words we so love and cherish now.



[Picture provided by Pinterest]


Fluorescent Darkness

I was 12 when it happened, you know, when the world ended. Or began. I suppose it depends on how you look at it.

One moment we were herds shuffling down linoleum hallways between lockers and first crushes. We navigated the noise of life with all the certainty placed in the palms of our hands.

Then, without warning, no sirens or drills, it was dark. It was quiet.

We underestimated the background noise provided by the constant buzz to our lives back then. When it disappeared …

First it was the lights, cars, planes tumbling from the sky. It was our music, our chatter … our constant incessant updates.

Then it was our food, our water … It was an unraveling death sentence. A sickness seemingly innocent then all at once deadly.

Finally, they came. Rescue, freedom from the silence at last. We were promised a return to some kind of normalcy. Communities with restored power, communication, electricity … in a way.

“Don’t look back.” They heralded us towards golden futures without so much as a question, such as we were, the brainwashed masses.

Behind us the past glowed orange and red, lighting the skies with prophecies we were too far gone to read. They had to maintain control, we had to understand.

There was something, they said, something in our past that lead us down this path. We had to begin again, anew.

We blindly marched on towards unseen futures while our pasts smoldered.

Things are never as they seem.

Inside the walls there is a false sense of security, there is a life afflicted by noise. Those comforts we so long believed we couldn’t survive without are built into our very beings. We are tracked, hunted, all within the confines of a walled city.

There’s no need to read. No need to learn. Simply watch the bright colors, listen to their world turn. It rolls over us with propaganda hate and news that’s cut and paste.

I have no reason to believe I will live to pass this down. Resistance is a death sentence here but every night more sidle to our doors. Tears in their eyes with stories of families denied.

We exist in the shadows, under the cover of night and as I write our numbers grow.

To our soldiers, because that is what you are, no longer children, no longer drones.

Take peace in the silence. They fill our heads with noise. We gave them the blueprint long ago, all they needed was to refine it to an art.

The world still turns. The seasons change, flowers bloom, die then rise again. Keep a flower, illegal it may be, to remind you. There is so much more beyond what we’re allowed to see.

Help one another, we are your brothers and sisters. This resistance is your home. They are well versed, divide and conquer, they knew well.

Finally, everything from before is gone, so they say. Our stories still exist, we can write them down again. It may be by candle light under the cover of night. We have to hide but we don’t have to exist in this fluorescent darkness forever.



Picture this –

You wake up one morning. Go out to get the newspaper. Only there is none.

‘Maybe it’s a national holiday or some sort of newspaper strike.’

You march back in and pick up your phone to check if there was a holiday you missed. Only the phone won’t work. It’s powered on, you’ve double checked. It’s been plugged in to charge since last night on your bedside table, so it couldn’t have been low on charge. But yep, it won’t start.

You rush to your desktop/laptop to see if you can google out why your phone won’t work, and WTF! It won’t work either.

You check the TV. Nada. Your Kindle. Nothing. In desperation for a connection to the outside world you try your old phones….nothing! No electronics work.

And then you look outside and find your clueless neighbours venturing out of their homes, looking just as befuddled as you. You head out as well and you talk to them, ‘Is it a power outage?’

‘Doesn’t look like it. Everything mechanical is working, like clocks’.

A neighbour shrieks. It’s the bookworm from the corner house. ‘There’s no writing in my coursebook!’

‘What?!’ You exclaim.

Another terrified neighbour confirms, ‘Yes, there’s no text ANYWHERE. Not in books, not in notebooks, scratch pads. Even my post-it notes are all blank!’

What the heck? No writing anywhere?! You try scribbling something with a neighbour’s pen, and it is erased almost immediately as if an invisible eraser erased it all off. And while you’re worrying over vanishing hand-writing, a police constable huffs down your road on a bicycle and declares in a raspy voice, ‘Citizens, do not panic! The city has lost its writings. Everything right from text, books and even computer codes and history books have been wiped clean. But do not panic. Your government and police are working to resolve the issue. Stay at home and stay calm’.

Only, the problem isn’t confined to only your city. It’s a global phenomenon – the loss of writing. Everything right from ancient scrolls, vedas, holy scriptures to the works of literary masters and the most intricate of computer codes have been wiped out. The world has lost its ability to write.


Continue reading “WHAT IF WE LOST WRITING?”


If by any means every written thing is to disappear, though strange yet worth giving a thought or two…

If it so does happen what I would like to do is go back to our gurukul method of preaching in ancient times…the verbal one. Where the mind used to play an important role. No I don’t mean to say it doesn’t now but no one can deny the fact that now a days smart phones are taking over! So engrossed we are in them that part of our memory is vanishing which was logical part mostly. 

So, yes I was talking about the verbal method of teaching of gurukul.  Using teg same method I would like to take advantage of the situation and impart the knowledge of ethics, morality, forgiveness (a rare quality these days, mostly preached by writers, poets, artists and ironically by politicians),truthfulness, love(in true or natural form, at some level), peace, originality and honesty. These are some virtues we are lacking in different measures in different people. If this could be restored I think world once again will be a peaceful place to dwell upon. Free of fear of loss of dignity specially for women, there is small possibility that there would be no death in the name of religion, cast or color or even region.

The materialistic world and the mean ideology of the same may be put to check if true values are once again reinstated or at least tried to. No one will be blood thirsty, the cut throat competetion and menace will be showed their way down,the glory of womanhood will be celebrated once more, the girl child will get the chance to live her life as blissfully as life itself. Faith and belief once again will rule. Trust may gain popularity as one of the traits of good people.

In short I would like to impart the principle of universal brotherhood the key element of our prestigious culture ‘vasudhaiv kutumbkam’. May be I may sound preachy myself and may be out of course for this week’s line but this was the first thought that striked me on seeing the mail in my inbox regrading this week’s theme. So if some misplacement is observed, please forgive my poor understanding of the whole thing.

Written Works Erasing From The Earth

It was a different world before the blast. No one knows how but something happened to all written information on Earth. One moment everything was fine and the next…the internet gone, every document, sacred text, book, note, song, signage, everything ever written was gone. Vanished without a trace. Libraries had only blank books with nothing on the pages. Shakespeare gone, Machiavelli gone, Voltaire gone, Nietzche gone, Frost, Hemingway, hell, even comic books, and instructions on Hot Pockets, recipes, and coffee cups disappeared. How could this happen? Was it a multinational conspiracy? A global Illuminati or ISIS terrorist attack? How could people properly heat up their frozen dinners? How could they tell what the canned goods were? How could they properly put on a condom and use it correctly? These important resources needed to be shared world wide and fast.

The truth of the matter is, as I write this even now, it could disappear from the screen at any moment. Quick, share this with everyone you can:

open the hot pocket wrapper.

take the hot pocket out of th

© 2018 Grabbety Covens

Night of Tarot

The 22 Major Arcana Tarot Cards and the 23rd "Mystery" Card #MediumMaria

August 1986, My friends and I gathered for a night to hang out, smoke dope, and drink while playing board games, plus watch the Mets get their derrieres get kicked the shit out of.

Rosemary, Rob, Paul, Kevin, an I played a very competitive game of Monopoly that took close to 2, maybe more hours to complete; Who could tell, by this point we were all a bit tipsy, and at one point making up the rules as we went.

By the time 10:45 pm rolled around, Paul kicked all our butts, and the Mets lost by a margin of 2 lousy points.  All feeling a bit beat, Rosemary suggested she’d break out her tarot cards, for an interesting look into our futures.  She had only been reading and learning how to read them for over an eight-month period, but felt confident in her abilities to read our drunken, stoned asses.

Because Paul had won, it was suggested she would read his cards first.  “Okay, Paul; What would you like to ask?” Rosemary questioned in her mysterious tone to sound more authentic like a carnival gypsy.  “Yeah, alright, whatever… sure, I’ll play along…” Paul’s blurry eyes kept rolling around as if waiting for a question to surface. “Okay, is Deb ever going to say yes to getting laid?”, as he slouched back in his chair with a broad smirk on his flushed face.

Rosemary, shuffle her cards, split the decks all the while staring at the guy she wanted to date all along.  Annoyed, she placed the cards out and proceeded to make believe the answer that Paul so desired to know the answer to.  “Ah,” as Rosemary started to read the cards, “There is no possible fucking way she wants you, Paul.  She has eyes for another guy.  In fact, he’s sitting here at this very table.”  She conjured, without laughing out loud. “Hey! Rose, that shit ain’t funny! I wanted to really know, and you’re making a fucking joke? you don’t know what you’re talking about!”, as Paul scanned the table at his male counterparts; “Don’t get any ideas about messin’ with Debbie guys, she’s mine!” he slurred and slouched further back in his seat.

One by one, Rosemary went to her next ‘victim’ as she referred to us, but she was answering the guy’s questions with details and precision.  By this point, Paul excused himself and went to lay down on the couch and pass out.  He could care less about Rosemary taking her time to answer the other’s questions, that left them scratching their heads in wonderment.

A black and gold foil tarot deck. Printed on black plastic and independently published. Comes with companion tarot apps for tarot readings tarot meanings and more on the go. For all lovers of magic witchcraft wicca paganism mysticism and more. Dark tarot deck unique tarot deck indie tarot deck.

“Okay, Beck, your turn; What do you want to know?” as Rosemary shuffled the cards once again.  While the guys all dismissed themselves into the living room, I had already known what I wanted to ask the cards that layout in front of Rosemary as soon as she suggested to tell the future in her ‘mystical manner’.

“As you know Rose, my Mom-mom passed away last January… I want to know, is she watching over me?”  I inquired with a touch of seriousness in my voice.  I did, in fact, want to know, being that my grandmother and I were so very close when she was alive and that I missed her dearly.

Rosemary kept shuffling, then split the deck once more.  As she dealt the cards in front of her, she carefully studied them.  Without hesitation, she looked at me and said in the calmest of voices, “Beck, you’ll find out later tonight.”  Then Rosemary scooped up her cards, and placed them back into a small wooden box she kept all the secrets of life in.

“What the hell does that mean?  It’s already after 1 am when tonight or this morning am I gonna know?”  I screeched.  “This is bogus, nothin’s gonna happen tonight.  Damn, I really wanted to know.  This card readin’ crap sucks!” I kept hissing at Rosemary as if it were her fault entirely.

The evening was finally closing, and the guys left with Kevin since he was the designated driver out of the bunch.  Rosemary helped me clean up, then she went into her bedroom to go to bed, and I went into mine.

I began to get ready for bed in the bathroom while washing my face and brushing my teeth, my cat came skidding into the bedroom and jumped on my bed.  She then stood upright on her hind legs and started meowing at the ceiling while howling in cries.  I had never seen or heard her do before.  At first, I thought it may be a moth, but there was nothing there.  I kept staring at my cat “Whiskers”, and the blank ceiling and wondering to myself, ‘what was going on here?’  Until it finally dawned on me.  Rosemary’s words “You’ll find out tonight.”

“Oh-My-God!”  – I all of a sudden felt this rush flow right through me, and there was my cat still sitting upright, crying at the ceiling, never losing sight of what was or was not there.  “Wholly shit!”, as I gathered my blanket as fast as I could and ran back out to the living room. I sat on the couch and shuddered.  I didn’t know what to do or what to think.  Did I just imagine the whole thing?  was I still tipsy? …  ‘Nah, I’m fine, it wore off a while ago’. As I now sat there talking to myself.  Moments passed, and Whiskers came out of the room calmy and proceeded to jump in my lap purring.  “Whisky girl, are you alright?”  as I pet and scratched her soft ears.  “Meow.”

This week on “The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch” we were to write about weird encounters.  This was the only one I could think of because it was based on true events.  “Is this weird enough for you?  It certainly was strange to me.  🙂


[Pictures provided by Pinterest]



Blissfully Unaware

This week on The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch it’s been a little weird. We’ve been afflicted with various illnesses and other life like responsibilities. Naturally we decided to write about weird things, weird encounters or whatever.

I had all kinds of stuff in my head. Demons, vampires, demon hunters that were actually nerdy high school kids … psh, original right?

When I sat down to actually write something weird, well, I was in a weird mood and none of the above came out. Instead it was this:

Continue reading “Blissfully Unaware”

Quick & Easy SPAM Chopped Pork and Ham Recipes. SPAM Fries and Scrambled Spambled Eggs.

I know this meat product is practically a delicacy in Hawaii, but I for one, am not a fan of this salty, slimy meat product.  (Nothing personal folks).

There is another “Spam” out there that is just a slimy, and that would be my e-mail spam.  (aka Junk Mail).  Who collects junk other than a junkyard worker?  I’d bet anything, you’d see some empty cans of Spam in the recyclables section.  🙂

I’m not a big fan of commercials on TV, let alone on my computer.  You see, I avoid the (3-D’s), and I don’t mean my bra size folk.  I’m talking about; Disabling Software, Destroying my data and Deleting my personal files.  This in itself pisses me off to no avail.  😦  

Again, who wants to accumulate junk?  who wants their personal computer messed with?  I sure a hell don’t take chances with this crap.   

There is only one exception to this rule, and that is unless I recognize an expected e-mail and it happens to fall into this unwanted file, I literally will delete it without a second thought.  I personally don’t enjoy when I get sick or develop a virus, why would I allow a virus to attack my computer?   “I don’t think so.”  

Naturally, this is my opinion… Other’s can do what they want.  However, just keep those 3-D’s in mind, and, “No, I’m talking about the new feature movie you intend on seeing tonight.”  🙂

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