Swish. You would think my parents would give me a better name. Like Ramaswamy or John or Murthy or something even remotely Scandanavian, like Vane Der Murthy. But no. They had to settle Swish.
You would then think there’s an interesting story behind the name that would compensate somehow. But unfortunatetly, that was not true. Swish was the name of a dog. My father’s neighbour’s dog. Which, he, for some reason was so fond of.
I kept wishing and imaginingthe most gruesome ways of murdering this dog I never met. Not that this would give me relief. So the only logicial thing to is to change my name. Swish could become Suresh.
Maybe its not something very out of the ordinary. Maybe its like a cool nickname. It could mean you are fast or too awesome for people to be around. That they would be disoriented by the awesomeness of my name. Maybe. Or just more unlikely.
I can’t blame my father’s neighbour’s dog. Maybe just my father. Or I could just go along with it and be proud to be a Swish. Almost like a Scot or the Swiss.
To make things worse, my mother calls me ‘Swishy’ in her effort to show me heavy motherly affection. Swish has got to be better than Swishy, which sounds more like a fruit juice or an ice-cream._________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Painting – Birth of Venus
They envied her. The angels did not know what to do. The children loved her. Even more than the angels themselves. after all the gifts and miracles, they brought the village, they loved her more. The angels watched her play and sing with the children.
They wondered what she could possibly have that they don’t. They were angels. And she a mere mortal. They should be loved. Not her.
The villagers sought her counsel and not the angels’ anymore.
So the angels decide to end the blashphemy.They felt that she did not deserve to be loved so. At least, not more than them. So they watch and wait. For the right moment.
Woman on a Boat on a River
She woke up to the sound of water. But it did not make any sense. As she sat up in her bed, she wondered why her bed was floating on a river and not in her apartment where it should be. At least, that’s where it was last night.
“Where is everyone?”, she thought. “Where are my parents? Where is my brother? Where is my cellphone?”
Confused and lost she decided that it would be better if she went back to sleep. But she woke up again and found herself still on her bed, on a river. For some strange reason her bed now looked more like a boat.
She immediately started cursing her brother for forcing her to watch a documentary the day before about the Amazon forests. she should have stuck to her usual television shows, she thought.
Right then, she heard someone calling out to her. Calling her name. There’s someone ahead, she thought.
A few days ago a colleague, whos also a friend, took me to a creative writing workshop. I wasn’t quite prepared and it was quite intimidating to write and read out with a group of strangers. The strangers, also happened to be very good writers and regulars. ‘Swish’ was about using the word swish in a story.Thereafter, there were two more exercises where we were assigned a picture and had to describe a painting or interepret a scene. It was difficult as I had little knowledge about the painting or their references. So I had to make things up. Not sure how they ended up the way they did.
But it was an interesting exercise. Sadly it was also my last visit. I had to leave town the next week.