Deborah Rajendran
Stories (4/0)
The Economy of Personal Kindness
Hector Abel opened his eyes at 11:23am on a bright Tuesday in June. The chill of spring had finally relented to the gentle warmth of early summer. Sunrises in South Carolina were most beautiful this time of year. Over the course of its slow ascent over the land, the sun drew in all the colors of the ocean and cast them haphazardly into the morning sky. All the tiny flower buds and shivering creatures breathed a sigh of relief as they stretched out to receive the first wave of warmth from the sun. Sunrises here were lovely sights to behold, and Hector slept through every single one.
By Deborah Rajendran2 years ago in Fiction
Keats by Candlelight
There would be a green glow, they said, when the meteor entered the atmosphere. "The meteor is largely comprised of iron and nickel. As it enters the Earth's atmosphere, the nickel in the external layer will vaporize, producing a greenish glow. Once you see green flashing through the sky, the people of India and neighboring nations will have about ten hours to set their affairs in order. Indonesia, the Philippines, Australia, and all neighboring islands will also be hit, along with much of the Middle East and Eastern Africa." That's what the man on the TV had said.
By Deborah Rajendran3 years ago in Fiction
Kolam and the Art of Loving One's Home
Crossing ten time zones in a day can really do a number on a kid. Madurai, India was 10.5 hours ahead of my home in Maryland, and after 26 straight hours of travel by planes, trains, and automobiles, my eight year old circadian rhythm had no real placement of space or time. My mother, father and I were just three travelers, flitting indefinitely through clouds, terminals and paper napkins, with only the airplane's old Hallmark movies to comfort us. Then just as I came to the bitter acceptance that this eternal state of transience was our life now, we stepped out of a white taxi car in front of my grandparents' house. "Welcome home!" they said. I was back in India after 4 long years and was presently regaled with promises of how many wonderful experiences I would have there. So many things to see and taste! So many people to remember and love! And of course I remember all those things, and love all those people, but one of my most enduring memories came accidentally. It was granted to me by that great disrupter of circadian rhythm--jetlag. As strange as it may sound, jetlag was, and remains to this day, one of my favorite things about visiting India. It allowed me to nap through the hottest part of the afternoon, sleep around 1am, and wake up again just before dawn.
By Deborah Rajendran3 years ago in Humans