…of cobbled pathways and new born dreams

By Neel Anil Panicker

Walking on the cobbled sidewalk with the ear splitting honk of the passing throng of vehicles and people all around__all jostling, jabbing, edging their way past one another__Raj wondered for a moment what was it about New York that made everyone including the rich and the poor, the young and the old leave their homes and hearths and lay siege to this ‘City of Fortune’.
In a rare moment of epiphany, the penny dropped.
He realized that what mattered was not the famed marbled stones that his feet were pounding but the men and women who walked on them; that it is not the mind boggling sight of cloud kissing skyscrapers that were important but what really was of import were those bright denizens working furiously behind those fancy glass facades, the ones made million dollar worth decisions that affected and changed the fortunes of not just individuals but at times several world economies.

Clarity restored, Raj turned his back and headed over to the station to catch a train back home.

He had realized and correctly so, that to turn one’s dreams into reality one doesn’t need the tag of a big city; all that one needs is to do something big, something big enough that would metamorphose his village into a city, a city that would be the envy of all.

#neelanilpanicker #flashfiction #sundayphotofiction #shortstory

Sunday Photo Fiction – July 8, 2018




By Neel Anil Panicker

One moment it was a picture post card scene of sheer happiness; the very next it had turned into madness, with everybody running around helter skelter.

Who invited whom? That was the question on everyones’ lips, every single one of the men and women who had converged on the beachfront, hoping to partake of the salubrious climate, wishing to enjoy the sheer sight of the frothy waves as it lashed against the jagged rocky edges, leaving behind a sea of sand, shells and the excited squeals of children running and playing about with unrestrained joy.

“Hey, did you hear that? It sounded like a bullet shot.”

Deepak’s eyes traced the trajectory of Kiran’s fingers that were pointing towards a stage fifty yards from where they stood.

Jostling, howling, jabbering, screaming, shouting, yelling : that much he could see and make out as he watched with intent eyes the makeshift wooden stage on the northern periphery of the mile long beach.

A group of men, all clad in pure white dhotis and silk shirts, their heads outfitted with ubiquitous Gandhi caps were yelling and screaming, jostling and jabbering, a few even engaging in fist fights with one another.

His eyes narrowed down on a face.

A swarthy face, the top three or four shirt buttons ripped off to expose a thick flock of silvery haired chest, the seven inch long thick gold chain hanging loose around the ‘thick as a bull’s’ neck and glistening in the sand blasted mid-afternoon Sunday sun that was scorching the coastal city of Cochin.

“It’s a party, our Mayor’s. He’s come here; uninvited, of course. He’s just won again. Is celebrating. Looks like trouble. Let’s move. Where’s Priya  and Raghu?”

As Kiran gathered her brood and the family wound their back to their car, a couple of bombs exploded, cracking open the skies.

“Wonder what would happen were he to win the Assembly elections”, hollered Deepak as he hurriedly ferried his wife and kids to safety.


Creative Writing Prompt | Sentence Starter Prompt | Creative Writing | Writing Prompt | Flash Fiction |




26 Jade Wong March 4th 2018

By Neel Anil Panicker

It was the third continuous night and BSF constable Avdhesh Ramgharia had not taken his eyes off the ‘snowman’. From his post, an all stone square cubicle, cleverly camouflaged with thick green foliage, he adjusted the curvature of his long range telescopic lens and peered into the darkness half a kilometre away.

There it stood, in no man’s land, an apparition in white, no more than four feet tall, barely metres away from the barbed electric wires that separated the two warring countries, India and Pakistan.

As a child he had heard tales from his grandmother about such dwarfed creatures, strangers from outer space who straddled the high snow capped mountains, dragging their their big feet along, disappearing into the valleys only to reappear moments later from behind some other peak several kilometres afar__the giant footprints etched on the trail the only proof of their ‘existence’.

But this was circa 2018, the age of the Internet; the era of grandiose Space explorations. He decided not to take any chances. It was time to inform his superiors.

He turned on the wireless.

By the time his superior’s voice came alive, it was too late.

The bullet had smashed through his skull.


Sunday Photo Fiction – March 4th 2018


Image result for WINTER HUDDLE

Gloomy thoughts

straddle lonely perch,


Time wings by

days bid goodbye, nights ease in

frosty hearts lust sun’s touch.

(c)2018neelanilpanicker #poem/shadorma #winter #cold