RDP Friday: Raucous No story I tell is truly whole unless I revisit the Raucous Incident of Room 207, where I learned that life has no mute button and dinosaurs have no shame. It started on one of those forgettable Tuesdays, the kind whose personality is beige and whose ambitions are low.Room 207 of the public library was peacefully silent, inhabited mostly by people pretending to read and secretly judging one another. I was among them, cultivating my inner monk, when the universe decided I was getting too comfortable.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? Once, an old sailor told me a story. He said there are two kinds of homes in this world. The ones you enter through a front door, and the ones you enter through your own ribcage. The first kind gives you a roof; the second gives you rest. “Belonging isn’t a place,” he said, tightening a rope knot as if tying up a loose truth. “It’s the quiet you feel when nothing is tugging at you, no expectations, no shoulds, no people yelling your name from across emotional oceans.”

RDP Thursday: PARALLEL Somewhere in a parallel universe, I’m thriving.I can feel it... Between the atoms and my alarm clock, there exists "Schrödinger’s Me", both ready to change my life and hitting snooze for the fifth time. Image Credits: ©PaletteNPixels She probably wakes up at 6 a.m. without hating it, stretches into the sunrise, drinks green juice that tastes like optimism, and smiles at birds instead of muttering at them. Meanwhile, this version of me just spent 15 minutes trying to find her phone, which by the way, was in her hand.

RDP Tuesday: Gorgeous My Algorithm Thinks I’m Gorgeous It all started on a Tuesday, the kind of Tuesday that already looked tired by 9 a.m. I had toothpaste on my shirt, unbrushed hair that was auditioning for a bird’s nest, and an expression that screamed "existential fatigue but make it fashion." That’s when my camera app pinged and said,

They say coolness can’t be forged. Clearly, “they” have never met my spoon. Yes, a spoon. Not a gadget, not a gemstone, not even a limited-edition action figure, but a gloriously confident, slightly shiny, mildly haunted metal spoon that has seen more drama than most reality shows. I found it one unassuming afternoon in a dusty kitchen drawer, sitting there like it was waiting for its biopic to drop on Netflix. The moment I picked it up, the reflection winked. Not metaphorically. The light literally bounced just right and said, “Buckle up, kid.

Every morning, the world begins its march. Alarms hum, coffee brews, shoes line up by doors, and the clock clears its throat to remind us that time is waiting. For most, this rhythm feels like safety. For me, it feels like a storm I must walk through. If you asked which part of my daily routine I try to skip, the answer would be simple - the part where I pretend, I’ve got it all together. The part where I rush into the noise, mask my unease, and move at someone else’s pace.

RDP Tuesday: ABSURD Image Credits: ©PaletteNPixels My absurdity? Oh, it’s quite sublime,I wish for a remote control for time.Not for world peace (too big a chore),Just to replay the bits I adore. Skip the heartbreaks, skip the mess,Pause on laughter, nothing less.Fast-forward through traffic, bills, and rain,Back to beaches, cake, champagne! Imagine rewinding with style and flair,Click! and suddenly I’ve got better hair.No awkward chats, no bitter fights,Just sunsets, songs, and fairy lights. Reality scoffs, “That’s not how it goes!”

Who is the most famous or infamous person you have ever met? They say a candle loses nothing by lighting another. But what if that candle burns too bright, too soon? For the uninitiated, Sushant Singh Rajput was one of India’s most gifted and unconventional actors, a small town boy who dared to dream beyond the frame. From television fame in Pavitra Rishta to acclaimed performances in films like Kai Po Che, MS Dhoni: The Untold Story, Chhichhore, and Kedarnath, he carved his space with intelligence, sincerity, and quiet charm.

RDP Monday: Flinty Foreword: In Praise of Pebbles and Pretend Once upon a sun-dappled afternoon, probably around snack time, I was the proud curator of Pebbleville, a thriving metropolis of shiny, speckled citizens who lived happily inside a shoebox. Admission was free, imagination compulsory. Each rock had a name, a story, and, quite possibly, a secret life of its own. Years later, I traded my rock-collecting badge for adult responsibilities, bills, coffee, and Wi-Fi passwords. But every now and then, a smooth stone on the sidewalk would wink at me, and I’d hear the faint giggle of a certain Flintwick, the mischievous spirit who once made my salt shakers dance.

Before I was a self-proclaimed ruler of the Canadian household, I was just a blissed-out pup in Florida. Born on January 26, 2020, right in the heart of what humans called "lock down" during the COVID pandemic, I spent my first two years basking in the unbeatable sunshine of Clearwater. Life there was paws-down perfect… daily naps, sandy beach strolls, mysterious lizards to chase, and the sweet, salty air that made every breeze feel like freedom. Florida’s weather was a never-ending cuddle, warm sun, gentle winds, and the occasional thunderstorm just to keep things exciting.

In response to: Sunday Whirl rooted, years, footsteps, creaks, look, stir, hour, loop, clock, echo, before, slips There is a legend told by the sea, that every grain of sand remembers the footsteps that once touched it. Long after the tide has swept away their marks, the memory remains, whispering softly through the sound of the waves. An elderly man once walked the same beach every evening, carrying in his hand a small wooden cane carved with his initials. Each step he took made the sand sing, a creak…

(When the World Turned Sepia) RDP Sunday: Sepia Some memories don’t fade, they simply soften, like light through old lace curtains. This is for the hands that once held us, the laughter that still hums in empty rooms, and the love that refuses to die quietly. In sepia, you’re still here Grandma. The photograph rests on my desk, your face softened by the years, your smile suspended in that familiar amber glow.

In response to Sadje's Sunday Poser #259. How do you rate your day - was today a good day or not? When Rhea opened her eyes that morning, the ceiling fan hummed its usual tune, and sunlight traced faint lines across her wall. Yet something inside her felt heavier than the morning air. The email she had dreaded arrived overnight, her promotion had gone to someone else. Her first impulse was to pull the blanket back over her head and declare it a bad day, a failure, before it had even begun. 

In response to Sammi's word prompt CERULEAN. Weekend Writing Prompt #441 – Cerulean Image Credits: ©PaletteNPixels Cerulean, the color of everything I cannot hold.The sky, a trembling heartbeat stretched wide with hope, where dreams rise on invisible wings.The ocean, its twin in sorrow,pulls down every reflection until even light forgets itself. Between them drifts the fragile expanse of being,where joy gasps for air, grief learns to float,and I, suspended between heaven and depth,find my peace in the ache of endless blue. © Rohini 2009–2025.

Name the most expensive personal item you've ever purchased (not your home or car). Once upon a time, in a distant land called “Adulthood,” a brave soul set out on an impossible quest, to find Peace of Mind. They say it’s a rare treasure. Ancient scrolls a.k.a. self-help books with leafy covers, claim it brings eternal calm, eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, and the ability to reply to emails without spiraling. Legends claimed it was hidden in sacred places. Mountain caves, meditation retreats, and the occasional “weekend digital detox” that no one actually completes.

RDP Saturday: Blink People say the universe began with a bang. I say it began with a blink. One colossal cosmic eyelid fluttered somewhere in the void, and voilà - stars, planets, and that one coworker who sends “gentle reminders” every 4 minutes came into existence. Think about it. God, sitting up there, squinting into the nothingness, said, “Let there be light.” Blink... Light appeared. If He’d sneezed instead, we’d all be cosmic tissue paper. And thus, from divine eyelid to human eyelid, we arrived - The Blink Species…

In response to Linda G. Hill's #SoCS Nov 8, 2025 Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “something you enjoyed.” Write about something you thoroughly enjoyed. Use it any way you’d like. I enjoyed the silence that wasn’t really silent,the hum of existence beneath it all, soft as breath on glass. The day unfolded like an old letter, creases mapping memories I didn’t know I still carried. A cup of tea cooled beside me, steam rising like a spirit escaping ritual, reminding me that warmth, too, …

RDP Friday: Transcendent! Transcendent: A User Malfunction I once tried to be transcendent. You know, rise above material desires, detach from ego, maybe even glow faintly in the dark like an enlightened firefly. But five minutes into meditation, I started wondering if transcendence also meant skipping dinner. Because I wasn’t sure I was ready for spiritual greatness on an empty stomach. Image Credits: ©PaletteNPixels Everyone online talks about “letting go of the self,” but mine is clingy. It doesn’t dissolve gracefully into cosmic dust, it just sighs dramatically, checks its reflection in the black screen of my phone, and demands snacks.

What was your favorite subject in school? It began with Shakespeare, and ended with me whispering “To latte, or not to latte” at a confused barista. My favorite subject was English and now I approach coffee orders like tragic soliloquies about foam and identity. It all started innocently enough. I liked reading. I liked words. Then one day, English class looked me dead in the eye and said, “Let’s make this complicated.” Now, years later, I can’t order a simple cappuccino without questioning the existential weight of foam. “Would you like it hot or cold?” the barista asks.

RDP Thursday: Waver Once, in a small mountain village, there lived a young lamp maker named Mira. Every evening, as the valley sank into blue shadows, the people lit her lamps, small, delicate things that burned with a steady, golden flame. But Mira’s own lamp never burned steady. No matter how carefully she made it, her flame always wavered, trembling, flickering, never still. Image Credits: ©PaletteNPixels The villagers whispered, “Her flame can’t decide what it wants, to live or to die.”Some said it was cursed. Others said it reflected her heart, too uncertain, too tender.

How do you manage screen time for yourself? I don’t manage my screen time. Unfortunately, my screen manages me. It calls the shots. I’m basically, in a long-term, emotionally complicated relationship with a 6.1-inch rectangle that glows at me 24/7. Image Credits: ©PaletteNPixels Every morning, my phone wakes me up before my soul has even checked back into my body. I open my eyes, and there it is, my digital soulmate, saying, “Good morning, here are 19 notifications and zero joy.” It tells me when to scroll, and when to feel bad about how much I’ve been scrolling.

Your writing prompt this week is GLASS This week’s word first came to mind when I picked up my glass of water and beautiful, iridescent colours twinkled through it. You might think of a mirror, a vase or glasses that you wear instead. But other meanings or associations may come to mind. What does the word mean to you? Fact or fiction, prose or poetry, I would love to read your thoughts on this week’s prompt... When I was little, I had a small cloth pouch filled with marbles, bright, shiny ones that seemed to hold galaxies inside them.

RDP Wednesday: REGAL There’s something about the word “Regal” that makes even the dustiest amongst us sit a little straighter. It’s not just a word, it’s a vibe. It struts into the room wearing velvet, smells faintly of old money and lavender, and probably speaks in complete sentences. Image Credits: ©PaletteNPixels The rest of us, meanwhile, are trying to appear regal while wrestling with tangled earphones and unpaid bills. But here’s the thing, being regal isn’t about crowns or castles. It’s about attitude. That calm, unbothered air that says, “Yes, my Wi-Fi is down and my tea bag just broke, but I shall suffer gracefully, like a monarch with allergies.”

It began like any normal existential crisis, with me staring at my to-do list as it stared back, growing smugger by the minute. Just when I was about to rename it “Things That Will Outlive Me,” a voice, ancient, amused, and slightly British, whispered,“Do you need Time?” Image Credits: ©PaletteNPixels I looked up. There he was. Time.Wearing a golden robe, a golden clock the size of a dinner plate, and the kind of confidence that said, “I was here before calendars were cool.” “Do I need you?” I spluttered.

In response to Sadje's #WDYS #313 , #Whatdoyousee They call it “the window.”I call it “Catflix.” Every morning, I take my position behind the curtain, my silky fortress of solitude, and tune into my favorite show: “The Birds: Season Infinity.” The plot never changes, yet somehow it’s gripping. A cast of the same feathered fools doing the same stunts, every single day. Riveting. Today’s episode began with a pigeon performing what I assume was a dance ritual. Probably to impress the lady pigeon. I gave him a slow blink of disdain, my version of Rotten Tomatoes giving a 3 out of 10.