Fictional Jottings · Words of The Mother and Sri Aurobindo

From Those Other Worlds

Cushions. Check.
Colour. Check.
Wall-art. Check.
Pizzazz. Check.
Midnight. Even the most inviting divan couldn’t do it. Her monkey-mind kept running over many details. Her tired body, aching knees, sore back….all were craving for rest. But she was too restless.
And then the music began…
Three days later, their dream-home was almost all set. Back from his business trip he was happily surprised.
“It does feel like home, doesn’t it?”
“Absolutely! But did you sleep at all?”
“Every midnight the pianist next-door played my favourite lullaby. That made me sleep like a baby.”


“But nobody lives in that house, dear!”


Image 1: mine, Image 2: google, altered

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