I’ve been writing for years. I remember journalling from my teens. When I reinvented my career, I supplemented my personal writings with commercial assignments, most of which I have enjoyed. I’ve written narratives, aborted novels, ads, scripts, plays, short stories, poetry, social and political commentary, history, animations, digital books, prayers, all sorts of genres. I do it because I love to write.

I often go back to my past writings. More often than not, I cringe when I read what I had written. Sometimes because my thoughts were immature and sometimes because of basic language and syntax errors I had made.

Sometimes I cringe when I read what I had written because my perspectives have changed so much as I matured that what I felt strongly about, no longer matters to me. Other things have taken greater importance.

Some five to six years ago, I wrote a series of very (very) short stories called “Micro-fiction”. These are stories that are usually less than 200 words. I wrote these to convey a message in an extremely succinct manner. I had intended to compile a series of these, get them illustration and published.

I wrote a piece called The Masquerade Party which I revisited last night. This is one of the rare pieces that I still like very much reading it years after it was written. I edited slightly though, because I didn’t like some of the syntax and spotted an error.

So, here is The Masquerade Party, revisited 2013:

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One Take: A Very Merry Tea Party

I went to a very Merry Tea Party.

One very Merry Saturday Afternoon

With Bling Things and Wings

And Tinkling Winkies and Drinks

The door was on the left

But it was right

So I left my worries

And went right in

Something was different

Because something was same

Everyone wore the same

A smile on every face

The Queen of Hearts

Was on a top hat

Yes, you heard right

Not the other way round

Many coloured butterflies

Flittered and danced

Above delirious mille crepes

And delightful Choux Pastry

Edible rings

Drinkable things

Pretty rings

Wearable things

Declare Your Truth

So Carrie K says

But what is truth

But what we feel?

Happy.

On Saturday, I got this email that made me very happy:

Dear Danesh

Thank you for entering your play for consideration to Short+Sweet Singapore 2010. We have now finished assessing the scripts that were submitted for our festival.

We are pleased to let you know that your play The Last Birthday Party has been included in the shortlisted plays.

These shortlisted plays have been sent to our Top40 directors.  They are currently in the process of reading through all the scripts and then selecting their preferred plays.  This process should take around a week. Short+Sweet will then make the final allocation of plays to the directors.

We are aiming to have the season finalised by the end of May. We will be in touch with you again later this month, to let you know if your play has been selected by one of the directors for this year’s Short+Sweet Singapore festival.

Kind regards
Nicole Stinton
Festival Director

I was most pleased to receive it because last year, when I took part with another submission, I did not get past the first round. If I get through the final round, my short play will be produced! I’m so excited and really pray that I will be selected.

Will keep you guys posted. You can read more about Short and Sweet, here.

She decided not to go to the party although she wanted to. It was a difficult decision. But she had to make it. The decision, unlike virtual life, was digital. It was either, yes or no. It could not have been maybe.

Maybe would not have worked simply because she would either be at the party or not. So it was digital.

In the analogue world, it would have been easier.

Not in digital.

Danny really, really, really wanted to go to that masquerade party. It wasn’t fair, he thought to himself, that mommy and daddy get to dress up in costumes and go out all night playing. Why do they get to play and not sleep until late? This was just not fair. Going to costume parties should be for kids, he thought to himself as he grumbled inside while playing with Ruth, the babysitter.

Finally, Danny grew up.

One day, he put on his mask and went to that masquerade party.

The mask never came off.

The party never ended.

The noise from the party went from a buzz to a chatter to a cacophony and finally into white noise. That’s when Horace started to speak.

 

“Hello”, he said to the pretty, slim 32 year old in all white. He smiled a dazzling smile and looked straight into her moist and dancing eyes. He acted like he was in love but his heart was elsewhere.

 

You see, Horace was a unique medical specimen.

 

He had an artificial heart.

 

Later on in the same party, Gilbert sniffed his martini took a sip and contemplated its taste. He looked around, saw a pretty, slim 32 year old in all white, downed the drink and proceeded to her.

 

“Hello”, he said with a dazzling smile and looked straight into her moist and dancing eyes. He thought he was in love but his head was somewhere else.

 

You see, Gilbert was a unique medical specimen.

 

He had an artificial brain.

 

The party went on. Things happened. People came, people drank, people left.

 

The party ended.

 

The pretty lady in white went home with him.