Remembering Larry

Obituary: Larry Binion

Friendship knows no bounds. Age, geography, gender, race, interests, finances, occupation or marital status; nothing matters when there is an intellectual connection and a common interest.

Such was my friendship with Larry. We discussed family, experiences, his love for his wife, Nancy, how deeply he cared for his children and how his daughter was his favourite person on earth! When I was the lowest, he would tell me about her, the lyrical story, he wrote for her- Flea, Fly, Floo and on my lowest moments, he’d make me smile.

A retired teacher, he inspired many, and he inspired me. He wanted to write; compile his life’s work in volumes. He often said, we have to write together! He prayed for all, he loved all and even when he was unwell and in the hospital, he dropped in a message on LinkedIn, “I think I have the COVID virus.” And when he left the world, he ensured, I knew instantly. This was Larry, a true friend, a soldier who lost the war to COVID.

He was a friend I had never met. He was someone I met on LinkedIn. But just like him, I have found the world’s best minds and hearts on a professional social media channel. Can I say more but in a line- The world is a much smaller place now.

Sadly, with all the going on’s, he would send me a message, “I’m glad you are okay. I shall wait for your message.” I shall always feel guilty for not messaging him enough. And I shall always be grateful that I had a friend who was there for me, even when I couldn’t show I cared.

Remembering Larry is about remembering true friendship. It is about giving hope and courage to your buddies even when you may be in a dark place. It is about motivating and keeping it in momentum. It is about giving and taking just a smile as a gift in return.

As long as I shall remember the word ‘friendship’, I shall remember Larry.

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Cry for Help!

Cry for Help Blog Post Author: Kleio B'wti ©
Artists are artists because they have a knack of feeling ‘more’.


How human mind dissects a situation may differ (even for artists). But because their threshold is much higher than normal, they feel more, emote more, express more and sometimes cry more.


A normal news to us or an ever so worldly tv show is very evocative. It makes us cry, laugh, depressed, or rejuvenated. It’s difficult to understand us. Being one like him, I heard his plea for help when he wrote a message on one of the online community that we are both a part of.


He wrote, "Help me!"


Hope he is alright. As all you other artists are. We have a very short life. There is a story in each one of us. The more we live and suffer, better we are at storytelling.


I feel that Jhon Keats, Sylvia Plath, Robin Williams, Freddy Mercury, Ernest Hemmingway or Perry Moore would have been able to do more had they not been gone. They had mysteries to discover. Many stories to reveal. Infinite beauty to create. Yet, the sudden stroke of death took them away. With them gone, their talents vanished.


Left behind are crumbs of possibilities- the genius of their talent in shards. 


Dear, fellow artists fight this hopelessness. Fight this pain. We are a community. Technology has made our world smaller and you will find a compatriot.


Don’t give up. We will make this world better. Let's strive to stay alive. We have to fight with our swords of creativity for as long as we can. Let's stand together and as one.


We are the soldiers with no ammunition or arms. Fortified with a simple pen, ink, and imagination we fight on and on.

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Photo Courtsey:

I remember the first day of my new school,
Not willing to get ready for it and mom saying:
“Child plz be calm and cool,"
Crying no mummy no.
Fear of being alone all throughout the day,
Hahaha…. After a while;
All these fine efforts proved to be useless
As I finally found myself in that muddy bay……

     But I was wrong.
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I was actually in the paradise,
Having a number of beautiful angels;
And handsome kings….a great combination!
As compared to a rainbow slice,
Woooo…. That made me  happy;
Feelings for that place too strongly,
Fascinatedly making so many friends in a short while,
God like teachers who motivated with their soft words;
As to how to cover infinitely long life's miles.


The first day over and as the days goes by,
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Shyness within me goes away saying bye,
No matter boy or a girl,
I only focus on the word “friend”,
For me going to school was not only to study then.
But also for fun, to learn from my buddies.
Destiny was in the another mood!
Ohh no!
A Single class broken-down into more than two.



And I starved for the happiness food,
Strong growing bonding converted into back bonding,
I was losing my friend’s heart to my heart binding……
Photo Courtsey:

Lastly came the end day of heaven like place (Class 10),
Also, the time to observe all the angels,
Kings and my Gods face,
Whom I have to and want to
Carry along with me in my life's race;
But it’s tough for me;
Even a single one to get trace……
Saying “living alone; living alone”



To every schoolmate,
Has become a habit of mine,
Photo Courtsey:

I pray to god to once again draw
That invisible joining line,
Starting from me and ending through them.


That huge tree of life;
I want to see it again…….
Ya, there were feelings of fights- of hatred too,
Woooo…. But the love of course never left!
Photo Courtsey:

Word “Me” is missing (from others);
Hmmm…. that cannot be filled up (from my side),
As it has the word “friend” yup,
My school mates
Because without them, I’m nothing,
But a mere toothpick……




Poet: Rishabh Raj
Photo Courtsey:

Editor's Note:
A young poet brings to us the beauty of growing up, making friends at school and then eventually the angst of leaving them after high school is over. Enjoy the beauty of this beautiful piece. Rishabh, you will remain in your friend's heart and they will have a rueful smile as they treasure, coz friendships last forever, even when we think they don't. Cheers!

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Rodent Repartee

'Rodent Repartee' Short Story Author: Kleio B'wti ©, 2017.

Von, the squirrel always took the corner.


It was the best place to collect nuts as there were those shady trees whose branches leaned on the building- a welcome shade during the grueling day’s work. His sack was only full by one-fourth and winter was quickly approaching!


The squirrel’s giving heart overpowered his sense of worldliness. Often, the other squirrels tricked him to part with his loot with a sob story. The squirrel’s competitors thus hoarded more worked less, thanks to the squirrel at the corner. 


Things were calm and ordinary at the bend until a white mouse arrived. She had the most manicured nails, a shiny nose, and a springy tail. She had all the trimmings of ‘the lady in the manor’ yet strangely she was out to gather provisions for the winter. Initially, she took any place she’d find on the pavement.


Come the fourth day, she stepped hard on the squirrel’s foot. While he was hopping in pain, the mouse took his spot!  The mouse devised the cheapest tricks to seize Von’s position daily! No other squirrel came to help Von. Not once did they think to pay Von’s kindness with support. 


As winter approached, the other squirrels had enough to last them until the next spring. The mouse had sacks full of supplies. Von still had his sack unfilled. With the first flake of snow, the squirrels scuttled into their warm burrows.


Von had nowhere to go.


He had been so busy collecting scarcely available munchies that he had forgotten to get himself a place to stay during winter. Down-and-out, Von retired to his beloved place, the vacant corner. The Mouse too had vanished into thin air with her plunder as the snowflakes danced a pristine dream in white. 


All the frozen squirrel could do to keep warm was to get inside his sack and hide among the food he had collected. While he shivered, the chill was bearable inside. Days flitted into nights. Von remained in his quickly dwindling heap of rations. Then one night the icy winter wind sang its eeriest tune, the snowfall became a dense torture, leaving Von in uncontrollable shivers.


When he heard the tiny teeth gnawing, he thought it was his dental chatter. When he felt his sack move, he thought it was his remains’ tremble. But when the warmth of the fire, reached him through the crackling nuts in his provisions, he mustered his last bit of curiosity to peep through the holes in the sack. What he saw finally froze him in disbelief!


The white mouse, in the prettiest of all mouse dresses, peeped back through the holes and ordered, “Get out now! Your cheap thrills in the snow are a misadventure! You have to live coz I still have to steal your corner next spring.”


Von decided the best treatment for hallucination is to discount a response.


The mouse now squealed, “Get out you squirrel or else I will pour the warm broth I cooked for you into your sack and burn you!”


Von retorted with a snort, “Okay! Okay! No cheap thrills, at my expense- My Lady!”


Author: Kleio B'wti

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Love Story

It's a Love Story...

Sunaina just got off the call with Arpit, discussing last minute stuff of her engagement with Sameer that was still midway. Time does not define the intensity of friendship between two people, at least among them. She met him at Saira’s wedding, her childhood friend, last year which wasn’t a Kodak moment of capture; the first hold off for her with Arpit. She thought him as the groom and the chaos and pools of laughter it created henceforth were the highlights of that wedding. He went with the flow to add some drama but eventually came to her rescue when she drowned twice her hair length in embarrassment.  Since then they have developed an amicable relationship which included 10-hour telephonic conversation a week, a couple of hundred messages and a few video chats.

Sunaina worked as a Junior Associate at Mehra and Sons Advocates, a midsize law firm in Bangalore suburbs. Sunaina was a quiet and introvert in a group as long as she wasn’t a couple of wine glasses heavy. She was also badass enough to scatter a few here and there with her words and raised eyebrows in the courtroom.  She scared a Judge once with her trademark eye-raising style; all he did was responded to a mobile call during the court trial.

She was altogether a different person in her formal attire, one who is not a  mirror reflection by any angle. This characteristic of Sunaina made Sameer swipe the floor with his knees and ask her to marry him. Sameer didn’t only love her for her juvenile nature but a lot more for the personality she grew into once in the courtroom.

She banged her right fist on the table, looking into the eye of the police officer and would say "Spill out the truth about fake FIR lodged”, (against the client) or “I’ll not only prove it but also open the book of your entire life deeds.” Looking at the convict and gave him the feeling that if he'd lie his soul would come out and reveal the truth out of fear. The magical moment when the officer gave up efforts to stand against her, was when Sameer knew she is the one he would like to grow capsicum in his backyard and eat lettuce every morning, from whatever was left. He held high regards for the profession and the way Sunaina embraced it and grew in it, made him respect her.

Sunaina, on the other hand, was never into a relationship, apart from once when she was in Graduation College. She fell for a guy who was eight years older to her, (at least that what she believed then). The guy worked at a local newspaper as a political editor. They even met her parents to get their blessings for marriage. That was some day! Her mother almost lost her senses; her father's blood pressure rose beyond approved levels and her elder sister fell off the floor in laughter holding her stomach in laughter pain. She used that topic for two straight years for amusement and even rumored it with spice among all their cousins. But this time when Sameer asked she and was blown away. He held high standards and repute among the line of co-goers. She couldn’t have found a better one and felt

Arpit also supported her in the decision and reviewing the case in his court of judgment favored for her corner. Though he was shocked on initially, he eventually couldn’t find anything against Sameer who led her to the ocean of lovers and blossoms. The jury (friends and family) also got hit at first, the way Arpti and Sunaina spent time in conversations. They always believed that it had gone beyond the cooking stage and they were actually piping. Her boss would tease her at social gatherings and off-site meets, but she could never make them believe that there was nothing beyond calls, messages, holidays and overloaded discussions.

Sunaina and Sameer got engaged at city’s most lavish fine-to-dine. It was a magical night with flowers, wine, music, and dance. Happy faces, roars of laughter, neon light flashings, and fathers drinking for the first time in life - the day couldn’t have gone better.

Arpit came to her room and she was already up. She hugged him with a smile turned towards the mirror, admiring her looks and recalling the last night. She had weird thoughts and feelings, into a space of uncertainty. She could feel her heart go heavy but rebutted with a thought that maybe it's normal. Arpit looked into her eyes and felt the reason of her pale chin; he held her hand and told her not to worry. But she couldn’t get it off her head; she could feel something in her spine going down and all of a sudden her feet went cold.

She hugged him again and could find peace transmitted into her body through his arms around her waist. She felt like sleeping and transferred her body weight onto him. She tightened her armband around his neck, bowed on his right shoulder and leaned towards his ear and with closed eyes and dry lips she whispered:

If it’s not you who wakes me up, let me sleep.”


Author: Muflis Musafir

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