Reverberating Silence……

With the beams of the golden sun

The dawn treads between us,

Breaking the night that bound us into one

Woeful sweat trickles down the statues of subdued lust.

Waking up to the cuckoo’s song

The wind chasing through the labyrinthine sheets,

Wishing the night to have been long

Searching tumultuously for your odour, for your heartbeats.

But gloom descends as the morn unfolds,

On my side sleeps hollowed solitude,

The crushed, deflated sheets speak of the stories untold

I embrace the emptiness and hum the ever haunting tune.

I arise to catch the reverberating silence donned in white

To reflect back the darkness soon approaching me,

I shout, I run, to catch the hopeful rays that escape my sight

But defeated, I collapse under the sorrow-borne tree.

Wheeling in my chair, with the yellow leaves of despair

I weave a wreath to adorn your grave,

The dust on which, I sweep with my tears and brush with my hair

I hear you sleep peacefully, sitting by your side like your knave.

You have gone…how easily you have left me behind, in solitude

To be engulfed by the darkening horror each moment as a destitute,

Crippling by the hours and days, this claustrophobia I seek to flee

Your gift of death, the shroud of the virus is all that is left of me

Remembering your requited love, had long erased my fearful wrath

The implacable cunning virus smuggling away substantial warmth,

The face, the voice telling me who I was, and what I have become

Must I give in, accept my reality and sulk till doom comes?

Through The Looking Glass

Through the looking glass I see you staring at me
I comprehend not, the question lingering on your visage
Your look appalls me, I pant searchingly to retort back,
To break the glass you have imprisoned me in
Through which you all mockingly dissect my identity.

Through the looking glass I reflect back at my reflection
I see what you all can never see,
I see a beautiful woman with her long tresses
Draping on that kanjeevaram, colouring her lips scarlet,
Smudging that invincible kohl contouring her olive-eyes
Powdering her face, hooking on those silver danglers,
I see her smiling at her thoughtful glance
I see her swell with pride on confronting her real self at last.

Through the looking glass I see you approaching
To shake that pride off, for donning on your attire, your facade,
I see you slap her, pull her hair, abuse her, strangle her
For not living up to 'his' gender typology, like your male friends.

Through the looking glass I see her collapse on the floor
I see a black tear smoothening the dilemmas rifting her face,
I see what you all can never see
I see a woman’s soul encaged in a man’s cadaver,
I feel the distress like a fluttering caged bird
Trying to catch the shadows of freedom and acceptance.

Through the looking glass I see her turning on the shower
Wetting her dampened spirits, crying her soul out,
Tears and shower drops enmeshed together races down
To meet in the hollowness of the dark drain’s reservoir,
She dries her perennially wry soul, slipping into those kohlapuris
Through the jarred doors she escapes into the wilderness,
Where her trembling legs follow her wandering eyes
Knowing no destination she walks on,
People pass by jeering, laughing, taunting
Trying to guillotine her already beheaded self.

Through the looking glass of the calm azure skies,
Darkness embraces her, whose limbs she seeks to break,
The look of mystery in your eyes rapes her urge for reason
Speeding away her stalking shame to catch the hopeful rays,
She runs on, chasing biased winds to meet life in a speeding bus
The glass crashes and falls shrouding her reverberating corpse.

Through the looking glass I see what you can never see
I can see myself reflected in her,
I feel the sweet pangs of sadness swirling in those drapes
The sun sets and fades as we lay and stare,
Her smile rests at the slope of my cheek
Withdrawing her magic she continues to gaze on,
But this wait is for an altogether another encounter
When she will be born by pain at last,
And know why the caged birds sing
And then you may write her down in history!!

God Sends

A few decades from now you will probably find yourself with wispy white hair and rattling limbs, sitting in an old armchair and reflecting back at your past. Vivid scenes from each stage of your life will come rushing and cause a slight smile to play on your lips or make you sigh. Throughout your life you saw the coming and going of a large number of people, the names of some you probably would not even recall now. These were people who you shared laughter and homework with over steaming cups of coffee. They were a major part of your everyday life. Only you went home and forgot about them. The marks they left on your life were like footprints in sand, soon to be swept away and forgotten.

Amongst this crowd of people you see huddled in a corner those people who were the ones who managed to leave their carvings on the pillar of your life. You would be surprised to find that some people who you assumed would be part of that huddle are not there. You would be even more surprised to find that those people who were the least expected candidates have got admission into the gates of your heart. They were the ones who had actually shared your grief and happiness. They were those stars that guided you through your darkest and most difficult times. They were probably a lab partner in school, who helped you out of a sticky situation with your chemistry teacher, or maybe just a stranger, who saw you crying on a park bench and helped you mend a broken heart. These were the ones who left the marks that were like footprints in clay, strong and indestructible.

Suddenly, you snap out of your reverie and look around. A tear rolls down your cheek and you say a little prayer for them. How and when one touches another person's heart is unknown. The smallest gesture of kindness can give a person a lifetime of happiness. Angels like these come for a short while in people's lives and leave after their work is finished. Call them God sends if you like, but you can be sure that you will find one at the turn of the darkest of alleys life makes you walk through...

Memory

Sometimes we find ourselves all alone

Sitting in a corner and looking at the floor,

Time flies by because it does not wait for anybody

And it always wants everybody to be happy.

Moments like these, when we revel in our solitude

Ennui overtakes us and memories flash by like a film reel,

Some good, some bad, some happy, some sad

In their remembrances, smiles compliment the tears rolling down our cheeks.

A life long forgotten revisits us

People come without a sound and leave noiselessly,

Situations long buried in the depths of our memories surfaces to the fore

The absence of somebody haunts like the echo of a gong-bell,

While others make their presence felt like butterflies flapping their wings.

Memory is the best author

Weaving together life’s situations in a seamless thread,

Memory is the best craftsman

Grafting together the disparate ends,

To produce the utmost beauty in the unthinkable

She brings to life our past, conditioning our present to shape the future.

She makes us smile, laugh, whine, cry

Envy, hate, empathize, and love.

In Her reside those cherished people and treasured moments,

The times when we spoke our first word

When we stumbled and fell to stand up again,

Our first crush and moments of being dumbfounded in front of that special someone,

When we entered college and ragged our future friends

When we scanned the notice boards to double-check our results,

When we panicked before every interview

When we received our first salary,

When our crush snowballed into love and resulted in marriage

The tears of joy in creating a new life,

Tending the buds to bloom into beautiful flowers.

Memories come, and memories go

Like situations and people do,

Knowing neither her origin nor her end

Like a river, flowing in her own harmony,

Like rail tracks, running parallel to our lives

Updating our life’s register regularly,

Turning today’s activity into yesterday’s memory.

She is all about living yesterday once more

But in a friction, bullet-shot of reality strikes,

And Her chandelier comes breaking down into fragments

We busy ourselves in today, hoping to revel again in solitude,

To cement these fragments and rebuild Her castle.

Searching You................

Through the beams of the golden sun
The dawn treads between us,
Breaking the night that bound us into one
Woeful sweat trickles down the statues of subdued lust.


Waking up to the cuckoo's song
The wind chasing through the labyrinthine sheets,
Wishing the night to have been long
Searching tumultuously for your odour, for your heartbeats.


But gloom descends as the morn unfolds,
On my side sleeps hollowed solitude,
The crushed, deflated sheets speak of the stories untold
I embrace the emptiness and strum the ever haunting tune.


I arise; I descend, donned in white
To reflect back the darkness soon approaching me,
I shout, I run, to catch the hopeful rays that escape my sight
But defeated, I collapse under the sorrow-borne tree.


With the yellow leaves of despair
I weave a wreath to adorn your heavenly bed,
The dust on which, I sweep with tears and brush with hair
Each moment, your absence-presence chokes me dead.


Ringing church bells announce the evening mass
Amidst the wilderness, creeps in a sense of blank desertion,
My soul departs, leaving behind the corpse of this lass
Racing to the cliff, seeking absolute interfusion,
Down below, the burning river pulls towards its intimidating glass
I plunge to meet your soul there, to revel again in our communion.


I descend and we arise!!