ALONE BUT NOT LONELY.

 

Wanting to soar
Wanting to fly
Do not let anyone
Pull your string.

          I enjoy my company
          With my thoughts in symphony
          Never tired of myself
          Dreaming,
          Planning and
          At times plotting
          Content and happy.

For - dVerse Poets Pub  

MY SACRED SPACE.

 

A place where I am me,
No role playing,
No one to judge, 
A place where I am valued,
No inhibitions
No intrusions
Nothing to bind
Where I can dream
And realize them
Where I let my mind
Fly and drift
Over the uncharted
Exploring and discovering
Where the choices
Are not questioned
Or looked down upon
Where I can make mistakes;
Freedom to correct them
Where I safe guard 
All that is me....
That place is within me
Or by the sea
Or the top of a mountain
Or  my living room
A place where I am at peace.

Over to Corinne's Everyday Gyaan. 
  
 
         
 

MADE FOR EACH OTHER.

  

 

My entry for Romantic Friday Writers.

This month's challenge is a FanFiction, writing a poetry or prose of upto 1,000 words.

My fiction is inspired from the famous Hindi movie of the 80's - Ek Duuje Ke Liye (Made for each other).

MADE FOR EACH OTHER.

 




“Hello! Anybody home?” shouts Naina.

“In the shower, Naina…give me 10 minutes”. It is Matt answering from the bathroom.

Naina stands outside the bathroom door. “It is not safe to leave it open, you know that!”

“I left it open for you…what’s the big deal? No one ever comes to my place anyway and there’s nothing to steal. The thief will take pity on me and leave something behind” replies Matt.

“How come you have locked the bathroom door then? Didn’t feel like leaving it open for me?” asked Naina naughtily.

“Hahaaha…” That’s all she got as an answer.

20 minutes later, Matt walks out of the bathroom to find his house empty. He calls Naina on her mobile. “What’s wrong?” Naina cuts him off, “Matt, don’t get irritated. I left a message and posted-it on your bathroom door. Go get it.”

“Hmmmm...What was so urgent that you had to leave? I could have come with you,” says Matt.

“Got a call from the printer, the proof of the invitation card is ready. He will start printing immediately, once I approve. So, I rushed over…excited, you know. Two months to our wedding and so much to do. So, rushed off…hey, I will make it up for you,” says Naina.

“Ok…call me when you are done,”  says Matt.

                               ******************

 

Sapna opens the door as the bells rings.

“Hi, I am Naina, Matt’s friend. I have come from Mumbai,” Naina introduces herself to Sapna.

Sapna flings herself at Naina and hugs her tight. She leads Naina to her room. Closing the door behind them, she hugs Naina again.

“How do you know about me? Did Matt ask you to meet me? How is he? Looking himself after well?” Sapna rattled off.

“Hey, slow down…not so fast. Matt is fine. He and my brother are colleagues. He comes home often. He does talk about you. And, I came to find out myself, hear your love story.”

Sapna’s face lights up.

“Two years back, Matt’s parents shifted next to our house from Cochin. Matt joined them after completing his MBA. We did not interact much as we are from North India, Uttar Pradesh and they, from Kerala. We had the language barrier between us. Every morning, I used to encounter Matt while going to college. He would be coming back home after his morning jog. I was not fluent in speaking English and communicating with him was a huge problem. Something sparked off between us and we used to find reasons to meet. I would find him loitering around my bus stop and some times near my college. He would be in the same bus as mine, though he had nowhere to go. We started meeting. I tried improving my English speaking skills and he tried to learn Hindi for me. In about a month’s time we were inseparable. One day, my dad saw us together and all hell broke loose. The same old parental pressure and reasoning…religion and caste! We tried a lot to convince them. The adults then reached an understanding. They extracted a promise from both of us - we had to live separately for a year, and, this without contacting, seeing or communicating. If we survived this one-year, then they would get us married to each other. An agreement was drawn and we both signed the document. Well, it’s almost a year now…. 22 days left. I am so excited. We have proved them wrong and our love has triumphed.”

                                    ******************

 

Matt storms into Naina’s house. “Naina…Naina…here you are! What has come over you? You had gone to Mangalore without telling me. You could have informed me at least. Your mobile has been switched off since 5 days…no messages? What’s the secrecy, Naina? What’s going on Naina?

Naina looks up. She has been crying. “I met Sapna,” she manages to say between sobs. Matt blanches. He face is ashen and Naina can see his pain. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

He paces around the living room. He sits on the couch…makes an effort to say something…gives up and throws up his hands in despair.

“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you deceive me?” Naina confronts Matt.

“How?” asks Matt.

Naina replies, “In your apartment, I was looking around waiting for you to finish your bath. I saw some papers sticking out of your study drawer. Wanting to straighten them up, I opened the drawer to find all those unposted letters you had written to Sapna…the letters you had written to her every single day.” She goes into her room and brings back a bag and hands it over to Matt. “You have stopped writing to her some 4 months back, why?”

“Remember I had gone to Goa for the conference? Sapna was there…in that very hotel where I was staying…. on the same floor. Can you believe that? A few rooms separating us! I learnt that she was there on an educational tour. That evening, I slipped a slip under her door with my name and room number. Was waiting for her the whole evening. The lady at the reception desk told me that the college girls had gone on a field trip and will be back late in the night. Morning, I knocked on her door. A guy opened the door. He said he was with Sapna. She had left for Mangalore early that morning in a hurry. He was packing her stuff. His name was Bikram and he was her fiancé. They were getting married the following month. I felt defeated Naina. Sapna must have surely succumbed to the pressure from her parents. Later, when Sid brought up your proposal, I accepted.”

Naina sits in front of him. “You are such a fool! Do you realize what you were going to do? An irreparable damage! Was your trust in Sapna so fickle that you could believe something without validating that? You have no idea what Sapna has gone through. She worships the land you have walked on. Once I told her that I was your friend, she hugged me tight. When I told her that we always shake hands when we meet, she kissed my hands. I even said that you have kissed my forehead and she kissed my forehead too. It was as if she was seeing you in me. For three days she took me around the city, to the places you both had been to. She showed me every nook and corner that had your memory. You know what? Every inch of her bedroom wall and celling is covered with your name! What more testimony you want of her unshakable faith in you?”

Matt was openly crying now. “Go Matt.…. do not disappoint her and fuck up your life along with mine. You both are made for each other.”

Matt takes Naina’s hands in his – “You are such a sweetheart Naina. You gave me back the only thing I treasured most, my love. Thank you. I will feel like an ass asking your forgiveness but forgive me anyway.” Matt hugs Naina.

Word count - 1187.

  

LICENSED TO KILL.

                                 Image taken at Museum of Memories, Mumbai.


It is delicious- no doubt,
It is addictive - you bet!
It is poison - believe that.

Clogging arteries
Piling calories
Obesity - host to diseases

They came
They conquered
Changed what people ate

In the war of Healthy vs Junk
No guesses for which won
Guilty as charged 
Yet, people queue to kill themselves.

For - dVerse Poets Pub     

JOIE DE VIVRE

 

A nondescript village

She sat outside a temple

Selling her wares

Made cute dolls of socks

Jute shoots magically

She transformed to birds

My name is- 

"Sheetal - I am cool;

Try try never cry"-

Is my motto.

One is a hundred  surviour

Of rare brain tumour

No adversity could 

Deter her humor. 

P.S - In Indian, Sheetal means 'Cool'

HAUNTING MEMORIES.

                                 
They catch me unawares. They gather like the ominous dark clouds, eerie, prophesying impending doom. They threaten to come in torrents, wanting to break free from the shackles to which they have been bound for a long time. The gush of them crisscrossing and intervening with each other, a rush that is going to drown me. They have been repressed and buried deep within, locked and cast away. Now, they are surfacing like a serpent uncoiling itself ready to strike any moment.

I am chilled to the bone and the wind outside is not the reason. And yet, I am perspiring, soaked to skin. The storm outside is causing the old house to rattle and creak. The storm within is making my teeth chatter.

Damn! Damn! Damn! Why did I let Lucy to talk me into coming to this old place? I needed years of therapy after getting out of this dump and now this. "You have to face your demons. You own the place. Let us go there once and salvage what is left of the family; before you put it up for sale" Lucy had argued. Now, I try to call out to her. All I can manage is a hoarse whisper. Try as I might, I am not able to move a limb. Fear has gripped me! I am stuck to my bed as a bug. Then I hear him.

The lullaby he sang. The way he brushed my hair with his fingers. The way he kissed me...the touches....the violation, years of abuse. 

I had run away from this, from the mental and physical torture. I thought I had outgrown these memories. I thought they would not touch me, much less harm me...after all I had managed the art of blocking them. I am so wrong. Everyone has memories to cherish, but my memories, they are back with an vengeance to haunt me for life!

This is a work of fiction...for The Mag.

 
 

BE CAREFUL.

 

When I entered high school, certain things around me changed. Till then, I had a gala time moving around with my brother and his friends.
It was not verbally spelled out but, certain restrictions were imposed. My brother became my body guard.
It is natural for parents to be protective. They do not want their kids to get hurt or go through pain. But, nature takes its course. We all have a curious mind and a sense of rebellion...and so, however careful we may think we are; we fall, get hurt, cry, feel the pain,  and eventually carry on. 

 Participating in Corinne Rodriguez's 100 words on Saturday.

The title "Be Careful" reminds me of this song - 

  
 

VALUE (IN)GRAIN(ED)

Mid 1980’s and I was in High School. Those were the days when we bought our monthly provision of food grains from the Government Fair Price Shop or “Ration Shop” as they were known. These shops still exist and millions of households depend on them.

 

Read the whole story here.

THE SCENT OF A WOMAN.

She is a Goddess
Donning various avatars, as
Effortlessly as she slips
Into various attires

From MANning the space
To scale the highest mountain
From leading a Nation
To swim across the deepest ocean

She spreads her wings
Transforms and blends
She merges, kneels
And also bends

Vulnerable, imperfect
And sometimes malevolent
Paying the price of choice
Through sacrifice

She can fight, She does let go
For what is her right
She is strong, no doubt there
Birthing a life is no mean feat.

For - dVerse Poets
Poetry Jam 
Theme Thursday    


        

HUMAN - NATURE.

It is almost mid-morning when I step out of the house. By now, the world outside has settled into a comfortable routine. There is no early morning rush or frenzy. Except for the occasional blare of the horn from a vehicle...it is almost a hushed silence.

It is nice that people always leave some grains and water for these birds. We are human, right? These birds too, after their early morning chatter and clamor for food, having had their fill are just loitering around gossiping. 

I always love watching the birds and also animals in general. They have this 'peaceful easy feeling' about them. 
They live in the moment.
They do not think.
They live for survival
They live by instinct.
They hold no grudges.
They love unconditionally. 

Why were we given brains? For wisdom, to think and contemplate, to spread knowledge? Each of us can come up with many answers.

I come home in the afternoon. We have opened the windows of our home for the first time in 2 months. That is because we have barricaded the grilles of the windows with plastic mesh. The reason - we have a pet cat. He is home grown and is afraid to be on his own outside. Yet, curious by nature, he would venture out whenever the window was slightly open and stray into the adjoining building. He would not know how to come back. He may lose his way. He may not be able to fight other cats or defend himself against them.
Or so we think!!

 Eventually, he would learn to survive. It would take him some time to hone his instincts, but he would. Given time, he would even find his way back home. Only that we did not let him be.

Now, Snowy feels at home on the parapet. He loves watching the birds...feels that he can catch them. And, we are at peace that he cannot stray and lose his way.

 Isn't it the human nature to hold on, to possess, to control, to form attachments, to misuse power or what we make of it?

I wish we were more like these birds and animals - free, without malice, living more in the moment and going by our instinct rather than over thinking.

 If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were.
Richard Bach

This is true of every attachment we form.

This post is written for the prompt by my dear friend Dagny Sol who blogs at Serenly Rapt.

Her prompt -  Step out of your house and click a picture. Then come back into the house and click another picture. Write a post connecting the two.

 

  

  
 

WEARING MY FEELINGS.

                                                                                    

 

Joining Corinne again with her prompt "WHY CRY" on Everyday Gyaan.

Is crying a sign of the weak or, that of the person who feels?

Being born among a gang of guys, I used crying as my weapon and also as my defense, to make them include me in their group.

I was the crybaby. Still am.

Any extreme emotion…I cry.

I cry when I am angry! The reason being that, I am frustrated & cannot fight the way I want. I cannot be really mean.

It is neither my strength nor my weakness now. It is that I am more emotional and I wear my feelings on my sleeve.

WHAT'S YOUR SONG?

Suzy  blogs at Someday Somewhere and she is hosting a prompt for The writers Post. 

What's your song?

Though, I am not a part of this group, I went ahead with the prompt because of my love for music and the memories they bring back.

We connect with the lyrics of each song deep inside our hearts and that is the reason they become our favorite.  

Like you all, I have a whole list of my favorite songs...each special in its own way.

This particular song by "Hold on to the night, Hold on to the Memory" is my song this day because I am missing out some people in my life. And, their memories color my life.

SOUR GRAPES.

 

If

Hope

Is 

Eternal

Optimism,

What 

Is

Letting go? 

For - dVerse Poets

BINGO.

 

It is a full house,

In attendance.

If blood is thick,

Bingo makes our bond thicker!

The family get-togethers

 Were never complete

Without this game.

Unlimited food

Unrestricted laughter

Never ending conversations

"Two fat ladies"

"One little duck"

"Two hockey sticks"

"All by itself"....

My uncle, the official "Caller"

Cancer clawed

He passed on....

The baton

Will we ever play again?   

For - dVerse Poets