Woman

Today I rue the lack of veil infront of my maimed heart, after all a woman's blood should be bled in private.
Today I lay exposed in the chill and the empathetic feet trampled all over me, the melting wax from the candles burnt me and then sealed me inside.
When you wanted to know my name over and over again, the only thing I remembered is the spot somewhere above my head and it how it changed shape, it became an animal head and laughed at me, it became a child's face with red eyes, Somewhere down the line it drowned in a tsunami of black nausea

What were you looking for , child, when you turned my insides out..when you were playing with the blood from my womb?
Could you find what you came looking for, from the torn remains of my body, my soul?
I hope you did.
I hope this mad search for something you were never meant to possess, would end now.
I came to this world through you, I was meant to hold you in my arms, in my womb
Your own fear of me tried to trample me under giant wheels.

I am left with only pity under this vast star lit sky
In this world without shadows, i am left wondering what could have been.


 

My Doppelganger

I saw my doppelganger following me today.
She smiled and beckoned at passers by.
She wore the dress I dumped last month and moved on with friends whom I loved.
She painted her nails with unseen brush and preened with my looks in her eyes
We went round and round around the garden and she hated the blue butterflies;
I looked at the windscreen of my car and saw her lazing on the wheel
She winked at my long dead lover and closed an almost airtight deal.
My porch was full of dusty books, my names erased and dates scrubbed clean
My namesake was sipping tea and my dog stretched at her feet
I went back to my panic room and bolted my soul from within.

The chequered Floor

The chequered floor. Black after white after black and merging in the dusty corners.
Bits of straw fell from the tiny nest woven carefully behind the stained glass skylight.
The shadowed memories crawled and toddled on the floor. Fell down and picked itself up.
A white clad woman cradled her fevered head on her lap, cool fingers soothed her brows..
Tap of a walking stick on the marbled floor, a voice beckons her to run to his arms..
Pigeons coo all day and the somnolent heavy summer breeze moves the leaves of the banyan slowly.
The filigree of shadow through the stained glass skylight weave magic on the chequered floor,
The tin box lies scattered on the floor , tiny clothes for plastic dolls lie unattended,
The tabby decides to sit her furry brood on the scattered clothes; the girl stares fondly
At them. The squeal of children playing on the road doesnot make her sit up..
She has built her hearth and home on the chequered floors, the shadows play with her,
the pigeons sing with her and the colours of the glass lighten up her world..

The Strawberrywallah

The car meandered through the smoky evening for a minute and stalled .
The One Red eyed beast smiled maliciously and I fumed with
desperate urge to reach my evening cup of Darjeeling.
Burnt diesel, putrefied smell of something unimaginable pervaded the senses and numbed the mind, till I heard a tinny voice at my window. A small nose pressed at the closed window
And one thin hand balanced a box of strawberries,
The evening had the right amount of chill for enjoying a barbecue or just staying indoor with the feet wrapped in quilt. Oh! How I was looking forward to it.
He was wearing a T-shirt , big for his size and shorts which ended much before his knobby knees started; he had a big grin on his face and picked up a strawberry to tempt me.
I rolled down the window and told him, "no , don't want any..they are usually sour. Don't want to be fooled again". I was about to roll up the window, when in surprisingly loud voice for such a tiny body he started eulogizing his precious ware. Did you know they have come from the land of snow, where apples are sweet, the oranges are juicy and Strawberries...Ahhhh..they are the best!
If you bite into one, it will melt like a drop of butter on a hot skillet. Ohhh and when it bursts inside your mouth, you will feel that honey is dripping from the comb. And have I seen the colour?? Isn't it just like rosebuds about to be bloomed?
I looked at him mesmerized and he smiled at me with glittery eyes. I asked casually "have you tasted one?". Suddenly, all light from his face were put out as if by magic. He just said "no"
I was surprised. He was a strawberrywallah after all. I asked him"why?"
He smiled and said "father will beat".
The red eyed devil decided at that moment that it would allow me to pass after all..and the car sped away into the night.

The little strawberrywallah melted away with all his dreams of sprawling strawberry fields..
The lingering taste of a red fruit feeding his dreams
The imagined flavour of a fruit from the land of snows tickling his nose.
He is waiting for you in the next red light you stop at.

My little pirate

A trilling laugh like sparkling wine
Two sturdy little arms wrestling the unseen pirate who lurks around the house;
A wet , dirty little face peering at me from under the bed ;
My morning smells like a buttered toast and fine Darjeeling.
I see him stomping on a puddle of rain water, a sword made of a broomstick in hand;
My morning follows me to soothe the bruises made during the day.
I get ready for the day's race to begin and look at the furtive glances thrown at me
He comes slowly to me and inhales my perfume deeply.
I cant lift him in my arms easily nowadays,so I bend and muss his hair.
I open the car door and turning, I see a a pair of almond eyes deliberately ignoring me
And looking at the toy soldier in hand instead...

My day begins with a small hand tugging the strings that bind me to my world without him.

Merry Christmas to Me

The bluest christmas ever , stares at me out of my monitor.
It bathes my blue room in icy blue,
I can feel the indigo,periwinkle,robin's egg blue reaching
Out at me with their wispy tendrils.

Some names which meant something somewhere try to
Smile uncertainly from my address book,trying to gauge
My stony stare; Would she? Should I? Should she?
I make a staccato sound on my keyboard,no words leap out
And touch those names. I panic, check the connection,restart.
Still nothing.I keep on typing.."Sorry","Thank You", "Love you"
My monitor remains blank. The names waver and fade out.
I keep on typing untill the blue penetrates my mind and I
Go out in the balcony for a breath of chilly 2:00 A.M air.

A thin,bent old man passes my house with faltering footsteps
He gives a fond look at the glowing tip of the cigarette in my hand
I stretch my hand through the grille and after a thought he takes it.
I can see its red glow through the fog even when I can't see the man anymore.

I whisper "Merry Christmas" to the man, long after he is gone.

wobbling towards shapes that are to be...

A rag doll sitting beside the window
trying to sort out the myriad shapes with her lifeless button eyes
A black-button eye waiting for a girl to wipe away the dust that settled on it
And the girl was speeding away from the gingham dress, the wollen hair and the button eyes
She was leaving a little part , which was hers..forever.

The swirling , murky, fishy great river that sluggishly, complainingly
Dragged itself with the weight of so much of human waste and follies,
No longer could be seen from the train window which turned foggy
In the morning chill of December. And then she cried.

After thirty years I dug a small grave tonight and rested my tortured dreams.
I sung a requiem to those button eyes.

Merry Christmas.