November rain

Coiled threads of memories intertwine with jumbled emotions just like my fingers on his hair.

Nothing has changed over the years. He still sleeps like a smiling angel.

Wasn’t it just yesterday when I set my eyes on him? Love at first sight?
No, I was already in love even before he made his dramatic entry into my life.

I have always loved November rains for the calmness they exude in spite of the heavy torrents. Wasn't it on one such night that God bestowed this gift?

The rumble of the thunder pierces my swirling thoughts. I walk to the window and stretch out my hand to catch the first few drops of November rain.

It sure is a symbol of new beginning.
Or is it a perfect ending to the relationship we share?

I curse myself for such thoughts. How can I be so doubtful, so selfish?
This relationship can never be tainted. The oozing drops of any other color, even if it is red, will just beautify it more.

But hadn’t Vani told me how things changed?
I feel torn. I am not sure any more.

I watch as the rain pours down in torrents just like my tears.

I don’t see him walk up stealthily to me. It is only after he holds my hand that I realize his presence next to me. He clasps my hand tightly and looks at me.

“Just like old times”, he says as he smiles.

We both stretch our hands into the rain together, just like the hundreds of times before. Time seems to have flown by in a jiffy.

But, he is still like the November rain- gentle, tender and loving.

“Nothing will change about us, even if I fly half away across the globe. I promise, Mom”, he says.

****

P.S : Wrote this in a jiffy and published it even though it did not turn out how I wanted it to :/

Picture : Link

Read More

Invitation - The consequence : Guest Entry

Read  Invitation  The surrender

The consequence

The seductress turned around in search of another victim.

The dismissal of the dried maple leaf wasn't a matter to mourn. It had begun its journey with the lake, not sure if the lake was a friend or an enemy. She swirled in her own notion to celebrate the victory, yet had considered to have enough time before the hunt. 

He was strong; she was afraid not only of him but also of his shadow. His existence reminded her the meaning of ‘Battle of Survival’. He was powerful, strong and could not afford to care for her.

She ran hither and thither. She pleaded the maple for place to hide. Maple denied sheltering the carrier of his son’s death angel. She had no place to fight, she, now, knew the feeling called surrender. She capitulated.

She burned into vapors; He did not even realize her agony. His aim was to travel from east to west without disturbing the cycle of Mother Nature. He concentrated on his job as he shone brightly. As she rose higher and higher, she watched him furiously. She couldn’t be tranquil like the leaf. He did not bother about her trepidations. 

“Rest in peace” said the Sun as the day was about to turn dark.

She walked straight into the lake in form of rain drops. She got that she wasn’t created to be alive to play around; she was existed to die to spend rest of eternity with the leaf that had surrender to her existence.

***

This was written by an angel called Snehal, for my previous blogpost. Snehal, thank you for writing this wonderful piece for me darling :)

Apart from being an amazing writer and someone who I consider one of the best writers I've come across, she's a total sweetheart of a person ! You can find her on blogspot here : $nehal

Read More

Invitation

My name she whispers, ever so softly.

Her fingers, they caress me.

Calling me, she has been, forever.

Her invite, it tempts me.

Seduction is her game. I thought I had seen through it and had gone past all of it, but, I think I shall fall prey soon. She’s a free spirit who taunts my bondage. She‘s a wily witch who promises to show me the pleasures of a free run. Of her capabilities, I have no doubts. For, she has the ability to take me to places I have never been to. But, I had never considered it worthy. I loved my values. I loved belonging to someone. But, now, when I am old and wrinkled, I have doubts if I am wanted here any longer.

“Do not resist me”, she says in her honey voice.

I look back at the life I spent, of the memories bygone. All my youth I have watched her sway around me, trying to lure me. It’s true that I flirted with her, swayed to a few tunes too; but, I had scoffed, even laughed at her dejected face when I rejected the offer to join her.

“One day, you will, just like the others”, she had smirked at me.

My end is near. And I knew the time has come, to let go off myself, to accept her invitation. It is better to drink the beauty of her companionship, one last time, rather than to see an abrupt end.

She smiled victoriously for she had attracted yet another victim.

Gently, she caressed me as I held her waist, swirling sweet tango. Breaking my bond with my abode, I took off with her, for a final dance, for a rendezvous, quivering because of the fierce passion she exhibited.

Accepting her invitation was worth the sights and the pleasures she had to offer. Contentment, I felt.

“Rest in peace”, the autumn breeze whispered as she blew the dried maple leaf to the nearby lake.

***

Inspiration : The photo below posted by a colleague Gopalakrishna Hariharan in SLR Bulletin Board of my company.

Thank you for permitting me to share it :)

Plus the dancing peepal leaves that I saw near the IIIT junction. (Being caught in traffic sometimes has advantages :D)

PS : This post has a guest entry contributed by an angel which I shall share in the next post !

Read More

Something was different today.

This was not the first time that I sat with him.

How many times had we sat on the fresh green carpet in nature’s lap leaning against the tree overlooking the pond?  Countless.

Yet, something was different today.

He dint forget to greet me by my nickname.

  Yet, something was different today.

I punched on his tummy like I always did when I greeted him. 

Yet, something was different today.

He dint forget to bring my favorite chocolate and cream donuts. It has been a ritual.

  Yet, something was different today.

I mumbled how good they tasted while I dug into the donuts and even dropped a few crumbs all over my dress, while the chocolate syrup stuck around my chin and cheeks as usual.

  Yet, something was different today.

I bent my head to lean onto his shoulder, like I always did when something troubled me.

Yet, something was different today.

His head dint lean back on mine. Neither did he brush away the crumbs off my face.

Nothing had changed over the past 14 years. We came here every Sunday. This was our spot. The tree by the pond. We discovered it ages ago and we had even made our mark on the bark of the tree as kids. Every single tree in this park, every blade of grass, ever petal of the flowers, and every ripple in the pond knew us.

But today, they seemed to alienate us. Like they were mourning something.

The pond was still. It was very different. I threw a pebble into the water trying to disturb its penance, trying to make it look normal, trying to set everything right.

And I heard those words “Alicia, I am leaving for university tomorrow. I won’t promise that I will keep in contact because over the time I might not be able to. I won’t promise that I will be there for you always because I might not be able to be there for you when you need me. I won’t promise that I will come back for you because I might change. I won’t promise to address you as a hedgehog whenever I see you because I might see you as a lady, almost a stranger a few years from now. I won’t promise something I won’t be able to keep up. All I promise is to hold your memories close to my heart, for you have been my best friend over the years.”

But he hadn’t uttered a single word.

The only sound was the plopping pebbles in the pond emanating cascading golden ripples by the setting sun.

He wrapped my hand around his like countless other times.

 Yet, something was different today. Or maybe forever !

****

P.S : Inspired from a real place but a slightly different context :)

Pic courtesy : weheartit.com 

Read More

A dip

The river’s garment,

A shimmer exquisite,

Disturbed.

As was the sky’s skin,

By the sun’s rays.

Ripples that cascade,

By her white cloth, they collide.

Tiny droplets they drip,

From the tip of her nose,

To her aching bosom.

The drapes embrace,

Her painful longing.

Chastity.

Holy waters,

She dips again.

Cleansing off thoughts,

Classified murky.

Washing away desires,

Considered lecherous.

With every sunrise,

They dwindle.

Millions of droplets,

Have fallen,

From the tip of her nose,

now wrinkled,

To her aching bosom,

now sagging.

What of her aching bosom?

Memories of desires they hold, 

of an infant that once feasted, 

of a husband who once rested.

All compounded into earth’s bosom.

****

Inspiration : A picture I saw posted in my company album.

Image source : ibtimes.com

Read More

Cigarette

The vehicles zip by and the crimson embers engulf by a millimeter.

He has a cigarette in his right hand, clutched between his fingers, dying away, almost past the filter.

He has a cigarette in his right hand, clutched between two of his fingers, even as his dark skin burns in the hot sun.

He has a cigarette in his right hand, clutched between two of his fingers, even as his dark skin burns in the hot sun,
 while he just wears a small blue cloth for a half lungi.

He has a cigarette in his right hand, clutched between two of his fingers, even as his dark skin burns in the hot sun, while he just wears a small blue cloth for a half lungi,
with a few coins astray on a small handkerchief spread in front of him.

He has a cigarette in his right hand, clutched between two of his fingers, even as his dark skin burns in the hot sun, while he just wears a small blue cloth for a half lungi, with a few coins astray on a small handkerchief spread in front of him,
even as dust settles on his thick unkempt beard as the vehicles whizz by him.

The others bring forth their hands to cover their nostrils but he..
He has a cigarette between his fingers of his lone limb.

 Every person, has a story; I do not know what is his. Sympathy is the last thing I have for this triple amputee.

More than 24 hours since I saw him, a slave to his addiction , and this poignant picture of the addiction just doesn't go away. :( :(

*** 

And this post was an attempt to get the infesting image out of my system.. Apologies for perplexing you guys with a meaningless write up !

Read More