Estranged

Flight he wanted, he whispered to me
And then He gifted an extension of his dream
Wings these are of another kind
Not feathers nor light
Fly he did, to a distant land
Away from my world, my realm from me

Pangs these are of pain another kind
Not of the stomach nor the mind

I want to sit by the shore
Bottle in hand, sand in my shoe
Talking to the stars, singing to the moon

I want to walk the mile
ending in your house, waiting at your door
Smiling to your face, kissing in your wake

I want to run away
from the dreams that are, stories untold
Unfolding in me, a child, someone I never knew

Abrupt

Jealousy. It makes you a devil. It made her one at least. She was the best friend one could have. Until that point. One incident changed her. She did not like this new change within. She was helpless. Something took over her body, took charge. She did not refute, raise her voice. What she raised, she least expected.

Sarah lay dead in a pool of her own blood. She did it, her 'best friend'.

Why, you ask me? She'll never tell, no, not to me, not to anyone.

She'll never tell.

She's in an asylum now. She was not convicted, her lawyer pleaded guilty. She was sent for medical examination and it was found that she had lost all memory, save one.

But... she'll never tell.

Thoughts, running, racing
Memories, flitting, meandering
Words, echoing, repeating
Laughter, resounding
Silence!

Read

She cries her heart out
No one cares
She laments in solitude
No one cares
She smiles with teary eyes
No one cares
She laughs, haunting
No one cares
She twitches in her bed
No one cares
She sleeps not a wink
No one cares
She tries to please
No one cares
She dances her misery away
She cares!

A poem for my Mother

I close my eyes to find you brushing my hair,
Paste my face with powder so I look fair

I ran to you with a story to tell
And when I cried, stumbled or fell

From your purse a rupee or two I took
You served me with a beating and the look

Years passed by and I slowly grew
Many a tantrums at you I threw

Be it over breakfast, friends or phone
To everything you said I'd moan


Twenty one years have gone by since
To these things no more I wince

Your little baby has grown up now
I'll give you no reason to fret or frown

I have pained you I know, more than once
I'd shoot myself hence, with a million guns

But I can cause you agony no more
Because... I love you, that I must bring to fore

Twenty-two I'll be by this time tomorrow
For all my misdeeds, I'm filled with remorse and sorrow

Thank you Mommy, you are indeed the best
Knowing I'm your child, in peace I'll forever rest

Things you want from life are but a few
So I plead with the Almighty to render your wishes true

Spell cheque! Oops! Check!

Its amazing how addicted I am to T9 on my phone and shift f7 on my keyboard. Whatever happened to all spellings I was taught in school. I find it hard to put one and two together. My eyes search for the read lines on the word document I type and the right click which erase the line for me... I'm dyslexic!

It dawned on me when I spelt leopard as 'leapord'! Leapord??

And to think of it, I worked as an editor in a prestigious firm as an Editor! My job description - check for typos and syntax errors!! Probably the reason why I quit. MS Office did my work for me and I was rendered useless in my own eyes!

Damn them technology and my increasing dependence on it.

P.S: I'm working on my New Media assignment - the impact of digitization and the internet technology on music!

A Burpy Story

It started with a loud burp. 'Love at first burp' their friends call it.

KFC chicken bucket was his favourite and it always ended with agreement from his digestive system.

That day, she occupied the seat on the table next to his. Consumed with laughter at the emanation of his satisfaction she said,

"Loving it aren't you"?
"I can teach you to love it as well"
"I'll pass, my schedule is filled with classes anyway"
"My schedule is the same every Sunday. Next week find me here at half past 12. You can also find me at 9886429133" he said, placing a tissue with his phone number on her fry's filled tray.

Sitting opposite each other on that very table, they share a chicken bucket. It is their first anniversary and they burp to it.

Numb!

The smell around the cemetery was no different from what she smelled outside of it. What bothered her was the eerie sensation in the pit of her stomach.

What mother is she who picks a grave for her unborn child?

Pangs of grief hit her when the question echoed in her head. What choice did she have? Give life to a being and leave it to die or die herself, leaving the hapless mass of flesh lying around? 'Mass of flesh'! She was ashamed of her thoughts.

She was 20! How would she explain herself to her loved ones? She wanted a life! And this, she believed, would take it away from her.

Standing at the grave now, tears run down her cheeks. Her gynaecologist informed her she cannot conceive.