Poster at Corner House

It was where they first set eyes on one another. He was tall dark and handsome. So good looking, he was almost too good to be true. She was no less. With skin as fair as Snow White and a soft body, she was most sought after in whole of Dessert Land.
The minute he looked at her, he began to melt. Since then, he has been called Hot Chocolate. He fell head over heels for her. She, was hence called Nuts.
It all happened in the house on the corner of the street. Their love was Cupid's gift to not just their race, but to mankind as well. Everyone now yearns for Hot Chocolate and Nuts!

Outside a Classroom in a School

Amma sent me in with a packet of Prale-G. No, it was no ordinary packet. This was the one which came with the butterfly sticker. She promised to wait outside till I was done. There were others inside, just like me. Most of them were crying, some wailing even. I thought it was because their Amma didn't give them Parle-G.

I offered mine to the girl sitting next to me, but she looked sternly at me and said "I cannot take anything from strangers". But I was no stranger, I thought. I looked out of the window to see Amma smile at me. She was proud, I could tell. She held her chin high, above all the others standing beside her.

Ms. Bhanumitra walked into class. She looked pleasant yet many of the kids wailed, louder than before. One ran towards the door, Ms. Bhanumitra tried to stop him and he bit her! More kids wailed. Pandemonium broke out.

Why were the kids crying? She was a nice lady, I promise. Yes, she did show us the wooden scale once in a while, but that was only when we disobeyed. My Amma did that too when I didn't listen to her. They didn't seem to understand. I think it was because their Amma's didn't show them the wooden stick, instead told them they would be sent to Ms. Bhanumitra.

One day, Ms. Bhanumitra announced that there would be a Story Telling Competition and we could recite stories from books or we could make up stories.

I won. This was the story I narrated.

Poster next to the clock. On the wall

Tick tock tick tock

I watched as the hands moved

Gliding almost



10.30!

I was still sitting there

Mesmerized by its movements



11.00

Not budged!



11.05

Trrrring!

"You had to be here over an hour ago! Where the hell are you? No, not that wretched place again. How many times have I told you not to go there? Are you listening? Don't hang up on me! Get home NOW!"



11.15

She breathed her last.

This is why I sit here everyday.

Poster On Staircase

Slurp! She tasted good! I love it when people stumble-crumble-tumble on me. Its my favourite drink, human blood! Muhahahaha!

Pimple! Go wash face
Ah! Nice eyes
Too fat! Change out of it
Hoot! Sexy bra
Er… Wrestler’s arms
Yes yes, looking just fine
Naah, not for this occasion

All of these described him.. No wait, He’s a her now.


(poster next to the mirror in the lady's loo)

Reality

Something about them intrigues me. It's how they feel what they do. And they live it. We all dream and eventually, we wake up. But them, the dream is their reality. It's as if you and I, this chair I sit on, the room I live in, the coffee mug on the side table, its all a bunch of things that accentuates their being. We are all mere accessories designed to decorate their reality, the one they think is real at least. For them, we are dreams. We float before their eyes, we move in and out of their space as if in space, sans gravity. Nothing about us, not even our touch, is real to them. No, I am not scared of them. I know I am part of their reality. Somehow, I managed to get in. And their world is beautiful. It's got all that I ever wanted to have. Everything there is magical. Its only when you step in, they turn violent.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? take that thing off me! Chains! Chains? Why? WHY? Oh God! Why are you doing this to me?? They need me, my patients need me! I am their only solace! Please! Let go, let go of me! Please...


Mom, dad, me... We were all fragments of her imagination, she thought. In her world, she was a Psychiatrist, treating patients with various abnormal psychological disorders. Its been three years since we were told about her condition.

All that she wants

A dagger, a gun
Water pistol!
Oh! It's such fun!

A washing machine,
Plasma TV
She wants her house to be clean.

Plants from the store
A wall hanging, perhaps a painting
All that is there outside her door.

A friend
A dog
To camouflage and blend.

Love.
Love
And love.

Fists are clenched,

Teeth are gritting,

Eyes are forced shut.

Short Stories

Here are the stories I wrote for Kathalaya while interning with O&M

A cry...

Its dark, and I don't want to see your face

But it blares out loud,

Like the chicken in the chefs skewers,

Calling out for help it cries,

Drowning in its own blood.

Hither tither I run

Seeking corners, afraid of my own shadow

Dreading to see a ghost

Of the past, of our past...

“Go away monster! Leave me alone”!

I cry, to hear echoes of silence

I choke on my breath as it gets heavier...

You presence lingers on.

There were days of lush green

When the chrysanthemums and the sunflowers bloomed

In the direction we moved

But then came the dark cloud...

Your presence, lingers on.

I write to face my demon

The one I’ve nurtured for a while

Writhing in pain and agony

Speeding my demise

I beg forgiveness

But its too painful to ask

And so I write, my friend

For the times gone by.

Quest

And its been so long

Since the nib touched the parchment

And words flow

Of their own accord

My muse, my vice

You are my story, my device

I write for you, my love

Yet another verse...

Emotions devoid.

She said this and set foot

On a journey with no route

Divination she aspired

A rendezvous with the stars...

With blisters on her feet she walks on

Pain it seems, she is void of

Numbness seeks her

Antagonism sewed deep

Peace and quiet

The grave beyond beckoning...

Promises, lies! Promises, lies!

If only she could get in...

Just Another Girl

5'2'' tall, slender figure, deep brown skinned (almost the shade of Cadbury Dairy Milk), hair hanging below the shoulder blade. Large eyes with a hint of hazel and extremely long lashes. The perfect nose, not too long or short with small nostrils that do not flair even in anger. Pink lips, like the Americans especially in winter.

Round faced, not plump. Cheekbones are fine and rounded, rather unusual for a person with a round face. A large black mole, almost the size of a 50p coin (only, its uneven and not circular) sits under the left cheekbone.

A thin neck with  the neck bone protruding. Shoulders are not too broad and are slim. She carries it high, with confidence. Her hands and fingers are long with golden hair almost camouflaged.

Her torso resembles that of a woman who sweats it out at the gym regularly, sans the abs. She has svelte hips with the capability to carry off a Sari with elegance. Legs are proportionate to her torso, with her calf muscles stiff as that of an athletes.

In all, she is a beautiful young woman, almost perfect, save, the big black mole on her face.

And it goes unread. Yet again.

Running to a Standstill

I lay
On the clay covered earth
Darkness consumed
Silence engulfed
Save the calls of the crickets
And the buzz of flies

Voices resounded
Images flashed
Memories grew loud
Tears found their way out

The silent night came alive
With a large strength
From the past

I was no match

Louder. My heart beat
I heard the thumping

Of the heart
Of the music
Of the footsteps
Of nothingness

I wanted to run
It was too beautiful
A mesmerising golden cage
Enchanted. By you

The night was cold
and perfect
Yet, my shoulders were wet
With the weight of my thoughts

My Epiphany

...and then I looked
Above the leaves of the tallest trees
Over the horizon where
The road met the
Depth of the sky

And I saw...
A myriad
A million twinkling lights
High up...
Up above
One, Two, Ten, Thousands

I lost count.
I lost myself
No wheel, no person, no destination
All consummated the stars

You and I
Up above
Dancing on the star lit path
Waltzing from one Centaur
To the next

I saw your eyes
Moist.
So calm...
And your tender touch... I felt

The stars shone brighter
One, Two, Ten, Thousands
And there was music
Beethoven and Mozart

My epiphany.