Saturday, May 22, 2010
Curved lines.. (1)
Casket of flowers..
Five in the evening,
I was eight,he was eleven.
In the neighbourhood field,
He played ball,
While I made sand sculptures.
After his game,we went together,
To search for flowers n wild twigs
To decorate the sculptures made of
Mounds of sand..
He had learnt from his father
How to sew flowers into a garland.
He stiched togetherjui flowers from his garden.
He placed it on my palm that evening,
When he came to play in the field.
Half crushed in his pantaloon pocket,
He wound the garland round my wrist.
While strolling back home,
I stubled and fell,
My frock was layered with dust.
Not knowing if I should cry,
He watered and cleaned the wound...
Curved lines.. (2)
Pyxis of love…
Six in the evening.
I was thirteen,he sixteen
In the backyard of our house,
Playing with pebbles.
The soft brush of his hand against my arm,
When his mother called,
And he had to leave for home.
I still remember,
I blushed every evening,at his touch,
And my mother did see it every evening.
We grew up hand in hand.
Probably made for each other.
Seven in the evening.
I was eighteen,he twenty one.
In the backyard,feet on pebbles,
He had breathed into my hair,
I gasped at his neck.
His tough hands lightly against my arm.
My mother called out once,
He moved aside to meet m y eyes,
I looked aside and clutched his shirt harder,
He,__kissed my ckeek bone
Maybe I had turned peppermint pink,
My mother called again,
I hurriedly kissed him on his neck,
And saw him leave for home..
Curved lines.. (3)
Eight in the night.
I was twenty three,he twenty six.
In the backyard of my house again,
Now lighted up and decorated with sparkling lights,
The fire in the centre of the pandal burning,
He held my hand lightly.
The bangles shimmering sound,
Drowned in the blessings of the relatives,
And the pandit present.
Round the fire---seven times.
His finger ran up the partition
In my hair.
That crimson red powder,
While transparent drops of water
Dripped from my black bordered eyes,
On his hand.
He bent over to put the necklace,
His hair brushed against my cheekbone,
A burning feeling grasped me,
My eyes turned red from the tears,
When he looked right into them..
Placed his hand below my neck,
Until my breathing slowed down.
He was always mine.
Not too far from me,he was.
If I touched him,he would touch me back.
If I looked at him,he would look back.
If I cried,he would too.
When I held his hand tightly,he let me do so..
Curved lines.. (4)
Quintessence of love..
A few months after
His mother had seen us married
She passed away..
While my parents moved away,
To live their last days in siliguri.
We moved to my house,
With his sister along.
A few days after the departure,
Of his mother’s soul unto heaven,
I was in the backyard,
Breathing in the freshness of the mourning air
Along with deep breaths of morning air,
Family still mourning her death.
He came up close to me.
Closed my eyes and placed on my hand,
I opened my eyes to see a casket of jasmine flowers.
He was still looking at me,
And I was aware of that.
I couldn’t look back at him.
It was my birthday,the casket and flowers,
A birthday gift..
He kissed me lightly on my cheek,
His brow still creased from mourning.
I hid my face in his shirt,
I cried,while he clung me to his chest….
A few months after,
It was nine in the night.
Back from work,
I moved to the kitchen.
Preparing dinner for the three of us.
He washed and came to me,
Holding me from back.
Half restricting my easy movements,
Yet,I liked it,after a tiresome day.
I kept stirring the gravy,
And he kept kissing my neck..
I pronounced his name,
Asking him to move off..
He didn’t and I didn’t want him to
I took the lighter,to light the gas stove.
I lit it,
Then,his hold on me loosened,
He took the lighter,and started,
Setting fire to things around..
With fire all round,my vocal chords burst open.,
And there he was still setting fire to other things.
His sister rushed out from her room,
She yelled out_______
I still have those burn marks on my arm.
Pyromania-I had diagonised,
But there was more to it,
My co-Doctors had deduced from several tests.
He suffered from fits,uncontrolled nerve impulses,
And hard it was to control him.
Unpredictable as he became..
I did all I could,
And yet things fell short.
Compassion and love isn’t a fast healer,
I knew that.as a doctor.
Curved lines.. (6)
After clearing the plates,I moved to our room.
He was on the bed,reading some book,
While I arranged the clothes..
I saw him,and remembered how he used to be,
I arranged my work papers,
Thinking of him.
I shut the door,switched off the light,
And went to bed.
He was asleep.
I turned the other side,
Thinking of the pain he underwent,
I couldn’t take away his physicsl pain..
He endured everything,every treatment silently..
Smiling.He understood the pain he inflicted on me,
Warm tears ran down my eyes,down my ears..
A warm hand placed on my arm,he touched the burn marks,it hurt even today.
He came closer this time,searching for my fingers,
Not a word for me to say,
He brushed his lips aginst my shoulders,
Trying to say something..
“Do you love me like before?”,he questioned.
Tears welled up
And I let out a deep sigh..
I turned to face him,
Lifting my head above the pillow,
I touched his lips with my index finger,
He moved my finger from his lips,
And drew me closer,
“Sort of”,he said..
A drop fell on his lip.”why?”
And he justified,”I did so much to you..”
And he touched my burn marks again.
“you didn’t mean to”
“You know that?”,he enquired.
I bent down further,
My locks of hair fell on his chest,
Brushed my cheek against his.
Then he turned a bit,
I kissed his ear,he responded,
And he kissed me back,where I don’t remember..
Frequent kisses,and he was mine again,
He brushed aside my hair,
And I loosened my dress,
He pulled it down,
And I looked up to meet his eyes.
Our lips met,
And we made love
Forgetting for a while,his momentary,unpleasant fits..
Curved lines.. (7)
A STEP INTO CONFINEMENT
It was seven in the summer evening,
A storm rising in the sky.
I rushed to the backyard,
To bring inside the hanging clothes.
The trees swinging,the sky darkened.
He came fom back,
And kissed my shoulder,
Half the clothes fell from my hand..
As his hand rose up my shoulder,
The neck,the cheekbone,
I remembered the first kiss in the backyard.
Sideways through my eyesight,
I saw his sister,
She had come running to pick up the clothes.
Embarrassed by our embrace,
She blushed and went inside,
The baby in me was four months and twelve days ol’
With the wind almost blowing us away.
We together savoured the storm night out,
And I relished the moments with him..
Confined in his arms..
A months after,
His sister was married off,
To the guy who carried her soul around..
We saw a part of our growing up__Anisha,leave…
Curved lines.. (8)
Frequent visits to the doctor fo him continued,
He,struggling with himself.
And my visits to the doctor continued,
As the baby in me kept sprouting,
__My cute baby
Seven and a half months in me,
And my baby had already grown naughty.
It was my birthday,
And he had forced me into agreeing,
To allow him to take me out,that night.
To make the day sPecial..
He made me walk to tha couch,
And let me sit carefully.
He placed my feet on his knees,
And he made me close my eyes,
And I did.
He glided my feet into a new pair of shoes.
I opened my eyes,
GOD!,he was mad!
I was seven and a half months pregnant,
Expecting me to walk around in stilletoes!
He argued about those Hollywood actresses..
I punched him lightly in the cheek,
Pulling him up beside me,
I demanded a replacement of my b-day gift.
He placed one hand on my bulging belly,
And slid a ring on my finger.
He looked solemnly into my eyes,
And said,”I’ll take care of you”.
Curved lines.. (9)
It was eleven in the night,
When we came back from the restaurant,
Followed by a long drive..
I staggered to my room,
While he locked the front gate;
I heard something
And I turned around…
A flying stiletto came right at me,
About to hit my chest..
I pushed it down..
My hand bled.
And the stilleto had hit my belly,
Eyesight blurred out….
When I came round,
I saw his sister beside me.
I had got miserable cramps,
And failed to lift myself up;
He had already left for his work;
A month later,my baby,
Curved lines.. (10)
For days,he couldn’t talk to me
For days,I didn’t want to talk to him..
Several nights I didn’t cook,
And he didn’t have dinner..
I grew weaker,
He grew worse.
I no longer accompanied him to his doctor,
And I didn’t go to my doctor;
My eyes swelled,
Got marked by dark rings..
I had forgone proper food and water..
On night,after dinner,
When I was engaged in some work,
He called out to me,shyly,oddly,abruptly
Probably to ask something,
Like he was afraid to..
I glared back at him,
And he lowered his eyes.
I walked to him
And I slapped him
With both my hands.
I tore open his shirt
I pulled his hair
I hit him with my fist,
Never did he budge,never did he protest
“give me back my baby”
And with that,
I left his house…
Curved lines.. (11)
Couldn’t some love stories
Till its bearers were carried to their graves?
Hadn’t they both been made,
For one another?
When she cried,
Not because he hit her,and she was hurt..
But because she cried
Because HE had hit HER,and HE was hurt,
Hurt in the soul..
It all ended.
He had snatched,
He had left her WRETCHED.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
At the dining table,I swallowed food whole.
Only the clammering of my steel spoon against the porcelain plate.
My brother spoke nonsense,
My mother in the kitchen,ginding spices.
I finished my plate and went ypstairs,
Went to the basin to wash my mouth,
I threw up all my dinner.
The stinking smell of bile spread quickly.
I cleaned the basin,and washed my feet.
Locked the gate,
With wet feet walked back to my room,
Behind me,the door was shut.
I opened the knot of my hair,
Removed the ring from my finger,
Took cotton and spirit
And started to scrub off the chipped off nailpolish violently.
I let the spirit bottlr fall,
I got down from the bed,threw out,
The broken pieces of glass.
I got up on the bed,
Dug my head into the pillow,
I tok a thick rope from the corner of my room,
And tied ot round my ankles,
Hard enough,until it had distinctly marked my skin,
I hit myself,
Twisted my legs around my head,I bit my arms.
I knew downstairs lights were off,
Everyone in their bed,even me
I climbed down my bed,
I tookthe blade,and banged the drawer close.
I threw it down,
And pulled down my books.
I tore newspapers and shuffed them into my mouth,
I chewed them and threw them out,
Walked round the room till I was tired
Enough to sit down,
I sat for a long time.
Then I rose,I had grown quiet,
I took the blade and removed the cover.
I breathed in deep,
Ruled by my nerves..
Pulled up my dress,
I looked out of the window,
Into the glimmering factory lights.
I slashed my thigh,
It tinkled at first,the cut grew hot,
Then blood bloomed…
More blood_____i took a drop
On my index finger,
Then I was shrieking again.
I ran the blade.
Muffled yellings,I was drinking in the pain.
I yanked my diary from the shelf,
Brushed its pages against my wound.
I lay awake,
I could now hear my mother in the kitchen,
It was morning,I looked out of the window,
Lay in my bed.
My mother came up.
Knocked at my door,asking me to get ready for school.
I knew she was gone then,
I got down,and arranged my room.
Took my clothes,
Walked to the bathroom,
I washed,the wounds stung.
I wore my dress,
Combed and braided my hair,
Packed my bag,
Pulled my socks,covering my ankles.
I went down to wake up my brother,
Had my breakfast,
Bid my mother good bye
And left for school.
Am different from others.
No one knows,what I do on most nights,
Not even my mother,
The lady I was born from.
I,I want to be a pshycotherapist.
[it potrays the pain of a girl name Fezlina,who hasw a sound mind enough to realize that her internal desires to shriek,panic,harm heself without reason is not natural.it is what people call madness,but she is afraid to be called so..
So she hides it all the way,she is afraid to express,it is this pain she carries through the day,pain she endures in suppressing herself before others]
Monday, May 3, 2010
Outside it was raining
Inside it was dark
I walked in from the rain,staggering to my room..
Water dripped from my hair
Drops fell on my bed,it wet the bedsheet..
I tried to sit down on the bed
When I dragged myself to the floor
Wet bangles jingled,as they struk against the hard ground
I spreadmy left leg to relax,
I pulled my dress above my knee
My head rested on the bed,
The shoulder strap slipped down,
The wet dress clung to my body..
Somewhere in the house,upstairs windows were open
The curtains swayed and danced
Water trickled down the stairs,
A smashing sound
A window pane broke,
The fierce wind howled
The rain stopped.
Only the periodic sound of the drops
Of water,from the tap,falling on the utensils,
In the kitchen sink.
I gazed at the ceiling,half knowing what to do..
I knew why you had broken up with me,
I knew why you couldn’t tolerate my love for you,
I knew you would never come back to me,
I knew you wouldn’t ever face me….
I knew you loved her,
I knew you used to run to get a glimpse of her,
I knew you craved for her love,
I knew it..i knew it…all…
But I never knew,you would kill yourself for her.
My head stung,my limbs stiff
I stirred in my sleep,I pulled open my eyes,
Still at the foot of the bed.
I got up and pulled myself to the kitchen,
Gulped down water,aspirin and paracetamol.
I took the towel and pushed the bathroom door open.
I don’t know how,I don’t know why,
But it all came back to me,it flashed again.
Crumbled as I was,I got crushed to the ground,
I knew you were dead,dead for your love.
I pulled my hair,I scratched my face,
I banged my head against the wall,
Blood oozed out of my lower lip
Saturday, May 1, 2010
I’m beaten in the fight..
I woke up to tear you apart
To find you were a greater expert..
I stabbed at your back,with fear
I then dropped and dabbed at my tears..
Yelling in contempt
At my much failed attempt..
You turned at me,alive a bit
I feared,you might think me as the culprit..
I hid my black blood smeared hands
In my eyes,tears yet to be enhanced..
I took awash in the shower
Thinking of once,I had been tender like a flower..
I turned back,and you crushed me
Within the folds of paper,a dead bee..
I saw stars,I saw sparkles
I was half dead like you,just a miracle..
Half dead,I thought,magnificient
In time to realize it was insipient..
Barely alive,you blew air to my face,
That was all it needed to make me lifeless..
It was a stark cold night..
I stoodin the verandah..
With my back to the moon.
In the cloudless night sky..
My shawl slipped down to my shoulders,
And I let it fall,
And it fell to the ground.
The sides of the shawl touched my feet,
The north wind hit my chest..
Cold chills ran down my spine,
My nerves quivered lightly.
I closed my eyes,
Drops of water dripped from the roof,
Of the vening rain,it fell on my wrist.
My waxed skin marked up by convolusions,a reflex.
I shook in cold.
Staring into the night.
Its one thirty,…in the night..
With the faint dimlight of the balcony,
Glowing into night dreams of the sleeping beauties of the town.
I waited for you,
I waited for your warmth to melt me in the cold.
The wind slowed down to a breeze,
Cold freezing breeze..
I let my hair drop..
Burgundy shaded locks of my hair,fell on my face..
I brushed them to the back of my ear,
My hair swinging gently in the breeze…
The smell of my shampooed hair
Floated around me,mixing with the smell of the night air..
A leaf from a neighbouring treeb blew in,
It fell a step away from my feet.
I stared at my deep red polished toe nails.
I stared…I stooped.
I stooped down and picked up the leaf.
I turned and moved back to my room,
Trampling the shawl on the way
The leaf clasped in my hand….
I had got you
Only my shawl lay alone in the dim balcony light,
Feeling the cold of the night.