Curved lines

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..

That morning,

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...

-SWAStika

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..

-SWAStika

Curved lines.. (3)

Incandesce..

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..

-SWAStika

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.

I remember,

A few days after the departure,

Of his mother’s soul unto heaven,

One morning,

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,

Something.

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….

-SWAStika

Curved lines.. (5)

Pemphigus..

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.,
I shrieked,
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.


-SWAStika

Curved lines.. (6)

PEIGNOIR

One night,
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,
“You doubt?”
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,
We kissed
And we made love
Forgetting for a while,his momentary,unpleasant fits..


-SWAStika

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…

-SWAStika

Curved lines.. (8)

Uprooted

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,
Stilletoes!!
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”.


-SWAStika

Curved lines.. (9)

Recalescence

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,

Was still---boRn

-swasTIKA

Curved lines.. (10)

Pyroclastic Flow

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..

And then,

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

Once..twice…thrice____

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”

,I yelled..

And with that,

I left his house…

-swasTIKA

Curved lines.. (11)

Recapitulate

Couldn’t some love stories

Carry on,

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

For him.

Because HE had hit HER,and HE was hurt,

Hurt in the soul..

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

It all ended.

All because

He had snatched,

From her,

Her motherhood…

Because

He had left her WRETCHED.

-swasTIKA

Curved lines.. (12)