Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Silent witness

The wood beneath my feet
Creaked a little
And broke the silence
I had been listening to
All day.
I rubbed my hands
And wrapped my shawl
A little more tightly.
Flocks of birds were flying away
To the warmer lands
Across miles and miles of snow.
Two laughing hearts
Ran hand in hand
Leaving behind footprints.
They stopped to catch their breath
And his caring gloved hand
Ran through her golden tangles.
Tomorrow they will not be around
To greet the
Golden glitters of sunrise.
But the white blankets,
Will bear a silent witness
To this flight
Of hearts.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012


Summer’s green leaves,
Supple and soft,
Birds in boughs,
Chirping and chattering.
Tiny feet conquering
More than my height.
I, stood proud, with
Green carpet at feet,
Blue shade on head,
And life in my heart.

Spring time’s flowers,
Glorious and fragrant,
Beholding all.
Bowed with
rich fruits,
Ripe with seeds.
I, stood grateful, my
Arms in lush foliage,
And heart full of love.

Bright yellow leaves,
Tints of the sunset,
Soft golden glow.
The rustling remains
Falling slow.
I, stood blushed, midst
The pirouetting autumn,
And the fading laughter,
My heart a little saddened.

A stark silhouette
Against the sky.
I wear no nests,
No shade for rest.
Dead in dead cold.
I stand today,
Just me and my hollow being.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Blessed to be alive

I am blessed to be alive
to be able to rise up this morning
and see the beauty of
dew-drops on the flowers.

I am blessed to be alive
to be able to rise up this morning
and feel the strength
of the rising sun.

I am blessed to be alive
to be able to rise up this morning
and enjoy the treasures
that surround me.

I am blessed to be alive
to be able to rise up this morning
and see my loved ones
happy and satisfied.

I am blessed to be alive
to be able to rise up this morning
and work for
and chase my dreams.

I am blessed to be alive
to be able to rise up this morning
and bow my head
in Your Grace.

I am truly blessed to be alive.

My Favorite Thing

Sweet and sour,
The blooming flower,
The ageing shades,
The greens and jades,
The reds and blues,
The lovely hues,
Springs and autumns,
Dreams in bosom,
Life, I hold, in all its glory.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Landslide - I think I know how it feels.

The remains of the day close in,
My smile broadens.
8 P.M. date – with family, friends
Aaaand Shahrukh!

My to do list is all taken care of

Wait!  Two last minute urgent submissions
They were nowhere in the original plan.
Mum’s a sweetheart – she takes up kitchen
And I, hasty typing
Wow! The words are flowing
I can do it.

I hit the send button at 7:35.
I’m dressed by 7:37
Dad – I’m ready!
7:38 – dad picks up the keys.
7:38:01 – the phone rings.
8P.M. show has been advanced to 6P.M. in winters.

Landslide – I think I know how it feels.

Monday, November 19, 2012

What stays behind

Things you did
Things left undone
They all drift.
Shift into the oblivion.
Like the golden sand blown away.
Lost in the folds of time.
What stays behind is
A faint scent
Lingering in the layers,
What you could have done
What you should have done.
And one fine day,
As you sift the warm sand
Through your fingers.
Those memories, regrets,
Smiles, tears,
All come alive.
A radiant you looks lovingly
On the mosaic

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Something I'm not thankful for

Blood spattered faces
On the first page.
It’s no terrorist attack,
No Babbar Khalsa is up in arms.
Still a historical Gurudwara
Witnesses a blood bath.
Power and money-box calling!
So they pick up the swords,
And fight their brothers,
And stain the sanctum-sanctorum,
Strangling our faiths,
In the holiest shrines.
Can politics spare God, at least?

Linking up with Ketchup With Us #6

Friday, November 16, 2012

Love in shadows

Playing hide and seek with you
Was so much fun
And all those little games
The stories that you shared
The shadows of the past
Holding hands with you
All come back to me

And it hurts to see
The ants hollowing up
That big old guava tree
The one that you had planted
To give us shade and love.
And like the trunk you held us both
Weak branch clung to your soul
Now that you are gone
There’s no one to hold
The branches and the leaves.

I am kind of incomplete
Like the holes driven through this plaque
But read the words I left behind
Just fill in my name
And when you do so
I hope you see them through
And that they mean something to you
For they would mean the world to me.

Lining up with Trifextra : Week Forty-two - Write between 33-333 words incorporating the following three photos.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

An encounter

As the early winter rain came down swiftly,
He wrapped the free end of his turban
Around his face, his wet bare chest:
Glistened red with cold.
His strong hands, coarse and dark
With dirt and grime.
They brushed past mine
Carefully manicured and Vaseline-d.
And his body reeked of the sweat he had shed
Earlier in the day.
And the odor of his labor, well, no amount of rain
Could wash it away.
His turban a dirty white, greased and soiled
But worn with pride.
His gaze uninspired, lifeless and vacant,
Tired by the toil and travail.
As he hopped off the slowing bus,
His cracked heels hit the wet dirt.
I saw the cold rain snaking down his spine,
And I shivered despite my woolens.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012


Charts and optimal dates and preferential temperatures. One line or two. As if she could summon whatever it is that makes up the human soul as easily as she could a cab on a busy New York avenue.
Anger pulsed through every fiber of her being. Three times her seed been thwarted from blossoming; the flower nipped in bud.
Ludhiana. Amritsar. New York. Nothing had changed.
It was a girl the words left his lips, and stayed with her, forever ringing. Next time maybe came the consolation, and his X chromosomes consummated with hers again. The routine never wavered. Neither in pattern nor in words.
Three months was all she would get. And then, one word of doctor would bring her world crashing down.
Only not this time, she vowed. And a mother was born in that instant.

The story has been continued by Kelly Garriott Waite from Writing in the margins, bursting at the seams.
Please click here to read complete story.

When Trifecta first started, Joules was not an editor.  She was on the other side of things, and she won the first two Trifecta challenges.  Here is her first-ever Trifecta response.  It's 38 words.  We want you to give us the rest of it.
Charts and optimal dates and preferential temperatures. One line or two. As if she could summon whatever it is that makes up the human soul as easily as she could a cab on a busy New York avenue.

Even though I am not participating officially, I wanted to write for Trifecta.
And it is so heartening to have Kelly helping me out for the second leg of this story.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

From a coat's heart

Hey hi!
Remember me.
The new sleeveless coat from your closet.
You bought me exactly a week ago.
The memory is still fresh.
You fell in love with me when you walked in to the shop with your mother but you were still making up your mind. Kind of okay with me. Until that evening when you walked in with your father and mother, and then walked up to me. And guess what, you even tried me once more. I loved it. Your father looked at us – both of us and considered the option. Then you asked for some other coats in my category. I was scared. Competition. What if I lost? I would have to go back to standing in the aisle with other coats. No ways! I held my breath as the salesman shot me a look – It is a Piccado sir, the best that we have. Relief. And this is how I walked out with you - smiling to myself in that shopping bag. One more trial, I made every effort to look my best, got a nod of approval from your cousin too and was tossed on bed. Until you found me a sturdy hanger and put me in a closet. With so many others.
And that is where I have been hanging. Ever since. In a dark, lonely, quiet closet. Waiting for my turn to be picked up. I have not seen the daylight or the evening light ever since. Not that I am complaining but a little fresh air would do me good.
This Tuesday maybe? I heard about Diwali and new clothes.
I promise I will be a good company
Just, you and me and everyone else too - what say?
Oh yes, and do I need to dress up too?
Yours ever.

Linking up with Write on Edge - Red Writing Hood - New

Friday, November 9, 2012

You call it Pareto, we call it love

"All I want is 20% of your time to see through 80% of my love."
"I know I didn't say 100%. That would need more than a lifetime. So?"
Smile. Nod. Yes!!!

Linking with Trifextra : Week Forty One

The Curse of The Red Lady

The beaded veil,
The pleated gazar,
The blush on cheeks
Befitting a bride -
But cast aside.
Her lowered eyes,
Shed silent tears –
Stained with his blood.
200 Years later,
An uncelebrated museum -
The audience left,
Admiring “The Red Lady”.
They say the marble never fades.
One among them, fell in love,
And never saw the daylight.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Faint glimmer in heart

Ripe autumn air’s come to bless.
Showering sweet November caress.
We could be holding hands and walking,
Silent but still talking.
Faint glimmer in heart.
White winters, no flowers in sight.
Frosty December moonless night.
And here I am hoping for your arm,
To keep me safe, to keep me warm.
Faint glimmer in heart.
The year twenty twelve is leap they say.
Oh! I can hope some more, there’s one more day.
Hope for smiling summers with you,
Hope for blessings to rain through.
Faint glimmer in heart.
Dying, not yet vanished,
There’s a faint glimmer in this heart.

Linking with Trifecta : Week Fifty

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Why we write ...

Thoughts clamor.
Stories rattle.
Musings resonate.
And, we seek one another -
As our words become our voice.
One speaking, the other listening.
And this is how we talk.
Silently, unraveling each other.