Whispering Thoughts

Tiny hands fumbling, Contouring cursives. Tiny feet staggering, Spanning corridor. His babble, Seldom making sense. And now Confident hands Arranging bookshelves. Confident strides Shifting furniture. Occasionally nuggets of wisdom In complete innocence. His hearty embrace unchanged. He comes running for one now.

Letters! Wrinkled, thumbed, yellowed. Dated her collegedays. All beginning with "Dearest Dora". Dora! Doreen! The vexatious old Doreen! Incorrigibly narky, Definitely unsweet. And yet, Here it is. Her very own Sweet, Pricey, Sealed carton story, Being sold to scrapdealer, With quivering hands.

Despite the layers, she stiffled a shiver, Under a foggy grey sky, without a visible star, Amidst a myriad of humans and cars, an endless sea. His words stirred her, like ripples in the sea, With bated breath she listened, stiffled another shiver, Moon would have made it perfect, moon and some star. But she knew they were out there, both the moon and the star, And that made it perfect. Her own perfect little story in a sea Of infinite love stories. Two souls bursting in an ecstatic shiver. She stiffled another shiver, was it because there was no moon or star that she was now left with a sea of memories.

Dear Monday, I participated in December poetry slam : Tritinas. Of the two prompts given to me, I have attempted one. On a workMonday, I could afford only these many measly minutes. Plus the skepticism about trying a totally new thing. But I liked the format so I will try the other set soon. On with the prompt set: Christine Hanolsy suggested the following set for me: dark, wind, gold. And here's my very first Tritina: Only if you were not a dream of dark Winter night; I would have told the wind, To call you back; Bonding beneath the sliver of silvery gold. But when the skies were stained a sparkling gold, All I had with me were wrinkled reminders from dark, And some lilting sussarations of the cold moist wind. Slowly the leaves and straws scattered in the wind, With the wind. Slowly, through you I turned to gold, Burning yet satiated, Like fireflies in the dark. Like a wanderer's homecoming from the dark, like a sparrow in sweeping strong wind, like a moth draw...

The castle had seen its days of glory. When the days were splendid and nights beautiful. It was one such beautiful night that Radhini's first cries echoed in the mansion. Radhini, the princess, ruled the hearts. Her melodies filled the corners of the palace. She was the spring, summer and autumn of that place. She was the smiles and joys of her father, the king to the civilians. She was heart and soul of the village. Then Radhini, who ruled the hearts, lost her heart. To a civilian. Who did not belong to the royalty. Who was a common man from common lanes of village. And that was not unacceptable to those who formulate the rules and ordinances and decrees. In the name of honour, swords were drawn. And blood was shed. The village was swept away in red streams. The melodies were silenced forever. Radhini became the winter of the mansion. Perpetual, everlasting winter. The castle and its territory weathered the dark nights alone ever since, robbed of its glory. Wanderers and passers...

Did you just see what she was wearing? Actually, it is only a little short. What time did she get back last night? Actually, she did not. She returned this morning. What is it with her and her phone? She rarely leaves it alone. Actually kids these days like to stay connected. All the time. Night stay with friends? Actually, its just a night stay. A Boy friend? At her age? Take a chill pill. Seems like I am raking against a wall. Seems like we are growing old. Don't worry her roots will stay tangled in our little web. Courtesy: Friday Fictioneers Linking with: Friday Fictioneers

Funerals were commonplace in the valley. And it was not suprising. The gunfires and bombings heralded their mornings instead of temple chimes and prayers. The evening dusks came with tears and cries. Goodbyes were said often to the loved ones. That was their price for living near the border, those manmade boundaries on paper that distinguished where their terrains and territories ended and where the others began. Yes, funerals were commonplace in the valley. No massive rituals. No waiting for distant dear ones. Swift quick prayers whispered in the soft winds. You don't need echoes where silence is in abundance. Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Chimes

So, I stared, Too long, That She looked up. And In that moment, I drowned eternally, In those Caramelized deeps. Never bothering to return to shore. And right there, In that coffee-shop, I redeemed, I retrieved, All of myself, From dark abysses.

Dear Monday, Its finally winters. Not the average, mildly sweatered, bright sunny winters. But snowy, shivery, dark and damp winters. They have finally arrived. With lots of snow over the weekend. The very thought when penned down gave me goosebumps. So while the world gears up for Christmas, the people back home are gearing to face power cuts, freezing water and freezing temperatures. I have been strictly warned to assist and not to call on landline. Because it is placed in the corridor and it is numbingly cold for them to stand there and talk. The markets are full of veggies, colorful, nutritious bounties so lacking in summers. And groundnuts, walnuts, cashewnuts, chilgozas ... Mouthwatering, delectable treats. Not to forget the woollen wardrobe that has so much to offer. Now that I think of all these things, winters suddenly don't sound gloomy at all. And I guess I am running out of my measly minutes also. I have to splash cold water on my face. Hey, can we stretch...

To hem their blessings with thank you. To pray, not just with mouth but from the depths of their hearts. That was their plan to herald “The Big Day”, the day the Good Lord was born. The Big Day – when the weather would turn and the days would begin to lengthen again. Or rather used to. The days were changing. So were weathers. And what were the mortals to make out of the ways of nature. It had never been so cold before. The rain mixed with snow was numbing. Snow at merely 3000ft above sea level. Now who could have thought of that. So the winters would stay. It was just the beginning. And so they layered themselves up, wearing literally thick blankets, while trying to hasten about their daily errands and while trying to be in time for the holy get-together. Amidst the numbing cold, the township was bustling with festivities. Gaiety and merriment turned the somber dull winters to bright bubbling arroyos. … Their choirs are singing, Till the air, everywhere, now...

Every time the trucks come and dump loads of urban wastes. All sorts. Plastic. Metal. Dirt. Paper. Thermocol. Biodegradable. Non-biodegradable. Anything and everything imaginable. Week after week. Month after month. Annually. Perennially. The heap accumulates. On the banks. On the hill side. On all sides. The heap enured to additions. The heap enured with time. The humans enured to heap. And then it rains. It rains for days. It rains heavily. Persistently. The rivulet fills up. The stream becomes river. The river floods up. Violent. Turbulent. Enraged. Infuriated. Washing everything in its wake. The aftermath cleansing. The backwash purifying. Ablutionary. Punitory. Absolvitory. Courtesy: Friday Fictioneers Linking with Friday Fictioneers

The water in the kettle simmered. Raji looked intently. Beyond the kettle, beyond the window. Beyond the barren brown spread. Into the vacuum. She had just returned from the Bank. Her fifth round after her husband's death four months back. They had sent condolences. And they had doled out paltry sums of money like handouts to beggars. But the ex-gratia, the lumpsum of 6 lakhs, they just keep denying it to her. Keep telling her she earns exactly Rs.6.66/- more than the cutoff. Like its her fault. Rattling kettle-lid brought her back. Had to get dinner ready for her kids. Linking with Velvet Verbosity: 100 words: Kettle

Somber infinities Versus Legions of Sempiternal Blest, Beatified Moments together. Entirety of being Pitted against Zeroed souls. One question. One answer. The stakes, high. Breath, bated. We can take the risk and fall. Or Live with wasted souls. Either ways, we lose.

Nobody's tomorrow is guaranteed. You. Mine. Nobody. Yeah! Nobody gets a promise of "afterwards". It is right here. Right now. It is the breath we inhale. Or exhale. The vice versa, well ... that is a huge question mark. We live in piece meals. Postponing living. All the while waiting for a tomorrow we have not seen, we are not sure of. And the present is crumpled and consigned to shadows. The hands wipe a layer of dust from the windows of yesterday. A lifeful of regrets peep through. Trust me, it does not take time for time to become a memory.

Dear winter, So long. Am I glad to bump into you. Your cold caresses make me feel so loved. Snug and warm. A wanting that exuberant summers do not satiate. Nor do the falls of autumn. May be because I am a hill girl. And wherever you take me, you cannot take that away from me. The smoky evenings, the air laden with earthy aroma of burning coal, The hushed eventide arriving swiftly and urgently with sunset, The freezing water And amidst it all, The perseverance To herald summers with vigour and spirit. Winters, It is time for me to be home. Linking with Five Minute Friday: Dear

It would be a head-long fall. Treacherous, Precarious, Unruly dive, In Ring of fire. With Gravity deluding, And flames rising Higher, My best bet Would be to Fall. Without looking back. Toppling dominoes, Shifting sands, Yielding heart. An unwavering Leap of faith.

Nearly midnight. The wedding band is playing in full swing. That is what Punjabi weddings are famous for. They are lavish and loud. Trying to sleep. But the band is keeping me awake. My roommate has already fallen asleep. I guess so have other girls in other rooms. But I am wide awake. The beats die down intermittently only to resume with gusto. So many thoughts, some conflicting some condescending. Earlier in the day, I said goodbye to yet another association. Farewells have become a part of life over the years. Occasionally I cry but mostly I am able to control the tide. Every person you meet becomes a part of story, a chapter in your bestseller. You learn. You share. You grow. Happy trails to all those who have played their part for the time. Until we meet again, may God keep them all in palm of his hand. The band has stopped playing. I guess I should catch some sleep too before succumbing to the monotony of morning. Welfare unto all ...

The silence hurts. Her silence hurts. It is in silence that her absence becomes more acute. It is in silence that her not being around is sealed. For a year now, I have gone by the thought that she is visiting Ludhiana. Hence the absence. Hence the silence. Hence the not being there. The trick works. Often it does. But some days, the reality is overpowering. On those days, the reality bites and stings. On those days, I cannot silence the thought that she is gone. Forever. Try as hard as we might, she is not coming back. And her silence is all we have got now. I haven't gathered the courage to enter her room. Not yet. And when I do, I am still not able to look up at her picture. I barely steal a glance and I have to look away. I look up at unknown faces, complete strangers, who are probably grandmothers to unknown kids, and my eyes moisten. Tears well up and dry. In some unseen depths, I cry and roar. Muffle screams that I miss her. Outwards, I throw a pretence o...

Once upon a time, We used to talk in jumbles, And stumble on our tiny little feet, Listen with rapt attention, The unbelievable tales Of fairies and ghosts, Imagine, believe and dream. And then we grew up. And the summer of childhood Became a misty haze, Blanketed by Worries of earning and eating. The dreams turned to dust. Feet found their place. Slowly the labyrinth of life Consumed us, And devoid of our spirit, We march towards oblivion. The undammed rivers, Controlled and constricted. Bare feet hop-skipping, Consume me. As do the Christmas expectations In hushed whispers, And interspersed giggles. Linking up with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : jumble This is a blog hop:

The rubbers gripping The steel grey Asphalt, Hands clenched at The steering wheels, Humming motors Queued up Till the horizon, Horns blaring, Jarring the Tattered remnants of Shredded peace. And amidst this pandemonium, Another set of claws Slows, screeches; The vernal biker Intoxicated By the power of his beast-ride, Raring To define his domain, Discounting the Decrees of road, Crisscrosses the embrangle; The grey labyrinth soon Devours him. And while The ominous siren Of ambulance clangors callously, Enduring the Congestion dutifully, The crimson splashes dry out. Undeterred bedlam Accompanies The dusk. The subtraction Insignificant. Compulsory obituary Wilts in some scrapbook. Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Claws  This is a blog hop:

Avli, I am standing near the JLN metro station. Trying to read the google navigator’s rights and lefts.  I realize that I am either directionally or technologically challenged. So, I am about to leave myself to the mercy of a rickety auto rickshaw. It is some 3 minutes drive to the place and I promise, all my senses will be working overtime. After all, safety saves. Remember our little sojourn to the Advanced Studies, Avli. When the grandeur had come in full view, I had literally drooled over it with open mouth. Savoured the splendor with eyes. You, Avli, had laughed so hard. Well, you could reply the laugh today for I am standing exactly in same pose. And now that I realize how utterly ridiculous and wildly ludicrous I look, I try to reign in my greedy side. Like I have never been to some place like this ever before. Alright, excitement checked. I move on. Exploring the ruins. Relishing the surrounding greens. The evening sun and early November air doing full justi...

Avli, The cockcrow has brought good tidings. And it is surprising how small things make a huge difference to the otherwise mundane and routine life. Yes, it has been a most ordinary life. Like anybody else’s or perhaps everybody else’s. But we do not stop living it because it is ordinary. We try to find meaning in littlest of joys and we want to do away with tiniest of sorrows. Everybody strives to live. And same goes for me too. To sum it all up, I was born a few years ago to the most loving family. I grew up, went to school and then to college. From a nestling to a bird – right before your eyes. I did what every child, teenager and young adult did at relevant times. Routine life. Family. Eight-to-three friendships. Growing up. Job. And that's just about it. Awesome so far. There’s pleasure in being reminded of the value of ordinary life. Karen Thompson Walker But sometimes extraordinary does happen. And that transforms the taste of living. Like a...

Dewy grass tickles underneath my feet. Morning silence is interspersed with chirping of birds. The misty curtains are rising. Living begins again. While the night had bathed the place in regal attires, the morning intensifies the imperial splendor. The night was cold. Or maybe I was numb. Perhaps sweating. Possibly shivering. But, definitely disquieting. The visions from the late evening kept replaying. Like a video on “repeat current” mode. The stop button was stuck. What had happened there, Avli? And where on the earth, was my phone? I am sure that guard knew about it. Liar. Correction read, stately guard. Linking with Velvet Verbosity: 100 words: Dewy Excerpt from the NaNoWriMo challenge : Sombre Sojourn

The beacon of Unwavering luminosity Claws and scrapes At dark night, Ripping it apart, Devouring the pieces Like a savage, ruthless beast. Untamed and livid, The night falls again, Only to leave in shreds. The joy in her heart bold, The dawn celebrates The victory. Of light within. Of beauty over beast. Of day over night. Until dusk And then Complement and complete. Such is their love. All lines are blurred, Hazy mists of dawn and dusk, Transcending boundaries. And such is their love. When the beast turns human, The beauty, An illusive beast. And, Such love is not sin. Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Beast Linking with Five Minute Friday : Leave

Ten minutes on a busy Monday and my mind travelled back to home. My second week of Monday musings for today borders heavily on my hometown love. Dear Monday, I was in heaven for last few days. That is what home feels to me these days. Most of my conscious life has been spent away from the place but deep down i am still a girl from a hilly hamlet. Rooted to the smallest dot on the huge map of landscapes. Far away from the clutter of ever evolving technology driven savvy human beings. People here know each other by name, by face, by parentage and by everything that defines being human. People are still concerned, definitely nosy and snoopy about the affairs of society at large. Seemingly, the concept of societal welfare was born here. That the term welfare is relative and far-fetched is a separate matter of course. So smallest event becomes a breaking news spreading faster than fire. Smallest joys become events of lifetime. A Dominos in the town is a thing of prestige. So is t...

The ears ache for that voice, That distinct accent of yours, Only a reverberation now, Difficult to replicate and repeat, Eyes miss you at the doorstep, Everytime, Patiently waiting for hours For my homely retreat, Your mundane musings, Constant and consistent, Simple small things That you would have loved, Simple small things When you should be around, Simple small things That widen the void, Simple small things That will never be same again. Your rosary beads Gleaming in the dark, Your staff by the side of your bed, Your things, Untouched, unmoved. Your lingering presence, In the atoms of your room, You are not just a picture on the wall, You stay with us, Obscured by the misty realms Of the world beyond Yet so conspicuous, So very conspicuous. Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Staff

This week I begin a new series. And I am going to call it Monday's measly minutes Every Monday we sweat it out at our workplaces and we are bombarded with deadlines and exigencies and issues and reports. And midst this professional clutter we forget to live and breathe our Mondays. Hence these Monday's measly minutes. Just ten minutes for something that I would love to do. Ten minutes of writing, ten minutes of flow, ten minutes for myself, ten minutes by myself and ten minutes after my own heart, ten minutes that I am determined to make worth of on a Monday. And we can all connect over these ten minutes ... Encourage ... Motivate ... Inspire and Admire. I am going to pen my Monday diaries. To be able to share what the day has offered to me, my thoughts on titbits, hopes for the week ahead … basically anything and everything that comes to my mind .... And my reflections are going to be typed and brought unedited as they flow for ten minutes straight... I guess the real c...

Long days have given way to long nights now. The dusk descends and the darkness envelopes in its folds. The dawn too is covered in a foggy misty blanket, thick and totally opaque. The extended summer has now finally given way to the sweetness of early winters. When smoked sweet potato, roasted corncob or american corn tempt the taste buds. A cup of coffee, a book in lap and a mild shawl wrapped loosely against the balmy chillness. Just sitting in the balcony in the rocking chair looking at the infinite panorama. I lack the nuisances of accomplished prose and poetry and thus fail to do proper justice to the many delights of winter ... But I crave the splintering winters, thick and numbing morning dew, swirling noon mist, rings of smoke amidst hushed whispers, words vaporizing in the mist, chimneys ablaze, fire in hearths and warmth in ... Linking with Five Minute Friday: Long

Sombre black nights Of receding moon, Deep darkness Contrasted by the Brilliant lights of civilization, The nigrescent spread Bejeweled with Ruby crimsonness, Complemented by the Citrines, emeralds, sapphires, Amethysts, opals and tourmalines, The supernal happiness Surrounding All sentience. While The days are whiled away, Easily, In the clamor of files, Undoing and redoing efforts, Shielded Behind the conjuring tricks Of sunlight, The twilight wears The vermilion mask, Turning into a perfect jester, Eventide flawed with nostalgia, Impeccably swathed in jocosity, The dim dusk Clothes itself in fragile mirth Of lights, gifts, and celebrations. Oh, and I long to be home. Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Jester

What do i care for the Autumn winds of the night For even when the last leaf hath fallen And none remains to flutter in tandem A green little twig, An infantile promise remains, Likewise, the whispers of dawn Cradled in the lap of genial breezes. Winds delight. Linking with Five Minute Friday : Care

Days blend into evenings sooner than expected. Clocks mislead. So by 6P.M., the cloak of dusk has already fallen over the urban camaraderie. The bustling traffic looks like red and golden streaks against the dark backgrounds. Ardent, ablaze, aflare and aroused. The twilight is set alight by very many festive Chinese illuminations bedecked like brides on the four walls of skyscrapers, shopping malls, and houses. After all, it is "the festive season" of India jam-packed with back to back celebrations, with barely breather days inbetween. Despite the glowing LEDs, my evenings are always draped in black cafards. Bedight with melancholia. Linking with:  Velvet Verbosity: 100 words: Cloak

Dearest Flipkart, We all know that the plan was huge. It would have re-written the history of e-tail in some glittery and glossy chapters. But it busted and ruptured mid-air. All the image building and brand building has been brought to a near cipher. The internet based social platforms are full of complaints and hurtful messages. The damage has been done. And the questions galore. Both on the survival and modus-operandi of the e-tail. As far as I am concerned, I believe it is ok to dream big, falter, gather ourselves up again and fight back. Nothing wrong. But in the process, do not play with the trust of we, the distant customers. Don’t mess up our orders simply because we are not there right before your face, checking the size, color and stuff you are packaging for us. Do not mislead us with your pricing strategy if it is unjustified because we are relying on your brand name and not comparing the prices. Do not promise what cannot be delivered rather than...

It’s a holiday. Only not for her. The house is Spick-and-span. There is fresh dinner On the table. The laundry is also done. Not to forget the now mollified tantrums of grandsons. Finally, I sleep to the honeyed sound of her lullaby.

New is what is beyond the known realms and new is what we do not know yet. But new attracts. And, New fascinates. Be it a new addition to your wardrobe, To the accessories in the closet, New satchel, New books, New class, New anything. New has always promised An inexplicable joy. Formidable yet encouraging. Like testing waters with caution, Yet forging ahead. New beckons. New begins. New ends. New is celebration of life. Every breath is new. Every thought is new. Every single eye blink reveals new. Every sunrise is new. And every sunset Is different from the previous. New is the rule of survival. New maketh the plasma of living. The scramble of words, Cannot put together what new means And why new matters. It can only cement That new is the only law That works Without calling for amendments. Linking up with Five Minute Friday : New

The day's done. The birds, who had flown out for food and fodder, at the break of dawn, are now returning back to their nests, warmed with autumn foliage. Hungry fledglings awaiting anxiously, the moist crumbs of love, the warmth of stories, the snug laughter. The winged tinies, tucked in, the blanket, the neatly woven yarn of twigs and sprigs, safe and secure. Their little hearts yearning to spread the wings, dreams contained only by that lofty perch. A cackle at the sight of dawn, and they take to the skies again, sunlit and raw. An endless flight. An elixir. Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : secure

His business suit, A little crumpled. What with day's deadlines? Still on time. For an early dinner And The ring. All nerves. And all butterflies. But she walked in, Hand-in-hand, With black coat and black tie. Thursday table cost? A broken heart.

Because this life is all but Atoms of carbon and hydrogen Woven creatively, And working through Intricate mesh of chemical reactions, Releasing and absorbing energy In a synchronized manner. A huge complicated atomic cluster Put together For an infinitesimally Small moment. A couple of breaths. The rise and fall of chest. Beyond that? Zilch. Zero. Cipher. And nix as it may be, It is this rhythm, Now rising now falling, That determines Our stay here. Because It is this Movement of diaphragm alone That matters To those who know the trade of medicine ... Linking with Five Minute Friday : Because

So I sit again, In pleasant morning air, Ready to inspect The wasted soul, To make sense of My time and My journey here, To set the red hollow In tandem with The grey matter. But The light eludes. All I feel is The echo Of the day And its clutter, Smothered thoughts And Muffled words. Thousands waves Rip through My veins. The silence lures But evades. The session ends Abruptly. Things look Much the same But yonder. And slowly, The day unfolds. With the Cantankerous clamour, Pregnant with Possibilities and plausibilities, Returning. Mechanic motions Assure breathing Whither living? Unanswered. Linking with Velvet Verbosity: 100 words: Inspect

The veil of the black night Does not inconvenience me. I am not scared of What conspires beneath the Dark envelope. But. It is the shadows Lurking in the Sleepy squares And quiet corners That unsettle me. The murmurs of the night, The susurrations, Of course! Unintelligible. The mysteries Of the sunlight hours Come to Plague the hours of darkness. The hushed conspiracies Stirring up In The buzz of katydid Echoing In the silent hours. The unfathomable Comes to haunt. And yet intrigues. Conscious of Every single footstep, Black-eyes on prowl, Ominous rumblings, The fascinations tempt And Finally Undo me. Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Black And It is a blog hop:

Ready. Not yet. So basically I will be Making an effort To make sense out of Hurried words Put together. Hopefully Something comprehensive Will be weaved. Though chances look bleak. But as they say Effort counts. But I am not sure If I should write about goodbyes Or good mornings. About not being ready to say goodbye To promises whispered Under the stary skies Or being ready to face new beginnings In the golden tint of sun. I don't know if reverberating silence Will inspire me Or ... Linking with Five Minute Friday: Ready

The hushed beating of Lilting desires. The twilight crawling With Muted footfalls. And beneath the Darkening skies, The blank canvas Coming alive with The fond caresses. Now, Its just cold rain And shivers running down the spine. When the silence surrounds, The rhythm Of yearnings resonates, Warm embraces Linger in the air, And The verbosity, And the suppressed Hang heavy. In the quest To become whole, I lost myself Like the Frigid foaming waves, Rolling, crashing And Breaking at shores. Over and over again. The wounds still bleed, Low, Dim moans escape. And dreams Are occasionally Splashed With passionate undertones. Linking with Velvet Verbosity: 100 words: Quest

The loud whispers Over the Shunting clamour, The blurred landscapes, The varied hues, From dusty browns To lush greens To brick rusts And concrete greys The timelessness of acres Mixed with The bustling kilometers Far and few, The unsophisticated amiability, The numerous tales unfolding Over The sparkling speed of wheels, Some journeys Cherished for their ends And Some for the story they weave. Linking with Five minute Friday : Whisper

Busy Tuesday morning at crossroad. A familiar but unintelligible grumble drowned in the blaring horns. A mini traffic jam. Struggling cars. Unspared revilements. Scared, rooted, numb. The mind busy working its way out. The gruff voice again. This time closer. Instinctively I look up. And there he was. Balancing himself strategically on his crutches. His speech totally incomprehensible. He stood right in the middle, muttering, risking life and causing bedlam. Till I looked up. Gestured if I am fine. I smiled and nodded. And he moved on. Totally oblivious to blaring cacophony behind him. It had been a few days. Linking with Velvet Verbosity: 100 words: Gruff

She blended in the Metro milieu, Eerily busy, And Always scurrying to Meet deadlines. Her civilian steps scuttled Behind the Black-and-white. Shoulders ached Under the handbag. Reaching before time, Settled herself In last seat of last row Of Room 324, To escape the Judge's sight. A middle aged lady, Soundlessly Cleaning her nails With an all-pin, A man filling Soon-to-be-drained Water-bottles, Two others Discussing trivia, Yet another Busying himself Behind the computer, All of them, Living The best day of their lives. Then the banter faded. All rise. The room turned Into An arena And The battle For truth Began. Linking with 100 word song: American Authors: Best day of our lives Linking with Velvet Verbosity: 100 words: Faded

The dry lands, All caked up, Bare patches, Brittle and barren, Their unbroken askant gaze, Unrewarded, Yellow skies unrelenting, The clouds come and pass, The grey tinge, Deliberately playing Hide and seek, Parched throat, Croaking hoarsely, Not until next week. Prayers rise.

START Tiny feet Tracing the terrace In summer-scented evenings, The familiar hankering Dolloped With mother's love, The bruises, The scratches, The gush of breeze On cycle-outings, The homework, Done, redone and undone, The rush of growing up In the shade of Pink, blue, yellow, red, green, Yes the bloom visits Us every holiday season. STOP Linking with Five Minute Friday : Bloom

An advertisement made me go numb today. They have this KBC set up and a girl from north-eastern India is on the hot-seat. There's this off the television audience. They cover her family, anxious but obviously happy, the street boys who might have been whistling at her till yesterday, a brother type character and general north-east crowd in that 30-40 seconds run. Then they put across this question Kohima is part of which country? The girl goes for an audience poll. 100% say India. The host says everybody knows it. Then comes the clincher but how many feel it? Goosebumps. Linking with Velvet Verbosity : 100 words : Whistling

The lady in red, Walked in, Ethereal looks, Prettiest Valentino ensemble, Complemented In finesse With Kate Spade stilettos And Ferragamo clutch, The beauty Maquillaged Down to the cuticles With perfection, Gorgeous all the way, A head-turner, All eyes rested on her, Sighs from Black suits, Suspirations Amongst the gowns, An admiration She swept off With her smile, Silently shuddering inside, Hiding gracefully The trembles Of impending debility, Wrinkled frame With misshapen stoop, Frail whispers Which would be Barely audible, And fading vision. Yes! The applause Would die Some day. The yearning hearts Would Find Another Lady in red To admire. Linking with 100 word song: Chris De Burgh - The Lady in Red

Enwombed, But She felt the trepidations, Of being conceived, Of lacking The Y chromosomes. She wouldn’t be Welcomed, Not even if the APGARs Supported her For The amniotic fluids had Turned hostile. They had Nipped off the bud. The flower never bloomed.

Eyes bulging From Yet another Insomniac Starlit night Spent In Fairytale anticipations And Honey toned dreams, Inspired By the crooning old transistor, Diluted And Deliquesced With the Obscurity of Pitch dark hours. By the first light The aching puffy eyes And dark circles Scream For the Obscure covers So you Walk out And face The morning In coffee-toned hues, Countersigning The conspiracy Gracefully, Making repairs With The glamour of Vintage colors Proffered generously By The wayfarers, Wasting The beauty Of the daylight Behind Those dark sunglasses, Only To bleed again By The twilight. Please, Shroud this night Behind the shades. Linking with 100 word song : Dark Sunglasses Linking with Velvet verbosity : 100 words : Transistor : It is a blog hop!!!

Name on tombstone Or Photo on wall. Silent eulogies, Verbalized In daily loss. Passive experience Of a void, Healing conscientiously At its own pace. Eventually, Somebody will Blow the dust off Of the family-album And share a story, Or two, Over coffee.

I get off The crowded Daily local After struggling With Bodies and bags, Jostling my way to front, And then hopping down Against the Trickling speed of wheels. I exhale The sweat laden Thick salty air. One deep breath. At that moment, I can/will justify All the hoopla Behind The fresh evening air. I walk back To My room Coming across Familiar faces Primarily because, We share the same routine. However, There are No acknowledgments. Except for One crippled man, Balancing on crutches, Waving out, And Muttering unintelligibly. Like a good day charm, I wait To cross paths with him. Linking with Ketchup with us Linking with Five Minute Friday : Exhale

There's a song In my heart But I am scared To Sing it Lest I miss the beat, Fall out of rhythm, And Distort the melody. The lyrics On Tip of my tongue, The music, Clear and loud, Yet the song, Unsung. I don't even Assay to shake off The fear Of Critique and ratings. I am silent. There's a song In your heart. And you obviously struggle To Hold it back. The notes Straining against The chords, The effort Enervating, And you, Hidden behind Incomprehensible Paragraphs of routine, Definitely tuned out. The forest Seemingly silent Without Your birdcall. Sing. Linking with 100 word song: Sing by Travis Linking with 100 words : Ratings : Velvet Verbosity : It is a Blog Hop !!!!

Faint memory Of A honeyed voice, Some syllables, Mellifluously Undulating, An unintelligible Concoction Of whispers, Propelling To fathom The abyssal depths, Impelled Like A moth to a flame, Besotted, I offer myself For Sacrifice, Swallowing salinity In supplication, Consummation Purging And Sanctifying.

Four flights of stairs. By the time I make it to my seat I can barely breathe, Stand, And talk. It takes A while, A precious Little while, To smile effortlessly At colleagues. Most of the mornings, When I Am running on Time, I follow this  Oh I know, I’m crazy Routine, Sweating it out Just before My work-hours, When My underweight frame Can easily Squeeze in The oversized Overcrowded Lift Running overtime, And This salt And sweat, This Perspiration, Earned At the Cost Of Being Too lonely For Far too long, Helps Me hide My heart, One more time. Linking with 100 word song : The Doobie Brothers : Keeps you runnin'