Thursday, July 30, 2015

K is for ... Kites

Rhombic paper-mache of dreams
Dancing aloft in wind currents.
Undulating in the infinity.
Conquering the crested iris.
A distant silhouette
Tasting the skies,
Inspiring to look
Further and higher.
Tangled reins
Locked in trance.
Behold! Their rhythm,
Ceaselessly goading.
The unruly stringless wanderer
Scaling the silver skylines.
Skilled hands mastering
The string, now loose, now taut,
Willing it in to a smooth glide,
Urging and encouraging the flight.
Wide-eyed innocence
Their young beating heart,
Reaching for stars,
Untiringly, chasing the kites.

Linking with :Alphabet Salad

Jenny Matlock

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

The prophesier

Slender fingers,
Held my tea-cup.
Purple voice
Poured prophecies.
Something would hit me.
I kept thinking car.
But Cupid's Arrow!
Cagey, Christine.
You didn't tell me that.
Or perhaps you did.
But the voice died in jangle
Of bangles on your wrist.

Monday, July 27, 2015

Hunger pangs

The cans were all empty. Three hungry stomachs growling and not a grain to feed them.
It had been raining for three days now. And she had not been able to make her daily rounds, exchanging utensils for old, worn out clothes and then reselling them for paltry amounts to villagers and even poor.
But she was not poor. She was beggarly. She and her three kids. It had not occurred to her husband in the moments of his physical wantonness to worry about providing for them. He had planted his seeds in her life and drunk his way to an early death, leaving her alone to fight daily battles of survival. And fighting she was. With every single fiber of her being. A relentless daily fight to win over the hardships. The pitter-patter rain drops harshly reminded her of the hollowness of food cans. Rumination could wait. She would have to forage first.
She picked up a torn plastic bag and wrapped it around her head before stepping out of her lean-to. She drew back the bright blue patched tarpaulin to afford some privacy and security to her family before marching away.
Vegetables tend to go pricey in rains. Or may be she felt the brunt only because she had so little money with her. One single coin with 5 embossed on it. She held it endearingly and ran her rough fingers over the stamping. Many times over. It could buy them absolutely nothing. Such a waste of metal and minting.
They could all sleep hungry tonight. Like countless nights of past. One more night without food would not harm much. Or perhaps it would. She was not sure. For a moment there, her mind wavered between begging and stealing, and then rejected the options. Too despicable. No, they would sleep hungry tonight.
Drenched to her skin, she turned back. She walked past the market and its luxuries like they were not there. She had reached the outer-most limits. A little walk from here and she would be back with her kids, feeding them the imagination of her mind and lulling them to sleep.
The smell of fish wafted from nearby in the moist air. Even her own hunger, repressed for the sake of her kids, surged and leapt at the prospect. She had always found it difficult to cross this area, primarily because she was vegetarian and she found the smell revolting. Not today. Today the smell held the promise of a full stomach. No wonder, she found it difficult to cross the area this time too.
Her feet stayed rooted in the morassy puddle, her saree clinging to her like second skin while her mind and heart and every other sense fought with each other. Hesitant, debating, dithery. She willed herself to walk and then willed to enter the roadside eatery.
She looked ahead, seemingly where her shanty was. And then she looked up at the orangish steaks hanging above the counter. Behind the steaks was hanging a roughly scribbled pricetag - Rs.5/-. Catchpenny but affordable.
The battle was over. She entered the nameless eatery, handed out the coin, took the parcel wrapped in newspaper, and stepped out, holding her breath all this while.
She portioned out the steaks equally in three plates with shivering hands. Her kids ate in silence while she stared out at the incessant rain. They didn't question. She didn't volunteer. But as they bit into the flesh, she closed her eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek. Or perhaps it was a raindrop. It didn't matter. At least, her kids were not going to bed hungry.

Linking with Picture it and write

Friday, July 24, 2015

Friday, July 17, 2015

Melting at innocence

My last tele-conversation with Laddu*** happened in May.
The five year old nuisance has been pretending to be too busy running in the unpaved alleys between his house and ours, ferrying his Hotwheels collection alongside.
So today was a definite surprise.
An innocent hello of fresh-from-sleep chirpy nephew was last thing I expected to hear when I called mom.
"We have come over to stay for a few days.
Am sleeping in your room".
Is Noddy there, too? I ask.
"Yes, and ..."
"And who else"?
"Your Laddu!" pat came the reply.
I melted.
He kept up his naive yabber.

***Laddu is an Indian sweet and because my nephew loves eating Laddus, he is our Laddu, fondly.

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Date with my quill

From the recycled quire,
Fresh, clammy, and
Heady with
Wood and bleach,
A blank A4 sheet
Posed au naturel,
Shivered slightly,
Restive, yet patient.
Teasing caresses
Of my quill,
Pregnant pause,
Brazen coquet,
Relenting gradually.
The osculations left
An indelible inky-blue trail.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

All for a drink

Durga ran through the clutter of rickshaws ignoring the splatters of mud staining her soiled and frayed frock. In her rough and dry hands were wads of money, her reward for having slaved for a month in that palatial residence, scrubbing floors, dirty dishes and laundry. Finally, she would be able to pay her brother's school dues, long pending. But first she would have to hide this bundle from the bleary and glazed eyes of her wasted father. Drunk as he stayed, he had this amazing talent of sniffing the green currency from three houses away. She closed the door ever so gently, hastily and soundlessly making her way towards the attic where she slept. The plan was to hide the small parcel beneath her mattress before attending to her father. She was barely on second step when he called her out "lil princess ... Got a lil present for your daddy dear, have we, eh?" Firm and resolved, she shook her head, hiding her hands behind her, crumbling and crushing the crisp currency. But he grabbed her hands, "lyin are we here, missy?" his eyes fixed on her face. She had hoped to see her scared face in his eyes. All that stared back was green greed and Budweiser. She knew she would not be able to fight them both. Slowly she opened her hands. Tomorrow she would have to beg the principal to give her some more time.

Courtesy: Ermiliablog: Picture it and Write

Monday, July 6, 2015

Good morning!!!

The faint fragrance drifts,
Pears and coconut oil,
Chiffon draped across her skin,
Still moist from shower,
Streak of fair waist
Glistening against crimson red,
Her umpteenth attempt to wake me up.
I pull her in my embrace,
The cooler,
Buzzing somewhere.

The Tease

A tiny drop, resting for a while, on your bare shoulder
And then travelling down your soft and supple arm
Leaving behind a moist trail
And a growing rivulet of unsaid desires.
Oh! The burning ache of the pleasure
Allowed to that aqueous pearl.
And as if I wasn't ablaze already,
Another bead followed the lead
Melting teasingly over the undraped cutis.
One more and yet another, until they poured torrentially
Enveloping you in their bedewed embrace.
The sun relenting,
Cedeing to the enticing invitation of
The first showers of monsoon.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

From the heart of Ganges

My prisitine icy gush from mountain snows
Refining, smoothening the roughened rocks,
Oft running past the perimeters, the untamed, savage surge
Embracing and accepting all that you offer:
Largely devotion and veneration
Defying sciences, preferring rituals;
Mostly refuse, muddying my being,
While cleansing yours for eons and generations.
Just the way it was destined.
I am your salvation,
A little murky now, but I will survive.