Mirror

Remember that day in the coffee shop? You know who appeared on that empty chair beside you. You tried to hide her, didn’t you? With extra cups of cappuccino and silly laughter and inane conversations. Do you think your friends noticed? No, you did a pretty good job.

It’s a pity reflections can’t be killed.

Of Peace

Days passed into weeks, into months. And in that time, she slowly started to forgive, because forgiveness is the start to peace. And perhaps this is why peace makes the most profound and costliest bruise: its acquisition comes only through heart-wrenching sorrow. And she forgave, because the memory doesn’t eat their soul. It devours yours.

Pride and Prejudice

Sometimes,
you close your eyes
to shut out the whole world
Pretending,
you’re the only one in it
For a piece
of that illusory peace

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Sometimes,
you close your eyes
And leave them shut
Just to see if,
when you open them
the other person is still there

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Speakers interchanged
But the words stayed true.

Waiting to resign

Once upon a time there were just dreams and doings
Victory and failure;
Zenith and nadir,
See-saws and slips
Happiness and despair.

Today, there is Acceptance.
And an unfathomable piece more than simplistic outcomes.
There are differing motives.
Incomprehensible facts,
Complicated states,
Unknown pitfalls.

Despite the sudden up swell,
Resignation has still not arrived.

The right choice

She bit her lip in frustration. She couldn’t believe she was in such a situation again.
Choices. Argh. Why did it always have to be either this or that? Why me? Why me?
No. She had to choose. She had to make a decision. And the right one, for that matter.

"Beige. The beige bag."

Lady Cleo

The ‘queen’ reclined there; surveying a freshly showered dark night shining like a knight’s gauntlet that lay beneath her.

Some faces, familiar hukka smell, chocolate fondue, her stretched, bare legs appeared in a dream.

In the half-light of lanterns there was no harm in being all that she wasn’t.
Daybreak was still a while away.

Real passion

The week

What a week! she winced
Every morning waking up with a bad headache
A foul taste in her mouth and the most unpleasant feeling of all…
That the world was just the way she had left it the previous night
Improved not a whit, insurmountable problems waiting to plague her again
No respite.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The night

Evening was a haze of cigarette smoke and alcohol
Replacing the daze of screaming and insomnia
Tonight, bodies entangled
An ode to the twisted tango of her emotions all week
Yet, underneath the stupor…

Dad, how could you? Forgive me, ma, just couldn’t take it anymore so I ran away. Leave me alone!

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Morning after

She thought she might’ve been able to call them moans of passion
They were after all…moans…of passion

It was just great sex, wasn’t it?

She shrugged, unhappy realization

It never is.

A night of great passion is always followed by a hangover. It felt exactly the same as every other morning this week.

The Rose Garden-5

“Honey, am home!”
She went straight to the loo mirror, ran her fingers through the freshly re-bonded hair, highlighted with blonde streaks. For a moment she drifted into the first anniversary, then the second, finally lost count……
She took out the carefully hidden gift and ran to the Study

The doctor declared he was gone by 3 pm!

Dream Away--3

She who breathes smoke and fire also waits for someone who is quiet,
She who runs with the deer also slows down to keep pace in heels,
She, who creates, also breaks it up with just a single stroke!
She who turns around and wields her sword without armour
Also wishes to rest beneath his shade.

Lonely

Specks of red, blue, green light
Shadows of moving palm fronds
The sky a reddish-grey haze-- like a shoddy, old blanket!

Glittering drops of water down the glass, some scale a zig-zag path like a scared snake, some others rest a while deciding where to go.

Someone lies there, counting every drop and then,
loses count.

Dream Away--2

A home with a chequered red napkin in the kitchen, a dark wood bookcase, some lilting music in the air, a warm Sunday lunch a warmer homecoming on a Monday evening.

A home in moments and an inaudible flutter of an eye.

She, so wanted to dream them and she did.
Just that they never came true.
-----------------------------------------------------
[The other side of Bibs' Dream Away]

Trust Walk

Will you walk a mile with me on the gravel path, on the murky city sands?
Will you talk a while with me by the grey sky and the rolling sea?
Will you stop-by when I wake up in the still night, a moment before dawn?

Hey Stranger,

Will you bring your true song to me?