Unopen Wings

I saw this form in front of my eyes,
Majestic and elegant with wings flapping on her graceful back,
light reflecting like it hit a mirror shaped to the anatomy of a woman.
Warding anyone who came too close to her,
with only one fierce look with those black eyes that made them look away, only,
turning instantly gentle when they stood away.
She waded through waters and flew across the sky
grabbing the the warmth of light and the iced chillness of the wind,
throwing herself to the open pleasure of the world.
Until.
That one day when a man looked back into her eyes,
breaking free the glass over it, blasting shards into the endless valley's pits.
She looked, with different eyes at the man who gave it to her,
the fragile in her lived, still falling for the huge and muscular bird
who seemed to like his wings held within so that people may draw close.
And so, she pulled her wings to her back and around her breasts.
She waiting against the setting sun for him to draw near
and cuddle her to precious warmth of a genre different from what light gave her,
as an element in the air grabbed her by her wings
holding her over the edge of the cliff.
Flinging her down, to meet the violent seas underneath,
he looked over.
She was a bloody woman
who could have glided through it had she spread her wings.
Yet, she turned them close, to meet the jagged rocks that lay below.
Now,
Why would she do that?

So spake a building you think is one.

You think I don't know a thing, that I don't feel beyond what I'm made of. That's not true. I've experienced more than anyone of you can ever see, feel, hear or grasp. I've heard so many squeals of children running around, their cries when they fall down, the laughter of the old ladies who think they're cracking jokes when the younger counterparts grin in quiet tones at the befallen comment that isn't close to humor, the shouts of the people calling out to one another, the singing on one side and the instruments amplified in the presence of my greatness.
 
           I've seen many traditions, rituals, too many silent tears in the washroom confining many a people, individually, all of them crying inside and yet on the outside, pretend to be strong and smile in each others' presence. I've seen colour always : of flowers, clothes, lights and faces and what they contain, beautiful smiles of  blushing brides and more moving energy than all your lives put together in one fleet of running parents, striding across my magnanimous being to greet people and attend needs.

       Yet, after all the time I remain where I am, I still cry soft tears to see her go. A bride in her mother's arms seeking comfort and merely a shoulder to cry on. She cries, the one leaving 'home' , having to shrug all that responsibilities as a daughter to being a wife, though I know a daughter shall never forget them, and shall remain a daughter forever. I see mixed emotions in her eyes, that glint with happiness during the dance with her husband among the huge crowds that surrounds to cheer her and a large sense of sadness attached along with anxiety and fear. I've seen of every single 'Her' : a silent thought not to cry and induce the mood into others and yet breaking down at moments many. I sense, every single time that she can't sleep in total peace like when her father covered the sheets around her with a goodnight kiss, for she doesn't know if her husband shall do the same.

          I'm not concrete and brick. I'm emotions many, if you pause to rest your shoulder on me and look around. If you press your ears against my pillars of strength and listen. With every footstep you take, I have had so many others jumping on the same.. where you stand, that was where one girl fainted in her father's arms.. where you laugh-many have cried and where you hug, many of them had to be pulled free. I am not what you think I am.

         I've seen a little girl pulled free of her father's arms and thrust into another mans'. How the father has taken care of her, I've always seen.. it shows in the eyes and the tears and smiles she sheds. How the man does, I never know, for none of them fulfilled an obligation of coming back to me to whisper how they are. They think I don't live, they think I don't exist. I don't blame them,  for they are daughters leaving home. I shall remember every one of their tears that had been wiped off my floor with a mop, not knowing it had already reached my insides creating an imprint.
       With false promises and some true ones, they take her away from whom she loves to someone she'll learn to love. She cries, silently and breaks down again as she gets into the car to drive away into nothingness for a few more minutes before she realizes what's happening.. and as the car gets out of the driveway I tend to hear loud cries and huge tears from the sisters of the bride... ones who, with great difficulty held them all back so that they don't cry in front of her making her departure more painful.

   I see this, day after day, hour after hour.. one wedding after the other. I never shall get tired..for each bride has a tale to tell, moments to share, hours of fatigue, and one instance that they all share.. leaving home. At that juncture, I become their homes, for the second they wave a bye to their crowded families, who with moist eyes and a smile on their lips, wave back till the car goes out of sight and sometimes even minutes after.
   I hope they are all happy somewhere, with children who'll grow up to get married the same way they did. They have always been my favorite. The daughters leaving home..
  Even if they're across the road with roaring traffic, I shall still hear them say with nostalgia  :
"There! That's where I got married"
   

This was my entry at Saarang Writing Awards 2013

Of Creating a Memory

Take me, with my eyes covered, so I feel and know you are always there next to me..

Take me, anywhere, where the sounds cease to exist

throwing the music of silence into our ears, amplified,

that way, every word you say, will reach my heart.

Let's go around the same way, describe what you see, 

'cause I'm comfortable with my eyes closed and hearing you say 

things you don't even see. But, I'll believe you anyway. 

Let's go away from prying human eyes and live, 

with no cameras to record the moment, 

no sketchbooks to replicate..

Just you and me. 

Now, that'll be a memory I'll never forget.

 ~Hemu 

I Wish I Were a Waitress

I wish I were a waitress, in a swishy skirt and an apron,
a ceiling above my head and a floor I can skid on,
to run around taking down requests for consumption
and not orders, for I shall say they're long gone.

I wish I were a waitress, with a smile on my face,
jumping from table to table, lighting up their day.
"Oh, how are we today?" I shall ask, with some little ace,
Now, who bothers about that, as long as I can keep their frowns at bay.

I wish I were a waitress, for a childhood fantasy of balancing trays
should probably not go in vain, but if I go ahead and fall with drinks on my dress,
I shall still smile and clean it up.. I tried atleast, and shall say my prayers
to stay further and shall always try again, till I get it right for the best.

I wish I were a waitress, to meet people old and new,
to look at their countenances and see what they have to say.
For, discoveries shall be many as I shall write them down as the coffee brews,
so that I can do little things that I may, like perhaps wish them a 'Happy birthday'.

I wish I were a waitress, for a selfish reason of seeing around,
people as they are and people they probably ought to be.
To see if I am wrong at being so shut, to be in solitude even in a crowd,
or if I should be singing with them all for a great day to follow, whoopee.

I wish I were a waitress, for a simple little joy of wearing hair bands everyday,
not that I can't at an office desk on the eleventh floor,
but for lame reasons to match my equally lame colours at a small cafe,
then, life probably shall not be such a bore.

I wish I were waitress, I shall always stare at the presentation of my dishes,
which shall only connect as one semi-solid mass on the insides..
I think that is how I want my life, handed out on a clean plate and decked with wishes,
but to realize it's all those put together that gives me the taste. Sugar and salt.

I wish I were a waitress, for more reasons than one,
for I can play with little babies's cheeks as I pass,
to sometimes skid my shoes through the floor and sometimes run,
to hop on one leg and sometimes even do a chasse.

I wish I were a waitress,
so that I shall never be in distress,
 and even if I do, I shall drink down a gentleman's tea,
and be as happy and full as I can ever be.

A Shadow

I saw someone come with me all the while I walked on the streets so hot,
smaller in form, darker in shade..
Why she kept following me, I just don't understand.
Growing inch by inch, throwing her magnificent self across my body,
her details blurred, yet her form so clear, I saw her live
as she swallowed the light, holding it in her pit.. the illuminating rays so bright.
She kept ahead of me, holding my legs in her black mass..
and I just followed her wherever she went for the rest of the time, lit,
unable to leave her to her dark mates hidden in the narrow alleys and masses of opaques.
I thought she was weak, clinging to me like a filthy little rag,
sticking by the legs of a person she never knew.
But, I saw the fact that I couldn't get rid of her, try as I might,
until, she decided it was time.
Hours rolled and she started running behind me, like an unknown bond,
unable to let go of me...
An unacknowledged bond just like my hand or my sight,
only, she couldn't see, blind in her path that saw only me and no one else.
The evening sun set as I paced my footsteps faster,
in an urge to take her to safety, an incomprehensive love taking over me...
to let her live.
She didn't sense my efforts as she diminished, little by little,
her feet growing small with a shaded snake
grabbing her legs so taut from under my trousers.
I quickened my steps, wanting to see,
that mysterious entity, live with me...
and yet, she died. There. Right in front of my eyes,
falling apart, disappearing into the black of the tar of the roads..
screaming for help and searching for light.
I scrambled on my knees catching at her waist when her belly exploded
and all of her swallowed light flew,
catching my hair in its golden rays, merging with the black around.
To see her last sprinkles dissolve into thin air that hosts the unending black.
I shrieked for company and tried to hold on to her,
but she only slipped away, like an element so free.
I envied her freedom from where I knelt, vanishing into substances
and wetting my cheeks with hot tears streaming
at a demise so unknown...
Merely to realize, that she was bound.
Just the very next day clinging to me, yet again.
She went on to live without the botheration of having to die.
She just, held on to my physical existence, recognized
for I think she knew my soul might not cast any for others to see and sense.
She lived, a constant reminder of a nagging thought that I don't understand,
until she clung to the trunk of a huge tree,
throwing me into darkness.

~ Hemu 

Dazed

What if I don't know want from need,

what if I can't see from desire and destiny?

For there runs a thin line as the heart does bleed,

to see the difference, to know if it's just a brevity.

I've told myself that there lies a sheaf of papers waiting for me to write,

to talk to it's lines and blanks, to create a new life,

yet, when I lift up the weightless flow of words to indite

I see all the articulate gushing in your way, in a rife.

What if I tell you I'm just accrued inside out,

with so much living, so much to show

all the sorrows of a hidden heart, only scared of the following flout,

a person who works from inside, driven by an urge to know.

For, every time I look at the midnight stars gleaming a little blue,

like my face, asking me to go ahead with what might be mine,

I stand still with the blowing winds, for I've heard dreams come true,

But what do I do, if there is someone else, whose heart too, in the same direction as mine, does incline?!?

Scarred

I know a girl.
A girl not too little, not too old enough.
For, under the bandeau she wears, there lies a heart
that makes her run out to soak in the rain and play on swings so high.
She knows there might be a rapist there at her door for all that she knows,
yet can't deny him water when he asks for some, worn out and tired.
I don't know if she has ever grown up,
that little girl I know, not bothered by inhibitions others throw at her,
she lives, not for survival,but for living alone.
On the swings she plays, there lies her soul jogging up to the sky,
in umpteen attempts to let go and fly, yet clings on to the body it knows,
just so that she wouldn't be left alone.
That soul knows she'll be hurt, that the swing will one day give away,
people she loves will hurt her hard,
so that when she falls face down on the earth..
and that when she gets up,
 they'll look at her bemired face in colours not hers and laugh.
Her soul told her,
"Little girl, don't be so dulcet.
They're going to punch you with words you wouldn't have heard before,
with smirks so scathing that it can flake the layers of your heart.
Stay with me, I'm not going to go, I'll be there only for you."
The little girl I knew stood up on the inside of her eyes and cried,
"Oh let's not be cynical. Stay with me and I'll show you what it is that I love,
apart from you without who I can't last.
Be by my side and I'll show you the little world I can experience,
but only with your help."
Saying so, she ran out into the open meadows in a flimsy shift,
oh, under that bandeau., she ran out unprotected, into the sun and rain.
Sun gave her strokes and the rain blew her over with storms,
yet, she went on not realizing, what she was headed for.
Her face immaculate and her soul
near to being convinced,
of all the happiness in the world.
She grabbed those ochre ropes to fly
into the blues she always thought was just a moment's reach away.
But as she flung herself above, they snapped like an angry dog,
throwing her a few feet across, to hit against the rock she loved sitting on.
A gash ripped her cheek.
She cried on the flowers whose colours she loved.
Her soul picked her up and she ran.
Ran till she reached the singing creek so clear.
She peeped and saw the girl, in blood and pain.
No wind blew to wipe away her tears
nor did anyone come to pick her up.
She washed her face, her whites now stained.
I saw that girl who I thought I knew.
I look at her reflection, her scars now healed,
but a part of her soul lost forever.
Damn. I thought I knew this girl looking back at me,
as I looked upon the soul I loved look back at me,
not blaming me,
but cried in silent sobs..
I only thought I knew for.
I hurt her and I never even knew.
Oh, so who do I even know?
Me or the one in the mirror?

~ Hemu

Unseen Tears

There survives a clown.

Colours so bright on his clothes

and people's smirks so humiliating and full of glee, 

when they see that painted face..

in red, green and vivid colours 

showcasing the stark reality of human emotions,

ones that they find so entertaining.

Exaggerated eyes, open to happenings, 

Ears that listen to what they have to say..

Hair of Nature's vibrant hues, 

catching and grabbing everyone's attention- To be laughed at.

He is who they call a clown...

In funny clothes and a big red  nose, 

which manipulates a smile on their faces..

On this stage, he brought out his caliber, 

Qualities that were surpassed upon as yet another cheap trick to make them laugh..

The world's sadistic thoughts and pleasures were revealed,

when they see him jump up and down, to fill his stomach..

coz then, they laugh till their stomachs ache.

Masses just fall off their chairs, laughing at his antics

and the talent that they don't realize,

just seeing that smile. A powerful one.

At the end, they get up to leave, 

not bothering about a man who is calling for them to stay,

or a hug to share,

or a mere handshake to remember.

All that they did was, still laugh at his face.. 

and the bogus walk that he possessed.

Everybody was convinced of the large smile painted on his face,

that just smiled despite sad drooping lips and looks.

Nobody cared to come near,

assuming the happiness he faked.

For,
Had they come near and seen a little farther, 

they would've seen and felt

the tears dying into a ground so moist.

It's just tears flowing free...

beyond the painted smile that they all just see.

Hemu 

The Roadside Whore

I had never seen such a man before, 

in all epitome of his handsomeness, and a smile that washed ashore worries.

I called forth to him, while he stood at the end of the street, 

by the lamp post crossing his legs and staring at me. 

My rouge grew redder, like I've never felt before,

I set my hair, smoothening my curls looking at the man. 

Not knowing if a second call would be needed,

So, I just stood watching his body, naked behind the clothes I shed from my vision. 

He looked like a man of word, more than flesh,

as I hoped what he would be, in all his being. 

He would be different I hoped, a writer perhaps, 

documenting miseries and glees. 

Perhaps, he'll understand my pleasure at seeing a man like him, 

a man in that black suit pressed to the last crease now invisible. 

As my thoughts grew, he walked towards me, 

holding a smile that kindled my inner soul.

What if he was the one? What is this was it ?

I held my breath as I walked with him as he slipped his arm around my shoulders, 

unlike the other men who walked away from me, 

only meeting me in a cramped place so desolate. 

Probably he is, oh, he is. 

We walked somewhere, I don't know where, a man with me, 

who didn't throw me dirty looks, looked at me as a woman. 

Like a person who knows what femininity means. 

Into his room, I waited for him to say something.

Yet, there were no words.

He tore my blouse down to mere shreds of cloth, 

releasing himself from the stiff clothes.

Raw feelings grew as we hit the bed, him biting away at my flesh, 

full of meaning. Everything he did, was a feeling 

I had never felt before in my life. 

Our bodies locked, the world faded as I gave myself to him in a way 

I never gave myself to anyone else. 

More than mere flesh, more the lips to tear open. Something beyond.

Something special. Something like him. 

Hours passed and the rage subsided as he slid out of the bed, 

bereft of a blanket around us, there is nothing to hide. Nothing to conceal. 

Fumbling into his pants, he looked at me through the dim light.. dressing back to what he was. 

He stabbed into his pockets bringing out some pieces of highlighted papers. 

And kept them in front of me. 

I stared up in shock and nodded, acknowledging the pay. 

He pulled his coat over and adjusting his tie, 

just like before, dressing in perfection, just like the 'perfect sex' he just gave me. 

Only now, there were creases on his coats, that stood out laughing at my face. 

Laughing at my crumpled hopes.

He turned and walked away without a second glance, 

as I sat naked, my face down in disappointment. 

But I won't cry, I won't lament.
For I've seen more than this. 

I'm the roadside whore, calling out to you, 

I, who fake groans and moans in bed. 

I, who still search for miracles everyday.

Waiting for it to hit my bed before another man does. 

For, I'm the roadside whore calling out to you.  

I shall live. I shall fight. 

For, I'm the roadside whore calling out to you. 

Many hazy manifestations

You look at me like the early morning sunshine that hits the blooming lily,

calling out to her, pulling her baby petals out so slowly that her transition doesn't reveal. 

She flowers, growing up, and to gaze out at the sun, 

He, who lured her out to the world that awaits, splashing his light across her breasts. 

She got up from her sleep and dreams amidst weeds many, 

and fallen leaves of sizes, imploring, in want of attention. 

In need of a warm caress, even as someone does pass. 

You talked to me like the winds to fawning chimes, 

animating metal, arousing clinks and taps of wood. 

I sat in front of you, in all your obliviousness, listening ;

like an enchanted forest living in the hands playing a harp,

The dead who listened and returned to live, against the courts of nature. 

But I only went close to being dead, living in a trance, all in one. 

Listening to the spirit that spoke. 

Time sped against itself, as I fought for moments of togetherness

to stay, to accumulate what I heard, and accentuate the silences full of unnoticed stares, 

to the reflexive smile that sent sparks up in the air, 

flaming what I might call mine, because it burnt me so hard. I felt like I was on ice ;

wanting hot beverages in total contrasts to situations that hold, 

living where I wasn't supposed to be. 

Roaming in dreams yet to come alive. 

We walked together in brief moments of eternity, 

like the waves kissing the shores always wet, like snaps of the fingers 

of a man, a slave to music, wherever it played.

Like the one moment in dance, the air under feet reaching the ground from the past

attitude, knowing which lines of the wooden board would engage the next touch. 

You rolled out my sensitivity like a carpet, my skin feeling every step, living in every touch. 

Like the need of a baby to be rocked at her father's chest. To be lulled to sleep. 

I saw, I perceived, floating up and about, like a balloon released of it's content, 

in slowness, in grace, visiting all eons in the present, blowing out ice patterns 

in the air, and falling limp later, on the cold snow. She didn't know she could create. 

Like a woman chased by a predator, running as fast as wind, 

in speeds she never knew she possessed. Meandering about fields so green, 

so that she wouldn't fall to scrape her knees, or to trip on beds of flowers. 

So that even a valley of flowers don't awaken her. 

I stood at the faint distance to see you smile at another, 

waiting like a farmer on his parched land, sitting on open throats of the earth, 

calling out to the rain, asking for the heavens to throw open, what it locks in it's greys.

But it was summer and rains were far behind,  I was there in a light that you couldn't see. 

In a land of songs that you couldn't hear, in numbness that touch doesn't manifest, 

In browns swallowing withering whites, sunshine that didn't last, 

and my thoughts that you were dumb not to catch.  

And so, I end up seeing you as what I see you. 

Something that you might be or something that I only imagine you to be. 

Seeing little bulbs on a decorated deck like stars falling off the black skies. 

Soothing myself with talks that I proposed for you, 

listening to it all my myself. Seeing it run in my head. 

To the living boy in a muddled head of words, paint and music, 

who just crashed open, taking with him my hope. 

Something that was mine. Something that isn't him. 

Silence, splashed colours and crumbled words cried together,

in soft whispers as I tried to gather. 

But my hands are too small to hold them all,

to throw them back into the sets of my dreams.  

For now, there is nothing to bind them with. 

No him to put them behind and gaze at the beauty of it. 

So, i just walked on.

Catching them all in the soles of my feet 

hurting myself as I stepped over dreams that fell.

This was my entry at Saarang Writing Awards 2013

Rain dance

I opened my eyes to the lashing waves growing in unison,
syncing somewhere, to the calls of it's long lost waters.
They crashed, livid,  on the rocks jagged in it's shape,
not caring enough if it'll hurt, not bothering if it'll kill.
The azure spread ahead, merging with lines I couldn't see,
throwing about grey blotches of clouds, mizzling against the skin of my arms.
I stood rooted, under a pavilion ancient, taking it all in,
sights I saw and the sounds I heard.
Sea brought with her, winds so loud,
singing a song I had never heard before,
blowing into my ears secrets I haven't known so far,
telling me to get out and see all that I've missed.
I saw the music travel through the blues and reaching the black I wore,
which, held the drops of the misty drizzle concealed,
as the afternoon sun refused to show..
throwing at me a wash of blue and light, at my face.
I stood there against the slapping drizzle through the small marquee,
trying to pull me out, and away from the diary and a pen,
while I stood rooted looking at the foam hit the rocks,
staying on still until air broke it's soul..Staying..
until he beckoned me out.
Beckoned me out to listen to the tune of the wind,
the joy of rain and the price of the sight I saw..
He beckoned me out. Out of what I thought and held.
I flipped the diary on the granite table so wet,
and walked out into the open to hold his hand.
How long we were each other's hands I barely know,
how long we talked in hushed whispers, I never reflected.
His words reaching me in, one word a time,
one syllable stretching into echoes into the empty mind he recreated.
I clung to his shoulder in completeness, dancing to the whisting winds,
and the beating waves on the sands hidden, beneath travelling wetness.
 The moistened air held me to him, his hand gluing us together,
as he made me realize what I had just stared at for so long.
Terpsichore, it felt like, all elements bringing him to me,
as he further wet my lips, the call singing like an unknown force,
not to be heard, but to be felt. To be electrocuted with.
 I danced and danced, until my legs became too tired to stop,
I closed my eyes to take in the moment I had lived through,
to breathe and feel his smell upon my neck,
I closed my eyes to him, for that one moment, outstretching my hands,
to welcome him to reality. To feel the wetness seep through my skin.
An eon passed as I opened my eyes to see the agaze of my friend,
a smile on her lips, a question in her stare.
I ran into the shelters, grabbed my diary and ran downstairs.
Not looking back. Not looking up.
But only the ground, because it kept my feet fixed to the earth.
Not like him, making me fly.

This was my entry at Saarang Writing Awards 2013

Nirvana?

I saw her against the darkness of the space,
shining out as light, emanating radiance.
Her skin, fair as I can see, immaculate and smooth,
triggered off silver sparks as her petite hand brushed a speck of dust, off her shoulders...
Nude, in fullness of form and eternity,
she remained seated, her femininity aggressively delicate..
with the soft curves of her hide and the tender thought of her touch.
Her bare back I could see, like the path of a flowing river, smooth along its spine,
glossy, reflecting the light, and living, with a form so indescribable..
But there interrupted her massive wings accentuating her frame,
huge white wings, feathers showing off purity, embracing her back,
and elegance I envisaged, from the crouching figure so perfect.
Was that what defined her, a combination of beauty in form and strength at sight?
Her black mane flowed with the wind, every strand lustrous,
yet it's silky locks merging with the infinite blackness behind,
and creating intricate patterns when against her pale form.
She lay there, still, motionless, her hands hugging her knees,
her head down, looking like the acme of coziness,
of a package of all that is strength and power..
of femininity and grace.
Enchanted I stood, looking at the glowing form in front of me,
mesmerized, as the wings unfolded up into the air,
to reveal the majesticity she ruled..
..Throwing at me the visual weight and the lightness with which the ashen being floated.
I saw the alarmed countenance that she thrust into my mind,
a face of soft speech, its lines gentle as a breeze.
Nothing was more beautiful than what I saw, nothing much prettier,
Nothing more real and nothing more magical.
Her lips curled in a question, pink and lush,
that which appeared to speak only the truth..
She looked complete, her eyes hazel-brown,
Yet, there reigned a hint of sadness that I couldn't perceive.
Her eyes warmed down as she saw I wasn't a threat,
The hazed stare softening into a glance,
as the white weightlessness she held moved down in ease, calmly.
She looked at me and I saw something new,
It moved inside her eyes so beautiful and charming..
Until then,
I never knew angels also cried...

My Cindrella story

I stood next to her as she looked with eager eyes at those women,

with all of a hundred thousand butterflies trapped inside of her, 

A heart that only knew how to love and cry, unsummoned, 

Yet scared to show what she is, scared to err. 

Her eyelashes lifted up to call the falling snows, 

Rain gathered up in her cloudy eyes..

She wanted to hug and cry, like a little baby doe

Yet she fell at the bench unable to rise. 

This girl here, I don't know..

why she wouldn't live, why she wouldn't realize, 

that life outside beckons, that she needn't bow..

I don't know why she settled for her tattered disguise.

I placed my hand on her shoulder for her to feel, 

to know there was someone standing next to her that she didn't see 

Her moist eyes couldn't see me through, a watered veil

She looked trapped, with a face that said it'll never be free.

"Who are you?", she asked in utter astonishment.
"I am your fairy godmother, who else?", I said.
She stared at me from top to bottom, in dissent..
For, to her I didn't see godmother-bred.

"You don't look old, you don't have a wand,
Your hair ain't white, I cant see any cloak in sight,
How do you suppose I'll take you for real, for me to bond?
If you aren't all that, how are you supposed to be right?"

Her soul was searching for an answer I could envision,
for I was in front of her wearing a black gown, as dark as the sky,
yet with all the light it needs, I supposed, the vision.
I stood next to her, a girl, everything that she is, just standing by.

"I needn't have come in a cloak for you to reckon,
I needn't spin it high and low for you to believe, aurum..
I'm everything that you are, just like you, every other second..
For I can't see you sitting forever like this, always mum."

She looked up to see, what I'd do..
I only sat there, looking at her blue form staring at me hard,
I could see pain emanate, from what had been given to her, the rue,
She sighed, looked down at the winter daisy next to her, her air so sad.

"Don't you want to go out there, where they've gone?
It'll be fun. Lights, people and so many ball songs,
Your Prince Charming might be waiting, to take you, for him,you might've born,
So, you can't be weeping here, you can't take so long!"

Her eyes sparkled with a sudden excitement, and she looked up to see me,
"So, can you give me a blue ball gown to wear?
I want to see the whole world, for that one man-to have, to see,
That one man who'll find me in that blue, so rare!"

I sighed and shook my head, and saw her face fall.
and her hands fiddled with her cotton dress,
"Then how will I go to the ball?",
she asked, "how will I look the best?"

"What did you think my job was? It's not to give you a gown to wear
and a coach to ride, but to tell your heart to pursue what it desires,
for one day your bright blue dress may tear,
but your love will stand strong while your coach might expire!"

"You don't need that dress to see your love,
you don't need riches to make him see you, to love you,
If you can enjoy a sunset as they fly by, doves
so harmonious, he is there, your beau."

"But what if he doesn't notice ", she inquired,
"what if he doesn't know, oh what will I do?
If even I didn't know, that he's the one heavens have hired,
what if he can't see through?"

She was intelligent, but not enough for her mind to take,
for her heart was large, and it held thoughts too many,
I asked her to try her luck, to brush off the flake,
to live her life, go where her feet takes her, to find her silver jenny!

She got up a little better, to wash her face and get into another
simple green cotton dress, not torn yet..
She stooped to pick up the daisies,to place them on her hair. A smother,
and I sent her off by the lake, my sweet little pet.

He came by to catch a breath of fresh air,
Just in time, a man she had seen before,
Tall, handsome and fair,
during many days of her life of chores!

He was the man she saw dressed in simple clothes,
like a vagabond boy, running through the outskirts,
who had many a time stole her stares, from the corner roads,
his roadside songs of love, her concerts.

He saw her refection against the dark sky, a girl so bright,
the girl who he loved, the simple girl so kind,
A cheery song, her voice so sweet and his cherished sight,
His love who turned him shaky, his love who turned him blind.

"Would you like to dance?", he asked, his hand outstretched,
She looked at the familiar face with fear, scared to give,
yet he didn't give up, her hand, he himself fetched,
He pulled her close to dance, the song so faint and the life ahead to live.

She looked at his black eyes that pierced her heart,
"I've been waiting for you for so long, to see you like this,
As the little lass I love, who didn't know I'm a prince, a bart,
to take you in my arms, oh, this must be bliss!"

"I'm no princess, as you can see", she exclaimed.
"just a girl from the houses, where you'll never be,
I didn't expect you here, I don't know what to say,
but whatever it is, in your arms, I find glee!"

I looked at them dance and as he walked her in,
she turned back to look at me, and smiled in full,
suddenly, she told him something and walked towards me, with a grin,
and she hugged me hard, like a strong little bull..

"Tell me, my friend, how did you know?
that he was here to see me come, that I had him in my dreams?"
I told her I was her godmother and that I'd know,
that I know more than her, what does happen and how it seems.

Yet, after that she asked me a question, that made me cry,
"Are you also in love?", she asked me so cute,
I looked at the moon flying with the clouds that went by,
I thought of the man who did, have my heart, who did loot.

"Yes, I am, but it won't make any difference now,
situations have gone beyond my control,
So, for now, in, you have to go,
there is something written for you inside that scroll."

She saw me look her through my brown eyes  blurred,
she hugged me hard, something that no one had given me,
and said, "You may be my fairy godmother, but love has incurred,
and like you said to me, you'll never know, until you jump into the sea."

Tears ran down my cheek as I let her go,
and as she last whispered into my ears, a farewell note,
Just then, it again began to snow,
"Go tell him,I know he loves you too, just as you float!"

I saw her smile and I knew,
she was my fairy godmother, that the heavens had dewed !

~Hemu

Pages, Conversations.

"Dearest Ishaan,
Today, quite a long day. I met Aishu at the park. We spoke for a very long time. About me, about him and how I feel for him. I didn't know what to say. I felt there was so much to say, yet I found no words trying to seek recognition. I was scared of what she'll say. I feared she'll tell me it's happening for real and that I'll have to face it. I'm still frightened to face reality. I hid behind the screens, hiding tears from a close friend..."

                                                                   ********

"...is pathetic!",she said.

Daksha turned around in her direction, breaking free from her still world and thoughts, just as she heard the last word uttered, in extreme exasperation.

"Huh? What?"
"Ducky! You didn't hear a word of what I said?!?"
"Err.. I did.. But..."
"Why man?"
 "Eh? What why? I don't get you!"
"You mean, you don't pretend to get me?"
"Now, hold on. What do you want me to say now?"
"Please! Why don't you just speak it out?"
"Speak about what Aishu? I told you everything that happened!"

Aishwarya looked at the lake ahead of them. It glistened with dancing diamonds balancing on its ripples. It seemed like she chose words from the waters..with uncertain behavior. Sometimes smooth, sometimes harsh, and sometimes breaking all the rocks..
She looked at her friend trying to read her thoughts and then, returned to her gaze to the jeweled lake set amidst the crowded park..

"Yes. You did,", she said, pausing after every word, "But, you haven't told me how you feel."
"I'm fine. I can manage!"
"For how long?"

                                                                     *********

"I'm unable to hold the feeling back any longer. That's always been the case with me, hasn't it? Earlier, I refused my every idea of telling him how I feel. And now, this. It feels abrupt, like something has popped out of the blue to break my dream bubbles. I wanted to tell her that. That, I am heart-broken. She looked at me with such a piercing stare that almost bore through my air. I wanted to break down, that one moment.To let all my locked up sorrow, disappear like fireflies flying under sunshine. I would've, had I not looked away.. But something inside me held me back, Ishu. I don't know what.. I don't know what you'd name it.. Ego? Helplessness? I really don't know, still. I could only speak in accentuated silences, not knowing how to respond. Not knowing if I'd be able to hold back wet eyes if I told her..."

                                                                     *********
"It won't hurt you Ducky,holding back tears. It isn't wrong to cry. It is pretty much natural."

The wind blew across Daksha's face pushing back her wavy hair to fall against her cheeks. Her small eyes kept gazing at the setting sun. Disappearing light, she thought.

"Yeah.", she said.. not turning.."like every other thing that's happened to me."
"It happens to everyone. You're not alone, you have to trust me with that. I've been through the same phase. So has everyone."
"But I'm me at the end of the day, Aishwarya. And I can only see loneliness and despair. I'm here with you, not everyone else."
"It'll fade."
"When?"
"Look, he's your first big sweetheart, dear. It'll take time to fade, sweet monkey.. but it will."
"Don't say that!"
"Don't say what?"
"That he is my first big sweetheart.. and that I'll grow out of it. I don't want to. I like him, still."
"Why don't you just let it out, what you really think and feel about it?"

                                                                    *********

"I feel dejected. Like someone has stripped me of my dream.. of my love.. of my child. Though I've never really been with him, gone out or taken care of him.. I have done it all. Imaginations. Fantasies, Dreams. So many dreams where he was there, where I told him that I love him.. where we made out in the dark.. where everything I felt, felt real. Though those were dreams that were woken up to reality, I had a smile in the morning, hoping he would see, it's because of him. But now, I feel ripped out of everything I ever had. I've lost myself, spacing out inbetween conversations and happy moments... of others and the fake me.
       I felt cheated. My wishing star didn't bring my love to me. Instead she separated us. She put another girl in between. She holds both her hands now. Not any longer though, because I ran away..I ran away the moment I saw whose hands I was in..."

                                                                  **********

"Well, they didn't work for me!", she said as a matter-of-fact.
"It will, you'll have to wait."
"For how long?"
"How much ever long it takes for the true one to come by. You'll learn to appreciate real love, when it comes by."
"You think I like him as in, for a past time!?"
"No. But there is a time for everything. There'll be someone who'll love you for all the wishes you make on that star you sit under, every night. There'll be someone who'll come, who'll sweep you off your feet."
"But, what about Him?"
"It'll be hard. But even this will pass."
"But, I don't want it to Aishu..", she said, her face taut, bereft of a smile, a tear.
"It'll heal."
"It'll leave a scar."
"Well, you can't live with a wound all your life."
"Maybe not."
"Please Daksha, why don't you just spill it out, just once. I won't ask you questions. I'll just sit beside you here. No one can see us here anyway. Just cry it out of your heart."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't cry in front of others except for Ishaan."
"Diaries don't respond back to you,Daksha."
"Diaries arent mere books Aish!", she flared.

She sighed.

"Yes! I know, but now, you've forgotten how to talk to people. And to cry on shoulders. "

                                                              **********
"She thinks you don't talk back, Ishaan. She doesn't know you does she? I love the way you respond. A silent listener, yet not indifferent. I talk to him through you. I talk to everyone through you. But it confuses me, she writes diaries too...
      But,yes, sometimes, I do wish you could hug me to sleep... on your lap.. "

                                                               **********

"Move on, sweet monkey."
"I am."
"Stop lying, I can see through your eyes."
"I'm moving within inside."
"You seem to be stuck with thoughts of him."
"I'll learn to move."
"What thoughts do you hold of him still?"
"All my memories Aishu. All that he said to me. As the boy I liked, who, still doesn't know I love him."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Oh, why do you lie to me?"

Daksha turned to face her serene face looking with compassion and love. The night moon had emerged running along the night sky. Moonlight fell on her friend's face illuminating her aura. Those inquiring eyes through those rimmed spectacles.
    And it blurred. She felt warm hands hug her. Her eyes closed. The tears fell. she grasped to hear soothing sounds inclining her. She cried harder, like she had,never before. Shedding all tears she had so long swallowed. As the moon ran behind the dark clouds, the breeze flowed by.. carrying the tears of not one young lady, but two.

                                                                 ************

"It is tearing up my insides to see him with another girl. To see him love another like how I wanted to be. I still like him hoping against every fact and reason that shines, that shows he is head-over-heels in love with that other girl I feel so jealous of. Of every reason that shows he's in love with another girl and not me. Throughout myself, I feel this searing pain shoot up... like blood flowing through my veins.. except with an illuminating and inflicting feeling. I've tried to come out of it, but sometimes I get so reminded of him, his smile and all that he's said to me.. that I'll transcend on from reality. Fantasy overpowers me and I think of him... Reveries.
                      I still under the stars talking to you.. Strangely, I am not weeping as I do, when I want to cry. I'm writing into you with a sane head, but full of emotions. Not crying, because, there are no more tears for today. I've split it all on her shoulders.. I didn't say a word. But she understood. I was alone and she came there for me. She made me see, I wasn't alone. She told me, she loves me. She said I'll find a boy who'll love me more than anyone else in this world. She said he'll sweep me off my feet...and make me feel like a princess..that He'll understand me more than anyone else..that He'll love me for what I am. And that, he'll replace you.
       I lost myself and felt better. I never knew tears could heal. That crying in someone else's arms could heal even better. I don't know if he'll come by, to love me.. don't know if he'll ever hug me better.
I had never wished for her on my wishing star, but she gave me Her. Probably, the stars know what I need. I only probably know what I want.
Good night.
I love you, Ish!
Daksha. "

~Hemu 

Grace

He lifted her chin up for him to see her moist eyes pour. Glassy as they were, the tears reflected his eyes as they rolled down her pink cheeks to reach out to the ground. It hurt him to see her that way. To see her cry. To see her in pain. He dragged the rattan stool near the bay window she sat by. She could see him settle down below her sight, for him to place his hands on her lap... to look at her with concern. She looked around his room to find something that'll stop the fall of misery from her brown being.. to find something to look away, from his inquiring stare. She could find nothing that could hold her back and her glance fell down.. to the hands that were holding her, in pain, in silence.

  " What happened baby?"
  "Oh.. Err... nothing. I'm.. I'm.. just thinking..", she stammered.
  "And you expect me to believe that?"
  "Why? Why won't you?"
  " Because, I don't usually see you cry. Tears are usually your last resort. So, why don't you just stop overacting and tell me what's bothering you?", he said.

    She kept mum. He sighed. A long day, he thought, as he got up to sit on the cushions, next to her. He took her hands into his, for her to see that he was right there, next to her. She looked up to see the sinking sun's evening rays hit his face.
    He didn't say anything. He just looked right into her eyes, boring for some truth out of her heart and some words out of her lips. He just sat there, next to her, for several moments, waiting for her to speak.. to pour it all, while, she stared back at his patience. Finally, she spoke..

   " It was this boy at college..", she mumbled.
   " Our college you mean?"

 She nodded her head in response to his query.

   "What about him? Who, anyway?", he asked.
   " Names aren't very necessary, because a lot of people say such stuff about and to me."
   "Who said what, my dear?"

   She reverted to silence for a minute, looking at some faraway doves flying against the orange-red sky. There was a raging fire excogitating in her eyes, yet something that flowed with the calmness and serenity of a flowing river.

   " Grace.", she muttered.
   "What?"
   "Grace. They say I'm not graceful. Not womanly."
   "And you feel bad about it?" he asked, his eyebrows arching upward in wonder and astonishment.
   "No, I don't always feel that way, but sometimes...", she said, dragging her words into an endless pit.
   "..But sometimes you do feel bad about it, right?", he finished for her.
  "Yes!"

     He sighed and looked out of the window. For a long time, he didn't talk.. It sounded like a silent predecessor to something deserving of crowning glory, in all quietness and suspense. Like the descending sun that was going to plunge the world into darkness. But, darkness just throws more light, she thought. Darkness is where people strain their eyes to see the truth...to put in more effort and to grope the idea of reality.

    She waited for him to speak, to break the pounding sound in her heart. He looked up to see her expectant face.. after she broke the silence, no longer being able to bear it.

  "Did I sound too silly? Are you angry that I feel this way?", she exclaimed.
  "No, just exasperated."
  "What?"
  " Yes, I thought a girl of your caliber would know much better than that!"
  "Don't I?", she beseeched.
  "No, I just saw that you don't."

        Her face fell. There was some sudden feeling of increased fear, anxiety and loss that radiated in dark circles from around her face. A feeling of being lost. A feeling of hopelessness in a land where she felt she would never get to know people, their ideas and conceptions. He saw her face muscles strain and her throat swallowing a gulp. He smiled, looking at his girl, that left her puzzled.

   "Do you know, baby, what it is to be graceful?"

 She thought for some moments. It sounded like a posed question in an exam hall. She wanted to make sure she had the right answers.

  "Hmmm... to be graceful.. is to be feminine? Walking and talking like a typical girl would? To be interested in  shoes and 'girly' stuff and not football... Everything that...", she paused for a moment. "Everything that I'm not.", she said, breathing out aloud.
  
   A clear ringing sound of his laughter rang in her ears. Startled as she was, she looked up to see if he was faking it to make her feel better. She saw, that it was pure unscathed laughter from the bottom of his stomach and soul. As genuine as melting gold. Nonplussed, she kept looking at him. wondering what she had said, that made his sides tickle so hard. He caught the look of question and confusion on her face and tried to subside his moments of roaring source of joy.
  And at last, he did. Slowing down, speaking carefully, his every word weighed against his heart and reason, he uttered..

  "Oh, how much you make me smile. Is that what you think grace is?"
  "Errrr... yes. Is it not so?", she asked her eyes wide with innocence.

 He smiled yet again.

   "Oh, my baby.. I wouldn't say so.Not exactly. It's a very superficial and dumb way of looking at it."
   "By that you mean?"
   "By that I mean, walking on stilettos, living on girl gossip or being fragile and petite, is not, being graceful.", he said emphasizing every word. "Grace isn't all this."
   " But.. but.. this is what everyone calls it to be. And that's why everyone calls me masculine in a lot of ways... because I live on sports, hang around in shorts and tees! Sometimes, I even feel scared you'd leave me and go because I am not elegant or graceful."

    His jaw dropped as she said that. the smile vanished but a hint of the smile remained.

   "Oh no," he said, "Don't even think like that. That, is not how I perceive you!"
   "Then, whatever do you mean by grace in a woman? I still don't understand what you're trying to say!"

He took a deep breath and spoke...

     "Grace is that abstract and innate aura in you that shines out brightly, from everyone else. It is the principles you hold and the deeds you do. It's the heart of yours that doesn't mind blood on your clothes when trying to help a hit animal. It's that smile of yours so passionate as you pass a child and the kiss that you give her, kneeling down on your knees.. going down to her level of thoughts and fun. It's the way you hit me, in full knowledge of being strong enough to hit me such that it pains, yet, pretending to be less stronger so that you wouldn't have my ego hurt. It's in those powerful strides in spikes across the stadium's track, those legs moving in expertise, living in its fleeting space in air.

 It is in that loud laughter of yours that lets out happiness without being bothered about another person's opinion... it's in your eyes that I see true joy and bliss, when you smile! Your, eyes, that smile. It's elegance that pushes you forward in a crowd of hundred to dance first.. a confident woman... It's grace, the way you ride my bike, which other girls might not even try, It's your hot temper that I see, and annoying nature that makes me think you're adorable. It's the guts with which you stand up for, when you know you're right... It's graceful, when I see you walk from far, waving to me.. and the jumps of a kid that you possess. It's that factor, that makes you go haywire and do things, gracefully, in a way, that other people are too scared to attempt.

   It's that grace in you that makes me love you. It's that grace that made me see the truth. It's that grace, which is you.!"


      He beamed, in seriousness. She saw the soft lines of his face and the curves of his smile. She squeezed his hands in gratitude and understanding. Looking down at his hands, she smiled and cried, a moment to herself. A moment to cherish.

   "So, did you now, my love," he said cheesily, "understand what it is, that's, grace and what makes you a woman more than anything else?"

   She smiled. the sun was fast setting and his face grew decreasingly visible. She knew, he was waiting for her, to speak. To reply.
And she did..

   "I don't know if I exactly understand,what that grace is, that makes me a woman..", she said. "But I know, now, what it is, that makes you a man."

Even in the darkness, she knew,he smiled to himself, satisfied and absolute.

~Hemu 

Mystics of a night

It was an abandoned evening of stars, festivity and gloom. The entire city boomed outside in varying tones of luxury, comfort and necessity. But within where I was, there lay just silence. An eerie silence within the residential complex's road bereft of socializing people. There were just inanimate cars and bikes without an initiated life staring at me. I walked through the moody roads of the place, in eternal distance from thinking, just moving. The lights came up at a regular hiatus throwing it's cone of light through which I merged, between light and the darkness so strewn around, under the waning moon's light. Fresh air, was what I wanted, yet, suffocation was all I felt.

         I slowly made my way through the swiveling gates of the small park the society boasted about. A park that hardly held any light. The little enthusiastic cricketers have always found the lamp posts to be their favorite target, leaving just two sources living, still. The pleasure garden existed there, without any... just merely filling a position, so righteously belonging to another, leaving me to gape at the way I felt about it. Gloomy, dark and mysterious with a certain rhythm and an unknown happiness to it. Just the way I felt.

           I walked through the shifting transient footprints in the sand towards the two swings at the far end of the place. Swings, an object of illusion and reality. Something I could always closely relate to. It gives you the upsurging feeling of flying, legs not hitting the ground.. yet pushes you hard down, to reality and disappointments when you try to touch the sky. I sat on it, kicked the ground hard and under impact I swayed back and forth. I switched on the music on my player and retreated to solitary seclusion of me, my thoughts and a piece of mind. Nothing more.

    Songs played by as I danced to the tunes in my head.. twisting my head and smiling.. intricate dance grooves flowing through my nerves and soul. Seducing and reducing me... the jives on the swing left me gaping at the brilliance of the shining moon.. getting closer in high hopes of reaching the stars soon and then swaying right back into disenchantment.  Gazing around the empty park gave me a sense of reign over the small stretch of area. I played, basking in solitude.... until those kids trotted by.....

           Kids, Full of joy and enthusiasm. In raw forms.. without another quality sticking along with it. Joy meant just joy, anger meant only the same. The only persistent unrealized quality they held with all forms of their crude emotions unlike adults, was innocence. Children, bliss and ignorant..
They played, those four boys that I saw. Hardly aged between eight and twelve.. they were quite a catch to watch. They were just kids, boys.. playing and fooling around, thinking themselves to be the masters of the world they see. They replaced my silence with their shouts and noises. Shouts of joy.

       I watched them with intimate interest.. watching their 'manly' show-offs, which only went in vain.. with my smile. Me, smiling at their idiocies of ecstasy. Their laughs had such a tone that it set off the alarms within me to stop listening to anything around.. but just them and their babbles coated with nothing concealing their true sense. They went around and soon, ended up wrestling. Wrestling against each other.. pitting in their physical strengths and aiming for each others middle, in an unfamiliar idea of being a man. They kept me occupied, their silly fights.. until the fifth one trotted by. From behind me and the silky shadows of the night...

         My dangle, slow in its pace to talk to the breezing winds, while he caught it in total ease. He wrapped his slightly muscular arms around my waist as I squealed in  shock. Unable to see who it is, behind me.. and wrapped around in the warmth of his full hand sleeves rolled upto his arms.. I grew numb. Numb, until he came in front and revealed himself to me. My stranger boy he was. My man. He gave me a gleaming smile and turned up afront holding my hands. Him..
  
     He stood there, in the splendor of the existing golden moon as he moved closer. I wrapped my arms around his corsage of his being there, in total surrender.. as he embraced me, warming me up against all the chilly elements of the night, mind and body. A feeling of magic sprang up through me. I touched him to make sure he was there.. It felt like him and smelt like him. My eyes closed to the reality, I held on to him like a clinging child at her fathers arms. He ruffled through my untied hair.. lifted my chin up. I could look into the brown of his eyes.. the tight lines of his face.. that loosened into a smile. He kissed me on my forehead. It indeed, is him.

           Moving with increasing grace and elegance, he moved to sit by the swing beside me. He kicked his legs into the air moving, up and down.. Competing against each other, we flew high. Talking in soft sounds and curling laughter, he floated on the swing in extreme frivolity.. his laugh fighting through the overgrown locks of his silky hair, filling the air with his aura... This was some boy, I thought, against the shouts of our happiness and conversations so peaceful. Somehow, he left me with crude feelings. Of love, happiness, attraction and company, living individually, co-existing at that particular moment. He had this glint of a mischief monger every time he looked at me, it flashed like a sweeping lighthouse's diamond charms over a lost ship, on deserted waters. Like his did mine. The seducing charms he held, put me in a trance and like a cherry atop an exclusive dessert lay, his soft and gentle kisses on my neck.

    He aroused consciousness in me, as I listened to every word of his soothing talk, every grin of his childish victory and every adorable risqué line, in full knowledge of him being mine. These moments of flying, I don't know how it passed away into the past. I took it all in, without any stop or breach. I was left just looking at seamless form and smile.
     Suddenly, the swing that held him so long swung empty, without a physical presence.It traveled wildly in the air, from the speedy jump into the sands. I turned around to to detect a trace of his disappearance searching around the place with a feeling of frantic loss. Tears flowed without a reason, to find him missing, to think he had deserted me.. It was  probably the blurred vision through wet eyes that missed him. I saw him, a moment later, run towards the company of wrestling brats.. He beamed at them, with a grin so large, as much as his lips could ever take. The smile that broke my heart into a hundred thousand liberated pieces. He ran, fighting with the sand beneath his feet and the ones that got into his shoes. I watched him, still in tears, but with a slight hint of smile as he joined the boys in their fleeting moments of being a man. He was there with those kids, as one.

       He turned around to give me one of his ravishing smiles of victory over one of the kids. I could see, from where I was that he saw my tears. His victory vanished and he ran towards me. Catching his breath, he reached me, to give me a big sweaty hug, in question and reassurance. His smell filled me, the familiar smell of his cologne.. He met my lips with his in full askance for my momentary suspicion of his trust.. I hung on to him, unable to speak, but only to feel.. to feel what he sent across to me. Palpating his trust, love and affection. I sensed his presence.. His lips said he'll be there with me, for ever and ever. In a rapid movement, he broke off the kiss, turning around to push my swing to reach the skies. To such astronomical heights that I grew rather dizzy and had to close my eyes and clutch the chains that binded me to where I was, to keep myself from falling. I hung there, in mid-air, from above a structure so simple, yet, creating sensations so intricate and unexplainable.

    Suddenly the shouts ceased. I opened my eyes to see the boys running around and chasing each other out of the park. I turned around and he wasn't there with me. I looked up and saw a dark shadow run with the kids.. I strained my eyes to see him go, but couldn't get past the silhouette .
        Once again, the music flowed through my so-long-deaf ears. The park shouted silence and darkness. My heart was reassured. My lips were thawed. The silence spoke and I felt alive.

  

An Endless Apology

The sun had just risen above the horizon,
revealing all the darkness surrounding the spherical mass..
The bare legs beneath the tanned body, emerged from the scarce opening, wizened..
from a thatch set upon the sweeping golden sands.
The streaks of nature's canvas mixed against the palette,
spread across the vast sky, throwing its frenzied hues to hit his face,
as he made his way through shifting sands under his feet, his armlet
reflecting colours given forth, reaching his boat, in a quickening pace..
At the shore stood the brave withstander of the storming seas
and the sedated blues and breezy pushes.
He looked at his highest command, in a clear seize
of his own clothing, he wiped her hard to sparkling blushes.
Standing back looking at her in all respect and love,
before getting into what always held him to his life..
He lapped the heavy wooden oars to talk to the skies above
and the waters below, like intimate moments of kisses on the cheeks of one's wife..
Rowing his way through the blue holder, he set about,
speaking to himself and his carrier, like meeting an old friend everyday..
The muscles of his old arms flexed the labored oars, in and out
with sweat tricking down his brow, looking at the passing bay.
For much of the next running hours, he sailed in his expert routine,
with only wistful sighs and pitying soft escapes of laughter..
until he reached the deep waters of the sea so clean,
where he could reach what he is after!
All that lay in his sight was the converging blue of the ocean
and the scattered gold floating, thrown from the sky in all its brightness
He stood up the startling his holder, in all devotion,
to drop the anchor and face the merge, with an floating feel of lightness.
He reached for the folds of his lungi dragging it down to his feet
and bending to gather some of the fleeting gold and blues of the marine..
He lifted it to his forehead as it dripped down his worn out chest, cutting the rising heat,
standing out like diamonds embedded in the soil of the earth, yet just saline.
He said forth, what had been travelling from his vocal cords and heart,
an unknown act, for years of facing the union of the seas and skies..

"Oh Mother!
I hate to do this to you and your brood, to break you apart..
But I am bound, and all I have to offer are soothing lies
to the captured, only soft words to hear as they die..
I'm here killing my own brothers and sisters, oh, I'm cruel I do know,
But what lies within me are only the sighs,
of my everyday treachery, for it now doesn't rest in my blood but flows!
You give me yourself everyday, and all I have to give you in return is my gratitude,
which isn't enough for a sinner, yet, I cant offer you more..
I can only beg your forgiveness, for I hold no other aptitude,
I can't return elsewhere, there is nowhere else to go. I'm only, but sore.
Forgive me my mother, for the lives I separate from you..
Forgive me, for the life I lead, in your unhappiness,a helpless accrue."

The water dripped off through the emptiness in the hands and his eyes so moist..
He lifted his leg backward, deftly catching the end of his cloth..
Bending down in rhythmic fashion, in expertise, so joist,
pulling out blue nets to fool his catch, to meet the school of travelling trots..
In a flash went his hands up in the air, slashing the waters a moment later,
cutting through the bottomless blues, bereft of a single ripple for long,
He sat down at the very edge, like a guilty traitor..
Calling out in the drowning delinquency so ironic, singing his morning song...
.......Waiting.


~Hemu

The Lady at my Table

Canteen, that's where I spent most of my time. Not to eat, but to feel at peace. To feel happy and satisfied like everyone else, there.. to escape from the clutches of the classrooms, studios and teachers who look through their spectacles with such suspicion that you could fall from your stool searching for your fallen pencil.. it's like they push you from there. Early before a session starts and sometimes after a good sleep in the last row... that's where I head to. The college canteen.

                     It's a great place. The canteen. With a small atrium shaking hands with the light, it sort of illuminates my day. Collegemates and classmates sitting around in groups, fighting for their spoon of pasta, the weary canteen boy who is ever in demand, the lovers who always chose to stand under the atrium, banking their weights on the high table, ever smiling and looking into each others eyes ( Holy god only knows what they ever mean by "we talk through our eyes..!"), the best friends who always take a happy stand either shrieking or consoling one another and a few like me. Secluded from the fake appearances and gestures of socialization. It's not that I don't get along with people, only people don't get along with me.  

                There is a table I sit at everyday, which forever creaks under my increasing weight.. A table which many fail to see. At the farthest end of the spacious, exposed brick structure. There it stands, a table.. A chair where I sit and another opposite to me. To one side, I get to see the entire canteen's chaotic capabilities in food, love, friendship and gang wars.. and to the other, there lies a green spread of lawn, sprouting colorful flowers and hiding the existence of a dog and her family of three pups.. Sunlight hits me, not too much, not too shaded either, just the way I like it. With an olive drab shade to the half-hanging bamboo curtain and a few colourful posters, there was nothing that people I saw, found interesting. Just a table and two old chairs. Creaky and lonely, just like me.

  

             That day, I was sitting at my regular, sipping my cup of hot tea along with a book.. I usually read, not because it gives me joy, but because, I don't know what else to do. It is escapade into another world where you are concerned about the character, not yourself.. where you're worried about what is going to happen to him or her, that, there is a momentary loss in the anxieties of your own. It is just a hot cup of tea, a book and yourself, in silence, not from outside, but from inside. Infact, I hear nothing. I feel it isn't worth my time.. to stop looking away from the changing worlds.. I grew deaf to it all. It didn't make me look up.. all those commotions of a birthday party, the cries of the "hot" girls of college, the stupid supposed-to-be-humorous comments of the silly boys, a screaming canteen owner, the sizzling sounds of cooking food and beeping ovens through the open kitchen door... I grew immune to it all. In a way, it told me things were normal. It meant people were at their usual, getting more and more stupid and less logical. Something inside me always said, this, was not what I wanted to hear. Something else it is, but just not this. Not the panic that I hear in their shouts, not the insecure feeling I sense.. Something else, it said inside me, whatever it is, inside me. 

          

               I pored over the book in eternal silence. I read on and on.. until his image struck me. He often did intrude into my happy world, making me feel miserable and useless. He is the boy I like. He is the boy who makes my head swerve in his direction as he walks by. He is my friend and no more than that, yet, my fistful beat my head in this. He is the reason for a lot of my smiles, silent sobs at night and the feeling of emptiness way down till my stomach. Emptiness, as heavy as void probably shouldn't be.. and so I moved around slowly. Beyond all my changing characters, he remained as a constant one. Ever to swift too take over my thoughts, too cute for me to look away and a baby for me to adore. He was all in one. My friend, my baby and my "in-dreams" love of life. There are so many questions in life that I didn't know the answers for. But the one that drove me crazy was this. "So, I do like him.. But does he?" I usually didnt know what to do at times like these. One of my good friends usually said," Yes, you like him. It wasn't a voluntary act that you started liking him.. and it cant be one.. the way you're trying, trying to get him out of your mind. It won't happen.. Let it be, cherish the moment. You may not like him in some time from now.. enjoy the magical feeling until it lasts. " A few other of my good friends want me to tell him! Tell him that I like him! It is going to be something I'll never do in my life, I tell them, everytime that they grew tired of me talking to them about him. They wanted to put an end to the grumbling. I wanted a new beginning.

                   It was one of my "him-struck" times. I was unable to read nor joke around with my friends from the studio.. I sat at 'my' table and stared out at Sasha(that's what I named her!) and her puppies play in eternal jubilation. Lost in thoughts, I came back to earth when I realized my cup of tea has reached its end.. My heart in his thoughts, battling with my mind led me towards a storming headache. I got up, reached for another cup of tea.. The canteen boy, ever too friendly with me, served me first.. Holding the hot paper cup between my thumb and middle finger, I made my way back to my seat. The hot liquid of soothing brown entity had all my concentration, that only after I reached my table and set down the cup of tea, did I realize that there was someone else sitting there.

                 It was a woman of forty-five probably. Her hair was drawn back into a pony tail, just a little longer than mine with her. She wore a purple Kurti and jeans, brandishing a huge black handbag. She was talking over the phone with someone..
"Yeah yeah! I'm right here. Oh, okay. Take your own time! yup.. bye sweetheart."

                   Sweetheart? Who was on the phone? Her child or her husband ? Whoever she is, all that I was concerned was the fact that I had to share a place that I considered only mine. "Damn!",I said over and over again, under my breath,  drinking my cup of tea in extreme interest so that I didn't have to make eye contact with her. Until I heard her speak...

   "Hi! could you please tell me where to get a cup of tea?", she asked.

Wow, here was a lady sitting in the canteen and asking me where we can order a cup of tea. What do I seem like to her? "Over there", I said, politely pointing to the counter.
   She smiled. She had a pretty smile, I have to admit. She got up for helping herself with one of the best tea in the world. The one that my canteen sold. She left her handbag on the table and looked at me... " Could I please leave this here? I'll just go and get my tea and back?" Great, now I was her caretaker as well?
I nodded and she left.
   
     Moments passed before she came back... She was clutching her tea the way I held mine.. in my left hand, gathering all the heat I could, before letting my mouth relish its taste. She sat down and smiled at me. Again. Bham. Her smile, for some reason let me loose all my feelings of distaste for her. I just smiled for a reply.

"Thank you, my dear!", she said.
"My pleasure, aunty!"
"You know, that word keeps reminding me of my age.?"

I was taken aback. I was lost in thoughts of his smile...and hers. they seemed so alike. I didn't expect her to continue a conversation. Well, now that she did, I had to, too. But whatever did she expect me to call her? Dude or something?

"Err.. I'm so sorry. I didnt mean to offend you."
"Aw, knock it my dear. It is my age isn't it..? Just that after coming here and seeing the kids here and all.. I was reminded of my college days. Must be fun for you right? College and all?"

   She seemed nice. Probably I was in too much of a foul mood to have surpassed the goodness of the lady. I smiled... and our conversation struck.

 "Yes, college is indeed nice. Though there are ups and downs.. exams, fights, broken hearts... it's still a place I head to with immense attachment."

"Hmmm..", she replied sipping her cup of tea with an extreme sense of pleasure shining on her face. She paused to look at me, and spoke.. Her voice was probably the "something". I'm surely not immune to it. Just like his voice, that I'd turn to.

".... Broken hearts.. Yes.. You have your heart in pieces, do you, my dear?"

She was wading into deep waters of my personal feelings. Angry as I should have got, I felt nothing. In her presence, for some reason, I felt calm and tranquilized. Like a sedated animal listening to her every word. Her smile had captivated me.

"No," I replied. "Not yet."
" Not yet eh? It is an interesting answer." she casually lifted her cup of tea to her mouth and had it in silence.. only for a moment though.. ".. yes, so, are you in love?"

   I was shocked, not because she had thrown at me, a query so private but because I didn't know the answer myself. I knew I had been evading this question for a very long time, to my own friends, to my diary and to myself. I was scared to make or reach a decision... Decision meant confirmation and acknowledgment. No, I wasn't ready for that yet. Though I had been wanting to talk to someone about it, for a very long time, I didn't, in fear. So, now that she has asked me, do I tell her? Anyway I don't know her, she wouldn't go talking about it behind my back.. so, should I tell her or not?

     Her silky voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up to see her looking at me with concern. Her eyes sparkled behind her specs with an unknown intimacy. "Did I say something wrong my dear? I'm really sorry if I did. You don't have to answer me you know..". she trailed but in a firm voice.

  "No," I said, "You haven't said anything wrong. It's just that I don't know what to say, because I myself don't know the answer."

"Well, then you must find out."

I looked at her. Yes, she was right afterall. I must find out, but how.?

"I see confusion in your eyes.. You don't know what to do. Am I right?"

Bloody right I thought. Of course, I don't know what to do.

"You're right aunty.. I don't know what to do. I like a guy who is my friend.. I don't know if he likes me back."

"Did you take any efforts to find out out?"

"No."

She sighed.

"My dear, if you don't let him know, how do you expect a reply? Answers are given after a question is asked. Statements that you might want, you'll receive only if you initiate the conversation on the terms you want it to go. Why don't you just give it a shot? What sort of a boy is he, anyway?"

   A smile reached my lips. What sort of boy is he? Now, how do I explain that?

"He is a cute guy. A guy who is genuine, who likes me as a friend. He is the type of person who makes others laugh. But he is also the popular one. With totally different tastes from mine. Our beliefs aren't the same."

"Do you think that is reason enough, to not tell him? I think you should tell him. As soon as possible. Probably today."

"I dont think it would ever happen. If I told him and he refuses, I wouldn't be able to bear that pain."

"Well, if you don't tell him at all, it'll swell and burst. Much worse than what this can do to you."

“But, I’m scared aunty.. I don’t know how to face him.”

 "Listen to me my dear, were you ever afraid to talk to him as a friend? Did you think twice when you ruffled his hair, when you thought of him as a friend?"

"Err.. no, I didn't. That was different. This feeling is different."

"No, it's all the same. It is friendship that you're gonna take on to a higher level. Take it from me, I can assure you this much. All you have to do is to go tell him.."

    Now, who was this lady who made me listen to her with such intensity.. What lies in her voice that makes me listen to her, I don't know. Who was she anyway? I collected myself back from my thoughts and spoke to the woman in front of me. The one who seemed to know what she spoke. The one who spoke from her heart. 

  "O.K.. let's look at it this way... I walk up to him, tell him that I love him. What if he says he doesn't love me?"

"Oh, let's look at it this way.. You walk up to him and tell him that you love him... And he says.. Damn, I've been wanting to say the same thing to you for a very long time? "

"This isn't an answer, is it? You just asked me a question back."

"Well, sometimes, questions raise questions. When one is answered, the other automatically answers itself. More like your design, I would say.."

"But.. Aunty, I really don't know what I should do. He lives in every page of my diary, he comes in my dreams, I feel comfortable around him.. I feel like I can act as crazy as a monkey and still not care..because he is one too... He is not like me though, he doesn't read, doesn't really believe in God.. But I somehow have this gut feeling that he is meant to be with me.. but I really dont know how to tell him this."

"What if he is struggling with the same problem?"

""Hmm.. I dont know about it, right?"

"Precisely why I am asking you to go tell him. Think my little girl, when you grow up and turn around looking at all the things that you haven't had the guts to face, you' ll want to face it again.. But then, you might not have the age or youth for it. Some things and people you lose now, you'll never be able to retrieve again!"

"But what if my stakes are high?"

"What would happen if you told him my dear? He'll stop talking to you? If he does so, you are better off without the guy.. and if he says he likes you too.. well and good for you don't you think? And if he refuses and remains the same with you, atleast you are cleared of the confusion in your head, aren't you?"

"Hmm.. you make sense."

"Yes, I do. And it would do you good to listen to me.. oh oh.. why in the world are you looking so drained..? wo... why are you ducking now?" 

"Aww.. Aunty, there he is." Damn, why did I let that slip now? 

Indeed, he had come inside at the wrong time. The bugger, I hadn't seen him for a week now. Heard he wasn't feeling well or something. And he turns up now.. with a charismatic woman next to me, asking me to tell him how I feel about him. Lovely timing indeed.

The ever too eager Aunty wanted to catch a glimpse of my favorite boy. She swerved around to see a hoard of young men standing there... 

"Who is it, my dear lady?",she asked. 

I had given my tongue away. No other choice, I had, but to tell her. 

"That boy there.. in the blue shirt with stripes.. OH oh! He saw me.. Crap!"

Indeed, he was heading to our table. I waved and he waved right back with a broad smile. Oh my god... THAT smile.

"Hi, how are you?", he asked, looking at me. 

"Ha, seems like I should be asking you that. How are you feeling man?"

"Well, you can see me now", he said, outstretching his arms, in  order to offer me a total view of his fit state..."Do I look anywhere near being diseased?"

I couldn't help but smile. "No, you dont."

"Well, so who do we have here?", he asked, looking at my guide for the morning, probably, the rest of my life. They both shared a smile. She looked at him and nodded. The lady in the purple kurti got up giving her seat to my boy. Now, now.. what was happening..? This fellow was beaming too. 

"Oh, I should be off now my dear... And my boy, I'll leave the car here, drive back home soon. Take care..", she exclaimed as she dropped the car keys on the old table. 

  

       She looked at the still surprised me, smiled and said, "You have things to tell my dear, and let me assure you it will all turn out well. Trust me." She winked and turned around and walked towards the exit door, her high pony swinging in the air, in total confidence of its place in air. Now, that is a woman, I say. 

 "Well, you've seen her.. and I'm still here you know?" He was looking at me through his overgrown locks of hair. He had been looking at me.

Wow, so, how long have I been staring at her? 

  "Ah, ha, I'm sorry. And.. Er.. hey! I have something to tell you."

"Wow, so, do I."

"And something to ask...", I added. "You know her?" I asked, pointing at the exiting woman. 

He smiled. 

"Yes", he said... "She is my mum." 

The lady in the purple kurti turned, looked at me and smiled. I looked from her son to her.. Damn, the same smile. She winked again and left.

I laughed. I knew what I had to tell him.

~ Hemu