Thursday, February 10, 2011

This creature cries out in despair
The shrivelled catalyst of a battered ego

It’s been what seems like centuries,
My fingers acquire rust
From not touching you..
From not tearing you apart.

A sabbatical from the urchins of our own intense negativities
That we knew not existed,
That raised their ugly heads
from that tumultuous sea of our distorted love.

We needed a sabbatical and we claimed it
Loud and clear. Tearing away from each other,
our souls aching to hold on and dive away, all at once.

Nagging, the nagging emotions of obsession take over
and I long to curl up in that space that your void provides
and sleep in an eternal ignorance.


Wednesday, August 25, 2010


The parable of sullen lives
Surges through veins.
The rainmaker’s dead...
Yet an endless wait for a splitting sky.
Whirling around in eddies...dark...sombre,
Puffing up a layman’s chest...
Was an earnest urge.

Crying despair with a mouth inarticulate,
Sadness incommunicable and desolate.
Rapture and reverie fills up the vacuum,
Unnerving mêlée of voices and opinion...

Scavengers on the loose, the air smells stale...
Stench of a soul scathed and frail.
Like a stain seeping between a virgin crack,
Cold and leaky, peace runs from a rusty tap.

Bystanders march in mocking agony,
Scanning the mind for an allusion...
In dark, dingy alleys...the musings of a man scared
Of loneliness and deceptive yearning,
In a bubble world of confusion.

Bloody lies the field where once trod the fair lady...
Staggering courage uncouth, unsteady...
Ignorance has triumphed,
Rationalism is dead.
In prints of grey and red...
Too much hatred endured.

Someday I hope we will linger to surmise...
A dream for a PERENNIAL SUNRISE...


Monday, August 23, 2010

Damned Wolves (Part 1 or 5)

- I will kill them all! – yelled my father – I will hang their pestilent heads on the wall of my bedroom! - and rushed over the wreckage of the hen cages to the hole in the wall through which the wolves had seemingly come in and out. He ducked. Yet, as a man of disproportionate stature, he hit his head on the wall while trying to look outside. My small sister gasped and my father turned to us shouting with his hoarse voice which made him sound like a wild boar. 

- Bring me the axe, you moron- he screamed expelling a mixture of saliva, steam and alcohol to the cold air. Without taking a breath, I hastened to the stable and on the wall next to the door, between rusty knives and an imposing sickle I found the axe. As I took it, I saw on the blade what seemed to be an eye with a big pupil but it must have been, I thought, the faint moonlight of the winter night coming through the battered roof. When I reached my father, he grabbed the axe firmly in his right hand and pushed me away as he crossed the hole and went out into the open. 

I returned to my sister who was still lying curled up against one of the cages. She was looking at the hole my father had just disappeared through. She shuddered as my trembling hand touched her shoulder and I understood that she too was more afraid of my father than of the wolves. I took her hand and she started following me back to the door but as we were about to leave the henhouse she pulled the edge of my coat.

- They forgot – she said; and I turned around towards the broken cages. They forgot – she insisted. I saw her eyes fixed at a point almost at the centre of the henhouse. 

- What did they forget? – I asked her. 

- There – she said pointing at something whitish and matt surrounded by a bed of feathers – they did not take it with them.

And indeed, in the middle of that mess of wood, feathers and blood, indifferent to the surrounding chaos like a new born dragon in a nest of lava, there was an egg. It stood so straight and looked so neat that I could not but wonder how something like that could have been there without a purpose. And so, engrossed as I was in its contemplation, I did not see my sister running towards the spot until she stood near it and took the egg in her left hand. She looked at me with wide open eyes at the precise moment when the howling of a wolf outside filled the henhouse and made her drop the egg. A second howling came and I urged her to come to the door where I was standing and leave. Before she could take a second step, I saw her bending towards the floor. I called her out again. She stood up hastily and rushed towards me. We left the henhouse, crossed the stable and came to the open; the snow was thick outside so I took her in my arms and walked quickly to the porch. I pushed her inside the house, and I stood there at the porch waiting for a signal from my father. 

A scream of hatred revealed his position in the dense fog of the meadow beyond the stable. I could not see anything. A second scream made me look at the grove and I understood that my father was entering it right then. But in the place I had heard the first scream, the fog had retreated enough to allow me see a figure following my father’s screams. I saw the silhouette of something which I took for a wolf since it moved like them but it was not alone. Something was riding the beast, something small yet full of purpose. It was holding on to the mane of the wolf with disproportionately long fingers. I could also make out its enormous head. And as fast as they appeared, they went again inside the fog like a bird of prey. A third scream of hatred came from within the grove. 

I wanted to go back into the house but I could not resist the temptation to look once more at the place where I had seen the beast and its rider. The spot was again covered with mist and nothing was to be seen and so was in the grove where the fog was even denser. I looked then down at our footprints in front of the porch which were still fresh on the snow; mine clear and deep, my sister’s light and uneven. I followed them with my eyes and then, as my eyes had reached the middle way between the house and the stable, I remembered that I had taken my sister in my arms.

Instinctively I looked to the right, where the end of the veranda was very close to the main door I was standing at. A broom was leaning against the wall with its head upwards. Neither wind nor owls were to be heard. The silence was suddenly broken by a deep inhalation from the left side of the porch. 

There, covered by a cloud of mist, standing firm on two short legs, a small red creature with an enormous head and sharp big hands was staring at me. Its huge eyes were its clearest features in the uncertainty of the fog. They were red and bright like the light in a forge.

I rushed inside with my heart in my throat and locked the door and I saw my sister still standing in the place I had left her, this time interrogating me with her look. My irregular breathing was the only sound to be heard in the house. And then, we heard light steps outside. My sister, probably thinking that my father was returning, looked through the keyhole. I was still trying to get my breath back when I asked her what she could see. She looked baffled at me, opening her eyes in a quite unnatural manner and said:

- I cannot see anything. Everything is red outside.

The realisation of that thing looking through the keyhole did not frighten me as much as the sudden knock at the door. We both jumped backwards. I remembered my sister holding the edge of my coat. And then the voice of the wild boar:

- Open the damned door, you idiots! 

I felt extremely uncomfortable acknowledging that my father’s voice could have been of some relief for my fears when he had always been the source of them. I unlocked the door. When he heard the turning on of the key, he opened the door with a violent kick. Taking a step inside, he threw something heavy to the floor right in front of us. 

The slit throat of the wolf was still bleeding. Something in the wolf’s eye reminded me of the reflection of the moon on the axe I had seen in the henhouse. There was something sad too in that animal’s expression. It looked at me for a second and then surprisingly it directed its eye towards my sister, and without a noise of complaint, it died. 

- Damned wolves! – my father ruminated deep in exhaustion.

He closed the door with a bang, locked it and put the latch across and went to his room without showing any concern towards us. For a while there was a dense silence inside and outside the house as we stood at the animal’s dead body. I expected my sister to start crying at any moment but instead she remained calmed. Separated as we were by the corpse, I could clearly see her standing still as a piece of wood looking at the animal. She was holding her left hand upwards and on it, the spotless egg she had found in the henhouse.



Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Short Story

The cold wind ruffled his hair and the autumn chill stung his skin, dirty with dried tears. But it seemed nine- year -old Rashid was hardly aware of it all. He was lost. The sky was overcast turning the world grey. An unnatural silence hung around, broken only by the occasional flapping of the clothes on the clothes line. Today it seemed even the birds were silent or was it just him? And then a soft voice pierced through the odd noises and Rashid turned.

“Aren’t you going down and getting ready…you know there are going to be a lot of people coming today. Don’t just stand there go get ready.”
It came from behind a floral sheet, which was slowly being taken off the clothes line by a woman, appearing slowly to Rashid as the sheet came off. She looked around thirty; strands of her long black hair swaying in the breeze, the bangles in her arms clinked as she took the sheet in her hands. She smiled at Rashid, her smile reaching her eyes.
“Go down before you catch a cold, and tell Pinki to serve you your breakfast”

Rashid looked at her but didn’t respond to what his mother said. As if she had not spoken at all. He looked away and soon became engrossed in the cityscape once again

Rashid sat on his small bed wearing just his underwear and his tiny cotton vest. The dim room was lit by a single stream of light coming from the open window. Lost in his thoughts he was startled when the door opened suddenly. His mother entered with a huge bundle of clothes. She kept it on the table and opened the cupboard
“arre why aren’t you ready?” she looked at him with annoyance.
” Now don’t you dare make your father angry.” she said folding the clothes and keeping them inside the cupboard one by one.
Rashid kept looking at her and noticed how her bangles seem to dance with each moment of her hands. His mother stopped her work and looked at him. Her face shadowed with concern. She came near him and sat in front of him.
“Darling what happened… happened. Something’s cannot be changed. You couldn’t have stopped it. But you know I am never going to leave your side...hmmm” she smiled. He looked at the dark eyes of his mother lit up by her smile.

The big room was crowded. He had never seen so many people in his house ever before. Some he knew and some he didn’t recognise .All of them looked sad. Some were bawling loudly, while others whimpered in the corner and some poured out their tears silently. His father was one of them. A woman came up to his father and held his hand.
“Beta we are so sorry…she was such a good woman”. She said while her eyes kept darting at the photo kept on the table in the corner.
” Where is Rashid?”

Rashid stood near the window gazing at the garden. He could hear the occasional comments,” So sad,” “Who is going to take care of the boy now,” “She was the only daughter”.

He looked once again at the photo on the table. A beautiful woman with dark eyes smiled, her smile reaching her eyes. It was the picture of his mother who had died the night before.

He looked outside and saw the clouds parting and fine streams of sunshine came through lighting everything up. He felt a presence near him and looked up, it was his father. He crouched in front of him, his eyes red and face distraught. He took Rashid’s small hands in his big ones.

“Beta…you know what happened was destiny, we couldn’t have stopped it. What happened… happened. But you know… she is …”

Rashid cut him off…
“I know papa she is always going to be there with me…I know”
He slowly turned away looking out to the garden. His mother stood there looking at the flowers, bending to smell them. She turned and looked at him, smiled and waved at him.
“I know…”
Rashid smiled.


Thursday, August 12, 2010


My lord, my lord
I want to fall in love again
Upon the nibbling sound of sand,
I want to hear him again…

Afeard with the touch of his,
On my barest bosom
Derelict for life
With every sound slithering
Of him in me…

O lord, my lord
Disburden the leaves again..
Shroud light
for twilight
Where aglows his pate russet,
And his face,
And his lips rotund, appear rounder..

Let him kiss me endless
Under the crepuscular sky
Let him effectuate the morality
Of my hands

Lend me breathlessness
Till dies his mouth
Let it be fall
till he be and I be