It is she, again.

Angst ridden rants of a sleep paralysed specimen.

Curled up like a shrimp, I sleep
To the hush lullaby of distant winds.
Concealed under the diaphanous sheets,
A tranquil trance on my cradle neat.
The Teak door creaks, whines and moans,
A hard run breeze assaults her ribs.
Some rich gloss leaks from the orb of night,
And scantly veneers the floor inside.
An agile stir, my eyelids squint,
Loathing to stare the dead of night.
A swift slant at half open door, I curse
Intestinal fortitude. Damn, what I see !
Cold sweat trills, down the temple raps,
Feet teetering on the brink of torpor,
Fingers fizzle, heart flounders and
The ball of fire in deep skull quavers.
A voluptuous form, beguiling indeed,
Strides onward,chanting an aria of her own.
Plopping down by my frosting knees, she strokes
my cheeks that stiffen with unease and terror.
The heaviness hikes, my forehead shudders.
Angst hidden underneath my flesh oozes,
With every diabolical shear upon my neck.
Shedding invisible tears at vain attempts
To gasp fresh air and gain a spoon of life.
Owning a latched body and a clamped mind,
A game, I am, to the ogre besides.
Decade back, she made a scene on a pitch dark night,
Sending bouts of dread down my choking throat.
All set to plunge her nails acute, 
to savour my vital body juice under the night tide.
It is she, again.

The confused soul got confused a little more..

Be careful what you wish for... I didn't quite believe in it until I met you. You were a dream come true, only fear being, could it indeed be a dream that would leave me shattered, once it is over.You showed me things that I didn't know existed, you showed me fractions of myself, that would have remained hidden forever. You surrounded me, engulfed me,completely shut me off from the external world.You touched me, No protests, no resistance, absolute surrender. You knew it would happen. didn't you??I was lost, in the truest sense of the word. Yet when you left  I felt nothing, possibly because I anticipated it.

Time spent with you would remain a frozen account in my memory bank. 

Don't you dare touch my books !

Dear Book Borrowers,

All these years, whenever you came to borrow books from my little growing library, I have never been reluctant to give. Sometimes, I gave the most precious ones(in terms of the work) even for indefinite periods. Today, you have driven me to make an awkward conclusion- I am not lending books anymore! Never again knock at my door with that smirky smile to hunt for books. It is downright distressing to see the way my books were treated under your sloppy and indifferent custody.

 Where is the lustre of the pale white pages ? Where are the razor sharp edges ? Where is the life that dwelled inside the cover ? What you have given me back looks like a dull, uncombed baby with broken spine.(Well, you did not even give it. I had to dig it out of your room.) Why don't you have an iota of decency in handling them ? They were given to you for the sole purpose of reading. They are neither pillows nor kitchen tables for you to crush and spill your favourite curry.

 If you think I am making a big fuss out of 'not a big deal' thing then please dump yourselves underneath a pile of rotten veggies and shattered glass and let me know how it feels. I am sorry. I am way too possessive of my books-my love and I do not give a damn if you are cussing me for such a boorish and impolite behaviour from my side. Books are my biggest wealth and I am not letting anyone steal or mutilate the accumulated treasure.

Don't you dare touch my books again!

Annoyed and irked,

Me.

Orange Lights and Serendipity

Some orange light sneaks through the blinds and highlights the little bottle of water lying on my table. The room is pitch dark except for the golden rays from the neon lamps that struggle to creep inside. It is not a steady beam of light but it flickers. Flickers to the rhythm of the cold winds that sway the blinds embracing the window panes. I turn around to look at the bottle of water more closely and it looks wonderful. The table is shaky and that adds mystique to the otherwise ordinary bottle of water. I see ripples. Ripples of gold and amber racing towards the wall of the bottle. Bubbles of air entrapped at the sides rise mellifluously in sync with the ripples. I see life. A life that was not noticed before. A life that was not appreciated before. A life that appears only to the keen eyes. The blinds tap to the tune of the howling winds. I get lost in the play portrayed in a casual yet elegant style. It feels like sitting all alone in a theatre and watching a mono act. The wind now settles for the drizzle to catch up. A mild drizzle that softly highlights everything on its way with a glitter and gently breaks into the skin of a little pool of water outside. They carry with them their own rhythm and this time, the active procession of golden waves retire to become inanimate once again.

Embryo Unallowed

Her clan swarm to party the day,

Cheers! she is in the family way.

Puddings and pastries fill her tray,

Softly she says hip hip hurray!

The day comes like a thundercloud,

Her kith and kin are no more proud.

For she bears an embryo unallowed,

A birth that will end under a shroud.

She will have rosy cheeks and a little chin,

So what? we won’t let her life begin.

She will do us proud, earn wings and win,

No,she is a burden, bringing pain and sin.

Words descend like pricks and stings,

She writhes on the bed and lowly sings,

A trite little verse for the unborn wings,

Apologizing for the heinous things.

She twitches and turns out of dying pain,

Little angel, she drowns in the void in vain.

Women, they think, put an extrinsic strain,

On humanity which is simple and plain.

I find bliss in solitude

I find bliss in solitude.
Sipping a cup of coffee
Or, tasting a caramel toffee.
Munching a bowl of peanuts
Or, lunching a sugary donut.

I find bliss in solitude.
Hearing the ticking old clock
Or, crushing little pieces of chalk.
Mending with my old, unused pens
Or, standing upside down till I count ten.

I find bliss in solitude.
Trekking through the mountain ranges
Or, resting next to country granges.
Riding in pretty luxury trains
Or, gliding around and flying planes.

I find bliss in solitude
Searching for the physics of light
In a lab that is far away from sight.
Penning down my thoughts day and night
Hoping for something big and bright.

I find bliss in solitude
Running away from mobs and herds
Or,hiding away from mortal girds.
Whisking off to a different altitude
And find my bliss in solitude.

Saturday afternoon Blues

On a lazy Saturday afternoon, I write this, with a random instrumental music playing in the background. It feels like the perfect time to reflect on my 23 years of existence on this planet. There are the few lucky ones who know what they want to do or at least pretend that they have always known their purpose in life. Then there are the others who know what they want, but are unable to live life in accordance to their wishes. Very unfortunate! Then there are others who do not know what they want from life, this is where I fit in.  I bet the majority of the population would belong here.

I went to school like every other kid, chose a subject to specialise for my under graduate degree and did my master’s as I was expected to. Then began looking for a PhD, am yet to find one. I found a job instead.  Growing up in a country like India doesn't give you a lot of choices, you are expected to do certain things and you do them without questioning.  I am expected to start working and so I will. I am to be blamed as well. I gave in to peer pressure, to make sure I fitted well with the crowd. Success as defined by the society, it unconsciously makes you look down on the people who don’t follow norms. These are real people who listened to their heart instead of bowing down to the societal pressures and come under the first class of people I described above. There are trail blazers in every field who took the road less travelled, I didn’t. It is terrifying to go against the tide. So here, I stand at the threshold of another new venture, unsure of what the future holds.  Will I ever find out what my passion is? A backpacking trip to Bhutan would probably set the ball rolling!!