Poem Untitled

I wish tears were not salty,

I could have filled mine in half litre bottles

stamped 100% natural and sold them at cool bars

Chilled tears.

My tears would at least have had the value of mineral water.

I cry too much they say

when I ought to be more careful not to screw things up.

“Crying won’t make people wise”,

they advice.

I think of those princesses,

bewitched damsels in distress in the Arabian tales,

who had tears that turned into pearls, rubies and rose buds.

They cried, filling the royal coffers,
Ironically, nations and empires have always thrived on tears.

But people have got problem with my speech too.

My tongue wags too much, they say.

“You thank people unnecessarily”

“You chatter to strangers”

“You never stop”

“You don’t know what to say and what to keep vaulted in your stupid heart”

“You always justify yourself”

“You spit poison”

“Shhh… shhhhh!

I no longer see any use for this four inch, flapping, boneless pink.

So what if I cut it,

dice it nicely,

pickle it and bottle it with a sticker that says,

“finest tongue, handpicked and pickled to suit your taste”

I would pack it well and even tie a red satin bow neatly on it.

Then I would come before you, with a bleeding mouth tiding with red waves,

I would come before you, offer my tongue pickle and smile,

Would you like that?

"Give it an understanding, but no tongue" Hamlet (1.2.249)

What is silence? Silence is that which is misunderstood the most. Silence is that which is insulted the most. Is silence the absence of words? No! Silence is when my mind speaks the loudest, clearest and fullest.

I am a raging sea of thoughts when I listen to you silently. But you stamp my silence as submission, agreement, compassion, empathy or resentment, revolt, arrogance or sorrow. My silence may mean any of this or none. Perhaps all. But you would never understand my silence as I can never understand yours.

Silence is always best when it is left unarticulated. Tongue is the most unreliable medium to speak the mind. Much is lost in every speech.

Is silence the absence of action? No! So let the minds hum their own music. Let the battle of thoughts begin. Let us respect silence. Let us not belittle it by naming it. Let us not silence silence.

I am sorry for the times I interrupted your silence. I am sorry for the times I insulted your silence. As for the times I misunderstood your silence, I can feel sorry only for myself for there is no way I can truly understand your silence, I can only make speculations.

"Silence is ascetic in the sense that purifies the word, and mystic in the sense that creates communion" - J. K Maurus

One Day at a Time (Flash fiction)

You are not mistaken. This is the house you are looking for. Come in.

You look amazed! Is it these dead clocks? It is one of my husband's little quirks. He never fixed a dead clock; always bought a new one instead. He let them all hang on the wall like a joke. “Clocks are pretty things,” he used to say, “but is time really tethered to their hands? Time goes on even when clocks stop ticking. Nothing mirrors the passage of time better than we ourselves”.
People fear time and respect age. I regard neither. A brown, bleeding evening, my friend and I murmured in the sickening silence of the school lavatory, I learnt that grey hairs have little to do with respect. She told me how her drunken father loved her by night. She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to hide in the toilet that night and every night since that. She said love is disgusting and painful. I wonder where she hides now.

I married the man who made most sense to me. He was a poet. He made no empty promises or pompous claims. He was someone who weighed his words well. Of course, my parents couldn't understand when I told them that I cannot be with anyone else. All they saw was that he was twice my age. Is it ominous to dream about death on your own wedding day?

Many a spring passed. He aged before my eyes. Once he asked me what I would do if he died. Both of us knew the world will move on. We lived moment by moment. I cajoled time to be kind on him. I should have known that if love was blind, time was deaf. Today, here I am among these dead clocks with only his silence to share this room.

Some lock themselves up in the prison house of memories, either good or bad; some get lost in the mirror maze of dreams. But all of us are inevitably captives of time. And we age fighting with it till death comes and bails us out. I am… no, it doesn’t matter. I am someone you met one day, at a time.

Mary Magdalene (Flash Fiction)

What is the tallest? Pride. What is taller than that? Hunger.

What is the loudest? This roaring sea. What is louder than that? The Mind.

What is the most frightening? Death. What is more frightening than that? To be hated by everyone.

I can’t remember when I started running. It has been months and years and I lost count. All I remember is that they were very angry. They flung stones at me and called me a harlot. They had had sweet tongues when they visited me at night. How can you make love to someone and hate them at the same time?

They ran me to the end of the world and now I am met with the sea, its boiling rage and blinding sun.  I collapsed into its golden lap. Strangely I could smell my mother’s perfume. It was my favorite fragrance till the stench of shabby currencies sedated me. Hunger blinded me like a huge wall and my pride was dwarfed. I stooped to flesh.

I want to go back to my mother’s womb…

Suddenly I heard a voice like a thousand thunder bolts striking at once. For a while silence swallowed the world. I heard retreading steps. Stones kissed the earth in apology. That moment, I knew I met with the sea of love.

About Words, Accidents, Love

"Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, often violently, just like love." Words are not very different either. All the three can turn our life around, make it bitter or better. Nevertheless, they are meant to be. Here you can read a bit of what goes through my mind, what I see through my coffee brown marbles.. Yes, its a climb into my skin. As one of my professors said "Our uniqueness is our only right to live," and my uniqueness is my only right to write..

I am a literature student who enjoys movies, music, anime and every single wonder in the world. I am a foodie and love to travel. My dream trip is a get away to Italy.

Like someone who knew the worth of words said:

"My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety."

Happy Reading!