She opened one eye
To find him wrapped around her body and mind.
His breath hot on her neck,
And the slow rise and fall of his chest
In sync with hers.
Careful not to disturb his
Carefree slumbering self,
She silently fought with the tangled mess
That was their limbs.
She set herself free and
Slowly turned to watch his face
As he slept on unaware
Of the loving gaze grazing his face.
She landed a soft kiss
On his forehead, ever so carefully,
To find him pull her closer to him
And hold her a prisoner
Of his limbs again.
Meet me at that distant shore
Where sun kisses the ocean,
And we shall walk a few more miles
I skipping along to your
Waves lapping at our feet
As the wind whips my hair around,
And you tell me
Your story in silence
To which I supply my own
Punctuations of silence.
Many a mile we walk and then stop
Only to walk back in the same silence
Our feet dragging more and more
Till at last we reach
The fork of roads;
You choose a way that I don’t
And we walk the parallel roads
With hopes of converging again
At some distant shore.
You whispered in my ears
As I stood with my back against the wall
In the pouring rain
The wetness of your lips still on me
Air in, air out
It seems difficult
With my mind on a free rein
And my body on fire.
I reminded myself
As I stood again in the downpour
And bid you goodbye
The look of hurt on your face
Burning an imprint on my mind
Air in, air out
It still is difficult
With my mind focused
And my heart turned to ice.
I whisper to the fire inside me
As flames lick my mind slowly
Like a lover seducing his beloved
Unravelling it bit by bit
Tug after tug
Until my mind is reduced to nothing
But burning embers.
Waves crash on the shore,
Foam forming anklets
As I tread through the water
Which you delight in capturing
As you walk beside me,
Camera hanging around your neck.
The red of the sky,
Slow rumble of approaching rains,
And the scent of soil
Wafting towards us,
I look at your smiling face
As the first drop of rain
Hits my face.
A little trickle
That you trap between your lips
As you pull me closer.
You kiss my lips
As the shower descends upon us
And we are left standing
On this empty beach.
He wandered among clouds and mountains
His soul, a dragonfly
Soaring in the sky,
Seen yet unknown
An enigma to all.
He flits and flies in meadows and rivers,
He never tires.
The world sees him
A lone wolf,
The vendor of smiles,
And never knows
The throes of his heart,
The gypsy he is and
The gypsy he lives.
A chipped cup
Is all I have,
A souvenir of our days together
Laughing, loving, fighting.
Three years like three days,
Time sweeping by
Like the cool breeze
That ruffles your hair
In the pictures I had.
I’m still unsure
What made us go
From bestfriends to strangers –
Was it the new girl?
Or was it my new-found love
(Which you made me confess)?
I bared my heart to you
And yet you played soccer with it.
She always reminds me of chai and cigarettes
Best had hot
And till the last dregs.
Chai and cigarettes-
The constant companions
As we sat on the balcony
Her head on my chest,
My arms around her,
Our bodies damp from
The rain drops that wind flecked at us.
Her ripped jeans and hair
The colour of flame
Drew eyes wherever we went.
When they saw us together
People often asked me
“How did a demure, sanskari girl like you end up
With someone like her?”
To her it was always
“Ditch that chick, let’s have some fun!”
Chai and cigarettes
Were always found
When we were around.
She’d always offer her cigarette to me
As I stood drinking my chai
And I would always decline.
Then she would say,
“Don’t be such a pussy”,
And I would smile.
On that balcony as she lay in my arms
Afraid to speak her fears,
I would say back at her,
“Don’t be such a pussy”,
And she would smile
Through the torrent of tears.
As we lay on that balcony
Drenched from rain,
My hands would trace the scars
On her alabaster skin
Which none but I knew,
The places where she had bled
Her anger, depression and pain.
When her skin was ripped more than her jeans
I took her to people who could stitch her up.
The day she left
I sat down and wept
For I had lost
More than most.
She still calls me once in a while
From her home, far away
And we have chai and cigarettes
Like we did.
I’m really sorry but it’s never gonna work between us.
Trust me, it’s not you. It’s me.
To be honest,
I was on a rebound from your cousin Latte
And searching for 3 ingredient recipes
When I met you on Instagram.
And my god, you looked so gorgeous
Whipped up and sweaty.
Your pictures were drool worthy!
I knew I was not in your league
You being so popular and all (Duh!)
But when some of my friends told me to check you out
I really couldn’t help it.
I’m a human being after all!
I know I had to fight with all my strength to get you.
Heck! I even gave up my right arm for you
But we both know this is not going well.
I guess I can never stand strong ones
And you always give me headaches.
So, I guess this is where we part ways…
Please don’t be upset.
If it’s any consolation for you
I’ll confess something that even Latte doesn’t know.
I’m a chai-lover!
When I was born into the cold and dark December,
They who wanted a boy cried in anguish
When I had bob and wore shorts and played with boys,
When my clitoris clenched in the hands of a stranger on the bus,
When I spoke for myself and stood my ground,
They shouted at me
When I paid no heed to words hurled at me,
They began to fear
I am a പെണ്ണ്. So what?
My femininity is just another mantle
Which I may or may not choose to wear.
Which does not rest in boobs n thighs
And doe-like eyes.
It does not rest in my lipstick or nails,
My hair or lack of it.
It definitely doesn’t rest on your prick
For fuck’s sake!
So what if I’m not good at chores
But excel at the job I chose?
My skin can be white or black or brown
But my mind may be fifty shades of grey (pun intended)
For all you know.
Who are you to decide
What makes me a പെണ്ണ്?
Because I honestly have never figured it out myself!
If there’s one thing I know for sure, it is this –
I know all that I am.
I am crazy, happy, depressed, excited, lonely, exuberant
And a mess
Of hormones, feelings, thoughts and god knows what else!
I know this –
I am Me
And not just പെണ്ണ്.
Pancakes and honey were his favourite.
When he asked me to make it for the first time,
I had to watch a youtube tutorial several times to get it right.
When he asked the second time,
I was prepared.
Thereafter, our sunday mornings smelt of
Freshly made pancakes and coffee.
Once I asked him why pancakes and honey
And as I watched his boyish face fill with a naughty smile
He said, why not when its my honey who makes the pancakes.
Inspite of the heat rushing onto my face
He planted a kiss on my cheeks.
The pancakes were soft, fluffy and sweet
Like him, I would tease.
But it was not so every day.
There were days when it was not so sweet.
Somedays it would be watery,
And rock hard on others.
No matter how they turned out to be
Sundays meant pancakes and honey.
After five years of this ritual,
I needed a change
Because the sweet was becoming too much for me,
He could never understand why.
Soon it was just him eating pancakes
While I ate something else.
Slowly, the pancakes began to vanish from my life.
And he followed.
Even now, everytime I see pancakes and honey
His face floats to my mind
And I regret not making him pancakes
The day I left the house
And he asked for the last time.