The Frozen Tree

Do look beyond the frozen tree

There's sunshine a li'lle, I think..

Or maybe just broken glass

Smiling with every blink..

Do look beyond its ugly knots

The russet cracks and the scoops

There are treasured pains, Linking arms..

Bronzed in friendly loops..

Do look beyond its leafless shrug,

Its stare..

Its toothless grin..

There are unshed tears,

Resting in peace..

In the cradle of thoughtless sin..

Lovers robed in leaves of passion

Of Autumn frolics and fun..

Leaving behind forbidden love

Naked beneath the sun..

Pirates of the lonely coasts

Robbing the shelter of the tree -

Draped in hues of earthly pleasures

And the mystic lull of the sea..

Burnt, broken.. but still alive

With secrets buried deep -

It stays awake through endless dreams..

Just so, I can sleep..

Look beyond the frozen arms

Where I survive unseen..

A solitary bud in the crest of death,

A hope that keeps it green..

Vexed

loving the unknown..

at times all of us wonder and often wander around things that are inevitable and often out of imagination.. why didn't he turn back? maybe coz i didn't remind him of women he loved all this while or maybe there was no marigold on my feet.. i have often felt like the wrong cinderella .. the glass shoe didn't fit my otherwise beautiful and delicate feet.. 

or maybe i didn't remind him of all those beautiful women in red sarees that have often caught his eyes.. i had always adorned the simple never the extravagant.. but is that a flaw? my mind thinks not.. but my heart still corrects the unknown..

or maybe the scent of my hair doesn't lure him to feel intoxicated... 

or maybe.. he has loved enough..

and i have just begun..

And she fell...

why the beginning?

she has often wondered why everything in the end is called the "beginning".. she has often wondered who wrote all those words that she always wanted to hear? she often wondered when was it that she realised that she felt all those words she wanted to hear.. she often wondered how she always managed tears and laughter at the same instance when she recalled those words over and over again....

it had been difficult to embark on realisation but it had been so easy.. painfully easy to feel happy... she had imagined someone beautiful, someone clever and funny and someone she could own.. almost like some character whom she had read about in books.. stories.. evidence of the unreal.. but she still dreamt on.. for someone perfect..all that in her mind remained untrue.. spoke out loud in her heart.. and she thought not of age.. of kind.. of caste.. of differences... she just embraced what seemed closest to her reality.. she closed her eyes and felt her heart squeeze in pain and she smiled.. for she felt human... she felt pain so deep inside that it could not be untrue.. and she glowed..

For she fell in love.........

The Preface

for the time being...

as more and more time has been spent on growing up.. I have often wondered how i have evolved as a being.. not much I assume but I can be wrong.. as I have been for so many years. To be honest, it took an enormous amount of courage and an overdose of the very popular and very famous American series "SEX and the CITY" to get me to start writing this blog.. inspired by age old gossip about men, men and more men, it wasn't very easy to just start stating facts about how I feel about relationships or gender equality being a myth but yes someone wise advised," writing helps you understand better!" 

and so I started writing as did Carrie Bradshaw.. though it was very honourably for the NEW YORKER, I am happy writing for myself and for all young women who care to read and vouce their opinions..

A child is either born a boy or a "woman".. yes , you read pretty well, a "woman".. there is no childhood neither are there brown paper packages tied up in  strings or blue satin sashes.. its all a dream dreamt long ago and an illusion which comes to a quick end as soon as puberty strikes.. especially menstruation..

but all said and done.. we hate, we cry , we curse, we lie.. and we love....... murderously...

The "OTHER" woman...

Kohl-lined eyes and a blue skirt

Sometimes even a dash of red,

And she was beautiful for one more night

Before the sun rose,torn, from her bed..

The mirror glared and the sunbeams scorned..

The skirt shed tears from where it hung,

The patches cried with heartbroken sobs..

The blue that had soothed, now stung..

She sat bare from dawn to dusk..

With only void feelings to lend,

of what remained throttled in sheets

Unwashed, untouched... unkempt..

She lived in the pleasure of his leisure

But perished when conscience begun..

The daily knocking on the door..

The door that his beloved did shun..

Motionless at the doorway of solitude,

She stood endlessly as if she'd been,

Lured in by the mirage of love..

Tumbling upon the sands of sin..

Trapped in what made her mark days,

Imprisoned where they spared none..

He is called "The Tragic Hero"..

While she remains.. "The Other Woman"..

Suicidal

The walls never close in..

The doors do not shut on their own..

Every other mistake, isn’t sin

Every other soul isn’t lone..

The waters aren’t always so deep

Words may be bottled , never tinned

Crimes don’t sweat out with every sleep

All candles don’t blow out with every wind..

I have lit a candle..

And I know not why..

It sways with every breeze

That caressed the mighty sky

It turns so pale at dawn

Even sees it blue

Golden yellow at noon..

On my face that simmers true..

It blends with the morning glow..

And dances in its rainbow light

But bathes in silver waves..

To soothe the ravenous night..

But I don’t feel its warmth anymore..

Just the cold breeze that sways its flames

The light hurts my eyes as they close

Against the burning blur of familiar names

The sun sets early in the blue

The clouds aren’t black, just grey..

Its more magic than pain..

For I feel suicidal today..

"The Night Train To Deoli"

um. well... this is sorta strange...

today in English class, we read "The Night Train To Deoli" by Ruskin Bond..

so this is what i thought after reading it.. i'll keep the tittle unchanged...

Posts and stations.. the dingy metal,

The empty vacant sigh..

The dust,.. the storm and the lonely train

Slowly whistling by

"BAskets!!Baskets!! Its strong fine cane..."

I still remember her cry

I still remember the haunting smile

When the train kissed the station good-bye..

Her hands shook when she held my dream..

Of making our songs rhyme

Her eyes glistened with unspoken words

That i wanted to tell her just one more time..

She said she would wait

But i can't find her now..

I just live with the resounding lack..

There's a question unanswered,

Whether it was love or not..

For which i keep coming back?

Its a fantasy,

I nurture inside..

A dream i pretend i can see..

I wish this mirage..

Could come alive,

And i could see her waiting for me..