Dance With Me?

The nails I paint bright and red,

My dress too short, skimpy and fitting…

My chest heaving and my long tresses swinging!

I sway to the tune like a cobra charmed.

They lust for my body, look at my face,

Our eyes lock and they quickly look away.

Their meandering thoughts scream

Not a girl!

I say spare me from being a boy.

They call me transgender

And I spit, “I’m none.”

via Daily Prompt: None
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/none/

By The Brook

Chance had little part to play with my knowing this man I love, in the small town of our paddy field farmers. Such a pleasant boy he was. We danced in the barn, coyly sipped some wine and watched the night sky. He was happy here with me. Sealing our fate with a band in my finger. We built that house together on the outskirts of the paddy field. He made me a crown of roses and kissed my hands. Meandering thoughts of a meagre livelihood but bountiful tranquility calmed me.

He put his head on my lap as I sat by the brook collecting autumn leaves of maple. I told him about an angel on the way, we danced in the brook that day. The bush-fairies danced to our tune and made magic in the breeze.

Then, the sun rapidly left us. I sat alone by the brook. The wind sometimes brought me his love as it touched my skin. The pixies would often hum our tune and the water would just sadly moan.

It came! I saw him again with all the pretty innocence. But he would not sing to me. I took him to the brook and he would not embrace me. The magic here made our angel inside dance every time, I took his hand to feel and yet the euphoria I envisioned was amiss.

I sent a good man, hearty and whole; nonetheless, the war has sent back my man in a box. I sat by the brook as the fairies covered him up with maple leaves. I said goodbye and the sun forever set in my bliss.

 

IN YOUR MEMORY DADDY… (d.o.b 1963 d.o.d 2013)

I pick up my pen to write about you
But grief choke me up, Abba I miss you.
I close my eyes and let my imagination run,
Daddy is it you near me????
Kissing my forehead and telling me you love me??
“Sabrina, my princess…..”
I can hear you Abba calling me.

2013 the onset of a new year
And on the very first day it took you away from me.
Hordes of people thronged our doorstep,
Your students paid their last homage,
And I wish all that would bring you back to me.

Relatives I barely remember told me your tales
With a smile on their lips and tears in their eyes;
You were a man gifted by Athena
And carved by Aphrodite herself
You were intelligent beyond words
And handsome beyond measure, they all said.
It was nothing but true and to that I agree.

You so loved animals and brought home even a monkey,
Not to mention our dog, those love birds and
Even a python that scared the hell out of everybody.
You were a man of the most impressive decree
And I am proud that you are my daddy.

Just a whiff of you is not enough
This is not how our lives were supposed to be.
Its been 13 years since I last saw you,
I want to take it all back, above all I want ‘you’ back;
Although fate has dealt its cards
And its cruel and its harsh,
I shall never stop hoping,
I shall never stop praying
That the river flows back,
The flowers becomes buds
And I go back in time to save you Abba
And keep you safe in my arms….

I LOVE YOU ABBA AND SHALL FOREVER REMAIN YOUR LOVING DAUGHTER
MAY YOUR SOUL REST IN PEACE!

 

Mommy Woes

I love my kid. He is the center of my universe and sometimes I just want to ship him off to another planet.

I don’t know about most mothers but they say you know the meaning of true love only when you hold your baby for the first time. I felt no such thing. Maybe when a woman pushes out a baby from her vagina she is more relieved about the fact that the end of the world as she experience a while ago was over than the happiness of holding her new born. Or maybe some women are overwhelmed by the new life they created and they feel the instant surge of pure divine love. Whatever it maybe, the first was more true to my case.

New born babies are not supposed to be cute and I thought the same for my son. A red baby with peeling skin, squawking, puking, peeing and drinking milk all the time came into my life five years ago. I looked at him once and I didn’t feel that he was mine. After a few minutes I asked my mother to show him to me once again praying that at least this time round I feel the connection, but again I felt nothing.

As this little creature began to grow on an everyday basis I was fascinated at the changes it brought. The first spark of motherhood came when I first fed him. His hungry little mouth happily feeding on my bosom and I felt content; I have done something right after all.

My son, by the time was a few months old, became the cutest thing in the world (for me at least). His chubby cheeks, red lips drooling with a little saliva that makes you go aww, his plump little frame and his almost bald fair head, his gurgling and cooing sounds and the instant smile that appeared on his face every time he saw me; late night diaper changes, constant feeding, taking a bath with the doors open and making strange cooing sounds myself, made a mother out of me.

Now with him gradually growing up and the demands of our competitive society I have to make him perfect. But does he ever make it easy for me? No. Never. After a long hectic day at work, I come home to be greeted with his affectionate embrace and a bag of complaints from my maid about all the mischief he was up to that day. The more I try to straighten out his future the more crooked he gets. He would scream all day, play all day, goof around all day, and not listen to most of the things I ask of him. I saw my sweet little baby becoming more like Loki everyday and I felt drained.

Sometimes, just sometimes one wishes to come home to a clean house and sip a cup of coffee in silence, but that my dear friends will never be. Off late he has developed the habit of irritating me on purpose and it takes all my will power to stop my hand from whacking him hard. And pray some guests arrive; he will be at his horrible best. Peace in my house was as realizable as finding life on Mars.

I hated it all and I hated myself for hating it. I would go from loving to annoyed, transpose to fierce and finally self-reproach. I would beat myself up with torturing thoughts about being a bad mother. I love him, oh heaven knows I love him but most of the time I’m just annoyed with him. I seem to like him best when he is asleep and I can just kiss him and love him and marvel about how wonderful it would be if he was this angelic all day.

I was on the verge of a mental breakdown when my mom’s visit changed my perspective. She wisely acknowledged my predicament and soothed me with her pearls of wisdom. She bluntly disclosed that I was no different, nevertheless, the fact that I was so charged all the time was proof of the fact that I was healthy. Very soon one day, this kid of mine would grow up and these memories are all that would remain. I may not like it now but I would reminiscence and weep over it in no more than a few years from now. She lovingly looked into my eyes and said, “In you I see the only perfect thing I have done with my life and that comes with all the baggage of your past mayhem, sweetheart”. These prudent words of advice have given me insight and joy and made me realise the blessings received. Every new mom out there knows how hard it is but somehow we always sail through.

The wonders of being a mom is a road with many bumps but I am sure that I will somehow reach the finish line with a smile of victory and a dollop of gratification. There is after-all, a silver lining behind every dark cloud.

All hail the wonderful enduring mothers wearing my shoes! Amen!

 

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/prudent/
via Daily Prompt: Prudent

Until Later

I was lost in the bliss of serendipity,
The whole wold an accolade of your love.
Our devotion was all so blissful and heavenly,
It soared pure and high and true like the dove.

Somewhere in between I abandoned the boat;
Confused and can’t deny, utterly immature,
Bewitched and confounded by a strange allure,
I jumped into the ocean and struggled  to stay afloat.

I was tossed and turned by a storm of deception;
All a blur or just a figment of my imagination?
I managed to rise and fall and rise again
And just a devilish voice that from you I must abstain.

Yes, we have grown in our own harsh ways,
Yet weeping in memory of our sweet days.
I’m sorry, darling and it’s been years now:
We have ended it, we broke our vow.

I made a mistake,yes i took a wrong turn,
The misery of a thousand years has just begun.
The grief and despair strangles and chokes me,
My life now is all but depression and melancholy.

Nothing can change, we wish and can’t turn back time.
I know hoping to be with you now is a crime
But I want u to know and i want you to remember
I shall always love you and forever miss you,
Withstanding the test of time, Cupid has destined our together.
Forevermore, our innocent love is always by far greater,
But till then, darling it’s  until later.

via Daily Prompt: Later
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/later/

The Kitchen-Rekha

via Daily Prompt: Territory
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/territory/

The pungent aroma of her achars (pickles), Mrs. Barua sniffed the jar and gave it a swirl. Yes, its coming along nicely, they always do. Just a few more days in the sun and it will be ready to devour. She is smiling, oh and humming a tune, well today is a special day after all. Mrs. Barua is going to show the colleagues of Mr. Ankush Barua what a great cook she is. The promotion party of her man starts in just a few hours. Tut-tut, no time to waste.

The meat has been nicely marinating, now to put them in the oven. Probably the cakes have cooled down too, frosting is in order. Oh Mrs. Barua loves doing this! She is like a magician with her piping bag and nozzles. Three hours of constant labour, the attention to detail and voila! Everyone is sure to admire her work of art. Moving on, she whisks and stirs, bakes and grills, meanwhile, time decides to run marathons. The dessert needs to chill a while, Mrs. Barua puts the panna cotta in the freezer and then buzz goes the bell.

Mr. Ankush Barua looks disapprovingly at his wife. The house is in a mess, “My God woman! What have you been doing all day? The guests will start arriving any moment now. Is this your way of humiliating me? (Naak katwana chahti hain mera logo ke samne?)”

Oh no time to loose! Mrs. Barua zooms around the house sweeping like a pro, the dishes have been completed in record time. “Chai!”, Mr. Ankush Barua commanded while flicking through the channels. She lays the food out on the dining table and makes the tea.

Setting the tea on the table, Mrs. Barua now decides to clean herself up. She takes a few steps when the bell rings again. “Oh Lord! The guests have already arrived. No time to freshen up now, I have to attend them.”

Mrs. Barua was a good host. They all ate to their hearts content and before leaving congratulated Mr. Ankush Barua again on his promotion. Shutting the door he looks at his wife and says, “The party was a success, they all admired the house and genuinely seemed to be happy about my promotion. It has certainly been a long day. I think I deserve a good long sleep. You can fetch me a glass of milk.”

Mr. Ankush Barua heads for the bedroom and Mrs. Barua to the kitchen. Its almost midnight and a lot of dishes to be scrubbed. The MBA topper of her university, Mrs. Barua warms the milk and sighs as she resigns to her territory.

Fallen

“Within the bowels of these elements,

Where we are tortur’d and remain forever.

Where we are is hell, and where hell is,

There must we ever be.” ~ Mephostophilis

 

I lie awake at night, contemplating all the choices that I know I made wrong.

I had everything and yet I had nothing, nothing to make me see the darkness that had shrouded my vision. Now, I look around and all I find are voices telling me to die, die a horrible death.

 

Looking back at time turned, I see an innocent girl smiling from the pictures taken not long ago. I hate myself now, I hate what I have become. Didn’t I have everything? What more was I seeking then? Why did I not see what I was doing then? All questions with no answers, just a fake slapped on smile to carry on.

 

The truth is, we actually are in hell. There is no such thing as heaven above and hell below, this ACTUALLY IS HELL! Sometimes I think maybe God never made us, else would there have been so much of sadness? I know this is a pretty controversial thing I am pointing at right now but I do not intend to stir up any kind of agnosticism, it’s my point plain. Satan cooked us all up so He could watch us all play puppeteer to his grand show. Who on earth would you ever consider truly happy? Some say the rich while others say the sages. Are you kidding me? No one in this godforsaken place is happy. Even the new born babe is in acute pain and surprise about what is happening around it. So to sum it up, we are all in some sort of torment and torture.

 

Why do we even live then? Well, we do because we are given glimpses of happiness to tempt us to live on. God does not give us that momentary happiness; Satan does, so He could coax us into this façade called life. If so ever there is a God then we the souls on earth have been thrown from wherever this paradise of heaven is into the bowels of hell, which we call home. We are the fallen angels as well and earth is our hell.