Smeared Red

Pretty smelling cream on my cheek,

Glossy paint decorating chapped lips.

A streak of black,

To sharpen my glance’s attack,

Earrings and bangles,

My hair falls in beautiful shambles,

The saree draped,

Like icing on a cake,

A practiced smile on place,

Smoothening tears with powder on face.

I am ready, my conscience freed.

Time to satisfy lecherous greed.

Awakening

It’s a dark narrow corridor, both the sides lined with closed doors. I walk to the nearest and open it. The walls are of a motley of color, shifting between grey and blue and yellow, marred by pictures; pictures of a smile, of some tears, of a mother and an empty cradle. Its a mad, pleasing random change of the colors. I walk out. 

Another room. Trophies. The head of the woman I hated, the blood still fresh, dripping from where the rest of the neck should have been. A bench along the right wall is adorned with glass jars. I see eyes; eyes which had longed for me with carnal desires. I see tongues, which have tasted me, and then lashed at me. And there are the fingers, oh the sweet caressing fingers of that loved one, whose head now graces the bloody mantle. I like this room. I touch the wall and feel the wetness I relish so much. I smile as I smell the blood in my hand. I flick my tongue and taste it. The blood still tastes fresh.

 The room beside is locked. I try pushing the door open, but it doesn’t budge. I give up and try the other one. Its door is slightly ajar. I peek in, it’s dark. My fingers fumble on the wall to search for a switch. Found it. The room lights up. It is a mellow light, a light that reminds me of a sunny warm afternoon. There's the sound of rushing stream, and the running wind is trying to wound me as I rush ahead of it. There's the tree and chirps of the baby birds. A speeding stone and perfect aim and some pained, final chirrups. I remember my younger brother being pissed about it. Happy memories. I linger a bit in the room and after a few moments, find myself in the corridor again. I look at the entire length and I can’t count the number of doors I see. I look back, and vaguely I am amazed at the hundreds and thousands of doors crossed already. There's a sound, a dull thud. Another thud. A steady beat. The loudness increases as I walk to the unopened source. Eager fingers push open the door. It’s all black. No fragment of light nor darkness exists. The absence of everything. A living, breathing, inviting black. I walk inside. The door closes behind me.

The crescendo erupts monumentally. People yelling with joy. A cacophony of loud war cries, of roars of lions and bears, and screams of monkeys, and more drums. Millions of drums. Someone screams, “Lanka is saved. We have nothing more to fear”. 

Time to end a dream.

Kumbhakarna awakes.

My Glasgow Smile

They said it would be easy,

As easy as breathing‘s supposed to be,

Stretching a few muscles, to banish all pains,

A dose for a day, a few more to keep sane.

For Mother declared she was worried ,

And it displeased Father to see me lost;

My friends lovingly mobbed around me,

And over charred emotions, my smile embossed.

And I smiled as life rolled on,

I smiled at its mandates and jargons,

I smiled for the days to end,

I smiled for it is easy to pretend.

And I thought --

May be shadows do lighten the dark.

And bullets fly, for they love the beating heart.

But I feel them now, closing in,

See their fingers and arms stretched,

The corners of my mouth twitch uncomfortably,

And my blood boils for selfish carnage.

Some hold my lips,

Some pull my chin,

They spread my mouth

To a hideous grin.

My eyes pop out,

Something quietly dies,

I face the world,

With my Glasgow smile.

"..Till Death Do Us Part"

The look on your face when u opened the door

Made my heart glow, bright as gold.

I missed u too my love, oh yes,

And I m back now, thanks to God’s grace.

I walked in as u hastily stepped back,

The distancing years has made u shy,

I bared my teeth and smiled with love,

And you pierced the night with your cry.

I couldn’t wait and eagerly neared,

My arms stretched to hug you;

One fell with a thud,

Blame the rotting joints;

And you ran upstairs,

Your blood ice cold blue!

I followed hence, and broke the door,

My darling why u stay away?

Look, the casket wood wasn’t enough strong,

And keep our at bay.

I went to fix the cobwebbed hair,

And remove the rot and flesh on my drape,

But the girl in the saloon couldn’t hear,

While she made her hasty escape.

But surely love you don’t care all that,

I can see your face paled with surprise.

I promised I would come back whatever happens

For my affections are truer than lies.

Aren’t you happy to see me now?

Has your love died with my soul?

But this body and heart still yearns for you,

The body you loved, to kiss and hold.

Remember those days of sunny noon,

The air drunk with the scent of tulips,

Us as one, and forgotten worlds

Warms embraces and feeding lips?

So why won’t you kiss me today my love?

My burning passion isn’t dead.

Or do the worms wriggling out of my mouth

Make you sick instead?

Quiet Rampage

Leaves, full green (oh so bright)!

Fulfilling nature’s youth,

Patterns, beautiful and graceful,

Fleeting breach of Time’s truth.

The sighs of a painter’s arm,

Weaving fingers ache,

Sleepless lamps of an artisan,

Some sellers sweat of waste.

Verdurous, exquisite,

Now embellishes graceful drapes:

Lifeless, artificial,

Painted on some corner vase.

Meant to last,

Like memories,

Providing harrowing solace.

In gloomy nights of ardent memories,

I see these arching patterns.

I find the leaves of spring,

When the curtains are swept aside,

For the morning sun to gleam.

Leaning from a bridge, the raging river below,

I had learned to fall, but not to rise;

My mortal feet lead me to the crowded street,

I m not airborne, but there is solitude, where inebriant lies.

I, with my finite self, stand

Wounded – with dreams,

Wounded – with hope,

Wounded – by a glimpse.

I walk in a sunny avenue,

Shaded, comforted by the foliage,

I look up, smile at the red and blues,

Plethoric, soft and sweet.

It has rained, but no rainbows in the horizon,

The wait is over.

Tears have stained the fancies,

And there is nothing to recover.

The untouched flowers look at me and smile,

I will dream of them tonight.

I, My Friend and "IT"

And I wonder time and again, what can destroy a perfect friendship. Here you are, best “bros over hoes” with your best matey, planning to take over the world, strutting like big shots, an breakable thread of steal tying the friendship together; no room for distrust or doubt, no space for anger, just the cool sea of mutual understanding. What a relationship!! Bravo! Beats everything else. I mean, seriously, a drink and some random gabble with your pal, is so much cooler and better than any romantic date, even if it is fully paid, with complimentary gifts..!! But then, gods laugh, and our evil dead twin’s spirit laughs with them, and then out of the blue, one fine day, your friend shows you something cool, something sleek, something really (pardon my language) sexy, something which you had been planning to get for yourself for a long while, only he gets it first.

Jealousy is a bitch. If jealousy could be packaged and injected via some serum, that would be killing more microbes, hell, even cancer cells, faster than anything else!! Man! The way it makes u feel is just downright astonishing! You know it’s not right, and still it makes you feel so good, it almost makes killing over a trivial issue justified. And because it feels so warm and comfy to plan destroy the friend’s end and smile than secret I-hate-you-you-son-of-a-(pardon the language again)-bitch smile whenever he is around, that u don’t even bother getting rid of it. And then one fine day, you see that that friendship is no longer there. The continuous snaps at the besty’s jokes (‘cause now you can’t laugh at his jokes anymore as he has become the enemy), the regular hangouts cancelled, new ones, with new “bros-worse-than-hoes” taking their places, and no more replying back to texts, all took you slowly to the vanishing point. And poof, it’s not there.

May be, some day you do get the thing which initiated the very elaborately diabolical and evil process, may be u don’t. but the obvious question is, of course, did you get your revenge on your friend?? Nah! Not that.  The question is, was it worth the friendship..

(Personally, I think it was, but then again, it might be my evil dead twin’s ego speaking.)

Waking Up from the Longest Sleep

Moments, ornamented with emotions.

Emotions ranging from tears to lust,

Emotions, as dry as dust,

Blowing in the wind, as a contagious virus.

Open your mouth

Let all the words out.

Emptiness inside.

Light as the air,

Free of hope or despair,

Decrees defied.

Going beyond everything touched or perceived,

To something craved, never received.

Not overrated peace,

Nor the pretty thorn of love,

Nor the indefinable happiness,

Freedom from shackles of the known.

Immunity from culture’s drone.

While truth looks with unblinking eyes,

Escape beyond the vast bright skies.

My love drowned me in a sea of hate

And I couldn’t find my way of escape.

In an empty room, I look at the walls unscratched,

As I sharpen my nails on my heart.

I can see myself where I wanted to be,

I can see how deep this differentiating gorge is,

I take a jump towards eternity,

Hands outstretched,ready to seize

I fall, the inevitable fall

The exponential drop from the vanishing top

I answer nature’s final call.