Friday, December 31, 2010

a thousand butterflies

Caught between me and myself. I just want to throw something at the wall, and have someone there to witness it. For really, what is there to restless nights on empty stomachs and empty hearts? A nickel's worth of content is all I seek.

He breathes in her ear, unaware of what this simple act of unconsciousness does to her beating heart. She adores his hair most when he is asleep, the soft brown mess feeling like silk under her cool summer fingers. Mistakes and minutes later, he will apologize, and she will ignore him, but she knows she is already doomed. For her heart has been taken away from her in the dead of a foggy, thunderous night. Not a trace left behind, not a single clue. No ransom was asked for, no karma police contacted. That is the trick, you see. When destiny decides to show up in your life and twist your fate like it was made of ears...well, there's nothing to be done about that. No complaints, no alarms, and no surprises.

Monday, December 27, 2010


When the doctor told us he was dying, we didn't talk about it afterwards. Ever.
I still nestled in his adolescent militarily muscular arms, laughing at his haircut, his uniform, his acne, and the fact that he was mine. I would play with his Rubik's cube, and clean his glasses. We would sit in the sun on the terrace, drinking hot tea for our hot heads. Love was made like it was the last day on Earth.

The only thing that bothered me (and I did not speak to him of this) was how it would stay. All of it, everything all the time. His thick-rimmed glasses, my memory of his skin shining in the sun, the Rubik's cube. I bit my lip, and he would ask me where in the world I was. I didn't have the heart to tell him, I'd rather stay here forever, then move ahead (because forever does not exist, you see).

I'd be falling. Face up, back down, mouth sewn shut. If he left, (which he would), that is how I would feel. I'd be falling till I hit the bottom and escape.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

for hub X/ we knew right from the start.

young love: full of promise, full of hope.
ignorant of reality.

'she must think i'm crazy
i kinda think i like her
i kinda think i do.'

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

modern day Romantic

'We are the music makers
and we are the dreamers of dreams'

We drown our magic in wine that we fetched from the red rivers of our hearts. We run out like children of the forest, barefoot, running to grab the hidden moon. The trees are tall and bare, Mother is silent and resting till she is beautiful again. We dance, to music that keeps our backs straight and our heads fall off, unscrewed. Man invades us with his roads and parks.

Your lips are wet clay under my fingertips, I water them with my tongue, caress them into the shape I want them to be. You hold your elbows close to your body, I button up your sleeves so you don't feel threatened by me. We sit on a sinking sofa, and watch the moon go in and out of Nature.

Monday, December 13, 2010

are you a haiku?

every face that passed,
i thought
was not
but it was.

glow in the dark.

i was swimming in a memory today. colors were polaroid- ish, grainy, everything was simple. I was watching my mother not know how to swim, her yellow dupatta shriveled up, pleated hair in her face. She was gasping for breath in the green water, arms flailing, looking for my father. He was right in front of her though. I think that has always been their problem. They've always flailed their arms around, eyes closes, in search of one another, and they fail to see what is so close to them. In this memory, however, he catches her. She clutches on to his wet wife beater, he is laughing and pushing the hair away from her face. I take a picture.

Sunday, December 05, 2010