Monday, October 19, 2009

Secrets of Night / a small story

I was in bed steeping along with my husband and I don't know the time when I felt restless and got up and went to the computer to write to upload my blog a new story and poem.

In a few minutes i fully became engaged with my work and silence all around helped me write feverishly to cope up with my imagination which was like ricocheting bullet following the trajectory .............
There was rustling foot steps and it was my husband opening the door of the bathroom; forgetting myself again I went into my domain of imagination and typing the keyboard of laptop.
What is the fragrance  through the air rubbing my nostrils..........oh ..... smell of the toilet soap from the mat used by my maid in the kitchen.............. wafting through my room.
My husband is back in the bed.
My son's room silent ................. sleeping
He gets up very late.
Now time ?
oh around 5 0' clock.
well, daughter room light has never been switched off all night.
She is very disturbed... that is what i perceive from her conversation for the few days.
Is she happy really .....
I think 'no' is the answer.Ever since she was married I have never seen her comfortable.......some trouble in her activities and a shade of sorrow in her face.
For few days she has been dull.......
Besides she is in the family way......... eight months.
Normally switches off her bedroom lights by night 10 o' clock night..........but last  night not switched off.
She was talking with me yesterday about how people coming to think of ending their life and all........... I thought ,may be she is more intelligent to think in all perspectives, about life and life of others......
Oh God!!!!!!!!!

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Love's remains

There's no love in this mind
There's only the smoke from
the pyre of the mind
That was deserted by the Love.

My fate ever was to gather and burn
The  remains of  love
Thrown away by many.
I waited for the remains of love.

I burned the remains thrown out to me,
By those who ran to battlefield,
Those  who sneaked out to steal money,
Those who took the  evening walk,
Not attributing any sanctity to them.
How  free  I am!

Friday, October 16, 2009


Clouds, tell me
What are your scriptures?
Where do you go
With a fire in your head
Without standing in one place?
What are you trying to tell
As you run on a mission?
Cloud, are you a mirage?
Who taught you
To shower down the dreams?
What you do pull down
Are innards or the blood of bleeding hearts?
Are you alive or dead?