26 March, 2011

आज मेरे पिया घर आवेंगे

She stood very still. The sun had taken up demonic proportions, staring her will into submission. It drained her soul to stand under him, drops of hope drying up before they formed. Her anklets clinked cheerlessly in meek desperation. The lifeless blue sky was unforgiving, a passive audience to her helplessness. She watched a parched bird flap its wings, slowly. And willed it to die before her. The heat swelled to unbearable proportions, she sweat her angst, rivulets streamed down her back. Clenching her teeth she droned on. Another blade of grass collected, another desolate mile covered. A thorn hurt her weary feet but she couldn't find it. Dust clothed her thirsty body, its stale breath stifling her earthy odour. Her lips no longer knew the song her heart desperately sang. The desert had robbed her of her voice. Once more she stood at the tiny window looking up at the cloudless blue. Not even a breath of a breeze. 

Then one day the winds blew a moist rumour her way. Her hopes writhed in wild anticipation, her heart was pregnant with anticipation. She clasped the window tightly, her sweat drenched clothes sticking to her legs.  Her calloused hands grew cold with nervousness. Her soul fluttered as her eyes scanned the arid horizon for tell-tale signs. She walked out, sniffing the wind, and saw the bird. It was gasping, its pleading eyes begging her for release. She picked up a stone. Flat and large, it was hot from the sun's relentless onslaught. She looked once again at the silent sky and then at the bloody eyes of the bird. Her bangles chattered noisily, disapproving of what she was about to do. As she lifted the stone, suddenly so heavy, her tired muscles complained. The thorn still hurt and she gasped slightly. Then it fell. The first warm drop. The stone fell away from her hands. Her senses, aroused by the wayward drop, soaked in the mercy. And then the rain poured, a fury of love unleashed from the skies. The drops were grey and fierce now. Possessing her in their uncontrolled passion. She lifted her face up to the untamed wrath, surrendering herself completely. The bird squawked, forgotten in her ecstacy. 

मेरी सखी मंगल गाओ री
धरती अम्बर सजाओ री
उतरेगी आज मेरे पी की सवारी
अरी कोई काजल लाओ जी
मोई काला टीका लगाओ री
उनकी छवि से लगूं मैं तो प्यारी  

As the water moistened her fractured hopes, she released herself. Mirth robbed her senses of reason. She drank some rain, tasting its tender sweetness. Her body now reeked of the maniacal scent of happiness. Her feet swayed, the thorn forgotten. The dust settled down, cowering against the might of the rain. Its defeat smelt sweet. She crinkled her nose playfully and gulped another heartful. She clutched at the rain and soaked her dreams. The bird was recovering now, she saw its dreary eyes show signs of reluctant life. Looking at it she felt a stab of sharp reproach in its eyes. "Why didn't you rescue me?" She sighed and held it to her bossom, breathing her life into it. And she wondered how much rain it would take to satiate her soul.

11 March, 2011

Mirror , mirror on the wall

I looked at her and it seemed perfect. The sparkle of love on the verge of being discovered. The novelty of discovering each others' nuances, each queer and personal. Her face lit up now, the fight of yesterday forgotten for the adventure today promised. She smiled and forgave, friends were on their way to lovers. She blushed and shrugged, trying to mask her real intentions. Flowery doodles crowded the margins, threading yellow daydreams into her thoughts. I watched her, she resembled laughter these days, and I jealously hoped for a bit of her happiness to rub off on me. I heard her whistle her contentment to the walls, I pensively counted her mirth, cruelly hoping to steal back a secret, I once knew so well. She sighed in her sleep, quaint little sounds of contentment that only a heart at rest heaves. My envy grew within me, fetid, green and swollen. 

She looked at me and whispered a silent prayer of longing. The glow of love realised and taken pride in. She quietly counted the ravages of love on my face, the beauty and the scars all moulded out of a story oft repeated. From her vantage point of illusionary proximity, she saw my heart. It was purple in its perverse purity. It was full. Of love well-earned, of promises well-kept, of hurt well-healed, of warmth held tight. She greedily read my eyes and  longed to know why they smiled sometimes. What were the secrets they guarded so fiercely? Satiated, I seemed to purr pleasure. She counted the number of times I woke every night, fighting to fall into, and out of, turbulent slumber. She saw me writhe and longed for the pain. Wonderous, she sighed.   

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