poem

Hold My Hand

*this was written in the beginning of 2014, somewhere in Feb. 

Where the sky is so magnificently blue

Where nothing is untrue

The earth is looking so green

Here, I have never been

Beautiful flowers that decorate

I promise I will not be late

Because I know you are waiting for me

Under the shade of the largest tree

Come, hold my hand

As we walk across this land

Feeling the earth on our feet

Smelling the flowers so sweet

Watching the golden sphere in the air

The wind blowing our hair

We sit near the sparkling lake

And you say,”for God’s sake”

When I spill water on you

But then yo do the same too

We spend our day talking and laughing

Immersed in our past, remembering

But all of this will have to wait

As time stands between us, a huge gate

The day it’ll open is yet to arrive

And till then, without you, I’ll have to survive

We bonded as time passed by

Now you are bidding me goodbye

Life has made us apart

But it cannot stop you from residing in my heart

My love for you shall never flicker

Even if my life from now on turns bitter

No matter how many years away

I’ll keep waiting for that day

IMG_20170530_220006_742
Illustration by NM©
Art, short story

Parallels 

The exchange had always been flawless, for ages. One leaves and the other enters to rule, simultaneously. The first time there occured a slight friction, was the first time he had noticed her. 

Her warm smile immediately caressed his frozen heart. He was barren, and only took; she was evergreen and always gave. She entered, in full bloom, ready to replenish what he had taken away.

Her twinkling gaze initially did not notice the familiar stranger observing her with admiration. She gave him a surprised smile, slightly raising her left eyebrow. 

“You must be Winter?” She said in a breeze.

“Yes, I am… ” He hesitated, coarse.

“I thought you’d​ left.” 

He merely smiled at her. 

ILLUSTRATION BY  SITARA VS

short story

Amaya #7 : Best Friend?

There is only one way to end this.

The separation. The confusion. The many questions in her head.

She let out a big sigh, and opened the terrace door. She could hear it on the other side of the door. It was time, she decided, to meet her best friend. Again.

As she walked over to the edge that held the view, it softened. There was an awkward silence amidst it’s rhythm. It was sad.

Had she ignored her best friend? Had she simply watched as her best friend was being poisoned; corroded? A little each day. Had she failed to be a true friend; or even a good one? Had she chosen not to be bothered when her best friend helplessly became something it was not? Forced and imposed on it?  Had she forgotten all those times her best friend was there for her? By her side? 

Every time?

A drop rolled down her cheek, parallel to her tear. With great effort, she finally managed to speak.

“I’m Sorry.” 

short story

Amaya #3 : The Child

Her mother pulled her hair into a ponytail, on the top of head. She called it the ‘Umbrella Style‘. She was restless.

“Sit still Amu. What are you so happy about?”, her mother scolded her.

“I want to go out and play.” she replied.

She ran to the playground, and looked up. A few minutes later, rain drops danced down the roofs, the swing and the trees. She stuck her tongue out and ate one of them. She giggled as it tickled her tongue. As she danced, another landed on the left side of her forehead, and slid into her ear. 

It whispered that a child was born, to a couple who was sad for a long time. They had lost their daughter when she was 7 years old. This was their second child, a baby boy.

They named him Anant.

*Illustration by NM.  

short story

Amaya

She stood there, sky high, a mere window pane separating her from the grey horizon. Lightening shot through it, while she watched drops lashing against the glass. The drops ran all over, blurring the burning city lights. She watched, she observed – confused.

Her cousin sister, jumping and dancing in the rain, called out to her,” Come on Amaya, why aren’t you dancing?”

Amaya loved to dance in the rain. But she would not budge, because she knew that the rain was sad. It was crying for somebody, somebody who could bear no more. Her grandpa often tried cheer her up with paper boats, but they would all sink – every time the rain was sad. She would also fall sick at times.

She was born in the month of the rain, and named after it. She grew up watching the rain, and it never let her down. She danced with it when it was happy, and it showered on her when she was sad. She missed it dearly during summer, eagerly expecting the sudden unexpected showers.

Her first day in a new city, she was lost in the rain. The rain that went on beating against the pane, continuously with a consistent force. For the first time, her best friend had caught her by surprise. It was unhappy, but not exactly sad. For the first time, she could feel its anger.

 

poem

Fire and Ice

Millenniums ago, existed ice and fire

Always at war, never did they tire

What all were at stake, they did not care

Nor the means, unfair or fair

Work together, kept saying Mother

But niether bothered to bother

One war, came they on each other’s way

The world later called it their final day

Unleashed the cold revenge did ice

And fire gave, of its wrath, a huge slice

Ran chills down the spine of Mother

For she knew, one could never defeat the other

Died fire, when ice melted, but not alone

Took along ice into air, till both were gone. 

poem

The Rain


Welcome or unwelcome 

Expected or sudden

It will fall down as it feels;

Enveloping your tears

Crying with you, for you 

Overwhelming your emotions

Enveloping you with its.

It is falling down, sliding through obstacles

Before it finally embraces the ground. 

Face its wrath, face its love

Like paper boats, flow with it. 

And when the time comes, let it go. 

Let it go, like it never poured.