Ma, move, will you? The flames are not reducing so, should I make some chapatis today? Oh, no, don't worry I won't burn my hands for protecting our burning home. One more wall has fallen down, Ma, but three are still standing there, so it is still a Home. Look at the stars, the sky has always been our ceiling, isn't it? We are privileged, Ma. So, get up, we have so much flour tonight - flour enough to make us believe that our appetite is satisfied. I promise to tell you I'm full, right after finishing my plate half. Ma, move, will you?
Can you hear the sounds of siren and noise of the crowd? Water splashing - so much water, Ma, so why did you wake up to walk miles for it? The crowd is alarmed, they are crying, Ma, why? oh, for you cried yesterday night? They are all here, Ma, to see you, and me, and our burning home. They are good people, Ma, they will wake you up from your sleep. I know they made you sleep, they were ignorant, Ma, but they are here now, so move, will you?
Our home, till few hours before could not even afford a candle in the dark, but it is illuminating the locality now, you see Ma? The home of darkness is the source of light, let us be proud tonight. The fire is still dancing on the broken floor, Ma, are you still sleeping? You say two chapatis are enough for you, there is too much black flour from the fire, will you eat three today? People out there are in fear, Ma, your sleep scares them, why? Is it because they did not hear your cries but can hear your pale silence? People are weird, Ma, they are shouting and asking me to leave you here and come out. Eyes that were ignorant to us are showing pathetic pity. I'm going to make chapatis, Ma, move now, will you?
I am the descendant of December disowned by Summer.Waves abandoned me at the shoreline of September.I a lovesick maiden tried to hide behind the lappet of love. Not noticing the bluebells of betrayal inked on the skin of compassion.
I unknowingly built the castle of pledges in the realm of autumn.Bricks of vows morphed itself into the smuts of dust. With each hit on heartstring with the hammer of distrust Wildness of severance keep growing in the cranny of care savouring sorrows.
Witch of woes cast the spell to free halcyon from pages of past . Quicksand of plight swallowed the layman of longing. Souls split their path ,changed their destination with time , Slaughtering forever , being deaf to the Pleas of heart.
I am not asking you to be beside me but honey my eyes starve to look closely at you daily I know we are near to each other yet the distance is surplus!
I am not asking you to console me but I miss you when it becomes difficult for me to overcome the pain by myself More often, I miss you on the days when there is an arc on my lips when I gaze at the moon!
And on the days when I miss you extremely all I do is hug you with my prayers and poetries!
I am not asking you to jot down poetry because When I write verses for you, it is actually for us because every word which I define for you on the paper holds me firmly in love and I feel safe!
Sometimes I am afraid to tell you that I want to gaze at you from far
No hugs, no extreme talk but just a silent stare with a smile is enough for me to heal!
I may sound stupid, but that's how I feel. That's how you give me immense strength by existing. And I am not asking you to feel the same!
Someday somewhere I will harbour hopes from the hailstorm of hassle and hurdles. I will paint my petals with the hues of my proclivity for peace . I will fly high across the skies with the wings of freedom and prey on the walnuts of wisdom.
Someday somewhere I will open my chest to inscribe all those falling stars on my broken heart. They will not be gulped by the blackhole of blues or whelved in the womb of earth rather they will reside under the roof of my love and shine at the edges of my stygian nights.
Someday somewhere I will confine those wandering waves of woes inside the vintage frame of past , perching smile on my lips, where my quill will be no longer a slave of time and the pages will not long for my touch at midnight , poetries will not search for the apertures on my windowsill to enter into my heart . I will marry those metaphors and make a place for them betwixt the verses of my sonnets .
Someday somewhere i will no longer fold my hands wishing for sun and summer , rather i will listen to the pleas of nature and humans . I will create a paradise suturing the torn altruism where no soul will be shredded by the torments of torture, no man will hide his tears and no woman will choke her fantasies.
Till then i will keep walking barefoot on the unknown paths to touch the silver line of known destination, escorting known moon to the unknown constellation, filling the goblet of nightmares with the wine of reveries , splitting the paths of love and betrayal, mustering vows at the estuary of warmth.
As I am believer of possibilities, designer of dreams , nurturer of expectations and manifester of miracles.
Pardon me. I am not reading anyone. Please give me sometime. I will read you all soon :^)