Questions Posed in the Dead of Night

How do you dream
So vividly in your sleep
When I confessed to you
Just before you shut your eyes
That I was tossing in bed
Wide eyed and sleepless?

Did it not occur
To sing me a lullaby
Or whisper a sweet word?

Did it not ache
Even a little bit
Did it not itch
Even a little bit
To leave a comforting thought behind
To help me rest?

Was what I said
So cold, so hurtful
That you decided
I would be punished
With red eyed lonliness?

Was what I said
So unforgivable
That I was cursed with the knowledge
That you lay on your pillow
Your lids dewed with sleep
As mine sit open, following
The creaky turn of the fan?

How unkind it seems to me
How cruel.

I feel like a little girl
Robbed of her favourite
Bar of candy.

With a Sniffle and a Smile

Oh Delhi, how you frustrate me and just as quickly, how you woo me. 

I woke up this morning, a disgruntled employee dreading heading out for work. For Delhi was flooded to the brim and I was getting emails about the Metro not working and the streets being clogged with grimy rainwater. Not to mention the incessant power cuts all through the night. 

Oh yes, and our caretaker Mukesh happens to live beneath my flat and he also happens to have three of the loudest kids in history. The bawling began at about 7 a.m. It did not cease even for a second. Add to that the slaps and shouts of Mukesh and Wife, I am neighbour to quite a noisy bunch. I forgive them. I play awfully loud music myself sometimes. 

Even the tiniest shower has Delhi turned into a disgusting brown mess. So after it rained cats and dogs here last night, it was only natural that skipping across puddles and getting grime splashed at me by passing cars was part and parcel of my commute. And the cows, good god! Even the cows splashed water on me.

In the evening, it was as if Delhi took a bath and got into a brand new outfit. The trees shone bright green and the cars on the street were washed anew. There was a beautiful breeze and the smell of rain wafting along with it. Dinner was steaming and delicious. 

My entire nasal cavity is under siege after the onset of the monsoon, my allergies and sinusitis are on full swing. I headed back to my room to quietly clack at my keyboard when Delhi once again wrapped me up in her blanket for the night. Mukesh had put the kids to bed and from his radio came old Hindi songs, the kind my parents would enjoy. The music now fills my room, punctuated by Mukesh's loud yawns. It is almost perfect for this weather. In between heavy coughs and grabbing yet another leaf of tissue from the box, I find myself smiling contently to myself. 

You have your charm, Delhi. I would have wanted to leave you just an hour ago, and now I feel warm and content in your arms. Here you are serenading me with all these love songs sung in vintage voices and here I am falling for you all over again.

The Island

Without much thought it seemed, I stepped off my little island.
I could say, I even leapt off it.
I could say, it was my impulsiveness; but really, it was my fear.
Fear that its beauty would fade if I stayed any longer;
The magic that tingled through my bones as the earth flowed between my toes would numb down;
The salty chill of the ocean breeze giving its secrets away to me in whispers would lose its allure.

I looked like a little girl hopping on to her next adventure
In many ways I was.
A world beyond my island that I still ached to explore.
Coral reefs my fingers wished to feel
Lagoons that my dark skin was waiting to taste.
Yet, swimming ahead and away: heart-wrenching.

I will preserve everything in the drawers of my memory.
No photographs, no messages in bottles, no souvenirs.
When memory fades, it will be regenerated
Something far more bewitching than it ever was.
The fruit sweeter, the sun warmer, the view more breathtaking.

The most valuable things
The ones with the most glimmer and sparkle
Deserve not to be contaminated by Time.

Chicken

I was pecking at a grain

Of golden wheat

You chase behind me

I squawked and leapt but never flew

White streak across the backyard

Too slow my stubby legs

To escape, caught

And dragged into

A darkness

I cannot comprehend

But I see suddenly

And cry
Flapping desperately
Kicking your
Muscled arms
To no avail

Comes impending doom

I sees the swift

And heavy blade

My neck breaks

The sink a red river

Bloody and gushing

There was no pain I recall

As I watch over myself

In your arms, twitching

Bloody and gushing

A hot water tap is opened

The steam engulfs 

The dingy room

The odour almost

Unbearable

The knife was not enough

You drown me now

In the scalding hot water

The ruffle of my mane

Melts away into a puddle

The coarse, white overcoat

Gives way to

Tender pink skin

You fondle it with care

Feeling every bump

There is something

Kinky about the way

You do it

As if you know

I am watching you

You clean me

Preparing me

For my funeral rites

The horror is not over

You close your eyes

Take a deep breath

Bring the heavy knife 

Upon me once more

Crack my bones

Separate my good

And my bad

Categorised by others

Exactly like you

I am now

A meal

Ready-to-cook

Bite-sized

I am now

Unrecognisable

As a life, or a being

I am now

Just a price

Displayed in a supermarket

"Honey!
Chicken pie for dinner?"


--I love Three Word Wednesdays!