Before it begins to hurt,
before the last of the firsts,
Before you are my past,
its the first of the lasts.

Its time for me to say goodbye,
this time, please don't sigh.
What we had will always be,
an enchanting memory.

Maybe glances few and fleeting,
will now be our only meeting.
But with me it'll stay,
the look of you smiling this way.

Forevermore shall I think of you and me,
a reason as beautiful as one can be.
But now, its time, we shall part,
you will be, in my heart.

--

Unclenching her palm

there sat

a tiny speck of light

it rose to hover

above her head

found a spot

above her bed

diaphanous

multifarious

ethereal

she rose

and it struck

her so hard

it made a hole

through her heart

the vacuum

surrounded her

enveloped her

dragged her

outside herself

outside the world

there she stood

and quietly swirled

surrounded by tiny lights

leaving behind one of her own

away from all fights

she was just breathing bones

Meadows

"She lacked direction," they said.

In the rolling meadows, a fluttering petal was carried by the wind. Lifted and buffeted along the way. It came to rest on a marker, a tombstone, nameless and unadorned.

The petal looked shrivelled as it talked about its past beauty.

If you looked in her eyes, you could see the careful blankness she had cultivated.

If you looked at her face, you could see the animation she played with.

It was his heart that beat for it.

The grass around the tombstone rustled as he sighed. The vast rolling emptiness in his heart would always be centred around the tombstone.

He could remember the night vividly.

Her eyes spoke as she drove into the wall.

She clearly had direction.

Now he didn’t have any left.

Burn

The following entry won 3^rd prize in an inter-college creative writing competition, the line provided was, “It was a pleasure to burn,” from the book Fahrenheit 451 by Raymond Bradbury.

It was a pleasure to burn. Orgasmic almost.

The searing heat filled my insides and tingled down to my fingers. I could almost see a burnished glow emanating from within me. Each step further inside caused sparks to rise up and bite me. The embers glowed beneath my feet and lit my surroundings with a deep rose bloom.

Hot air rushed past me as I entered the chamber, I could see a figure huddled at the centre of the room. The shrouded figure began to rise, it slowly unfurled its arms, I could see tiny blue flames licking and dancing around the edges of the robe.

There was an ethereal feel to the entire proceedings and I felt excitement bubble through me as I saw the figure reveal itself to me.

And, the bell rang.

I had been called back. I can’t believe She did that to me. Why did someone have to die now?

I nervously shook off the last of the fire that was within me and tried to assume a more angelic expression.

Pulling on my robe, I trudged up to the Pearly Gates and resumed my duty as the gatekeeper. A nervous old soul was standing outside; this was one of Her picks.

For some reason, she always picked nervous old folk. But then again, perhaps that’s the reason for the excellent reputation.

I asked him the usual, who are you, where are you from, are you happy etc. he answered like a straight A student, which he probably had been anyway.

I opened the gates, directed him to his cloud, and sent him on his way.

I sighed; there couldn’t be a more boring job. Gatekeeper of the Gate. Like it wasn’t enough having to be white and floaty all day.

I much preferred Lucifer’s place. I had been offered a job there, a much more interesting Entry Desk. This was where anybody who comes through would have to talk to me and tell me why they deserve to burn.

This job came with only one requirement. Lose the halo, literally and figuratively.

My earlier visit had been cut short because I did not want Her to know what I was up to, or any of the other old sods for that matter. I was one of the few young ones who gained entry into Her house. Now, I was learning what I missed.

My job interview had been disrupted and now, sitting at the gates, I closed my eyes and tried to reach the fire in my mind.

Once again, as I passed through the invisible barrier, I felt the rush of heat assault my senses.

I felt my face glow and I relaxed into the feeling it brought. I made my way towards Lucifer’s chamber. He slowly revealed himself to me.

It was the most gorgeous face I had ever seen.

Once I got my breath back, I told him, I would take the job. He nodded once and told me to start work immediately and that he would tell Her where I had gone. It was one of his favourite things to do, he told me, a very evil gleam in his eyes.

It took a little while to comprehend what her was saying, his voice was a rich chocolatey baritone and gave me such comfort that I had to drag myself out of my fantasies to nod a yes.

His stunning secretary took me to my desk. It was not so much a desk than an odd looking couch.

No sooner had she left than my first guest came through the smouldering drapes. He was only a notch below Lucifer in looks.

He said hi.

I couldn’t catch my breath in time.

He told me I looked beautiful, he started to lean closer to sign on his submission form. He looked up at me and I saw the most enchanting green eyes ever, I could stare at them for eternity.

The purpose of the couch became clear. As he started leaning into me, I felt my pulse increase, the fire within me raged like an inferno, I felt his lips close to mine, his breath burning mine.

And, the bell rang.

“Ah hell!” I muttered.

White

Do they remain? Memories? When the heart stops, does it stop your life?

Sitting atop a hillock, staring at the clouds, she tried to find the faces of those she had lost. Smita let the wind play with her hair, it flew all around her face, momentarily obscuring her vision and halting her quest.

The clouds swirled around her, barraging her with a multitude of visuals. It assaulted her senses. She could smell the clouds; they reminded her of old souls.

In all her 23 years, Smita had already felt the pain of being, her bones felt weary, weighing her steps like the moisture laden pregnant clouds.

If she tried, if she tried really hard, she could imagine herself standing in a land of white, surrounded by towering voluminous columns of cirrus clouds; and the people she wanted to see.

She saw unicorns and mammoths and chimaeras but she couldn’t find her mother’s face, she couldn’t feel her consciousness amongst the ones that tingled her skin.

“Umm, Excuse me?”

Smita turned around to face the person who had interrupted her mental soliloquy. She tucked her flyway hair behind her ears and looked questioningly at the intruder.

The first thing she noticed were the eyes, they had the same melancholy blankness that hers had seemed to acquire. Even though the laugh lines around her eyes seemed ironical, they somehow complemented each other. The art of having learnt to laugh in ones misery is hard learnt.

“I hate to bother you, but you’re standing in my spot.” She stated.

“Your spot?” Smita asked, a little bewildered, the concept belonging to classrooms in her mind. Since when did clouds figure in real estate?

“Yeah, it’s just that this is where I stand every time I come here.” She said, somberly, even thought the corners of her eyes had started crinkling in amusement.

“Yeah, ok, whatever. I’ll leave.” Smita gathered the corners of her mind and began to walk away when she felt a hand slide into hers. It betrayed hard work.

“You could stand with me if you want.”

Smita looked at her.

“Who are you mourning?” she asked.

“My mother, amongst others,” Smita said, “Who are you mourning?”

“Myself,” she stated matter of factly.

Both stood there together, letting their thoughts get lost in the faceless faces that shifted around them.

Somewhere in between her entangled thoughts, Smita realized that her hand was still clasped within the peaceable stranger’s comfortable grip.

“I’m Sunaina,”

The name suited her perfectly; the hollowness in Smita’s eyes began to acquire life. Sunaina’s hand never left hers since.

Loop de flew

These past few days have been particularly bonkers what with the preparation for the college fest and all. Me, and my friends, in particular are going excessively crazy because we seem to be elbow deep into the giant sticky and awesome mess we seem to be creating. The month has gone by in a whirlwind of activity, and its just this incredibly weird feeling that, after these 2 days, its over. We’ve been working towards this day for so much time now, it just seem ridiculous that we’ll have nothing to do after this weekend.

And the worst part is, we’re going back to classes! (sob!). We’ve not been having classes for so long, and having a blast for so long, and literally living in college for so long, it’ll be sorta weird to not be doing all this.

I’ve been revolving in so many loops, its not even funny. From the t shirts we ordered turning out to be made for the 8-12 yr age group to wanting to bury my head in the cemented floor because ‘the newspaper’s font hurts my eyes’.

But you know what is affecting me the most? Being involved in so many loops is not only fun, it makes me feel exceptionally happy, wanted, like I can do something, I matter; but what hurts me most is being out of the loop I care for the most.

Its just a random feeling, and I am sure I am not really out of it, just not making an effort to being in it either. But the thing is, people expect me to be out of it. It bugs me the most. Its not like I am awesome and other people make efforts to, like, hide stuff from me, but it just gets to me that even when I ask, ppl don’t tell me.

I get that I may be slow on the uptake, but so should they. No? Help me understand so that future references are not filled with exasperated sighs and omgs.

To ppl who will read this, this is just how I feel sometimes. This is the first time in my life, when I felt I could fit in somewhere, but these things just bring my old insecurities back.

You know, I am getting to my point. What I hate most that when ppl make assumptions; and that just makes me want to do things that will shock them out of their wits (not nicely even).

Like how they think, fat ppl are jolly blobs, and how if I don’t hold my heart out to break, I don’t have one, and how because they don’t like it, its shit, and how norm is the rule.

#Lesson for the day: Rant sometime, its awesome.

Wait

I read a book once; it was called ‘Waiting’, by Ha Jin (I think). It involved a man, unhappily married, who waits so that he can marry his true love, and then decides that marriage is pretty crappy either way. I am sure, that wasn’t the point of the book, but that is what I remember.
Anyway, today is my day of waiting. Not for my ‘true love’ or anything (which I am pretty sure doesn’t exist anyway), but for something to happen. The last few days have been such a great rush, that now I am sitting here, with n-o-t-h-i-n-g to do, and I feel this emptiness.
Perhaps that is what a pre historic Neanderthal felt. I mean, what did those guys do? I mean, granted you had some giants that had it in for you, healthcare was not cake, and yeah, cake did not exist (the horror!); but even then, you had to sit around and wait for the sun to move his ass, so that you could have your next meal. And, thus started human development, out of boredom.
It is my theory that due to lack of things to do, a dude was probably rubbing sticks and stones together, and discovered fire. Why else, of all things, would someone sit down and rub stuff together?
The same with a wheel, some dude (or dudette to be fair) was most likely, playing with sharp things and wood, she decided it was an interesting shape, and voila! We have the wheel. Next boredom/evolution thought process went like this, let’s put a metal chassis on the wheels and blow up the world! Whee!
My point is this, waiting is never fun, and we spend more than half of our life, waiting. I mean, my birthday is tomorrow, and I’ve been waiting for it all year, and more so this last week, because you have amazing expectations. Then the day rolls around, and you realise, you have nothing to wait for. Because, it’s really just another day, more fun maybe, but a day.
We’re always waiting, some expectations are always cued, and then what, you realise it was all the same.

|The following has been stolen from my beloved Anta, whom i'm married to.................

#Lesson for the day: Waiting is not fun, what you are waiting for just might be.