Carved out of pain,
Marked by happiness,
Softened by desire,
Sculpted by envy,
Polished by pride,
Pushed by hurt,
Called upon by loneliness,
It slips out of the alcove,
And spills at the altar
Sitting at the doorsteps,
Watching the rain,
Slashing across her face,
A few unknown memories;
She smiled and yet,
Two drops stealthily,
Creped out of her eyes;
Testing the content of salt in the drops.
She held those drops in her palm,
Swaying, rolling and slowly,
She stretched her arm,
In that torrential downpour,
And those two tears were washed away;
Sent along the unknown road…
Heady happiness in her, now drooping eyes,
The subtle haphazard heaviness,
Settling in her head,
The pain held steadfast,
In that numb gaze,
Looking through the sky.
Unaware of the many bicycles, rickshaws,
Scooters, bikes and cars,
Men, women rushing by; avoiding the rain;
Taking shelters beside the boundary walls of the houses,
Or in the park across the house,
The motor shed serving,
As one huge umbrella.
Oblivious of their glances,
Yet noticing minutely,
The worms creeping out of the ground,
The walls, the rusted swings in the park,
The cemented seats, the leaves and the grass,
The railings, the roads,
The whole universe under her gaze,
Being cleansed off the grime.
She is pulled on the road by her friends,
And she splits into two.
The soul keeps sitting at the door steps,
And she laughs and smiles in the rain,
They jump in the puddles,
Run in the park,
Throw mud and leaves at each other,
She embraces the rain,
They shout overjoyed,
Intoxicated in unabashed innocence,
All the while staring back at herself.
Imploring, pleading, beseeching herself to join,
Who still sat with that cold, numb gaze,
At the doorstep;
Making the threshold her home, she sits;
Neither brooding, nor complaining, nor waiting,
Nor searching, nor sad,
Just numb; comfortably numb…
The rain stops in a couple of hours,
People get back to their work,
She and her friends,
Like, bright, newly dressed flowers,
Happily swaying in the breeze,
Like the green happy trees,
Chatter away to glory,
Sitting in the park,
Half soaked and half dry,
Like the pretty mermaids,
She glances back at the doorstep.
And finds herself,
Snuggled up to clouds,
Being lulled into a sleep.
The mild breeze crystallizing around her.
The drops floating around, caressing her.
She bids goodbye to her friends,
Gently waking herself, to go back home.
Hugging each other tightly, they cry;
Tears streaming down their eyes,
Something welling up inside both of them,
And finally they drown yet again,
Into each other.
Half smiling, half crying;
Not alive, yet not dying…
DIALECT. left to time, it withered, like a dead corpse hung from wall, after the sentence. no poems to defend, no stories to tell, n...