Tag Archives: Beauty

The Meeting

PicsArt_1373797698171-1Far away from here
In a distant land
Away from the sea
There is a shore

With breeze so salty
You can taste it on your teeth
And on your tongue and lips

With salmon sunsets
Alabaster moonlight
Dipping into the orange horizon

Here, on this shore
We can stand as equals
Unbridled by our
Lack of sorrow and pain
Non-existent problems
And thoughts of loss and gain

Your flyaway hair
Golden and free
Your bright sapphire eyes
More wondrous than the sea
Wash over me
Wash over me…

You are the waves
Powerful and wild
And I, Oh I so badly
Want to play with you
Alas! I am scared of the ocean
I never did learn how to swim

So I’ll stand on my shore, this distant land
With my feet firmly planted in the sand
Golden kernels caging my toes
I’ll wait for you to hit the shore

Far away from here
In a distant land
Away from the sea
There is a shore.

And on that shore, you and I
Water and sand
Will meet.

And you, my darling
Will wash over me

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fleshwounds.

When we fall in love,
I want to feel it
In the core of my being
Let it not float
On my lips
Just my lips
Like some hollow declaration
Of some plastic future

Let it echo through my insides
Bang against my bones
Tear out in short gasps of breath
Bursts of fireworks
Yes yes yes
Snatches of intense, fervent emotion
Pouring out from every opening
Every gap
Plugging all our holes with
Perfervid sensation
One string
An invisible link
Between you and me

Let it wake me up
Like coffee
Hot, Bitter and Strong
Let it shake my insides
Make me laugh and
Perhaps cry
And bleed

Let us tumble
Dive headfirst
Into a rush of butterflies
Tying stomachs into knots
Let it be everything
Potent, Over-powering and raw
Who wants a fairy tale?

Let it hit us like a ton of iron bricks
Rattle our rib cages
Break a few bones
And some hearts, maybe?

Let it be pure
And happy
Just happy
Dancing-On-Air happy

Let our knees wobble with weakness
A heady rush of blood to the head
With each beat of the heart

Let it shatter our insides
Peel our skins
Cause flesh to rot
Splinter our bones
Mark us with hidden, indelible ink
Till all we have left are our bare souls

This love we feel
Should not
Will not leave us with mere fleshwounds, darling

Second Hand

Two years later, I run into you. And as expected, you bring to my mind a rush of memories, forcing me to question why I ever left you.

Trapped in this world, you were always my reality, I think.
Fiction. Crime. Drama. Romance.

An unexpected meeting in a ‘Second-Hand  Bookstore’. I’d hardly call you used, my love.

 

Wanderlust.

Thank you google images!
Thank you google images!

Let’s get wonderfully lost
Ditch the map
Forget our phones
Follow the stars
Penniless pockets
Unfamiliar tongues

Let’s catch the train
And go where it takes us
Along slopes of hills and valleys
With the smell of tea
Lingering in the air
Along the ocean
Can you feel the salt coating your lips?

Let’s eat dishes
With names we can’t pronounce
And meet people
Whose words will be etched
In our hearts forever

Let’s stop looking at the world
From our shiny tour buses
With giant binoculars in our hands
And faces pressed against tinted windows
Why not jump off the bus
And just wander?
Let’s lose the intinerary

Let’s revel
In not knowing
Where we are or
Where we’re going
Let’s get beautifully lost

Let’s fall into Wanderlust

The Siren’s Call

Courtesy- Google Images
Courtesy- Google Images

There’s something immensely beautiful about sailing alone in a vast ocean. Some may even say profound, for it reminds you of how small you are. It instills a sense of humility in you. When a storm is on the rise, this feeling grows, reminding you that you are simply a drop in the ocean.

The waters of the sea lap up against the moderately sized ship. The sailor feels dazed, as if he has just awoken from a deep, deep slumber with no sense of how or when he got there. The heavy waves are rolling against the structure, rocking the sailor and his ship left and right, side to side. He clutches onto railings and bars, in hope that he will not be overthrown due to the sheer force of it all.

“The skies and the seas are angry. They are warring with each other,” he chuckles lightly, shrugging his shoulders, as he observes the darkened sky and feels uneasy at the growing sense of unrest in his heart. The seas roar violently all around him. He makes note, with a sense of panic, that whenever he is gripped with such distinctive emotion, something always happens. It is almost like a premonition.

The warning bells are ringing.

      *****

In an old English tavern, a sailor puts down his final pint of beer and throws his arms around an unsuspecting old man. Excited, he trails off into an extensive rant about the sea, while the other patiently listens. There’s an odd glint in the old man’s eyes and his hair and beard are both long and silvery. There’s something mystical about his appearance, but the young man pays no heed.

After he has said his piece, the old gives him an amused look, and says to him, “You need only to be cautious enough not to succumb to the Siren’s call.”

****

The sailor remembers the strange conversation, and the glint in his eye. He remembers everything. He remembers that Sirens are magical creatures, beautiful and deadly, all at once. They can lure you, entice you and seduce you effortlessly through their songs. The sailor is worried.

*****

In an old house, barely big enough to fit two, the sailor packs his bags. “I’m off,” he calls with finality to no one in particular. He has recently discovered that nothing is more painful to the human soul than the sting of unwanted, agonizing words, sinking in. No feeling is harder to process than the tyranny of words meant to pierce the heart.

In the light of this discovery, he thinks about the death of his first love; a beautiful, slender woman with a stunning face. “Her laughter was like music,” he thinks sadly, feeling a shard of loss strike his heart. He understands that she is gone forever. He understands. He accepts. He cannot move on.

                  *****                                   

The sailor remembers her well. He called her Aglia, a Greek word for splendor and beauty. “She lived by her name,” he thinks sadly.  He misses her far too much.

Still tangled in thoughts of his lost love, he is unaware of the haze that shrouds the ship, obscuring his vision. From somewhere in the distance, he hears a song. An alluring melody. He has never heard anything more pleasing or beautiful. Gripped with inexplicable emotion and lust, he steers his ship towards the clear voice that cuts through the mist. The voice never leaves his head.

You need only to be cautious enough not to succumb to the Siren’s call.

The sailor spots her, poised gracefully on a rock, her fingers combing through her golden hair. Her eyes are blue; strikingly blue, like icy sapphires. When she smiles, he feels lighter, happier, more free. Neglecting the warning words of the old man at the bar, he plunges into the cool waters of the ocean and swims deftly towards the jagged rock.

But it is her voice that has captured his mind. He can think of nothing else.

He feels the echo of desire resonating throughout his body, banging against his every bone; so powerful that he forgets all else. The only thing he thinks of is how sweet her melodies sound in his ears.

He approaches her, and without a moment’s hesitation, he lowers his head and presses his lips against her own. The tender kiss, which starts off as a breath of fresh air, progressively turns darker. It becomes more demanding. The feeble woman in his arms grows stronger. He feels giddy and weak as he inhales her brine-infused breath, while she drinks in his soul with dangerous passion.

Within moments, the sailor is a mere, lifeless form, thrown carelessly across the rocks.
The Siren sings another song.

Find My Presence

Look for me in the trees
Midst the lush green foliage
I promise you will find more memories than one
Of times when we would go there, and sit in nature’s lap
Or pretend to be lost adventurers, seeking concealed muddy paths

Look for me in the fall
When the leaves have turned amber
They drop like the rain, covering your path
See these leaves, and think of love
Think of sunshine, and happiness
And of the months gone by, devoid.

Look for me in the trails that we once left behind
On those sandy lands, lined with cobbled webs
They are worn out and dusty, but here, answers you will find
Hidden under those golden grains
Lie the solutions to all your darkest troubles
Hear them in my silenced voice

Look for me where the ocean clears
Where blue meets white, and white meets yellow
Build your sandcastles
But forget me not, for the stories we have made on these salty shores
Are the ones you will remember forever more

Look for me when the snowflakes fall
As you shovel this white beautiful mess
In these intricate designs, you will feel my call
Reminding you of heart-breaking has-beens
Think of me, each time you see this shimmering sheet
And shed those silent tears for those Christmases gone by,
With no presents from me.

Look for me in the pages of an old diary
Cry, as you feel my fingertips, brush across the paper
For a mere second, let go of what is lost
And hold me in your embrace as if I were there
In flesh and blood

Look for me in the years gone by
You have aged, as time has worked on you
But I, rest as I always was
Kept alive by your memory
Still young, and fresh. Smiling.
In those dog-eared photographs

Look for me in every corner
Of this ghostly land
Green and gray, stones everywhere
And corpses lie below your feet, rotting.
Run your fingers over those letters and say them out loud
Let the wind catch your words and float them my way
For nostalgia will strike even those who wish to forget

Look for me, and you will find
My lingering presence.

I Woke Up

While you were asleep,
I woke up.

I woke up
To a world of tales,
A mosaic of lovely stories,
Woven together by me.

I woke up
To a life of happiness.
Of  joyous colours.
Stunning alchemies
Endless hopes.
Held together only by my fantasies

I woke up
To a world of dreams
More vivid than any you have ever seen.
More real than the ones you currently dream.
I woke up to bridge the gap
Between my dreams and realities

I woke up
To see the white in the black
The beauty in the plain
The laughter in the happiness
And the joy in the pain.

I woke up
To the wonders of  a smile
And to the excitement of  a surprise

I woke up
While you were asleep.

Beauty

They walked on the mud road.

Their sandals, slapping against the wet red clay, made soft by the rains.

The girl, on one side. The boy, on the other.

They maintained this distance, of an arm’s length, throughout their walk.

A minute…

Two minutes…

Thirty minutes…

An hour…

And then two…

The boy couldn’t break through the wall of her musings.

Her concentration was impenetrable.

He finally asked her that, which had been on his mind for far too long.

“Are you beautiful?”

She looked up. For the first time, he had managed to break that barrier.

She did not meet his eyes.

When she spoke, her voice flowed out, musical and soft. So soft that had it not been quiet enough to hear the crickets chirp, he might have never caught her words.

“I’m as beautiful as you want me to be.”

He looked at her.

He really looked at her.

He looked at her dark eyes.

Her luscious black hair, braided into one thick plait.

Her face, dabbed unevenly with talcum powder.

The gap between her two front teeth.

Those golden hoops, dangling from her small ears.

Her wrists, lined with glass bangles that shone in the light.

The saree, that was draped around her.

The smell of jasmine, that he knew only as her own.

The sound of her laughter, echoing through the air, resonating with unfathomable happiness.

He smiled.

Her’s was a simple life.

The pleasures that gave her those moments of happiness, too were as simple.

The sweetness of a mango, as she squeezed its flesh, while biting into its pulp, juice dribbling down the corner of her chin.

The laughter when she saw the children play on the street.

The innocence with which she looked at men.

The honesty in her eyes when she spoke to him.

The trust which she had sold to him, at the price of her life.

The reverence that she associated with only family.

The fear of loss. And, of regret.

The wonder when she looked at the stars, scattered across the night sky.

The playfulness with which she gathered the cool water in the palms of her hands and splashed his face.

The naughtiness with which she climbed trees.

The awe with which she spoke of her big city dreams.

The care with which she added spices in the food she cooked.

The love in her eyes when she smiled.

The childishness that she embodied.

The unadulterated glee that he heard in her voice, whenever she spoke.

And how he wished that she would speak more often.

The musicality of her voice, and in her words.

The colours that burst out of her, more colourful than the brightest hues of any Holi celebration.

The bravery, coupled with kindness.

The lives she inspired.

The pale shadow of the moonlight, on her face, when she snuck out on full moon nights.

The sunlight that illuminated her face in the early mornings.

The life in her when she danced under the crying skies, during the first rains of the monsoons.

“They are only tears of joy”, she would say.

The little quirks that defined her.

Her spirit that said nothing would stop her.

Her ideas that were far beyond her age.

The simplicity that underlined her upbringing.

The determination that she would be someone.

The ethereal sight that she was in the depths of darkness.

The lessons that he had learnt from her.

The friendship he had found in her.

The need that she had instilled in him.

She looked at him, and smiled, barely.

But that alone was enough for him.

“How beautiful am I?” She whispered.

“As beautiful as beauty can be.” He breathed.