Is it really all gone?

The initial magic has worn off. They are now just a boring middle-aged couple, each caught up in his or her own daily lives. Gone are the good morning kisses, the starry-eyed staring at each other, rambling on and on in each others arms late at night, and all the other things that consumed almost half of the ‘honey moon years’.

She longs for those little gestures that used to make her days, made her feel wanted, made her feel loved, made her feel alive. Had she not vowed, as a teenager, that she would never let this happen to her life? Wasn't she determined never to get bored of her marriage?

She forgot how it felt to have butterflies in her stomach. She forgot how it felt to snuggle close to him on cold winter nights. She forgot the fun of pillow fights. 

How many days has it been since they spoke of something other than news during breakfast?

How many years has it been since they had called each other during work for something other than to remind each other of an unfinished chore?

How many evenings has it been since they sat together for something other than to watch the television?

How many nights has it been since they actually ‘shared’ a bed?

The sharp ringing of her phone snaps her out of her sad reverie. It is him calling.

But surprisingly, it is not his voice. She hears an anxious voice of a stranger. He is sympathetic and tries to break the news about the fateful accident as gently as possible. As he goes on rambling about how the accident happened, she blanks out, the phone falls off her sweaty palms, and she collapses on the ground.

How could this have happened? How could he be gone? What would happen to her now? Her mind becomes a mirage of confused feelings, coming and going.

Who would give her news briefs during breakfast in the morning?

Who would call her during work and remind her of an unfinished chore?

Who would she watch the television with, during evenings?

Who would she find beside her, when she wakes up in the middle of the night?

Oh, what would she not give up to have him back in her life! She didn't want any butterflies in her stomach or the silly pillow fights. She just wants him back!

She is oblivious to her phone that is still ringing and the impatient knocking on the door. She loses track of time and doesn't even know how long she sat there, sobbing and regretting. Suddenly, she sees an apparition, his apparition, in front of her. 

Is it a dream!?

She stands up and rushes into his arms. His palms smooth her hair, comfortingly till she comes back to her senses.

He is not an apparition, she realizes as sense dawns upon her. He is alive! Very much alive! He is here, in flesh and blood! 

But the phone call…? She is very confused! She is blabbering incoherently.

‘Honey! Someone stole my phone in the afternoon,’ he explains and tears of relief stream down her eyes. They are lost for words and fall asleep in each others arms.

The next morning…

As usual, the persistent alarm wakes them up. They hurry through their chores and before long; they are at the breakfast table.

As she listens to her husband’s news briefing, a line that she had read in a book years ago strikes her:

“Early love is filled with attraction. It is like a flower of a plant. It is beautiful, but it is delicate and fragile.

The love that comes later on is filled with responsibility. It is like the root of a plant. You may not be able to see it and it is not beautiful like the flower. But, do not forget that it supports and nourishes your entire life!”

Your Silent Heart to Mine...

You are a wonder, what goes on in your mind is a puzzle

Deciphering you, for me, was once upon a time a hassle

But now, I know your little secret which gives you away

Your beautiful eyes show everything that you cannot say

I stare into them, right into the depths of your heart

In the silence, I hear them speak to me and they tell me a lot

Your voice fails you, but your eyes never

I notice everything from a hesitant blink to the slightest flutter

When you are angry, they look like tiny balls of fire

In a peaceful time, a silent and comfortable look they acquire

The lashes, dark, long, and lush

Droop onto your eyes, when all you can do is blush

You are elated and I see them smiling with bliss

They pose endless questions when you are confused and find something amiss

Silent tears of pain at the corners show an intense anguish

A funny look your eyes wear, when you feel silly or foolish

Everybody calls you ill-fated

Some evil force had his wicked desire sated

You are not given a voice to speak out loud

But for me, your eyes are the biggest gifts with which you are endowed

Official Mistress

‘My lady, your loss is too great,’ she hears a gentle voice

Some compassionate mourner, someone trying to be nice

To acknowledge the greeting, she turns to the side

Yet, surprised she is to find no one there, except for her gloomy aide

Then it struck her, she wasn’t the Duchess, not the Duke’s wife

She has a label ‘the official mistress,’ though she loved him with her life

Mourners glide towards the Duchess, expressing their sympathy

While the mistress gets only awkward glances, disapproving stares, without the presence of any empathy

True! She had not vowed in front of God to be true to him in sickness and health

Yet, she had cared for him, with a heart pure, full of love, and no stealth

She was there for him during his good times and the bad ones too

She belonged only to him, her heart was pure, and her love was true

Now near the grave, the Duchess stands with her son, out of duty

A perfect widow, a picture of grief, yet manages elegance and beauty

She was the wife of a Duke and is now the mother of one

She looks at the mistress, her eyes mocking, ‘See now, who has won!’

Consoling herself that she has not yet lost everything

The mistress pats lovingly her belly, the only thing to which she has to cling

So what if she is the Duke’s mistress and what if she does mother a bastard

She walks out of the grave, holds her head high – a skill that she has, by now, mastered


Inspired from The Tudors - The plight of Charles Danton's mistress

Stranger in her Bed...

Her eyes full of sorrow, a part of her heart weeps, as she leaves behind her
Everything she's owned, everybody she knew - mother, father, sister, and brother
Yet, a larger part of her heart rejoices, as she knows that she now begins a life brand new
She looks with awe at her new husband, thinking she's among those blessed few

As her first day wears on, she looks from the corner of her eye for a sign from her better-half
She cannot follow him, as million eyes follow her, seeking for a serious gaffe
Treading carefully, slowly, she hovers around him, follows him like a shadow
Though he doesn't look at her in the eye, she can now see, plain and clear, his countenance is hollow

Women surround her, decorating her like a doll, they taunt her about 'the night' and giggle
They lead her to the room noisily, they laugh, tease, and tickle
The night approaches fast, her heart beats faster, as she senses her anxiety grow
He just stands there, not even glancing her way, why? the answer she doesn't know

Suddenly, it turns dark and she feels faint, as he undresses her and into her bed he climbs 
No love, no gentleness, like a blood-thirsty monster, onto her, he looms
As tears spill out, she bites her lip, bleeding it, stopping herself from screaming out in pain
She thinks the worst is over, and then she hears him screaming another woman's name again and again

Her eyes well up and tears warmly trickle down her face, which is now savaged 
She lay there, like a ragged doll, her heart broken, her body and soul ravaged
Her home, her life, and her dreams, all destroyed by a stranger in her bed
Is there no way out of this misery? Or is she as good as dead?

Going Back Home...

Their eyes twinkle when they see me. I am aware of their hearts leaping with a bittersweet ache, for here, my own heart reacts similarly. All of a sudden, I forget that I am a woman, all grown-up. I go back in time, becoming a little child all over again. I fly straight into my mom’s arms, just like how I always did, when I came back from school. I embrace my dad, just like how I used to do every evening, after he came back from work. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at them now, do I realize how much I miss them…

It jumps onto me and licks my face entirely, the moment it catches my scent. Though it does not have a mouth as large as mine, I know its heart is screaming noiselessly. The poor creature does not even understand why I had to leave and tend to myself. All of a sudden, I forget the fact that I had been away for so long. I play with it, allowing it to pull me and push me as much as it likes. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at it, do I realize how much I miss it…

They come in bustling, as noisy as always, and give me bear hugs, rough and playful, just like how they used to be when we had lived together under the same roof. All of a sudden, I forget that we don’t do it any longer. I join them in the loud laughter, the ear-splitting music and awkward dancing, without any restraint, without a shame. These are my siblings, who knew my most embarrassing secrets. I am aware that their feelings and thoughts at this moment are the same as mine. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at them, do I realize how much I miss them… 

My old room is just the way I had left it. It’s just that it felt a little empty now, as all the stuff that I really cared for; I had carried off it with me. Yet, the moment I step in, I feel as if the room has come alive. All of a sudden, I forget that it is no more the room I used to dance in, without a care in the world, without inhibitions. Automatically, my feet move and I do a jig, just like how I used to do frequently. I still have my privacy in this little hub of mine. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at it now, do I realize how much I miss it…

 They giggle and grin, as always, when they look at me. We hug each other and tease each other. Someone has her hair too short. Someone has grown a paunch. All of a sudden, I forget that we hardly hang out these days. We relentlessly pull each other’s legs, just like how we used to do, when we hung out, every day, without fail. These are my friends, who had been with me, through thick and thin, crying over my shoulder when they needed it and offering me their shoulder, when I needed it. For now, here we are reminiscing past memories. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at them, do I realize how much I miss them…   

Letting Go…

She lay on the bed, weak and cold

Spending her last few moments in this world

And I try to prolong the life of her frail failing body

Making futile attempts to find some kind of remedy

She looks at me, her eyes all moist and hollow

They are begging me, ‘It does not work. Just let go!’

Her eyes say it all, though she doesn’t make a sound

She is writhing and wheeling in a pain too great and profound

But I can’t just give her up, can’t let her leave so soon

I am rather much used to her presence and not ready to feel this alone

A voice in me whispers in warning, ‘You are being selfish,

Foolishly believing in some miracle, some obscure life-saving fetish’

Now when I look into her eyes again

I am alarmed, as in them, I find a fierce rain

Red as blood, they are full of fury and extreme hatred

That look that I always avoided and dreaded

‘Let me die,’ she commands with her eyes

Transfixing me with that gaze of hers, filled with malice

In that stare, I see a murderous rage that pain brings

That demand to be freed from all the agony and worldly ailings

I pause and fixing my gaze with hers, I take a step backward

Lost in thought and retrospection and also a little bit scared

Even on her death bed, she is still the keenest

She does not miss my twinging in the least

As she sees me now, I see her look soften

She comforts me, ‘It’s OK. These things happen

Anything which has a beginning, has an ending

And surviving with that absence is all a part of learning'

Warm tears scour down, giving up

Releasing and delivering me from all the meaningless hope

As her dark eyes close slowly forever

I etch her face permanently in my mind – a memory that would part with me never

In favor of the practice of Euthanasia - mercy killing... Sometimes, giving up hope helps put your loved ones out of pain!

The Knight Vs The King...

Not at all different from a girl any other

A firm believer I am, of a cliche, 'The knight in a shining armor'

My eyes, when awake, search for him desperately

When closed, they dream of him endlessly

Of his probing eyes looking deep down into mine, I am aware

Of his cool fingers brushing off from my face, tendrils of hair

Of his warm breath breezing on my cheek, as he holds me close

Of his lips, as he whispers, 'You are as beautiful as a red rose'

How does one find such a man in this world, in reality?

Mind accepts defeat, but the heart rejects any offer of peace or tranquility

'I do' finally accept to belong to a man, but with a half of my heart
Readying myself to embark on a journey, to adapt and to adopt

When asked the dreaded question, 'Is he your knight?'

I wave my hand carelessly and say, 'May be he is, may be not'

'Is he like this? Is he like that?' the cruel questions persist

Raising a minor chaos in the poor heart, which has no one to assist

Days pass and slowly upon me dawns a realization

Reality is a lot different, yet differently more beautiful than any fascination

It may not be all romantic or enchanting or surreal

Yet, it surely is unique, toughening, and most importantly it is REAL

He may not be like the dreamy hero sweeping the heroine off her feet

He may not be all lovey-dovey, proclaiming loudly his love for me to the entire fleet

Yet, he is all that I did not know I actually wanted

As for me, I now try every living moment to be the one he truly warranted

He does not own a shining armor and he surely is not a knight

But, he is a king, my king, who boldly conquered and filled the whole of my heart!!!


Inspired from a real life situation of an anonymous friend...

Woes of a Mother...

Of the whole creation am I a wonder

There’s no one else like me, where ever you wander

I’m a perfect balance of the heat and the cold

I’m the envy of any other world

Of the whole universe am I the queen

Within me, my equerries convene

The enchanted five some - air, water, fire, sky, and earth

Perform their magic and create the precious breath

My child, my prince is the apple of our eye

“Life” we call him, since within him our lives lie

For him, all my love and care I gather

For I love my offsrping, just like any other mother

Together, my ladies and I nurture him with all the care in the world

Seeing a wonder, seeing him mould

Proud and surprised I am at his intelligence

Longing for his escalation, I offer him fortunes immense

Swift and ambitious as he is

Quick is he to seize his opportunities

He works, builds, and he grows

He toils hard through highs and lows

Before long, he begins conquering worlds far-off

He grows more determined, he just cannot have enough

Without restraint, he plucks the fruit I bear him

With them, he fuels his never-ending dream

In front of my eyes, he converts

To suit himself, my treasures he diverts

Now, he destroys rather than build

Making me bitterly realise that he is a child gone wild

He tears me apart, hurting me slowly

Plunging knifes into my body maliciously

He now has no sympathy, no rest

Kicks me till I bleed, in my breast

He claims me now, he has forgotten to ask

I try to stop him, but it’s no longer an easy task

He treats me less like a mother and more like a whore

How much ever I give him, he wants more and more

Finally, I’m tired and withered

My entire body is blood-smeared

And try as I might

I can never show my son the light

Just before my eyes close

I see something much worse

Bleeding to his death my son lay

In front of my eyes he is wasting away

Valentine’s day…Now and Then…

14^th February, 1999

Getting up in the morning, I don’t even need to glance at the calendar

It is February, the fourteenth

And I had been waiting for this day, for all too long

I look at the pretty gift that I had bought for her

Thinking if I would ever get a chance to give it to her

And then, sneaking out of my room into the living room

Stealthily I approach the phone and ring her up

Wanting to be the first one to wish her ‘Happy Valentine’s day!’

Listening to the ‘beep beep’ on the other side

I am spiraling down an abyss, expecting the worst

Whom is she talking to this early in the morning?

Am I too late? Did some one else ask her out already?

Finally, after trying times innumerable

The ring on the other side was the most welcome sound

But then, I was nervous

What if she is not interested?

“Hello,” her sweet voice on the other side

Made me forget the world

Still a little nervous I wish her and say my thing

She giggles and says, “I had been waiting for you to ask”

14^th February, 2029

Getting up in the morning, I glance at the calendar

It is February, the fourteenth

Isn’t this day supposed to mean something?

I try to remember, birthdays… wedding anniversaries…

How much ever I try, nothing comes into my mind

Shaking myself out of my reverie, I rush into the living room

Running all around the house

The Daily morning routine, the chores and the rush

Struggling into my clothes, I take a bite at the breakfast table

And quickly set off to the car

Resting on the dashboard was a large card and a little wrapped package beside it

On a card is a large picture of a basket of red roses

And a ‘Happy Valentine’s day’ written in gold

Crap! I forgot to wish her, let alone buy her a gift or a card

I rush back into the living, where she was struggling with the children

As usual, to get them into their clothes, to feed them

And send them to their destinations on time

I go towards her in a run

She looks up from whatever she is doing

I smile and say my thing

She smiles back and says, “I had been waiting for you to remember”

14^th February, 2059

Getting up early in the morning, I try to look at the calendar

It is February, the fourteenth or is it nineteenth?

I rub my eyes and look at it closely

What difference does it make?

Everyday is the same…

I walk into the living room, slowly

Looking around, taking in the quiet of the morning

As usual, I get out and start for my usual walk

Taking in the fresh morning air and rejuvenating myself

I continue walking until I see the young girls next door pass by

They were smiling and seemed pretty excited

They stop to wish me a good morning

And a ‘Happy Valentine’s day!’

Oh! It is Valentine’s Day today

I forgot to wish her, as always

I go back home, and say my thing before I forget

In my haste I forget to notice that she is not wearing her hearing aid

She looks at me blankly and says, “Why do you always forget your glasses at home

And now, you grumble. I was worried sick myself and was waiting for you to come back.”