Archive for the Figments category
May 10th, 2008
Kaash meri zindagi mein tum aaye na hote,
Aankhon mein itne khuwab sajaaye na hote,
Itna dard jo mujhe tum de kar chale gaye,
Koi aya na hota tou yeh zulm dhaya na hota,
Kaash meri tanhai mujhse roothe na hote.
–Sheikha.
Waqt dhoka de gaya mujhe lekin
Tumhari yaadein abhi baaki hai
Kitni jaldi doobta hai suraj aur raat
Doob jaati hai apne hi andhere mein.
–Sheikha.
Isi andhere ujaale mein baatein ki tumse,
Jab parchai lagta tha tumhara paas hona.
–Sheikha.
Ilzaam doun bhi agar tou kis ko doun,
Meri taraf nazar kabhi huwi nahi tumhari,
Jalte hai hum khoobsurti se itna kyun,
Mujh par nazrein tiki nahi tumhari kabhi.
–Sheikha.
Ijaazat ho agar thori der aur ruk jaayun
Saari umar nikl gayi ab saansein baaki hai
–Sheikha.
June 25th, 2007
He touched her face, gently, trying to read all the lines. All the pain that she had had to go through all these years. He took his time, surveying every nook of her body, slowly gently, trying not to upset any joy… any worry that might be nestled in it. Shoulders, elbows, ankles, thighs, breasts… His hands traverse her expanse and stop at her lips.
He had everything he needed to paint her on his canvas now. He left a small sigh in the tangled mess that was her hair and shoved his canvas into the trash can. He spilled his colors and made her walk in them, caressing the rainbowed footsteps as she made her way into the gloom of his heart.
He made her stop then and slowly, with fine strokes, he began to daub her with darkness. He worked patiently, worked hard.
When he was through… she no longer existed… And all that was left was a shade blacker than black…
April 7th, 2007
Sunshine in her hair… golden glow of the morning, unsettles him. It just doesn’t seem fair that some one be so delicate, so beautiful. He tries to look into the newspaper once again as she heads towards the kitchen. She knows he watches from behind the fine print. He knows she knows.
The air smells of the morning chores, the simmering milk and the phenyl in the mopping bucket. He likes the comfort of having her so near him. Of knowing that he just has to reach out with his hand to touch the soft warm flesh of the beauty that embodies his house.
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March 5th, 2007
Silently, she left the dining table, the food on her plate still untouched. She struggled with her tears, lest they betray her sadness. Upon reaching her room and securing the door with the latch, she let out the flood of emotions inside her.
Yes. It is true. She was never a good daughter. She never thought of anyone but herself. She looked at the marks of the past on her body, cigarette burnt flesh and cuts from the shards of glass - the irremovable marks that he inflicted her with. Yes. She was selfish. Because she had loved. And because her love had abandoned her in her time of need. More
February 7th, 2007
*Title shamelessly copied from Indra Sinha’s book “Death Of Mr. Love”*
What are you doing?
I’m killing Mr. Love
Who are you?
Im no one in particular. I’m just… no one.
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January 16th, 2007
After becoming quite irate at me for not jumping out of bed at her soonest convenience with her typical frustrated air . . . I slowly relented to her miserable mood only to overhear that the problem was solved . . . having only donned my boxers, I walked upstairs to see the unsatisfied woman cleaning dust off the floor with two cards; one of which unbeknownst to her, and her bickering nag, had the words ‘Serenity Now’ printed in large letters.
I laughed a lot about that.
January 16th, 2007
“So…? Is this the punishment for not being religious?”
“No… I mean not really.”
“Then? I mean… I know I haven’t visited a lot of temples. And I know I think of him in the only prayer I attend and I know you might be pissed because I climbed all the way to Pahwagrh and never went into the temple and I know you are irritated because I tell everyone that I do not believe in you when I secretly do… but aren’t you supposed to be forgiving?”
“Of course… but you have to remember what you believe in. Karma. You have a lot of bad Karma lined up against you.”
“What sorts?”
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January 9th, 2007
Neha Jhingon is online.
mark
yeah!
im here
onl-ine!
Sent at 10:58 PM on Monday
Neha
hey
sorry had gone to get my coffee 
mark
ummmm coffee
Neha
and i hope u ve had a change of mood since the last chat
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December 22nd, 2006
He takes her face in his hands and kisses her forehead.
“I will miss you”, she said.
“I will miss you too”
He held her close to his heart, tightening his arms around her. Brushing her unruly hair from his face, he gently sighs.
“I will miss your hair.”
She looks at him.
Four eyes.
Two teardrops.
September 24th, 2006
I smell of you.
Have you not waited all this while, for a taste of me on your lips? My slow ragged breathing, across your forehead? Did you not dream of me in those nights that left a burning desire to hold me close to your heart? More
August 19th, 2006
It’s been 4 months since they brought his body to my doorstep. Three days after I reported him missing. He came back. In a gunny sack. He had turned almost blue in colour and his body had shrivelled from being afloat in the lake for three days. They found him entangled in some weeds, by what I was told. I had watched in horror as they took him. Chanting, crying, calling. I stayed home when they burnt him to ashes. I couldn’t bear to see the man I have loved all these years, turn to char. Yes. I am a weakling. More
August 17th, 2006
I lay still, trying not to breathe too hard, propped up on an elbow, watching him as he spoke on the phone with his sister. He left a few words hanging in the air, smelling of smoke. He has not changed a bit. And I have not changed a bit too, I remind myself, smiling. Nothing has changed. And yet everything is different. He bends a little more, asserting another bundle of smoky words. He has definitely packed a few pounds around his waist. I drink him in leisurely with my eyes. More
August 15th, 2006
Welcome to www.yourlifesucks.com
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Tell me, is your life slow paced? Do you feel pangs of pain and hurt? Do you feel guity for stabbing your best friend in the back? Do you think that your life just plain sucks? Well, you have come to the right place then. At Hell’s Inc, you could get happiness and more. just follow the easy steps listed below to sell your soul and you will find happiness knocking on your door. More
July 11th, 2006
I sit up to look at her. Lying like a child, newborn. Reborn. Naked in the white sheets. She looks beautiful like no other. And vulnerable like a lost child. I wonder how I got so lucky. I wonder when was the last time I felt so happy.
With the tip of my finger I just traced her spine. Lightly. So as to not disturb her. She sighed in her sleep and instinctively locked her index finger with mine. My heart swelled with uncontrollable love. And I felt a growing desire to have her again.
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July 10th, 2006
She clings on to all the little things she has come to associate with life in all these years. There are tiny trinkets from the past. Some shards of broken dreams, and the uncertainties of a clueless future. She looks at the grin of the monster that seems to be waiting for her to make her next move.
She’s scared. She looks around. For her mother. The child within her cries to be held. She is afraid. She has been for a long time. But like always, there is no one to listen to her sobs. She looks at the clutter around her. It’s all the things she has ever had. All the things the world calls important.
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