Words

i may sound like drizzle but i'm monsoon rain the passion seeped into your bones the love running in your veins i'm that old cassette you can never throw away i'm neat whiskey you drink after a tiring day you've fallen in love after me but no woman can rock your world i'm the storm you chased i'm the photo you burned what if we meet again ...on cold august dawn? would you pour wet kisses? would you play our favorite song? it was many moons ago i still remember how i felt your body weight on me and how miserable i was when you left but i take pride as no one can love you the way i did i was your 3 am phone call i'm the first 150 pages of your manuscript it was half-hell, half-heaven the time we spent it was too powerful to be true it had to end i bet you think of me sometimes my memories have not gathered dust we both know it was true i was the first girl you loved

Maa, I bought Pond's talcum powder from Indian store yesterday, I sprinkled it after the evening bath. Combed my hair with center partition, And walked barefoot on freshly cut grass. The soft scent of lilies didn’t go well with my body chemistry, I didn’t smell as nice as you. The center partition didn’t suit my round face, How the kurta looked, I have no clue. It was hard to imitate you, As a girl, I tried to fit in. You, a gracious lady, With skin as smooth as porcelain. I have the same features, Minus your class and grace. How silly of me to think? I could be at your place. But Maa, I thought again, How can I replicate long lost summer days? You dressed in a neat cotton sari, Serving rooh-afza to guests on holidays. I can’t buy your personality, I buy the closest things, though. Ponds talcum, Shilpa bindi, cotton dress, And folding chairs for the patio. Then I struggle hard to bring a little soul, To the inanima...

Not very long ago, there was something called Sofa. It was the finest piece of furniture in the house. If you are a boy, I am very sure you never cared about it. For girls, we devoted our Sunday, Saturday and all other holidays dusting or decorating it. Only worthy guests were entertained on the sofa. Rest of the lot - Sharma Aunty, Priya ki Mummy and Neelam Aunty never saw the light of our sofa, let alone had a feel of it. I remember, I truly grew up the day my mother said - Jaa ab sofay ki dusting kar! My eyes welled. From side table to sofa was a huge transition, and I stood up to the challenge. I washed my hands with soap, and searched for daddy ki purani baniyan and switched on the drawing room light. I even remember the cut-color-clarity of our sofa. It was of rexine. Rexine was the middle-class version of leather. We had no idea how to differentiate leather from rexine. We judged it by the standard of the house - Bada ghar toh leather, varna duplicate! I liked rexine....

As a child when anyone asked what I wanted to be, I was very clear and focused. I wanted to be a doctor and a wife. To be very precise - I wanted to be a ‘good looking’ doctor and the ‘most beautiful’ wife, jaisi movies mein hoti hain - tip top! Two exemplary ladies were my source of inspiration - Rekha Ji and Madhuri Dixit. Honestly, I connected with Madhuri more. After watching that scene from ‘ Hum Aapke Hain Kaun ,’ where Madhuri all dressed up in pink satin dress, serves God-only-knows-how-many-dishes to Salman Khan, I knew for sure I wanted to be a wife. I imagined cooking in neatly tucked sari, serving my husband spoonfuls of halwa between oodles of love and seductive glances. ‘ Yeh tumne apne hathon se banaya hai’ - was my second favorite sentence. First being - hamari beti sarvagunn sampann hai! I started my ‘Wife-Training’ rigorously. I cooked, I baked, I burnt and in between all that, borrowed my mom’s maroon saree for practice. The low point of this ...

My brother is seven years younger to me. As a little girl, no one waited for him like I did. No one... not even my poor mother who carried him for 9 months. Every time my mother came back from her regular checkups, I went straight to her bedroom and searched both sides of my mother. ‘Mommies always bring babies from the hospital,’ my little mind thought. I used to pace around my mother’s bed, I used to be in a constant state of worry - ‘Where is my brother?’ There were days I blamed my mother, ‘She must be late and they closed the hospital.’ Maybe, she didn’t like the babies available. Ok, let’s wait till they update the stock! Trust me, it was very taxing to work through my emotions. But my worst memory of my kid brother popping in this world was when I saw my mother lying on the bed and a strange thought came to my mind - we kept new things in the storeroom adjacent to the bedroom and I thought, maybe, my mother kept the new baby on her woolen trunk. Oh boy! What if he ...

Untie that knot Set him free Those feet were never at rest Since he was three Many unpalatable truths Smeared on his blood-soaked shirt A corpse does speak Without uttering even a single word Jostle my soul harder I'm unhinged by this fall I am looking at his naked feet Cover them with a warm shawl He may not feel cold But a mother can't bear this sight Those people didn't kill one The whole family died Only a handful celebrate On what humanity mourns Goodness shall prevail It never withers with such storms But do tell his mother Every heart is bleeding with pain Many beliefs are uprooted In today's hurricane Do... Untie that knot, set him free Those feet were never at rest, since he was three He won't run now, his stride has been cut short Let him pace towards heaven, he has already suffered a lot Inspired by December 16th, School Massacre in Peshawar, Pakistan *Image Source