Wherever I go
I find you staring
Back at me
My own reflection

The eyes- effeminate,
moist, but sparkling,
Accusing nonetheless
Of crimes unnerving.

It's not easy
To hold it all in
The emotions that are
All bottled within

A trifle too good
I am, I'm sure
At concealing it all
Pretending I don't care.

Lest you say
I forgot you, my dear
Do understand-
I'm not what I appear


And she returned...

The blade was already digging deep in her skin; droplets of blood oozing out. She could’ve ended it in a fraction of a second, but she didn’t. Instead, she tasted her own blood- yes, tasted it. It tasted like rust; nothing like the red wine she had imagined it to bear resemblance to. But it was pleasant nonetheless. It seemed to affect her strangely. Suddenly, she could hear her own heartbeats distinctly. It seemed to her that somebody had wrenched her heart and held it close to her ears; so unmistakably audible. 

She was startled for a moment. Had she died, perhaps? Yes! That seems only plausible. She had, after all, managed to kill herself. Yet, she could feel it hammering against her chest; proof enough that it was still there. She WAS alive, then.

She could still feel the cold blood running through her veins searching for any nook or cranny of her body that wasn’t insensate yet. The biting cold blood surging ahead... Cold. Blood. COLD?!?! She was perplexed. Wasn’t blood supposed to be warm and revitalising? She felt for the handkerchief she now remembered tying across that cut. It was wet, but not with blood. Instead- she now saw- it was ice cold water.

Water? She found herself at a loss again. Just then a strong gust of wind blew away her scarf and she came out of the trance. She found herself standing in the exact centre of the town square. She had no recollection of taking that ever familiar lift from the fourth floor where her apartment was located; no recollection of taking the stairs either. Yet here she was- in the town square- and what she had imagined to be heartbeats and blood were the howling wind and rain, respectively. 

Perplexed at first, she snapped back to her senses. It didn’t matter how she had reached the town square. The rain had done something good, it seemed. She now realised the terrible mistake she was about to commit barely 10 minutes ago. Her husband had been killed, yes; her entire family had been wiped out in that attack, true. But she was alive and healthy and so was her daughter. It hadn’t even been 3 days since the family’s demise and she was contemplating suicide!

As if on cue, her 5-year-old’s laughter rang in her ears. There she was- 4 floors above in their apartment- calling out to her. Her deep brown hair billowing about in the fierce wind as she cried- “I want to play in the rain too mommy. I want to go out with you.”

She looked at that innocent little angel. The girl wasn’t even aware of the calamity that had struck them. “No,” she reminded herself. She had to live. She had to live for Samantha; the girl had already lost enough.

“Mommy, take me with you please mommy.”

She could almost feel the heat radiating from her once-numb body. She could not die anymore. Samantha needed her. Her daughter needed her.

“I’m coming darling, my angel, just a...”

Her last words died in her throat. All that remained of that moment was the blare of a horn, the screech of tires, a thud and a bloodcurdling scream.


In sane conversation

In the past few days I've been working really hard (or so I like to think) on 'The Project'. One of the few things that help me stay sane during the long, harrowing ( or so they seem to me) work hours (you bet I made that up... I work from home!) are the interesting (that's an understatement) conversations I have with 'my colleague' who happens to be fellow blogger too and although I have decided to reveal the 'top-secret' conversation here, the names have been changed to protect the identities (like that wasn't obvious! duhh).

X: papa can you hear me
X: papa do you see me
X: i am yentl
X: i am a girl
X: but i dress up like a boy
X: and i love a boy
Y: and i am blind
Y: and deaf
X: i am a gay transexual
Y: glad to hear that.. coz i'm not your papa.. i am ur mumma
Y: i got sex-change done too
X: it's a song
X: rofl
Y: seriously?>
X: yup
Y: khooolll
Y: wait. brb
X: lol
X: br a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z
X: MONEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Y: bak-wa
X: ehh?
Y: that's 'back' in bhojpuri
X: oh
X: back - wa
X: right
X: i was like what?
X: lol
X: yup
X: everyone makes mistakes
X: ok srry bbye
X: im afraid i dont know any mena....i thought i was talking to Y
Y: lol
X: thats amore!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
X: i call another country brother and he shows up?
X: nope
X: not yet
Y: purr-fect... kitty kity kitty

Author's note: There are no other changes except the obvious ones and this conversation isn't bogus or cooked-up either. It's as real as they get!


Mentioning 'the forbidden' and some doodles

Well, I haven't really had the time (or energy) to update my blog of late. The 'project' (can't say more about it, sadly) has been taking up most of time and it seems it has killed all my 'kreativity'.
The only remotely kreative thing I've done in the past few days are some doodles.

Take a look-
(and as usual, my apologies for the bad picture quality. If you're a regular here, you'd know by now that I don't have a good camera.)
Doodle 1
This is the cover of my new sketchbook, designed by me of course. *applause applasue*
That Japanese bit is Creation. So, it reads "This book bears the first sweet touch of Creation"
(pretty cheesy, yes... but i always wanted to do that)

Doodle 2 

This is just another random doodle (err, aren't all doodles supposed to be random? ok. whatever.) that I did while watching a torturously crappy movie- John Carpenter's Ghosts of Mars. The less about the movie, the better.