Of Silent Wars

Drip drip drip – it roars

From the quarter-closed rust tap

Like small silent wars.

 

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“Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly”

Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, as if a million miles away. Somewhere far off you can smell flowers burning. And poppy seeds popping.
It reminds you of home.

Someone tugs at your sari. You remain seated at your desk with your head resting on your crossed arms. Someone should come back later.

Someone tugs again. This time, a lil impatiently.
You look up. It’s Sree.
You pat her and she sits down at the end of your chair chewing the end of your sari, satisfied.

That somebody calls you again. A faltering, softer call.
“Aun..Ma?”
You sit up, startled.
You stare at your step-child, failing to answer for a while.

“..yes, baby?”

******

P.S. – The song I was listening to- Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds by The Beatles.
P.P.S. – It’s a Daily Post challenge. The challenge was to take the third line of the last song I heard, make it my post title and write for a maximum of 15 minutes.
🙂

May 3 – The Little Things

A little thing.

A few days back, when my exams were still on, as a routine, I asked my dad to iron my kurti for me( since I didn’t have time and was busy revising stuff. Bleh 😛 ). When I came to my room, after my shower, I found (along with the ironed kurti), two little handkerchiefs neatly folded and ironed on my bed.
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It made me happy.
As simple as that.
These lil acts of care or whatever you choose to call it, matter to me.
In all probability, I would have hurried and picked up a creasy handkerchief and left. But the fact that dad notices things…and helps me out by doing his bit, means a lot to me. He needn’t have. But he did. And even at 60, he does everything to make my life easier and better. My old man makes me happy. 

Daily Chores

With the depth of my fingers,
I trace lines of thoughts mid-air,
As my thought-police slides its tail
between the legs and escapes.
With the breadth of my fingers
I broaden the resonance of my words.
With the tip, I dig and clean.
With the strength of my fingers
I lift the empty bucket heavy with
Imagined mishappenings –
Out it goes through the window;
With the pain in my fingers,
I write happy verse of sadness.
With the force in my fingers,
I hit the dough and push through the crowd.
With my fingers, I do my daily chores,
And with its lightness, I glide.

Writing201:Poetry – DAY 2

I’m not someone who travels a lot or writes limerick for that instance. Hence, today’s challenge proved to be a tad bit difficult for me. But anyway, I tried writing my limerick about a 3 day journey where at the end of it, the narrator was awfully glad to be back home (and slept all day). 😀

Monday morning I packed my bag.
The next day spent in jet lag.
Traveller of night,
My Wednesday bright;
Tip-toed home and slept on my rag.