Dipping toes in the river,
I’ll never drown, never swim, never live,
While you call me from far shore.
Category: Tiny stories
Mirage | Haiku
Your arms curl around me
I snuggle content, hoping to die before
waking to find you gone.
A Haiku is a Japanese form of poetry with 5, 7, 5 syllable combination. Usually, all lines are independent with a least one reference to nature/seasons.
Unrequited | Urdu Poetry
Qubool kar be hua nhi. Irshad kho gya zina me kahi.
Teri ashanai me hume fir bhi musalsal mukarrar ka hi irada h.
You said “I do” but you didn’t,
Inception of love eternal lost in the forbidden,
Love unrequited wishes still
For chances endless until you return.
Author’s note: An Urdu Sher (couplet) translated into an English Quatrain (verse with four lines)
At Fault
You told me it was in my best interest–
the yelling, the barely restrained anger.
Then,
You told me it was all my fault–
the yelling, the unrestrained anger.
Now,
You tell me I deserve it–
before all hell breaks loose
everyday…
The Long Walk
It is a long walk down the aisle. My father holds my hand reassuringly while my mom sobs in the pew. He stands with the pastor looking perfect as ever but I can’t bring myself to smile.
Is it too late to cancel?
Is it wrong to wish for something other than perfection?
I pass by her and, for a second, her entire face lightens up but, then, the lights go out again. Her red-rimmed eyes mirror mine.
Is it too late to cancel?
Why
Something was off.
I could feel it from the moment you walked in our room
on our honeymoon–
something amiss in your face, your eyes, your smile–
something vital.
I spent the night awake, wondering what it was
and why it mattered.
Every time I thought of you,
I felt it.
Every time you were around me,
I couldn’t find it.
I wondered what was amiss,
and why it mattered enough to give me sleepless nights.
Years later, I found it
in the eyes of another man.
It was Love.
The Veil
Waiting at the bus stop,
Rain drops pelting from midnight sky,
Drenching bags, veiling the tears.
The Fight
Walked in with fists tight,
Shouted, cursed, blamed, cried, fell on knees,
Begged for mercy, in church, that night.
Based on the style of Classic Hindi writer, Bihari, known for writing entire story in two lines.
Awaiting
I look at the clock for the hundredth time. He’s still not home.
3:21 AM: It’s futile to wait up. It is only 3 hour journey. If he was coming home tonight, he would be home long back.
4:07 AM: But his friend had said he met him at VT station…
5:37 AM: He probably didn’t find a train…
6:58 AM: But why hasn’t he picked up the phone?
8:09 AM: Is he alright? Why would he not call me back? I know he is always angry but how can he ignore 26 calls?
9:16 AM: Did he have an accident?
9:45 AM: Should I call police?
10:15 AM: His text reads, “The maid will be late.”
11:13 AM: The maid is home, more cheerful than usual.
11:30 AM: He saunters in more cheerful than usual. I rush to meet him. His hair is wet from the shower.
I quietly move to the inner room. He speaks to the maid in a low tone. They laugh…
Impasse
I hold the phone
hoping you’ll pick up;
hoping you wouldn’t;
hoping you’ll recognise the number;
hoping you wouldn’t;
wondering how you could forget the number
when I couldn’t…
I hold the phone
hoping you’re awake;
hoping you’re asleep;
wondering how you could,
when I couldn’t…
I hold the phone wondering
if you have company
and who could she be;
fuming, how you could
when I couldn’t…
Raging, I throw the phone
at the wall
breaking it into pieces
like me…
Still wishing,
you had taken that call…
Short Stories 