Hanging on the horizon, the clouds threaten to fall.
Hearts make one more wish on the falling star.
Hanging between genders, they dare not hope though.
Tag: Hope
Khushboo
Tapti mitti khwabo me soundhi khushboo deti h.
Teri rehmat shayad khidhkiyo se dil tak aayi h.
Translation:
I dream of fragrant first rains
in hot and fiery lands–
Through the windows your blessings
sneak into my weary heart.
Author’s note: In Urdu, rains are considered a blessing since they are the harbinger of relief, growth, prosperity and plenty. When the first rain of rainy season touches dry land, the land becomes fragrant and touches the very soul of Indians. It beckons children and adults alike to rush out and feel the raindrops on their faces.
Lantern: Hope
Storm
rocks my
paper ship–
drenched, not drowned–
ever.
Author’s note: Lantern is a type of descriptive poetry from Japan that follows the syllable structure of one, two, three, four and one syllables per line to shape a lantern when the words are centered to middle.
The Killer Streaks
The story is now a part of a short-story collection available both in print and as an ebook. I will share the links soon.
Pretty Woman
There she was,
looking fresh out of the bath,
dressed in her red
that quickened
the pace of my heart,
sitting at her favourite spot.
I wondered
whether
she’ll notice me today,
sitting next to her
for the nth time this year.
She winked
at the passing Porsche,
crushing my hopes.
Well, perhaps tomorrow…
Photo by Hrayr Movsisyan on Unsplash
At Dusk
After a long day of chores
and heartbreaks,
I look out of the window for solace.
Dusk.
The Sun, now red
like ambers close to an end,
is washed by the ocean waves
of the thin wisps of clouds.
Kissed by the sleepy Sun,
the clouds blush.
The orange Moon,
hiding all day
from the burning anger
of her father,
now comes to face.
She sings quiet songs
made of silver beams
drowning away his rage.
He sleeps at the horizon,
in the arms of dark Night
to wake the next day.
With a quietened heart,
I now seek Hope—
tomorrow
will be a new day.
The Mettle
I walk around the city
without purpose
drowning in gloom.
Long unemployment
Often does that to you.
Yellow flashes
in the corner of my vision
in a crack of the pavement
pulling me forward,
a marionette on strings.
A cluster of flowers,
smaller than my nail,
stand tall, smiling,
in a place
where stomping feet
can wipe them out
instantly.
They care not,
smiling
in the face of adversity,
unlike me.
Hope
As my two-hour-old roommate called one friend after the other trying to find a suitable accommodation for me, I smiled. She barely knew me, yet she had fought our landlord against evicting me because of my religion (often labelled as ‘terrorist’) and lost.
She complained about the unfairness of it all to her friends and they were outraged as well. I smiled… because for every one person who hated me, there were 20 who sided by me.
This world still had hope!
–Dedicated to Manisha and her friends for standing up against religion-based discrimination
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 