Posted in Poetry

Flower in the Snow

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Long ago,

I buried love in the snow

that covers my wintery heart.

 

I’ve held out on the sun.

Who needs warmth anyway?

 

I’ve banned the shovels,

waited for the snow

to harden and trap it beneath

forever.

 

The shivers of cold nothingness

rake my heart

every waking moment.

 

But I am better off without it.

 

For your love is

flower in the snow.

It fosters longing

and dies in the next storm,

extinguishing all hope, yet again.

 

In your love, I see

What can never be.

What we can never be…

Posted in Poetry

The Exile

The forest was full of early morning noises as Rishi Valmiki walked to the river for a bath before the daily Yajna. His hair, tied in a bun above his head, was white with the experiences of a life full of sin and, later, hard penance. His beard was long enough to trip him, but his agility belied his advanced years. A sound of someone tripping alerts him of a presence—not an animal, for sure.

He squared his shoulders, expecting a Danava or a Rakshasa. He called out, “Who goes there? Show yourself.”

“I am Sita, Sir.” A petite woman appeared around the thick trunk of an ancient Banyan tree. In the pre-dawn light, he could see that her clothes were torn in places. She had angry red bruises on her bare arms and face, probably from stumbling around in the forest all night. She seemed several months pregnant.

Concern filled his voice now, “Dear lady, how come you are alone in this forest full of wild animals, and bare-handed? Are you lost?”

“Exiled would be a better word.”

“Exiled? And your crime?”

“I have not been informed of the crime, just the punishment,” she said dejectedly.

“You seem to have a very unjust king!”

“Ironically, he is the best king the world ever saw,” she chuckled without humor.

That’s when the pieces fell together. “Are you the famous Queen Sita, the wife of King Rama Chandra?”

When Sita answered, her voice was hoarse, “I was that a lifetime ago. Or was that only yesterday? Time loses its significance when you are abandoned by the man you love. Now, I am just Sita.”

He was confused. It was all so different from what he had heard about the king—he was the perfect king revered and loved by his subjects, who keeps their will before his own; the perfect brother who handed over his rightful kingdom to his step-brother without batting an eyelid; the perfect son who had gone to fourteen years of exile to keep his father’s word to his step-mother. And when King Ravana had abducted Sita from the forest, he had collected small wild tribes, crossed the sea and fought the most powerful king of all times to retrieve his wife—the perfect husband…

He had always been in awe of that man.

Sita continued, “Last evening, his younger brother left me in the forest on his orders. While leaving, he’d hinted that Rama was following the will of his subjects who are against keeping a woman who had ‘lived with another’. Even though, after winning me back, he had made me walk on flames as a proof of my purity, it wasn’t proof enough for his beloved subjects. And, of course, he wouldn’t give up his beloved kingdom for me as I had once done for him.” The words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

He chose his words carefully now, “Do you wish to go to your father, King Janaka of Mithila?”

“My father? Who hasn’t checked on me since I returned from a fourteen-years exile? He probably believes I eloped willingly, like everyone else,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

He was completely at loss now. But he couldn’t leave the lonely woman on her own—pregnant and unable to defend herself, would be an easy target for hungry animals. Moreover, the forest was infested by Danavas and Rakshasas. God only knows what they would do to a woman who looked so beautiful, even in rags. 

He made a final effort. “Would you like to return to King Rama and plead your case? I assure you I can get you an audience with him. He will not deny the request of a Rishi.”

“Thank you! But I will not plead mercy in front of someone who punishes a victim of crime and her unborn child. Anyway, he would have granted me an audience if he had the courage to face me. He knows well that he’s wrong but did it anyway. He may forgive me, but I will not forgive him.

I was a princess, brought up in luxury, when I married him, but when he was exiled, I chose to accompany him to the forest. There were days, we did not have a roof over our heads. To make him happy, I picked fruits and vegetables in the forest, cooked meals, spun cloth, walked until my feet hurt and worked until I was sore all over, only to end up sleeping on the forest floor like a common woman. For fourteen years…

When Ravana abducted me, he had offered to marry me. I could have led a life of luxury in his castle, but I refused him and chose to live in a cottage like my Rama. And this is how he repays me?”

The fire in her eyes now turned to steel. “I’d rather stay in the forest like I’ve done it for fourteen years. My child needs no father.”

There was only one way to go from there, “Would you like to live in my humble ashram? I answer to no king.”

She gave a little smile, full of gratitude, “Only if you promise to raise my child as a fearless warrior and a better man.”

Author’s note: This story is about an unfortunate day in Ramayana, a revered epic in Sanskrit. It is said that King Rama Chandra grieved for his wife and never remarried. Many years later, his massive army was intercepted and easily defeated by two little boys in the forest. When Rama came to war, Sita finally stepped in and handed over the sons he never knew. However, she declined to return with him.


Photo by Ammpryt ART

Posted in Fiction

Burning Mist

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The world was on fire, but no one felt the burning heat, except she, who walked alone on snow–barefoot, her clothes frayed from her last struggle not unlike her soul–waiting patiently for revenge, until they bring back another, as she knew they would.


Photo by Daniel Mirlea on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction

The Misty Castle

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The crumbling walks

and tottering walls

whisper the stories of bygone…

The gates relive the shrieks

of the maidens the princes took…

Floor echoes the laments

of farmers forced to give up

lands to build the majestic view…

The walls, washed since,

hold traces of blood

of labour forced to trade

shovel for spears

to fight the battles

they didn’t choose…

All to pacify kings

who couldn’t care less if

babies died of hunger…

The wind in the castle

passages quietly whispers

to those who’d close their eyes

to the view and just listen…


Photo by Cederic X on Unsplash

Posted in Nature stories

The People in Zoo (Collated)

I had earlier written this series. Lately, I realised that I could do a better job at it. I have rewritten the stories and collated them since I felt that they make more sense this way. Let me know what you all think.

The Tiger

“Of course, it is better than the circus I was at earlier. The minions feed me well and scrub me often too. My 100×100 feet home comes fitted with grass to lay on and trees to scratch my back. But I miss the drinking straight from the stream, the rush of excitement I used to feel on running after my prey, and most of all, running around the forest with mom.

Don’t know when I will see them again.”

_________________________________________

The Flamingo

“That cramped cage and now this!

Do they really think I’m better off in this aviary I have to share with these minions? How I hate the Gobble-Gobble and the Cackle-Cackle—the constant cacophony of the mindless birds who have never seen the world!

I can see the sky from here. The way the Sun and clouds call to me and the wind lifts me up only to crash me in the damned fence—never before had I thought that hell was real.”

_________________________________________

­­­The Lion

The Lion growled at the flash of the camera.

“How I hate them when they pry in like that. Is there no privacy here? What’s the point of giving me a mate when I can’t even nuzzle her without hearing a camera click somewhere?

Well, if I can’t be alone with her, why even bother? Let them think I’m not interested.”

_________________________________________

The Stag

“I see her sad eyes filled with longing across the wired high fence. I feel the same longing deep within; a loneliness I never thought could exist. A bondage that I never realized cuts through me in every waking moment and dreams too.

Of course, I have a herd. They have given me five mates.

But in this moment, I feel I never had a choice.”

_________________________________________

The Alligator

“Where have all the eggs gone again? I had buried them in the sand under the tree. Did the birds find them again? But I never saw them descend…

I’ve scoured every inch of land within the enclosure. Did someone steal them and took them away?

But no one came…Well, except the cleaner…But he wouldn’t do that to me, would he? He must know how much my babies mean to me.

Maybe they hatched when I was eating and are hiding in the water already. But where are the shells then?”

_________________________________________

The Hippopotamus

“They have sent me a new ‘wife’! Do they really think she can distract me?

They took away my real wife four months back when she was several months along. I let them because the guy who treated my leg was with them too. Ever since then, I’ve waited for her to return with the baby. But now I hear her and the baby in a distance from another enclosure. I called her and she called me right back.

I tried to break the walls to reach her, but they were too strong.

Now, they have sent me a new ‘wife’! As if I care! Damn these walls!”

Posted in Fiction, Poetry

The Night Bus

I took the night bus

draped in my wedding sari,

still adorned with the jewels

my parents had scrounged for me

over the years,

breaking their tender hearts

for raising a daughter unworthy.

 

I sought you

and the answer to

why I wasn’t enough for you.

I hope, they wouldn’t

cremate my body

before I reach you.


Photo by @5tep5 on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction

The Nutcracker

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She wasn’t ready to part with the nutcracker yet. Everything else was sold—the house,  furniture, expensive clothes, and shoes—the reminders of their years together.

But the nutcracker they had bought on their last Christmas together before he went to the war…and came back in a box… ‘He’ would stay and bear witness that she remarried but never moved on.


Photo by v2osk on Unsplash

Posted in Fiction, Poetry

Pencil Shavings

That day, when I sat next to you, you fidgeted in your seat, ashamed to share your space with a girl like me. You didn’t think I noticed when you rolled your eyes, looking exasperate, at the leggy birdbrain across the class.

One look at my braces and glasses, and you trashed me…like your pencil shavings.