Lovechild

Call me a mishap or a fatherless mongrel, we're all the same and equal sinners.

We've floated in our mother's womb alike and woken up to the same freaking world.

It is only a matter of perspective, not fate, I believe.

You and I are twins, on the other sides of the mirror.

Each of us remain, holding the same pinwheel in our hand. The one that's called life.

Then why do you believe you have the hues and me the monotones?

Notice when it circles with the wind, they are all white and all the same.

Take moment and think. While you maybe not, I am still a lovechild.

(Saved from another one of my blogs)

Happy Birthday

They had known each other for over six years. The first two was friendship. The next one was obsessive love and sex. The fourth was a disaster. The fifth and sixth...were different for both.

So it was her twenty sixth birthday. She was drinking cocktails and eating hash brownies. At the stroke of midnight she kissed a stranger, vowed her love for him and forgot when she kissed her girl friend.

So right after the party noises faded out. She signed in to facebook. Her page was flooded with birthday wishes. Boring. They are said the same thing.

And then somewhere hidden between the zillion other "Happy Birthdays" was one that read - "Happy Birthday Bitch. Hope you receive a much needed pounding tonight." She stared at it for a while. She thought it was the daze. But then her girl friend read it out aloud. She shut up immediate.

What did she do then? Well. She  moved her fingers delicately over the awesome keys of her macbook. She typed - Thank you.

The rose colored shades

We both had a pair. Large retro frames, our rose colored shades. It was a love affair, all of seven ages and four months. She had glorious long hair, billowing down to her waist . The first few stages are hazy in my mind. All I remember is that we were born together once. It was the age of innocence.

After that I remember only memories of us lying on our bed. Her eyes always tilted towards the sky,  whispering poems. Sometimes she sang famous verses and sometimes a made up ramble of jumbled feelings.

She had questions I had no answers to. But still she never hesitated to ask. She asked me if she could be a mother but not a wife.  She asked me if she could be a wife and a child. She asked me if she could be nobody. She asked me if she could be my wife. And in all this, did I mention I was mute but she heard me louder than I ever heard her speak. She asked me if I was her's. She asked me if she could be my wife.

My lips moved in a melancholic dance but not a word did they utter. Not a sigh of soothing relief, not a whimper, not a scream. And like this when we had passed many ages just lying on our bed, one day she made up her mind. I knew not what moment, had I noticed I would have done something. But with really brave hands, and an ominous sleigh of hand, she took off her rose shades. Before I knew she looked around and then turned her gaze. For the first time I saw them. Her eyes were large and set in a deep shade of pain. And when she looked into mine, her gaze couldn't penetrate my rose coloured haze. And so before I knew she merged into thin air. Vanish - like a childish magic game. She was gone.

And then I realized lying half dead. What was gone was a part of me. Her voice echoed in my dreams. I was haunted and there was no escape. So in a second I decided to do the same. But my sleigh of hand didn't know the routine and instead into my heart a dagger it did press. The red circle over my heart grew bigger and bigger until finally there was a whimper. I froze with my eyes strained towards the sky and saw her smiling at me through my rose colored shades.