Inclined Chronicles of Indulgence

To bee, or not to bee The peninsular city of Hyderabad is eternally a summer struck city. Some days are hotter than other. But the last winter was quite chilling. It started shedding leaves in the autumn. But one can always hope for an evergreen tree to keep its leaves. It was different that year. Probably it was time. Time for the green, fulfilling leaves to go.  It was a story of almost three years. They met online; he was looking for a woman to marry, and she was looking for a man to find passion with. I could not believe it was her; she really had changed as were the rumours. She was a different woman. She was calm, dangerously calm. She talked for long, as usual. As if a dark wave had hit her soul, thundering and storming her inner thoughts. She smiled when I offered her coffee. Probably because that reminded her of him. I was not sure how exactly to respond. Her eyes were brimming, and yet dry. Like the face of a woman who has seen through her life, and is living be...

I don't know what is more difficult: the pain or the recovery. After being stabbed on an open wound, you would only think a hundred times before using a butter knife. You will use a spoon, even a fork, but every knife will remind you of the stab. Each memory will roll like a series of flashback, every picture quickly succeeded by another, minute details of intricate details of each blow. You relive every moment as if the then is now.  It speeds up the heart rate but nobody can hear it beside yourself.  The chest is burdened with pounds of guilt and courage, only you know the serpentine breath struggling to come out of your lungs. Your hands prepare to fight, because the last time they betrayed you to fright. Your legs prepare to stand more firmly if that's possible. All you know is the knife can hurt you anytime. The sharp knives will show mercy and bleed you till you pass out; the blunt ones will make vain attempts, but will leave marks for you to feel the terror agai...

Distance Is A Notion  Give your Facebook a rest, and read this story when she was in grade six and he was in grade ten. Back then, school kids weren't privileged with mobile phones, neither had a heavy wallet. Internet was a gourmet product those days; internet cafés were quite popular for every kind of computer tasks, from school projects to colour print outs. One evening, her friend asked if she knew about the then trending social media; she wasn't aware. Her friend took her to a café before the chemistry tuition and opened an account for her on ORKUT! That too with a new REDIFFMAIL email id!! The winter/Christmas theme was her all time favourite, and she loved the scrapbook application with those animated posts. 90s netizens will understand the fascination with Orkut: it has multiple chat room with unlimited access. She loved interacting with strangers, knowing what others are like, possibilities, theories. It happened when she had just been done with her grade sev...

Wishful tomorrow And she wakes up abruptly from a timely peaceful sleep only to feel restless.  ****** Since then not a day passed when her heart didn't skip a beat and her pupils dilated in anticipation with every WhatsApp ping. Although being used to the rant of that mobile, she was feeling unused to her self. Her mind was determined to let her not a minute spare without him. The wait seemed prolonged and the time seemed to have slowed down and become opaque.  She wanted all her life to be the sky; these days, she wants to be the breeze. He doesn't like rain, not because of the rain, but probably because he was cautious about his hair. She liked the way he cared about himself. He is compassionate; may be the history, or the life, or just the way, but something about him made her wish him. She experiences the chills she didn't know existed in her.  ****** He stepped out as if he wanted her to want him. Blue; he was in a blue jacket. That da...

Masked Feelings Be my winter quilt On the bed of passions Be the drops of sweat On my skin of desire I am a woman baked In the fire of desires Be my serpentine prince Rule my realm of senses Coax me into your arms Break me to phoenix ash Let me grow in you Like a tender climber Be the seed raise In the womb of love I want you like a jinx Destroy me to bits Rise me to shine In every broken hymen Embrace me to the depths Of your multitude cane Bring me the life That rains in spring Hurt me in my knees And bleed my eyes Breach my verses Like a stranger awaited This wait is beautiful For I shall meet you At the horizon Where you are the sublimation And I am the symphony.

It was never supposed to be 'us'. Despite the many hints, the constant annoyance in voice, the declination of any intimacy, you couldn't apprehend it. To friends and questioners, I say I expected  better and brighter story than the rest ones; I knew since day one that we never belonged. You took care of me like I am a new born baby unable to even turn herself on her own. You pampered me everyday like I was more yours than I was mine. Yet, when time came, like a lone wolf, you betrayed me. The betrayal would have tastes different if it was not a question of trust. The day you questioned my loyalty to a man who left me with scars on my flesh and mind, and asked me to feel ashamed to have looked out for love, I had the clear glimpse of reasoning behind your strong attention towards me. Instead of listening, you were spying. You spied of my past to humiliate me, to remind me what a horror it will always be. You hacked into my gadget to look what I might be hiding from you...

Will it be ever enough? Will I ever know you well?  Everyday it comes as a new morning to end with dreamy nights.  I believe I owe my second life to you. Since that right swipe on Tinder, not a day has passed when you have not inspired me. I cannot claim to know you yet. Yet, somehow, knowing your name has been enough. You make me survive every single hour. I wouldn't ever ask for more. First impression may have come across as a workaholic life, but there is so much more to you. Eventually you turned up into a man beyond work; one who values life as it is meant to be. Seeing your milestones makes me achieve steps ahead of thorns.  That was a heck of a medical appointment with my psychologist. It was my seventh visit to her, and after four hours of my tireless rant and endless painful tears, she finally agreed. She gave up and conceded to my preposterous idea of happiness. She was rather shocked to see a broken heart filled with so much of you. What wouldn't I ...