Lemon.

Going away was never easy,
It was never bright & breezy.
Any contrary illusions were in vain,
as each step away was a pain.

But there was something now,
hanging in the air like a bough.
Something that seemed crazy,
and yet was intangibly hazy.
Something that urged me to walk,
run or skip, away from the stalk.

Must Be Hard

Must be hard. To watch from afar, cloaked in the oppressive shadows of silence, forced to support. To watch as silent tears rolled down your cheeks, the emptiness of your eyes revealing more than words ever could. Must be hard to keep secret your pain from the world, as under the guise of patriotism, your young ones would go to fight. To fight a battle not theirs, to slay an enemy faceless. Only he has a face, a mirror of theirs. And while those back home rejoice in the cosy comfort of their homes, reducing your pain to sheer numbers, you pray for mercy, hoping your own will not become another statistical point, another name on a list, another stone in a graveyard.

Must be hard to see the passion in their eyes, and sometimes the weary emptiness of a soul grown old. 

"The Last Copy"

Jules looked up. Her glasses seemed like they were contemplating suicide off her cliff nose. 
‘What?’
I shuffled nearer, making my best puppy-dog expression. She must have gotten used to it by now, though, because she immediately went back to her register, making those little ticks against the book names. I hopped onto the table, sitting right opposite her. There was no way she could pretend to ignore me now. I was in her face. Literally.

She didn’t look up. Her eyes narrowing with every sentence she read, I was surprised she could make out anything more than a blur. Finally, she shut the register and looked up. 
She sighed as she stared at me. Then, she sighed some more. 

‘Why do you do keep doing this? Every single time. You know how much it hurts me right?’
‘Look, I love you but I can’t change who I am. You know that better than anyone. You know that and yet, every time you try for a different outcome.’
‘Yeah, I know. It’s just well, you know you’re my favorite. I don’t have anyone else to turn to. So, I keep hoping that something might change this time.’
‘We’ve had this talk some 2000 times. I’ve grown old. I’m tired. I’m not the bright, shiny thing I used to be. You have to give me a break here. I cannot keep having the same discussion every time.’
‘Fine. I guess I should look for someone else. If you can’t change, then maybe I should. Maybe, I should look for something with more spice, more mystery, more adventure. You’re, you’re too old for me.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine.’ 

Flash Fiction

Joan pushed me in, her hands trembling ever so slightly. She was new at this, you see. I wasn’t her first, but still, she was new at this. Perhaps that explained her short attention span, at least towards me. I didn’t mind though. I liked watching her as she deliberated between the various ideas going on in her head, while I did my business. Every once in a while, she would pause to note down something in her shiny, new notebook. 
She was weird that way.
But then she would return to me, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead as she screwed up her rather symmetrical eyes in concentration. 

Sometimes when the day was hot, and our heat got too much for her, she would stop to switch on the fan. I know what you’re thinking, but hey, I liked her quirkiness.

"The Trap"

Splashing water roughly on her face, Jahzara looked into the mirror. Her eyes travelled over the bloodshot eyes, the mismatched cheeks, one scratched beyond recognition and the other flaming red from the many blows, and the cut lip. All covered with little droplets of water. All a testament to the acute horribleness of the recent past, to her terrible ordeal. 

Shivering uncontrollably at the memory, she staggered out of the dirty, unkempt bathroom, her foot slipping slightly at the threshold. She unsteadily grabbed at the nearest thing – her coat, now covered in blood and dirt, it’s originally blue colour no longer discernible. Putting it back on its peg, she collapsed on the floor, her eyes already wet. Brushing away the tears impatiently, she pulled her knees towards her. Putting her head on them, she gasped as the fresh cut on her cheek came in contact with her knee. Crying bitterly, she sat up, staring into space.

"The Day it Came to Her"

She awoke with a start. Disoriented, she looked around, trying to get a sense of her bearings. She was huddled at her desk, her laptop open in front of her, supporting her arms. She had been so tired she’d gone to sleep on her laptop! 

She sat up, trying to motivate herself to finish her work. But she was distracted, and thirsty…she got up to get herself a glass of water. Standing at the windowsill, she looked out into the inky blackness, letting the freshness of the liquid cool her aching throat. How late was it? She wondered. She glanced at her watch but was too tired to register the lateness of the hour. She looked out again, this time with a bit of clarity. 

"Need"

Hold me close to you, don’t let me go
Hold me like everyone else is my foe
Hold me forever, till my last breath
and hold me beyond, beyond my death.


Promise to never, ever let go of me
‘Cos we’re branches of the same tree
And my life relies on yours to be
Just like the waves do on the sea.

"Juniper & Kirca"

   Juniper drew back the curtains & peeped out of the window, her breath misting the pane. She gazed out into the oppressive, unfriendly night, its darkness dense & forbidding. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, forming a pool on the window sill. She stood there for a long time, unaware of the passage of time & unseeing of the sun’s arrival…




   "You have now reached a state of maturity, Kirca! We can no longer harbor you in our homes. The time has come for you to seek out your destiny, to search for a heart that is willing to welcome you into itself. You must now set out in your search for your soul mate…Farewell, Kirca, till we meet again!”
Thus began Kirca’s journey, and his search for his true mate, one who would complete him, make him whole.  

I seek you in every nook & cranny, in every room of every house.

You, within whom every passion I shall arouse!

This waiting period shall soon be over, oh mate of mine

& then thou shall be mine & this Kirca shall be thine!

And so Kirca set out of his ancestral home, away from his people & away from the city that had housed his race since the beginning of creation. His banishment comprised an ancient tradition peculiar to his race & so, instead of teary farewells, he was met with congratulatory greetings & relieved parents as he bade all of them goodbye forever…

"A Bittersweet Memory."

She was too small then,
to be able to remember much now,
but the pictures said it all…
The hugs, the smiles, the den,
they were happy together, and how!
He was a proud owner, and she the beautiful doll…


They stood hand-in-hand,
grinning sheepishly into the camera,
like discoverers of an unknown land.