Weddings

A parody poem on the typical wedding scene in India

Venue

It was once a palace they say,

So we gave our guests a three night stay.

The décor was sculpted from literal ice,

Was it extravagant and grandiose?

Enough to make people stare and marvel twice.

And did it cost a heavy price?

Well, safe to say, now our bank balance doesn’t feel so nice

Date

A suitable date needs to be decided

So we consult an astrologer and are guided

by planets and stars that float light years away.

Turns out, the only auspicious day is a Tuesday

But then guests can’t make it to the three night stay

So Pay an extra 100, the astrologer says

And the stars will ensure the weekend becomes your wedding day

Itinerary

The baarat arrives after an hour of delay

Presenting a 50 minute dance sequence in front of the hotel gateway

With pomp and show the ceremonies commence

Busy with the buffet, guests gaze at the proceedings

with interest that is pretense.

Then the bride and groom sit on throne like chairs

Acting as a selfie booth for dolled up relatives that come in pairs.

Smiles are feigned

And the couple is chained

by societal expectations

that strain their marital unification.

published at @inksword.magazine on Instagram

© @_theponderingkitten_

Every Tuesday Night

I am waiting in a restaurant and the atmosphere is precisely what I witness every Tuesday night, mundane with a hint of gloom, characteristic of this decades old establishment, located at the far end of a scarcely populated street. Only one of the rickety old tables is occupied by any customers, a family of three and their presence adds to the dreary atmosphere of the restaurant.The silence amongst them filled only by the dull clink of pots coming from the kitchen, the chef presumably preparing whatever it is that the family ordered. From the sultry expressions on each of their faces it seems to me that they had a little argument at home and hence decided to eat out at the nearest place to break the tension hanging in the air around them.But this dismal ambience was soon broken, for the clock struck nine and the sound of a door swinging fell upon my ears and in walked the one reason I have been visiting this restaurant every Tuesday night.My younger sister.Now in the 22nd year of her life, she looks cheerful as always. She orders an ice cream sundae and sits across of me. I watch her eat the sundae, just like we used to every Tuesday before my demise 5 years ago. A single tear rolls down her eye and she wipes it away with a bittersweet smile, reminiscing all the memories we made together. Out of the corner of my eye I see the family of three finally talking to each other, the veil of tension thinning amongst them and I like to believe it is because of my little sister’s presence brightening the world of others just as she does to mine. I watch her as she finishes the sundae licking the last bit of chocolate, a habit I have seen ever since we were little kids and then she stands up to leave. I smile wistfully at her retreating form and prepare myself to return amongst the dead. After all, lost souls like me are granted a mere few minutes every week to roam amongst the living and I spend every second of this time looking at her, my dear little sister.

My younger sister.Now in the 22nd year of her life, she looks cheerful as always. She orders an ice cream sundae and sits across of me. I watch her eat the sundae, just like we used to every Tuesday before my demise 5 years ago. A single tear rolls down her eye and she wipes it away with a bittersweet smile, reminiscing all the memories we made together. Out of the corner of my eye I see the family of three finally talking to each other, the veil of tension thinning amongst them and I like to believe it is because of my little sister’s presence brightening the world of others just as she does to mine. I watch her as she finishes the sundae licking the last bit of chocolate, a habit I have seen ever since we were little kids and then she stands up to leave. I smile wistfully at her retreating form and prepare myself to return amongst the dead. After all, lost souls like me are granted a mere few minutes every week to roam amongst the living and I spend every second of this time looking at her, my dear little sister.

The silence amongst them filled only by the dull clink of pots coming from the kitchen, the chef presumably preparing whatever it is that the family ordered. From the sultry expressions on each of their faces it seems to me that they had a little argument at home and hence decided to eat out at the nearest place to break the tension hanging in the air around them.

But this dismal ambience was soon broken, for the clock struck nine and the sound of a door swinging fell upon my ears and in walked the one reason I have been visiting this restaurant every Tuesday night.

My younger sister.

Now in the 22nd year of her life, she looks cheerful as always. She orders an ice cream sundae and sits across of me. I watch her eat the sundae, just like we used to every Tuesday before my demise 5 years ago. A single tear rolls down her eye and she wipes it away with a bittersweet smile, reminiscing all the memories we made together.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the family of three finally talking to each other, the veil of tension thinning amongst them and I like to believe it is because of my little sister’s presence brightening the world of others just as she does to mine.

I watch her as she finishes the sundae licking the last bit of chocolate, a habit I have seen ever since we were little kids and then she stands up to leave. I smile wistfully at her retreating form and prepare myself to return amongst the dead. After all, lost souls like me are granted a mere few minutes every week to roam amongst the living and I spend every second of this time looking at her, my dear little sister.

Silhouettes

Under the glimmering night sky
a soft white curtain
stood unnoticed at the edge of a street,
fluttering as if lulled by the serene wind.
And it tells a forbidden tale,
of two silhouettes in love.

Two tentative heads peek at its edge ,
bent towards each other in careful speculation.
Emerge out of shadows the two figures,
behind the curtain standing at polar ends.

A song begins thrumming through their veins
electric energy buzzing through the air
and an amorous duet commences.
Two steps forward, a step to the side,
distance closing in with passionate strides
Arm’s length away, a halt.
Bodies shift in a coy fashion,
dancing along the rhythmic beats of their hearts,
It’s a melodic display of infatuation.

A twist and a twirl
they slink closer and closer
A hairs breath away, hands clasped back in self restraint
Chests heaving in laboured breath
movements charming each other in a flirtatious display.

The end of a verse
hands freeing from their back
two silhouettes collide like stars in space,
creating a universe for themselves
away from this prejudiced place.

On the shimmering curtain
they become smaller and smaller
walked away with
their fingers knitted together,
and heart strings strumming
in symphony

This lovely tale of two dancing silhouettes,
became a secret of the universe.
Away from the prying judgement of narrow eyes
of those who failed to understand love.

Mother and Her Plants

My mother has a garden. Well, it’s actually a quaint little setup in our balcony.  It’s an adorable arrangement with a bunch of beautiful potted plants and a round swing at a corner- the kind that can lull you into a light sleep with it’s gentle soporific motions.

Something you should know about my mother is that she is a petite woman with a childlike persona and an ability to make the best of any situation. She likes to keep the optimism flowing whether for her own sake or the people around her, I don’t know. Perhaps, it’s both.

And those plants seem to give her some kind of inexplicable joy. Maybe it’s in the way they bloom so gracefully with bright colors that she enjoys  the scenic beauty of the plants. They seem to provide her a sense of calm.

Or perhaps, it’s in the way the flowers crave warmth that she does too. I know she likes to bathe in the sunlight, evident in the way she sits facing the sun every morning. But I think it’s more than  just feeling the sun rays cascade her skin.
I think she seeks the kind of thoughtful care she gives to the plants for herself.

It seems, my mother and her garden are not so different in their desires.
And I hope both of them feel content with the ones who care about them.
For the plants, my mother.

And for my mother, her family.

A New Year’s Eve

It’s half past 11 now and the night is younger than it has ever been  in the past 364 days. There’s a light buzz in the atmosphere as if someone has sprinked electric energy ino the air . It is coupled with a whiff of anticipation and an inexplicable excitement that seems to be flowing through everyone’s veins.

There’s a couple of them flailing their limbs around in an elaborate sequence, dabcing is what they call it. They look ridiculous but indefintely happy.
A few seem to be playing a game of who can hug the most people before 12am. No one seems to be complaining even though those are sloppy displays of affection.

And I am leaning against an isolated corner, it’s  a good vantage point to observe, not so much if you want to participate in the celebrations.

My job  is to observe.

It’s a fascinating sight, all these people looking forward to the next 15 minutes as if it is a completely new begining when in reality half of them will be too hungover to get out of bed till noon.

I mean sure it can be an utterly new begining but they don’t know this, humans can’t reset themselves.

There’s a ringing sound just then, only audible to my ears.
It’s a call from the mothership,
‘shall we initiate memory reset?’

‘No. They don’t need it.
What these intriguing creatures do need are their experiences, good and bad. They seem to carry hope for a better tommorrow even though most seemed to be morbid about 2017.
Let’s leave these complex beings  to survive at their own devices.’

For now.

___________________________

A/N 

🌺HAPPY 2018 EVERYONE🌺

Black Tinted Glasses

I donned those black tinted glasses

laughter echoing in the air
Mirth resounds in this fair
The twitch of my lips
enough to prevent any slips

I donned the black tinted glasses
To hide the anxious eyes wondering If i looked right
Result of clogged insecurities
Caused by feeling of inadequacy


I donned the black tinted glasses
To hide the sunken crescents under my eyes
result of endless sleepless nights
caused by the constant buzzing in my mind

I donned the black tinted glasses
To obscure the redness of my eyes
result of unbridled tears
caused by those who fed me lies

I donned the black tinted glasses
And they prevented me from seeing beyond darkness

One day,
I broke those black tinted glasses
Snapped by dainty, unwavering fingers
that carried lot more strength
than  I could  have envisioned

And I replaced them.


Now,

I don my clear glittery glasses

To Match with my loud outfit
To coordinate with my jovial spirit
There is no falter in my stride
As I maneuver over every tide
Endurance burning through my veins
ready to venture through rocky lanes


Those clear glittery glasses,
are not a veil over my persona
but a reflection of the
ignited sparkle

in my irises

________________________

A/N-  I am lookig for artwork to go with this piece. Contact if you want to collaborate !!


An epiphany

She, I think ​                                       A big nose, chubby cheeks,too small a mouth, pretty eyes.

She, I think
Constant tapping of the fingers, doodles here and there. Silence surrounds but the mind is too loud with pondering.

She, I think
Clumsy and awkward,
unapologetic and candid
Perhaps not always

She, I think
Bold in showering compliments
Bashful in being its reciever

She, I think
An anxious achiever armed with an average skill set

She, I think
Scared and Struggling to experiment

She, I think
Treads up a rocky terrain, hesitant to play in the rain

She, I think
Miles to travel to reach her full potential

She, I think
Needs to jump over those inhibitions,  quit being in vexation

She, I think
Once tasted the blithesome state of being  true to herself

She, I think
Needs to relocate the sparkle, needs to relocate herself

She, I think
Will grab the damn reins again and whisk away, for it’s been too long a tedious break

She, I think
Started this epiphany because of her friend

She, I think
As I think about myself.

More than just a trend..

​Stared at with predatory eyes
Made uncomfortable in public sights
Privacy invaded without any remorse
Themselves upon me those fiends force

A catcall, a crude remark
A brush of fingers none too accidental
Muffled screams of protest in the dark
That ever present shadow cannot  be co-incidental

Much more and much worse has been endured
In a constant fear many have lived
Stayed silent for they might have been censured
For victim blaming often left the sinner unscathed

This nightmare isn’t just yours or mine
Faced by thouands, a never ending line
#metoo isn’t just a trend
It’s a loud message that is long due unsent

‘Harrasment is an issue large than we think
Deserves an action of more than just a blink’