FranKophone

"Remember the last time I came to your house ?" "Yes, the same lights. No, these are new ones. It was ages ago. Christmas I guess." "No, your birthday." "Ah ! Birthdays. Who cares about it these days ? " "Come on, friends do." With a smirk, she asked, "Really ?"  I decided to keep quiet. Sofie had this hold on me. A lot had changed during the twelve years.  I had left Sofie's world and never intended to return.  But somehow I re-entered her life.   Shaking me from my reverie, she asked, "I guess you will leave in a day or two." I replied, "Yes, tomorrow evening." "And when will you be back ? " I had no answer to her question. She smiled slyly and drifted, "You remind me of him. He had no answer to most of my questions." "I am sorry, Sofie", I blurted.  "Please don't be. He is not dead." The standard Sofie-answer.  She con...

Its humid in here. The air is heavy, or is it my heart ? I slip in and out of consciousness. I feel some frantic movement around. But it no longer bothers me. I see you - younger, smiling, happy. I try and smile. Vision eludes me and I drift to sleep. You are there - in a dandelion garden. You look at me. You say something. No sound reaches my ears. You smile and start running away. Pausing to look at me. Strength fails me. I cannot manage to move. Suddenly I realize I can run. I run towards you. Stretch my hand to you. Did you slow a bit ? I finally grasp you. It feels warm and strong. Like ages ago. I look at my fingers too. They seem to be young too. No more wrinkled,shaky and weak. I realize we are running really fast. I laugh loudly. You join me. We run together.

I wish I had a wish. To run wild in wilderness. To walk along hilly paths. To taste the berries of the forbidden tree. To smile for no reason at all. I wish I had a wish.

I once wished my room had a window. I could watch the world pass by. Like bougainvillea flowers merrily drifting in the winds. Fragrance of love wafting in the air. The street lamps glowing yellow. Hawkers selling their goods. The new mall flinging its neon lights unto the streets. The crazy young crowds. Random children chuckling as they walk. Bike competitions. The busy bees. The old, abandoned and helpless. The madman calling names. The rains. Gods visiting homes while playing with colours. The police patrols. The riots. Someone could shatter my window panes. So I loathe windows. Broken windows are painful. Pic Courtesy:Google

I stepped into the room.  It smelt familiar.  The curtains were the same.  Bright sunlight beaming through them.  The floor still sparkled.  I opened the cupboard.  My things were shabbily stacked in a corner.  As if someone wanted me out of the way.  I sighed.  Closing the cupboard, I found my table missing.  Replaced by a more glamorous piece of furniture. I decided it was wiser to move somewhere else. But again, wasn’t it my place? It truly is. The window sill sports my coffee mug stains. The walls still bear my pencil marks. The same songs play in my mind. I belong to this place. And the place, indeed, missed me. Badly. Courtesy: Google

Right before my very eyes, A storm gathers every day. Hell breaks loose, vultures feast, Little birds get trapped. I do nothing but walk away. Courage eludes me, fear numbs me. I try to save my skin, Yet the aftermath haunts me, Nags me, reminds me of The blatant display of cowardice. Nests break, hopes shatter. Before they pick themselves up, A new storm gathers.

She always looked for inspiration.  Little did she know that she was his ONLY inspiration .....

   On the streets of the old bazaar, there sat a man  in rags. Every time I passed by , he smiled and looked away. Neither was he handsome nor was he wealthy. Still I thought about him. Why would anyone wait on streets for years together ?  I  had seen him there since I was a kid. An autumn morning , I heard he passed away. On the street. No one heard his  dying words. No one offered him gangaja l or  tulsi . He died unmourned , un-noticed. The bazaar still smelt of spices and perfume. Years later, I heard his story. From an antique woman. In his prime, the man was a successful merchant. He had a comfortable home and a lovely wife. One  morning, his wife was on her way to the temple on the hillock. A raging earthquake hit the city and razed the hillock to ground. The lovely wife was lost, never to be found. May be she had died , buried under the rubble. The merchant  never lost hope. Gradually he began to live on the street, hoping t...

Bidding you a goodbye was never too tough, I shall always carry your memories with me.

Maybe someday I will miss you, For now I would like to bid you adieu. **** You were great in the memories of my past, There is no place for you in my present. **** When you left, I thought it was the end. Later I realised ,it was a new beginning. ****  Some memories are not just memories - They give us moments of sunshine amidst darkness. **** I wished I had understood - But then I would not have learnt. ****

You have hardened me so much that I have forgotten what joy is ....

We met, didn’t we ? So what if it was after ages. You looked almost like a thorough gentleman. That was least expected. Anyways, glad to see that you’ve changed for the good. Glasses look good on you..wait, you look good in glasses. As for me, you know…. I’m the same clumsy little girl…now no more little. Haha. Yeah. I still laugh in between conversations. And I still struggle while beating eggs. But do you realize the time that has flown by ? I freelance these days . Yes, as you often said “the free bird.” Home is pretty okay, same furniture, same furnishing, same books….Our mango tree died. Last winter. I cried a lot. Now I don’t miss it a lot. Got used to. Same way as I …….. Anyways, I can always write reams about my hardships and suffering. They should not make sense to you now. Do they ? I don’t know….. Meanwhile, let me tell you… Emmy is sweet. She resembles her. I wish she were here. With you. She was fun to be with. For the short time she met me, I thought you wer...

Falling for you was tough. Unloving you is impossible . 

I do not remember exactly when I thought I fell for you. Maybe a few summers ago. All in a flash of a second. You seemed so fresh and alluring. I was foolishly young – nubile. Liable to be trapped. And we met for a brief  while. I thought you are the answer to my prayers. My longings were for you. You chose to entice me – I never minded it. It gave me a tingling sensation, a hope that we were meant to be one. Silken dreams. Our encounters teased me. I wanted more of you. You managed to floor me sans any weapon. Gradually I realized I was not alone. Several others vied you, tried to woo you. I burnt with jealousy. You seemed to love everyone alike. You knew no one too closely. But you ignored none. Two summers passed. My tryst with you continued. Everyone around us thought we were together. Only we knew we weren’t. I decided to spend another summer with you. This was unexpected. Most of your admirers had left. They were tired. A new set of people came. The stage was...

The Utopia has vanished. Reality emerges.Harsh,cruel and derogatory. Love has lost. Evil triumphed. The warrior lost the battle. He had no armoury. Just a dream - the dream of victory. Mistook foes as friends. Lost ambition in wine,lust and enjoyment. The warrior is wounded. Deeply. In body and soul. Death refuses to take him. The nasty creature that he is. Life and death, both, elude him. To the world, he is a lost warrior. In his heart, amidst all darkness, there is a little shimmer. Of hope. Of regaining the lost paradise. The penance must begin. Like a phoenix  must the lost warrior rise.

My countenance spells doom. That’s why I’m veiled. But the world thinks otherwise. Its not beauty that I conceal, I try to hide the jinx in me ....

Reflection : Do you really love him ? She (reluctantly) : Yes, I do. Reflection : Tell him. She (sadly) : He’s too good for me. He doesn’t. ******** Reflection : You like her ? He : Like ? I love her ! Reflection : Why don’t you tell her ? He ( laughs it away ) : She’s too good for me. She doesn’t.

Yes,I go….. To the ends of my imagination… Beyond the valley and the moors… Beyond isolation… Bereft of any blanket…. In the numbing cold…. All I see is shadows in the mist. Illusions. Mirages. But not you. Yet I do not lose hope. I wait for you.

I : I never see you. Yet I trust you. Who are You ? You (smiles,then looking straight into my eyes) : You really want to know ? Peep into your soul for once. You'll find me there, pining for you. 

He paints me. I’m a fantasy – a chimera, yet he paints me. He believes I’m an angel. Pure. Untouched. Gentle. Unrealistically fabulous. He has not known me. Just felt me. I’m his muse. The diva. The gift of his life. What he does not know is I’m a deception. I can kill but not create.  I’m a mirage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ **Its Thousif's  birthday today. Wishes for him !!