FranKophone

Didn't you realise I was hurt the other day ? Shards of glass pierced into my soles as I walked barefoot. You seemed to be aloof. I never said anything. You told someone else,"She's brave enough to handle it all alone". I wish you had come and asked me. You sleep silently all day, refusing to acknowledge my presence. I am not complaining ; I simply wait to hear your voice. I long to be looked at. Your gaze is my only desire. But you don't. Don't you realise I'm hurt by your reluctance ?

She was changing sides on the bed. Trying hard to fall asleep. Everything was fine, she knew everything would be fine. There was a nagging thought though. Something on which she could not lay her finger on. Like a question. What had she done to deserve a good night’s sleep ? Images of the morning swept across her eyes. A random kid under someone’s wheels. The mourning wails, the confusion, negotiation. Maybe she should have done something. Something meaningful instead of making money. Did her money mean anything to children who die everyday ? She knew the answer but pretended not to. Instead, she popped in a few pills and waited for sleep to come. 

Eight minutes. I deserved eight minutes of his time. A two day train journey and two hours of bumpy ride. All this just to tell him “Hi! I still do”. He was polite. Of the three hours I spent at his lobby, the girl offered me coffee thrice. He said he was tired. He thinks differently. Our lives are different. Children grow up. They will anyway. He did not say but I guess broken hearts mend too.  P.S. : This post was conceived and typed in 8 minutes. Hence the title. No relation with "Eleven Minutes" by Paulo Coelho. 

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

The eyes searched someone. The one she could run to at times of need. In someone’s lap, she would pour out all her troubles. Nobody came.  She grew up, rimmed her eyes with kohl. But they could never hide her tears. No one came when her soul was ripped apart. No one heard her cries. No one mourned her loss. After  a while, she thought that tears were a part of the eyes.

On mornings like this, When gentle streaks of light Play hide and seek with darkness, I crave to hold you real tight. And never let you go. In a spur, I abandon my hesitation, Cross the space between us. You often take cue  and recoil, Just like my true lovesick man. Slowly our tale begins and then I hear you whisper a name With passion and trepidation. I pause , I listen. It isn’t mine, someone else’s. Fantasy shatters, heartache entails. On waking up, you forget all. I act like I know nothing at all.  Pic Courtesy : Google

   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...

Kisi din meri kavitaayein Bhi tumhe rulaayengi, Tumhe yaad dilaayengi Tumne mujhmein kya khoya. Kya payaa woh tum jaano Par humein yun hi kho diya... Kisi din tum bhi mujhe Aasmaano mein dhoondte huye Bhatak jaoge hawaon mein. Kho kar bhi humein naa paoge, Kyunki hum toh honge Kisi aur vriksh ki chaaon mein.

Dear You, Writing to you calms me. I love you for that. I love you otherwise too. Maybe I'll never be able to tell you how much I love you. Everything is fine. Not the sort of fine when you were here but nevertheless.......fine.  As usual, Emmy's dentist  asked her to give up sugar candies. She's not going to give them up anyways. She asks for you. I guess she wants to consult you about it. My optician said that it was time I use glasses. Finally ! Remember how I used to rue the fact that I didn't have glasses. You always said it was good. To look into my eyes directly. Ah ! Those were the days.  I have not heard from you since long. Talk to me soon. Okay.... I'm inviting myself to your place. Emmy can stay with  my mom, for a change.  With love,  Me.  P.S. : I'm posting this from the same mailbox where we first met. By Jove, that street has awful traffic. People get killed. 

That was her favourite spot. She was just beginning to grow. A blossom, waiting to unfurl. A flower sans fragrance. But nevertheless Beautiful, cheerful. Death cast its horrible hands ; Robbed her of life. A life that was yet to start.. She left behind A trail of tears, sorrow. And a mother mourning Over her only “special” child. P.S. : Influenced from a real life incident. Dedicated to the victims of congenital fatal diseases.

Rummaging through the attic today I saw odd bits and memories of you… A few happy, a fewer unhappy moments. Unkept promises, broken dreams lay abound. Those silent intimate moments cherished A brief sojourn back into bliss…. And then.... ..... I chose to shut the door.

I know it was you, following me all along. I don’t need eyes to see you. It started raining and I paced up. You were anxious about me.You offered me your umbrella with your face hidden.Only if you had understood me ! I never said those three words, but I thought you knew. P.S 1:My first attempt at 55 fiction. P.S : A real big thank you to all blogger friends who made my birthday "A day to remember".