FranKophone

L ost in nothingness, I look for unformed words. I nsides bursting, verses still not finding a way. V ictory, defeat, murder - everything seems uninspiring. I n the cauldron of wordlessness, the creator is killed. N umbing nerves collapse, I give up. G oing for a walk might rescue, I assume. W ithering leaves, dry roads, dusty paths - no one cares. I n a flash, a young thing gets trampled. T ruck or a carrier - I know not what. They ask me, " H ave you noted its number ?" A shrug answers it all - "I have been running away from numbers", I scream. P eople disperse, crowds gossip, ambulance arrives at last. " O ne down, millions to go", someone shouts. E vening falls, birds go home and I choose to follow. M aybe I need to check some numbers now.

Do not mourn as I do not die. I live on. A little bit, within you. Do not place flowers here, I do not need them. I love them unplucked. Do not shed tears. It makes me sad. Just smile when you think of me. If you are a loved one, go on. Life is too short to live. If you hate me, feel happy. But remember, I shall still haunt you.

                 It was 26 th December 2004. I remember watching the horrendous tsunami videos on television. And  your silent sighs. Exactly seven years later, a tsunami rose in our lives. When the tides retreated, we saw no more of you. We knew you were mortal but your departure shocked us. The last time I saw you, you were reclining peacefully on the divan. Just like a baby. And that was almost six months ago. Maybe it was supposed to be etched in my memory – your image – calm and gentle. I remember  the flicker of your smile. It lighted up your face. Those expressions are  ingrained in my mind. Did you know you never aged in these two decades  that I saw you ? I guess you did. I remember your favourite dishes. Your  occasional jokes and interesting banters. Your aversion to starched  white clothes. Your knack for  correct  grammar.The mango trees. The brinjal plants. Your book ( I guess I have t...

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. 

No mourning or wails. No flowers or tears. No fancy coffin or pyre. No lovers or foes. No prayers to be said. No reverence please. I am just a corpse – Nothing to give or take, No stories to tell Or  tales to share. A  wish to mingle in the air. To reach I do not know where.   Just  forget me, As if I was never there.

Dear Baba, I am sorry. For being a brute. For not understanding your state of mind. For threatening you. For everything that I have done.  Now I understand you weren't wrong to see her. You weren't wrong when you got over Maa. You weren't the worst father ever. You were the best.  I have wronged you as well as her. I was so cruel, insensitive and stubborn.  I have a long road to redemption. Hope you might forgive me. Someday. I am sorry again. Yours , Emmy. 

“No ! Not in my terrace ! “ “ Yes Memsaahib . She’s there – three , too small , dark . “ “ Can you take them away ? “ “ The mother won’t allow anyone to come  near them . Besides I’m getting late. “ Audacity at her very best. “ Then  do something to prevent them from moving . I don’t want them in my house. “ Of all people on earth , why me ? Yeah ! Go ahead , try me. I  am terribly scared of cats . Phobia . And this  foolish mother cat had to start her crazy family on my terrace. On the top of it , Jatin was having fun at my expense. “ Are you sure you’re okay with my Delhi trip ? “ , he smirked. He would be away – I  have to handle the stray  cats alone. Bending over my dahlias , I replied “ Are you going to cancel the trip if I ask you to ? No !  you won’t . But you want to earn some brownie points. I can see through your plans Mr. Husband. “ “ In that case , no use trying, eh ? “ and he laughed like a zombie. After driving Jatin to the...

I have stayed in government accommodations ( read : government quarters ) for more than half of my life. And there are always Gulmohar trees around them. Come summer, their dazzling colours enamour, enchant and invite you. The other months of the year – they are just there. Deep green. Silent. Overlooking. At times majestic. .As a child I was fascinated by its buds. The sepals – beautiful green on the outside , glimmering magenta inside – very much like a woman. Calm demeanour on the exterior and a seething volcano inside. I used to put those utterly smooth things on my nails – like  claws. At times, I still do that. The bud opens….carrying  a bounty within it Waging battles with its pollen tubes fascinate me. At the peak of summers, these brightran oge flowers fall and the bloom is just everywhere ….. a  feast for the senses. The fruits disappoint me though. Green pods eventually turning dark . But I tend to ignore them. I love to walk on paths where these wonderfu...

I have loved flowers that fade, Within whose magic tents Rich hues have marriage made With sweet unmemoried scents: A honeymoon delight, A joy of love at sight, That ages in an hour My song be like a flower ! I have loved airs that die Before their charm is writ Along a liquid sky Trembling to welcome it. Notes, that with pulse of fire Proclaim the spirit's desire, Then die, and are nowhere My song be like an air ! Die, song, die like a breath, And wither as a bloom ; Fear not a flowery death, Dread not an airy tomb ! Fly with delight, fly hence ! 'Twas thine love's tender sense To feast; now on thy bier Beauty shall shed a tear.

Dear Mamma, Where did you go ? Papa says you went to fairyland to bring me those white wings. Did you get them ? Are they too hard to find ? Can't you come soon ? I miss you. Papa too misses you. He tells me stories of lions and flowers. He says you will be back when I finish my cup of milk. I drink it and then wait for you. But you do not come back. I  cry. Sometimes Papa cries too. He hides his tears. He misses you too. Come back Mamma....I don't need those white wings....I need you to be here. Papa wants you. Your loving daughter, Emmy.

I always wanted to walk on clear paths. But if I get lost with you in the alleys, I would love it. I always wanted to be the richest person. But if I am in rags with you by my side, I would love it. I always wanted to live a long life. But if I ever die in your arms, I would love it.

The eyes which knew nothing  but love… Are not on me today. The lips that did nothing  but seal to mine.. Are wordless today. The hands that did nothing but caress with passion… Are away today. The heart that did nothing but cherish me… Is stone today. The soul that was  entwined into mine… Is in a different world today.

You frowned at me, I gave smile a chance… Luck decided to abandon me, I gave labour a chance. Love chose to forsake me, I gave life a chance. All good things came back to me, I gave Death a chance....

You may see her coy hands in the palanquin, A joy of a new life. The veil covers her face- Beneath it a cocktail of emotions. She leaves for her man’s home. The man who would fill her life With mirth, prosperity and children. The first few days are bliss. Both lost in the magical world of love. Then comes the pain of separation. She treasures that kiss on her forehead, Losing herself amidst his family. She pines for him each day, Reads his letters many times over. Her life is a patient wait now. He comes back again, she renews her pledge To be his forever. She is in ecstasy. He adds that completeness into her life. But rushes back before she could tell it to him. He risks it all this time. Her face is all that he can recall In those final moments. She shrieks,she breaks apart Just like those red glass bangles. Then one fine day, she hears about The gallantry of her man from “big” people. Her heart bleeds yet she stands still. She is someone called…… A war widow.

If you think death guarantees peace, you are grossly mistaken. A note : I have not seen death. I've seen people dying. I've seen honour-killing. I've seen suicides. I have seen people condemning the dead, innocent victims of fate. If you want peace, you have to work for it. To work,we need to be alive. And so was this realization.