poetry

I have an endless list of poems
Running through my hair strands
I have words twined together
And rhymed, worn in plaits
Phrases ready to be released.
And Every time I think of you
Off goes a strand
Freed mid-air, only to reach rock bottom
Navigating themselves on white paper
Screaming,
“Behold the birth of Poetry”

 

-Roshni Rajshekhar Nair

Advertisements

SAVED AS DRAFT

Originally written in 2012.  

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

 

The empty chairs around the dining table, the emptiness of the hall, left me in deep grief. No one around, no real people to love and cherish, I felt like a complete stranger to myself. The number of unwashed coffee cups measured my distress.  A vandalized relationship, a broken trust, the fear of falling in love again, broke me apart. With a ray of hope, the dusk waited for me to fall asleep.

The shadows played hide- and- seek under the eyes of the growing sun. The dawn offered an oblivion of the past. The phone bell rang and asked, “Sarthak’s residence?” I drifted apart and then gaining balance in some fraction of time. The voice from the other end of the phone went again “Sarthak’s residence?” I stabilized myself. My voice, it cracked and I answered him “No, it’s not. Wrong Number. This is Kavita’s residence.” The call cut off. My eyes, tears rolled down. The salty water touched my lips.

All that I longed for was a call, a call for him. A call from Salil. The void in my heart, it increased each day, especially when the phone bell rings. The cool breeze that came along the rainy weather didn’t seem to offer me any pleasure. The violet curtain played with the wind. I switched on my laptop, added a few of my favourites to the playlist and started opening different folders on my D: drive one by one. I hid my memories with Salil in form of pictures. One by one a total of 163 pictures popped up on the screen. I did call up Salil quite a few times after the breakup but every time being either he was busy or never picked the call up.

Like a motion film, the time it fled into memories from the past. Every time someone caresses me, I remembered him. I wondered whether he missed me too. I knew the answer, but, my heart and my brain quarrelled over facts and emotions. My very inner being tortured her up.

Suddenly courage ran down my veins, mixed with my blood, seeing us happy together, I haven’t declared surrender yet. I opened my Gmail account. I believed in my love and have a complete faith in it. The screen flashed for an email id and a password. I punched in a few keys and the display showed signing in. The server was quite down; it took some 4 minute to log in to my account. 580 unread messages in the inbox. I didn’t care about it. 12 emails from my boss itself with the subject “Urgent action needed”. I haven’t been attending office calls or even visiting my workplace since past month. The corporate sector didn’t please me much now. I was on the verge of losing my job; my career was at a state of risk. I dragged the mouse towards the words “Compose mail”. A blank mail window opened.

To salil_r2002@gmail.com
CC
BCC
Subject My heart longs for You…

I lowered the volume of my laptop so that only faint murmurs of my favourite songs were heard in the background. An utter silence in the room. I lived here all by myself, alone, for the past two months.

I punched the first few words.

“History, it never dies. Flashbacks of memories I spent with you follows my footsteps. Being away from you is the hardest decision I made. Regretting over the same isn’t ensuring your comeback.  I know, but the memories, they do come back. They don’t accept “no” for an answer. Our stories are only wrapped in time’s treasure box like precious stones. The dust of time cannot rust it away. Only its brilliance increases with time. Exhilaration! I still long for you. I long for a call. A kiss. A touch. My soul it still awakens for you. Do you still love me? Do you still long for me? I don’t know these. All I know is that I do. I just want you to know that, if a man has ever pulled my heartstrings, then it is you. It has always been you. And am quite aware it will always be you.

Dusky nights follow,
The awakened soul of mine immersed in love,
Scribbled name of yours, never had blurred,
The wind charms playing your music,
Sweet smiles that kiss our lips,
Coffee cups still warm,
The smudged Kajal speaks nothing
But a thousand truths covered under a lie.

Love,
Kavita.

I made a quick paused again. Wind swept the floors. The sun played hiding behind the skyscrapers. Twilight followed. I dragged the mouse towards the send button. A smile and a teardrop rolled. A thought lit up. “What if he has moved on? What if this mail brings nothing but pain to him? A series of questions poured out. Unanswered as always. I pressed the SAVE AS DRAFT button.

A few seconds later the screen flashed with words “Message saved as Draft.”

I desperately ran down the hallway towards the kitchen. Opened the Godrej Refrigerator and scooped me some vanilla ice-cream. The phone bell rang again. It didn’t bother me much. Minutes later it rang again. Irritated with the broken silence I angrily moved towards the phone. With a few rings left, I picked it up. “Who the hell is it?” I grumbled and questioned.

A manly voice answered from the other end. A voice filled with emotions. A voice having nothing but love in it. A voice so very known. “Hello, Kavita? It’s me, Salil.”

 

-Roshni Rajshekhar Nair

 

Someday…

Someday, Years from now, I’ll meet you,
And we shall exchange words for laughter,
Tears of our happiness, Someday.

Someday, Moments from today, I’ll wake up,
To a new dawn, In a place where,
The sun meets your feet, Someday.

Someday, I’ll join the wind, I’ll dance,
To the rhythm of the wind-chimes,
And you’ll be my musical drama, Someday.

Someday, Decades from today, I’ll be gone,
Somewhere, Nowhere, Far far away,
But I’ll meet you in the memoirs of my memory, Someday.

 

-Roshni Rajshekhar Nair

 

Remembering…

NaPoWriMo Day 24:  write an elegy – a poem typically written in honor or memory of someone dead. But we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it.
Almost on prompt!

 

Looking at you is like seeing a ghost
I know it ain’t real but it’s scary and cold
No matter how many spells I google
They never seem to protect,
No matter how many candles I burn
Your scent lingers, Like rotten eggs,
Your words are punches straight in the gut
No matter how hard I duck I feel the pain
You are the casted shadow that I try to avoid
Maybe that’s why I don’t turn around,
Maybe that’s why I smashed all my mirrors,
Maybe that’s why I prefer the night sky,
I feel fragments of my history die
I feel memories fade from my temporal lobe
No matter how many times I write my story
I know that this Alzheimer’s visits me everyday
No matter. Never did.
I still try to pick my dead pieces,
Crying, Laughing, Hoping, Remembering…

 

-Roshni Rajshekhar Nair

#87

When will this wait be over?
Where is that light I seek?
I see the tunnel come to an end
I hear the words lose meaning
I feel the hope turn to despair
I taste the bitter nectar of pain
I smell whiffs of agony
I demand to know,
Where is that light I seek?
When will this wait be over?

-Roshni Rajshekhar Nair

Wrapped

And I caught a glimpse of you today
Pressed inside a decade-old book,
A Red rose wrapped in brown pages,
Unscented and Dead.

 

-Roshni Rajshekhar Nair

 

Moved on…

These random 1 AM episodes I have of you,
Take them all away. Like the sound of you,
Make them inaudible too. Like the presence
Of your absence, Be gone. For I have moved on,
For I have healed. For now, I see past your darkness,
For now, I choose my happiness.

 

-Roshni Rajsehkhar Nair

Oh Lovers!

Day 8 of NaPoWriMo, Prompt – write poems in which mysterious and magical things occur. Your poem could take the form of a spell, for example, or simply describe an event that can’t be understood literally.

There once danced a river by that big rock,
She sang the melodies of the old country maid,
The one banished, the one in love,
The one who was “The One“!
She whispered, Oh so softly, “Close your eyes,
Grounded feet, you young ones. The moon’s out,
Hear the children of this night sing!
Row, Row a little harder. Let me take you,
Across and Away. Far and Gay. Let me, Oh Lovers!
Motionless you may not sit, for this night
Is wild as a forest fire, It may eat you alive,
This thirst for blood I hold within, will
Gulp you raw. This is a saga. This is a poem.
This is a mystery and This is the so-called history.
There once, stood a man, A man you see,
This poem he is. He wrote letters of love, to
The one named “NEVER TO BE LOVED“. He engulfed
his pride, dethroned because of his wife.
The truth…” answered the crystal ball. “Wake up!
This is your last call.” He the King, chained,
unarmed, stood for his last battle. With smoked
Sky, the windchimes rhyme, He was called,
To never to be answered. “That Woman, That No One,
She should be burnt alive! The truth that is!” said,
The Crystal Ball. Rushed, 10 horses, Oh so white,
Away from light, into the woods, shredded her to pieces,
Ripped her soul apart, Cursed was then, Banished!
Never to be human. Never to be “The One“, The woman,
The one named “NEVER TO BE LOVED“.
Turned to a river, to wash the paths we walked,
To water the barren earth we built houses on,
To quench the thirst of the lovers hidden.
Oh, she turned into this river, to sing,
The tales of her love, The truth of her love,
The sorrow of her love and The agony of her love.
So row, Oh merry ones, Let me take you,
Across and Away. Far and Gay. Let me, Oh Lovers!

-Roshni Rajshekhar Nair

The Third Man

NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 3: Prompt:  writing a list poem in which all the items are made-up names. If band names don’t inspire, how about a list of titles for romantic novels? Or new television cop dramas? They can be as over-the-top as you like, because that’s (at least) half the fun. Happy writing!

 

And soon I was the third man,
The Psycho, On the waterfront,
A Rebel without a Cause, Who
After A Hard Day’s Night was Charged
With a touch of Evil. I thought,
It’s a Wonderful Life, But Repulsion.
These Mean Streets, City Lights, And
The Sound of Music, I Ran, with Freaks,
Into the Night of the Living Dead,
With nothing but Regret. This is
Not an Anatomy of a Murder, But,
The scream of a Man of Modern Times
Ruling the Throne of Blood.

-Roshni Rajshekhar Nair

 

List of Names of Classics Movies Used:
1)The Third Man (1949)
2)Modern Times (1936)
3)Psycho (1960)
4)A Hard Day’s Night (1964)
5)Repulsion (1965)
6)Touch of Evil (1958)
7)On the Waterfront (1954)
8)Anatomy of a Murder (1959)
9)It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)
10)City Lights (1931)
11)Throne of Blood (1957)
12)Freaks (1932)
13)Night of the Living Dead (1968)
14)Mean Streets (1973)
15)Ran (1985)
16)Rebel Without a Cause (1955)
17)The sound of Music (1965)

#82

And the truth is, I don’t know,
And probably I never will,
All I know, Was that I knew,
That to love you, was love
That to hate you, was love
That my heart was engraved,
And ‘Forever’ meant “
All of the Above”!

 

-Roshni Rajshekhar Nair