Hoping for blossoms

My throat is dry

I cannot see anything.

I wish for a drop of water,

That’s all I seek.

 

My farms have dried up,

So have my wells.

My hen’s can’t walk anymore,

They haven’t left their pens.

 

There is no joy in my village

The chirping birds have faded.

The gushing river is now a rocky terrain

Empty land surviving hopelessly.

 

Every pot in every house lies bare

Not one house has seen a decent meal.

Everyone has been praying for a miracle.

The masses await for rain.

 

A minister came by our village yesterday

In a fancy car, with his fancy ways.

He quenched his thirst with

Baseless promises and bottles of cold water.

 

Year after year we see this pain.

We survive this struggle again and again.

Comfort has never been our friend,

Ease is not in our fate.

 

I hope things will change someday,

Our village will be merry once again.

When the rivers will gush

And the birds will chirp anew.

 

I may not be fortunate enough

To behold that day,

But I desire

That my children don’t have to face the same fate.

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The End

A loud crash,

A thump and a screech.

I rushed to my window to check out the scene.
A gory mess.

There was blood everywhere.
A whimper, painful,

Made that day gloomy;

Looming with despairity.
She licked its forehead, consoling it.

Offering some solace.

Helplessly she waited.
As death crept upon the young one.

The agony was an unbearable sight.
The matriarch yearned to see the conclusion; desperately.

There was no aid; no concern whatsoever.

Only hers.

The little one’s cries died down,

And a maternal howl filled the air.
I had been rooted to my sill,

A powerless onlooker of the event.
Support was what I should have offered.

But gape was all I could part with.

Love is a gesture

Love is a gesture
Its not made of bouquets of flowers

Or petals showering.
Its not in boxes of chocolates

Or in gifts.
Its the time you take out for them.

The food you order so they don’t sleep hungry.
The song that brings a smile.

The warmth felt on an icy night.
Its sharing the cup of coffee

And an umbrella in torrential downpour that drenches you completely.
Its holding out the door

And sharing the load.
Its the simple things that make it special.

Make it worth struggling forever.

A small thread

I shop for a rakhi again.

I will be posting it to you again.

 

I hope it reaches you.

I hope, it protects you,

The way you did for me.

 

You were the mischief in my life.

The reason my dolls were broken,

My toys remained strewn

And my pigtails stayed pulled.

 

But outside our four walls.

You were my armour; my soldier.

 

You have always protected me

From every enemy existent.

And today too, you protect me

From all the evils this world offers.

 

I can’t contact you,

Like we contact others.

As you are being a brother,

To every sister born in this nation.

 

So today, on their behalf,

I send you a small thread.

Anticipating it to protect you

From all the enemies of this world.

 

I will await for you.

Await for you to return home.

For there needs to be someone,

To pull my pony’s now.

They smile in brilliance

You shattered the glass.

A swift blow was all it took.

 

You tried to mend it,

Only to break it further.

 

You felt you were lucky to have that glass,

But, you pushed it too far.

 

Today, the shards pierce your hands,

Though you can never put them back together.

 

You should have taken better care,

You shouldn’t have kept pushing your luck.

 

See, it has now run out.

The glistening shards are the proof of that.

 

They had stayed together for all these years,

Only for you.

And finally, today they have found their shine.

 

Your luck seems to have shifted to them now,

For they have decided to glitter.

 

Though broken; in pieces; in millions;

They choose to shine despite the pitfall.

 

You have faced an irreplaceable loss,

And so has the glass.

 

However, instead of spilling their own blood now,

They smile in brilliance.

glas-scherben

Finely Tuned

She sat by the window sill with her cup of steaming tea and looking at the pouring rain. She was happy. Happy with what she’d done. She knew this wasn’t the most ideal thing to do. But in her opinion, it was her best option. Rahul, her husband had no idea of what she had done. She was going to tell him today. They had always been honest with each other. Except this once.

He had been observing Diya, his beautiful wife. He knew her since a while now and knew something was wrong with her. She was physically perfect and her behaviour was just like always. But he just knew. He loved her very much and wanted to support her with whatever she was dealing. As he picked up a beautiful bouquet of her favourite pristine long stemmed white roses, he decided, ‘today I will talk to her’.

At home, the dinner was ready. It was his favourite Chicken coconut style with some soft and fluffy rice flour bhakris. There was some fresh salad with cold cucumbers, sweetest of carrots, ripest tomatoes and the best onions in the market. She even got her best crockery out and put some champagne in the chiller.

Diya and Rahul had met in college. They had felt that instant pull towards each other the first time they had met in college. He was smart, sophisticated and caring. She was quiet, sweet and very beautiful. Within a month of meeting the first time, Rahul and Diya were dating. They had been inseparable ever since. That was around 10 years ago. They had together seen their share of disagreements. But they both had grown to know that they if they teamed up, they could always find a solution and that kept them going. But this time, things were different.

Diya had always had a soft corner for children. Being the oldest daughter in her family she had practically raised her baby brother. She had changed his diapers and taught him to ride a bicycle. She had also helped him get his first girlfriend and helped him through all his break ups. She was more like his mother than a sister. Rahul also loved kids. He was always patient and kind with them and he was the perfect guy to be a father. During their courtship days, Rahul always said, “I wanna have at least two children, girls or boys. It will be a perfect family”. Diya had agreed and life was smooth. However, life had changed drastically for Diya in the past five years of her marriage. She wasn’t the care free girlfriend anymore, but a doting wife and a sincere daughter-in-law. These responsibilities had made her rethink her priorities and most importantly her plans for her life.

Diya had now realized that she couldn’t handle the responsibility of a child. Rahul and she had ambitious careers and never had any time for a simple social life. She had realized bringing a child into the world would only increase their pressures. It was a sane decision and very practical too. There were only two problems; Rahul’s wish to always have children and their family. She knew no one would understand her or support her decision and that’s why she did something. Something no one knew about.

Rahul loved children. But he just loved them. It was not the same anymore. He had seen his friends have children and heard the stories of the additional responsibilities. Although, his friends loved their children and found them to be bundles of joy, he had come to realize, he already had all the happiness in the world with his beautiful Diya. However, he had always seen Diya being the perfect mother to her baby brother and he knew that she secretly wished that someday she will actually be a mother. So, today as he stood outside his home with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a heart filled with love, he decided to tell Diya that they needn’t be four to be perfect. They were perfect just the way they were.

 

He rang the bell….

P.S.: This story was recently featured on storymirror.com. Check it out there: https://storymirror.com/story/57de96fc2086f7fa0cd77518