Claws

She kept them hidden till when needed
Her license to kill, her weapon of choice
I had chosen to keep myself away
I relied on prudence, not on vice.

I was unlucky enough to see her strike
The noblest of creatures I had ever seen
It was not in my nature to see this happen
But the claws kept me stranded in utmost horror.

Before I could turn to run the distance.
Those eyes fell right on to mine.
She lifted her veil and lifted her paws.
And out came those silver coated claws.

I ran for my life with my heart in my mouth.
Feeling my hair stand on my neck.
I could feel the pain as they ran deep.
The claws of terror, the claws of fear.

Any second now they would tear me apart
And leave in a pool of blood and dirt.
I waited and waited for the skin to tear
But there seemed no end to this slow death

So I stopped my feet and whirled around
Alas, my assailant was nowhere to be found.
All that was left,was a dark and murky alley
With not a soul in sight,not a ray of light.

As I wiped the sweat off my aching brow
I whispered a "thanks" to noone and left.
But till this date, my palms stay wet.
As I wait in fear to see those claws.

Those claws of terror, those claws of fear

Guttery Ghoul

I was once flushed down the sink and since then I have not seen the light of the day. Mummified in toilet paper I drifted on the lonely stream. I tried drowning sometimes but nothing really happened. Hoping that someday I would flow out into the openness of blue skies and bluer seas. Sadly, I have wandered in pipes, holes and gutters for years.

In the sewers, I never really did end up seeing any Ninja Turtles nor did I see Monsters from the unknown. Creepies and crawlies I sure saw a share of but they somehow seemed a lot quieter than what I had ought them out to be. Although there was this one instance when I had seen a hand float past by me. I never did find out what it was and whose it belonged to, I had some bad night thinking about that floating piece of flesh. Even the red nail polish reflecting the iris of my eyes flows through my brain at times.

Today is another day I wake up in the murky depths of my home. Everyday I pray that I leave this prison but everyday I wish lesser for it to happen. It is in these sewers that I am the lone ranger, I know the pipes and the drains by heart. Out there, the world might eat me up one day and spit me out the next.

Whatever the one up there has planned for me, I’ll be ready for it.

Afterall, Shit happens.

Kali's Cry - I

The winds of the Shivaliks blew through the trees as they stood on the dark and quiet hill. The skies had masked themselves in the velvet of coal. Vultures circled the towering rocks as the night unfurled. Atop the rock stood a temple that few had managed to find. Legend has it that it had emerged from the depths of the earth 100 years ago and has stood still since then. Lonely howls have long been heard from these parts of wolves and their prey. But tonight they all stood silent. For tonight, a guest was to arrive at that Godforsaken temple.

Untouched by humanity for decades, the temple could have been blown away by the violent of storms but it never ceased to move an inch. Small in size, it was never seen during the day by the common folk and those who knew of it, chose not to speak of it. It was considered a Taboo by all and none dared to come within a mile of the horrific structure. But this was the night when footsteps were to be heard by the walls of this edifice. Probably for the first time, probably not. The footsteps grew louder as they approached towards the door, slow they were, but not weak. A score of silence, broken by the banging of the doors as a silhouette of a being stood at the entrance of the temple. The moonlight fell as it outlined a person, probably a man with long hair, slouching as he carried a bundle over his back.

Frantically, the bundle seemed to be moving.

The Agony Aunt

A cycle ran past him. Then came a car. He wondered who sat in the car. She always wanted that car. He wanted that cigarette.

Sitting in his room that was clouded by the rings of smoke. His eyes red with exhaustion and that speaker in his ears. The others weren't any help as well. Eddie Vedder was ledbettering. A day of fears had just passed, his head was not here, neither was it there. He got that cigarette, the last bit of it. Pressing it between his fingers as he finally got that heat from the burning tip to his lips. The smoke stung his throat but he got his last puff. A bucket of ash and chicken bones waited in solitude at a corner. Aimed to the edge, the butt bounces and dances and finally falls to the oblivion. Whiskey was waiting for him too,he chose to stay sane.

His friends were leaving one after one, a girl has been dumped, a bird has just died. She hasn't been seen ever since. She flew south one day for the winters and never chose to come back.

The cigarettes can't seem to end. His worries somehow do.
He aimed at the skies
He never really got high.
He was blue and yellow
He chose to stay mellow

Hey you...

Hey you...
Yes you, I aint talking to the cute girl sitting next to you or the person whose been staring at you for the past 5 minutes. Sometimes people do want to talk to you too. Its just that they wait for you to make that first move. Dont worry, I aint giving a philosophical lecture here. Im just talking to you. Word has it that you've been worried about a lot over the past few days. I aint blaming you for the state you're in. The Times are like these. Right ?
Wrong.
See you arent the father of a bride, neither did your company just go bankrupt.
Yeah, if you do have exams and commitment issues, then I can cut you some slack.

And tell you to tie yourself in a sack and ship yourself to wherever you may be happier.

Worries really never did get you anywhere. They just took you from A, placed you at Z and then made run all the way back to B. But then again, who am I to say all this ? Am I God ? Or am I a plain human ?

The fact of the matter is, I'm you. You and you and you and definitely you.

Problems rise at times but sadly, worries rise much sooner and much in number.
Its not your fault, you are just like that aren't you ?

If you fear that the next moment somebody is going to bang at your door and beat the pulp out of you, if you fear that things will get worse in the future and if you fear that you aren't gonna do what you're supposed to do... Heres an advice,

Don't

Time

I crib a lot that I don't have enough time for anything. Always believing that I have put my foot in way too many holes. The day ends without a word for me left to say and I have a million puzzles left unsolved in my head. It's like the muscles in my brain are pounding hard with unfinished businesses. Days begin and end while I am waiting for the gun to fire. But to be frank, the truth is simple...

I have a lot of time in a day, half of which I spend worrying about how much I have spent and the rest I spend worrying about how much I have left.

Rooms are left dirty and dumped. Phones are left broken, bellies are left hanging. Debates are left dangling and friends are pushed aside. Hearts are left broken, grades are left filling. Tunes are left begging and blogs are yet to be written.

Lives are yet to be made and Failure is left to be saved.

Someone said, If i were organized, I'd be dangerous.
I say, If i were I were organized, I'd be in a fairy tale.

Here's to hoping that I wake up one of these mornings and take that initiative to put my life back on track. Maybe a little according to TIME

Water Cycle

Parked at a corner lay my rickshaw under the light of the street lamp, elegant and still as ever and here I was, smoking up the last of my day’s beedi. As I rubbed my palm over my stubble and wondered when I would be getting my next shave, my eyes caught two figures approaching me with bags full of stuff which I presume must have been their shopping for the day. They appeared not older than 20, must have been college students and before I could make out their faces, one of them called out to me. Not knowing that I’d already had their attention for the past minute they ran up to me, in the fear that I might vanish into thin air. After a word or two about the destination and price, they hopped on to the rickshaw. Looking at my passengers, I realized that one of them was bulkier than the other which meant I’d have to put in that extra effort into those legs of mine. So a rub of the old guthka between my palms and a toss into the mouth and off we were, into the night.

I hadn’t even moved a metre when came the sound of distant thunder as I instinctively tilted my head to the heavens. Following suit, came the element of water splattering over my temple as though I had been blessed by the rain gods. As the drop trickled down over my face, I looked behind at my passengers and they too could feel it. They could feel the coming of chaos, the chaos that made everything stand still. The wind picked up and so did the falling of drops. A common man’s instinctive mood would be to look for cover but somehow, I wasn’t in the mood for it. As if they had read my thoughts, one of the two behind me asked me “Do you mind driving us in the rain?” I just looked back at them with a smile and nodded. Nothing could stop me now from becoming one with the rain. I took out my packet of guthka and handed it to them for safekeeping. They kept it with a bemused look and pulled over the canopy above their heads as the rain pelted down on the three of us. Moving my rickshaw with the strength in my legs, I could hardly make out of what lay in front of me, I just chose to keep myself moving in one direction. I passed by my fellow rickshaw pullers under the shade of trees, buildings, bus stops who looked at me and laughed at my insanity but I chose to care less. I was having the time of my life and my worries and sorrows had been swept away by the rain. Soon the water started dripping on my friends too but they didn’t seem to be bothered, they too were enjoying this frenzy of nature as we took a stroll through the forests of rain.

I looked up at the towering street lights as they illuminated the drops of rain that had now reduced in number. I wondered how we all were also like drops of rain, some being smaller, some being bigger, some faster, some slower but at the end of it all, they are brought down to the same level once they hit the earth. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even realize when the rain had stopped and when I had reached the destination. I slowly pressed the brakes and my rickshaw came to a halt. My passengers got down, wet and wild but not as drenched as I was. I was handed the dry and crispy notes for my services, notes that were my income, my food, my water and not to forget my guthka which too was handed to me, dry and warm as ever. As I was about to push my feet back on the pedal and head back, I saw a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and it was the bulky of the two passengers who was staring at me as he said “Thanks for the ride”. I confess, I was taken aback by this untimely gesture but it moved something in me as well. My friends had gone on to their homes and as I pushed my rickshaw on the wet dark streets of the city, I remembered my Late Grandfather here. He used to quote “People with worlds of differences can feel as one under the hand of God” and today I felt the warm hand of God on my wet shoulder.