To a Fellow Hosteller

Creeping under the bed, he touches the cold surface of the iron leg. Dust settled all around him, the spiders could be seen dozing in their corners. He peered from the shadows through his red beady eyes and stared at the darkness. It was a night like no other. His companions had left, there was no more music, neither was there any words being spoken. It was quiet, his grave would have had more to look forward to. He crawled out from beneath the bed and stared at the barren wasteland which was once a mess of books, clothes and cigarette butts. He saw faint traces of them being there once but all that had been left were rejected pieces of cloth, writings on the wall and a ghostly light falling through the window and onto the old table. The gusto building, awe inspiring charts were still there and the closed doors and rainbow slippers stared at him from the great heights they were stuck on. The wind knocked against the window, but nobody was there to open it. The stuffiness was settling around him and somehow he knew that his nights would never be the same. Someone used to lie on top of the iron bed and hum soothing tunes from time to time. A flute would come out of his pocket and then there would be sweet kisses in the air as the melody escaped from this stick of his. He had this smile on his face that could never really be figured out. This small creature, alone and in the dark felt warmth on that night with the thought of that smile. That Secret Smile

Christine & Delilah

Christine and Delilah walked on the road silently. Basking the sun of the countryside, the two walked hand in hand to their farm. Pigs and Chickens passed them by as they smiled at them solemnly, feeing the breeze in their hair. Trudging along, they took turns in kicking a stone they had found and saw who could kick further. Christies's pink cheeks kept getting redder after every hour. Her freckles had reduced compared to what they were. Some of them could be seen on her bare neck that ended with a pink button of her shirt. Christine liked holding hands with Delilah, she loved the soft touch of her hand and the fingers entwining with hers. She loved playing with her hair sometimes too and Delilah would bite her ear whenever she got the chance. They would cuddle and wrestle before they went to bed with feathers everywhere.

Delilah and her blue eyes had always wandered to places where no one would think of going. Sometimes as she sat on her cart, she would get off and wander into the shrubs, roaming about aimlessly in hay fields, appreciating everything for what it was. Old pappys would love staring into her eyes and she would love looking at their eyes widen. It was like gold had been discovered after hours of digging. She would not like the looks that men with dark moustaches gave her. Out of the corner of her eye, she would catch a glimpse of shy boys looking at her. She would snub them off with her nose but deep inside, she smiled.

And with that same smile, she opened the gates of the farm. The two of them ran into the house with giggles escaping from their mouths. The door shut on the house and the ggigles continued from inside. It was then that a shadow came from the corner of the house that swallowed the cheerness of the giggles as it approached the door. A hand turned the knob, a nose sniffed the fragrance of the shampoo used that morning. A stubble rubbed against a cheek and the screams lingered through the house. The house of that farm stood there,basking in the countryside sun.

Helpless yet all knowing.

The Bad President

I am the President. No matter how the media and the angry mobs have reduced me. I am the President. I was chosen among thousands and chosen by millions. A man born on the same soil as you all, I chose to lead and not be lead. I made decisions that were the caliber of a President and only I would be answerable to myself for these acts. I have enemies but I have stronger friends. They have helped me throught thick and thin and to date whatever I am is because of them. I have helped them in their worst scenarios. If you want to throw a stone at me then please do so. But remember fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame me. It has become mandatory for you all to listen to what I have to say and make an opinion out of it.

I have prayed to God everyday but dont you dare say that I have played him.

If that were possible, I would have.

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