Nobody's shit

8 September 2014 From the vivid sky, golden leaves fall ornamenting mother earth, the sparrows are singing a melancholy; the wind blows as her hair locks embellish her face by playing with each other carelessly. After 4 years of hectic college life, I figured out that I was never born for engineering. So here I am, sitting in a corner, unable to blink, for her eyes are enchanting a gory verse, which curses the venom augmenting in her veins.  I lie startled at the amount of anguish incarnated in front of me, that peeps through these enthralling eyes.  Perhaps, I got a topic for my next article. The Void 21 December 2016 Another corpse is dismissed out of the Red Cross Hospital, Mumbai.  The nurses murmur, the crowd screams amidst many cameramen, journalists, and magazine columnists.  "Breaking News: Suraiya Bano, the celebrated classical dancer died due to blood cancer at the age of 40.  Her daughter Shazia who is also a renowned dancer did not even ca...

From the gallery of the thirteenth floor, with my hot cappuccino, I filtered out every man in my society in an attempt to find my shade in that scorching afternoon sun.  As I gazed at the assorted personalities, I reminisced him in those melancholy memories.  Sometimes, we are just unfortunate, his wrecks make me feel like a bare arrangement of bones and flesh. When I slept with him the first time all I wished for, was to retain him. That day, I just wanted to preserve him, his words, his voice, the perfect him, in me completely.                       But now, once again, the grave reality snaps me shrewdly from these profound desires. As I pace back in disappointment towards my room, where I am obscure most of the times and I don't have to deceive anyone with a fake smile; I felt a cold sensation on my head. Eventually, it started raining heavily, and the falling ...

The wind never felt colder, surprisingly, I realized the sweat made me wet in those Reebok shoes. Perhaps I was numb or it was the surge of a violent turmoil that I could not possibly apprehend. It seems bizarre when just a couple of months transform you from a decrepit soul to an effulgent lady. "Hello! My name is Shaliya a divorced foster mother of two girls and I am currently the president of the NGO Womanhood and a theatre artist at Laila Hall, Pondicherry.  Rolling into the fading memories, I can regain a stream of jumbled episodes that build a story. I savoured every morsel of the rotten vegetable curry with the resilient chapatis until I perceived the stares of astonished passersby and sympathetic temple assistants. It was friday night, 8 pm, our incessant agitations pervaded me with constant tremors, he croaked about my wretchedness, then suddenly seized me tightly in his hands. I was broken eventually, piece by piece.  Saturday morning, he asked for a divorce, a ...

The cold blooded fate haunted her everywhere. Even the slightest desire of felicity was smothered by just a glimpse of the grave reality. She inherited the reproaches made by others so she was now callous to them. Eventually the abuses failed to despair her anymore. She became accustomed to the darkness, which thus made her an austere. Nevertheless, she had this longing to shield the mankind from the catastrophe. An unexpected tragedy wrecked her hamlet, instigating malignity everywhere. The torments she faced made her shine brighter. The agony made her more ardent towards her inklings. Time had taught her how to survive even at hostile places. She turned into a rebel. She had nothing to lose, so she used to protest against every injustice. She would never bow instead she screamed forever. So at the end, even death could not fright her. People reminisced her for centuries for she was their hero.

The eternal woe defeated her each moment. She used to fidget alone at night, when the clouds wept on her ruining her relics. She detached herself from everyone who certainly was someone to her. She felt numb in lieu of going through a surge of anguish. She became resistant towards illusions. Her aversion grew for superiority, manhood, excellence as the world shrewdly unveiled itself to her. She deliberately turned herself into the autocrat of her life. Eventually, she became strong as an ox, ravenous and rendered her own share of felicity.  

Yes!  I am a survivor and my smile is my strongest weapon that even hurts me at times, but I have learnt to use it though unwillingly at hostile places. I am obscure. I have seen trespassers but will never expose them. The truth is mostly bitter but I see myself augmenting with the harsher it gets. I perceive pain for the desire of felicity. My family anticipates that I am immature but maturity is in deception. This life is a battle and the world a battleground. We are all struggling for ecstasy confronting all the torments of this battle in an expectation of a brighter tomorrow. We do not realize when we have turned our life into an inferno and when our past has become more potent on our present.  We are so much indulged in this pursuit of our needs or desires that we are ready to lose everything for just anything. I wish I could rescue myself from this holocaust for success. The only help that we are blessed with, to recover ourselves, is love. It can convert even a sinne...