WHY DID SHE THROW THE PHONE?

She turned her finger to the page where she stopped, and began to read, “So, he had this nice sense of humour, which I had missed for so long. It is a tough thing to find a guy like him for the world had produced people busy in their own lives. Will he win my heart? There are chances that he will. But, I am scared for he looks like a womanizer, what if he takes me away from my very own existence. He is what I had long for, for so long. What if I am just a game for him? What if he just wants to win me like a trophy and throw it in the nearest sack of the rag picker?”

She closed the book only to sympathize with the protagonist. Then her phone rang, she did not pick it up, she did not want to. When the ringing stopped, she took out the SIM card and threw the phone in the green coloured trash can.

                                

                                 Task for the Readers: Why did she throw the phone?

THE UNSEEN SELF

The face that we see in the mirror is the intersection of the seen past and the unseen future.There has been a perfect mismatch of the sight and the light that helps in beaming out the sight. Yet, it gives a contentment when we are appreciated as the way we are, and even if we do not tend to be ourselves still then there is someone who knows why we are struggling so hard, and that; we need not try so hard to be, for they are the Real- the protector, the refiner and sustainer of knowledge of who we are. We never get to know what we are for we always define ourselves from the microscopic lens of the 'other', who has the power to define what we ought to be. We cry a river, but the amount of tears to be shed is determined not by the pain, but by the time that tickles on the clock, constructed by the power of the 'winner of the absolute gain'.

It does not need the brain of a rocket scientist to understand that it needs courage not to do what we do not love to do. Yet, to muster up our courage day by day to say no to things that we think people force us to do, is by finding our self in whatever we do. We cannot make someone happy, by being not happy ourselves, however, things changes when the 'others' are someone very close to our heart, and worse in when someone's rational becomes our emotion. Our actions and our thoughts are but a dialogue between us and the world. Why then, do we talk about 'self', when there is only a 'commune-self'. Flickering thoughts are just like gun shots that kills the worm on a parched ground, such  a wasted consideration, however, such thoughts if bundled up then opens up gateway for revolution. But, is an individual like a thought that performs well when bind into whole, does the 'unique self' flies away to hundreds of dreamland. If lives that we live is bullied....then the unseen self just continues to crave for the moral ideals mentioned in torn pages of ancient books. 

A HERCULEAN BASTRAD LIKE YOU

                                                            

You never said I was your sun; you never said I was your moon;

Thought you were just being practical, what a fool I was;

There were nights when you did not bid me good night;

And the rainy days I love was just so lame for you.

I left a job paying me in squares just to be with you;

You saw no reason in my care for you;

And my poems never brought tears in your eyes,

I fed your ego till I was broke.

My phone calls were but nuisance to you;

And the messages were a holy crap;

I cried and you laughed at my shrink;

You ambitions mattered to you most; my dreams were just a fading lotus.

Saw the picture of a rapist on the daily yesterday;

Thought it was you,

Read an article of a psychotic killer yesterday;

Thought it was you.

What good did I get from loving you so much?

Was just the sense of knowing that I have indeed loved a man,

A man who was a bastard;

Indeed, you are a Herculean bastard. 

*The edited version of this poem can be found in Ayangti Longkumer's Magic Quill.

KISS THE GLORIOUS

The kiss was the only gift a mother could give to her dying son.

After she had the kiss of goodbye her eyes were filled with tears.

The father planted a gentle kiss on his daughter’s forehead, as the groom waited for his bride.

The prostitute was instructed never to kiss her client.

The kiss zoom him up to her top list.

The little girl kissed her puppy and ensured that she is going to stay with him forever.

The teenage girl closed the door gently, still lingering on her first kiss.

Juliet must have kissed Romeo a 'love you forever kiss'.

The winner kissed the trophy, the narcissist kissed his car; the stingy kissed his money.

In anger he shouted,"Kiss my ass"; the horny teenager was yet to know the real value of kiss.

He kissed her and she knew that she was the greatest fool.

It was the kiss of betrayal for the Son of Man.

*The edited version of this poem can be found in Ayangti Longkumer's Magic Quill.