New.

The time has arrived for me to be happy,

To create myself all over again;

An altogether new identity,

Which I have rehearsed myself in day and night;

Amongst solitude and happiness,

Celebrated alone with wine and cakes;

To the gestures of loneliness and independence,

When I realized nothing comes without price.

Wearing the mask has been mine for ages,

As I move from place to place,

To new chances of recreating myself time and again!

Shedding off crippling in capabilities,

From which I give birth to a new me;

The one I start creating the day I slip into a new skin.

Acting out parts and reformulating desires,

And rearranging memories from the parts of me,

Scattered over the known places.

Now is the time again to move on from this old worn out self,

And raise a toast to the world that is beckoning my dreams,

Where I’ll have ample time for wanderings and depressions;

With no shoulder to hang on;

In an altogether different world;

I will have to make my own.

Please do appreciate my sincere efforts.

Dawn!

It was that hour
When the birds left their nests

When the rays peeped through the curtains

When the wind turned its face

When the lovers tossed in their sleep

Their arms intertwined

Their lips muttering inaudible curses

To the sun intruding their privacy

It was the time I heard the cock crowing

The imam shouting his calls

The air breaking with noises

The light dispelling the darkness

It was the time,

I opened my eyes and saw dawn breaking!

Please do appreciate my sincere efforts.

A Picture.

A pink blanket and a blue one

With wine glass motifs fitting in.

A blue night lamp tilting its head

And a blue-capped bottle standing straight

On the patchwork cushion,

Tuning with the music blaring away

Mutely in the speechless atmosphere.

An empty orange glass lies

Beside some dry paint brushes,

That dissipates the blandness from time to time.

A red velvet heart hangs on the green wall

Besides numerous showpieces and stuffs,

As if studying its reflection on the mirror.

Amidst all this on the bed with its floral bed-cover

Lies a girl staring blankly into space,

Clutching her favorite doll,

Her mind tuning with the old melodious music;

Unrolling memories of the bygone.

Her back arched because she has a pain,

And eyes swollen because she overslept;

In the green room with its open French windows

And it’s matching green curtains.

That is me,

The lonely girl,

With her lonesome dreams.

Please do appreciate my sincere efforts.