Birth

Imagination in its prime;

Seduction of Emotion

Penetration of words-

And POETRY is born.

RAISING THE DEAD

Nishtha closed her eyes and with that all the moments spent with Arun got resurrected, just like the spirits raised by a sorcerer, and filled her heart which in turn overwhelmed her little eyes shutting the world out.
She sat on the blue carpet, which they bought from Kashmir this January, unable to fathom that how could Arun, who always promised to be by her side, who could never see a tear in her "little eyes", who had remained alive in the ugliest situation only to have a glimpse of her face, who wore his uniform only to make her proud in front of her friends, who never tasted an ice-cream before she did and who always said, "I would not die before getting a daughter from you who will look just like you", go away never to come back again,and if ever, only in dreams and thoughts just like today.
"Captain A.P. fought bravely..", "He was a stud", "...always had her in mind", "...her pregnancy delighted and worried him equally and..", "Mrs. Singh will you go to your parents or his..." - incessant voices kept crushing her, making the pain in her womb grow unbearable and at last she opened her eyes to find herself drenched in sweat and Arun with anxious eyes bent on her saying, "I've called up the doctor and I think we should admit you as today is 20th, your expected day."

STILL BORN

Still born, yes I am.

I hear the screams and yet,

I choose to plug

My ears with indifference.

Multitudes keep groaning

But the voices die out before

Appealing to my human essence.

The sights: dance of death,

Slaughtered hope, bleeding desires

And despair’s effervescence

I’m blind to this

And I’m blind to that

Comfortable in my icy coherence.

The stench of burning flesh

Or the stinking hopelessness

Or even the smell of rotting innocence

I smell not

For I can not

Discriminate reek from fragrance.

A few want, need, desire

My voice that may calm

And all they get is silence in abundance.

I sever my tongue

I sew my lips

For I can not give any assurance.

Still born I was.

Still born I am.

Still born I will be.

Bleeding and yet....

And he hurt me yet again...

Tears have lost the salt…

and eyes on the verge of losing tears.

The love that sustained me

has deserted US, at last, after years.

And he hurt me yet again...

The lips that still taste of him

Now can never part without a wrenching

Sting that reaches down;

But, I still can feel myself drenching.

And he hurt me yet again…

The sun kissed morning

Will never, o never, be the same again.

Where, o where should I

Bury your thoughts and that bag of pain.

And he hurt me yet again…

I never saw a face so cold

The sight of which froze

My tears,

My dreams, my actions,

My shadows, my reflections

But I’m glad to be away,

For, I don’t want to stain

The LOVE that has left me for good

Though, he has hurt me yet again.