Two words for 'ya'!

When you deny her, her favorite jewel, it is an agitated “get lost”,
But it is a warm “come on” when she burns your choicest toast.

When your car, in first gear wails at her dressing room tile
It is a timeless “am done” screech with a glorious smile.

These days have given you miserly doses of football “guff”,
Yet her new hair-do, that you failed to note, reminds: “that’s enough”.

Roses and daisies might have threaten your calm brow,
All for that “my dear” after that evening’s even threatening row.

But when you knock her door with a “don’t disturb” key,
“and chocolates?” came the sting that was harder than bee!

Her “my goodness” has never revealed its true intentions,
But your constant “love you” get rewarded with periodic pensions.

Just as you draw close to her, intentions as chaste as white,
Your “I do” whisper gets returned with a loud “good night”.

Alas, life is a cruel game of two-worded scoffs,
The most harmless of them being a well timed "F___ __"

Note: These are random thoughts penned down, any resemblence to anyone is purely coincidential and hence unintentional. May undeserved fame for a certain two-word phrase be henceforth dissolved.

Kite Flight

When he first threw up the kite for me, the flight ended in a few seconds. The wind was blowing in the exactly opposite direction. After changing positions, and a few words of caution, he threw it up again. I started pulling at the string vehemently believing, the harder the pull, the higher goes the kite. I found the kite at my feet. A few such clumsy attempts passed by. The kite had now begun a graceful flight up in the sky. Just when I began to smile, I felt the first cut of the manja(glass string). I never expected bloodshed at kite-flying. I thought that was the safest of all games. Aghast at my bloody palm, I dropped the string, my friend dropped his spool, came running to nurse me and we lost the kite to a tree branch.
When I next began to fly with a bandaged palm(I felt like a hero already), I thought I had learnt my lessons. The kite was now flying high and I rejoiced my new position of an expert. I could now fly and talk to my friend at the same time, answer my mom’s tea-time calls and what is more, even sip hot tea. Then misfortune struck and I found myself with an empty string. I had not noticed that the kite was flying dangerously close to a cable and so, did not navigate it out of danger.

One fortnight after my first expedition I was a much better kite flyer, learning the tricks every day.


1. You have to know the nature of the wind, your greatest enabler before launching the flight.
2. You have to pull the string with the right intensity at the right time to set the flight.
3. You cannot care a penny about bloodied palms while flying a kite. That is routine. In fact, that is the motivator.
4. Never take your eyes off the kite however steady the flight is.

Four valuable lessons for a successful and enjoyable kite-flight.

Interestingly, they hold good for a successful relationship too. Hmm..intersting indeed.

Dancer - Contd.

This is a continuation from article - The Dancer

Intoxication had never been so strong,
That it had led him a mile away from path,
The jingle that filled his ears so long,
Had his senses fall to cupid’s wrath.

His eyes wide shut by darkness’ screen,
His tongue incapable for he knew not her name,
Yet the splendor of their amorous sheen,
Led his lips’ venture over to his dame’s.

Time had frozen in their passionate heat,
Their frames caught in an indivisible twain.
Like from daunting peaks, the melted snow sheets,
The robes flowed down from their decorated veins.

His silken palms causing her heart’s moans
Her breaths answering his longing calls,
With directions being their only gowns,
They found in each other, their ecstatic goals.

Strewn beads(from anklets) and flower petals took his dawn,
That stadium of love was a lonely wheat barn. (Hehehe)

The Dancer

An eerie night had set on his road,
The distance walked had worn iron shoes.
The mind that carried his despair’s load,
Was weary of circumstances and their noose.

And then she addressed him with a jingle
Of her anklet that so oft hath spoken her words.
Her tapping feat that the glass floor tingled,
Ordered his defenses to drop their swords.

His eyes now a puppet to her slender waist,
Gyrating about in a musical trance,
Like a jasmine creeper so dear and chaste,
When the breeze as a lyre, caused her dance.

And then her fingers played their scheme,
As they playfully covered her bashful face,
Like amidst the clouds that hid the moon’s gleam,
He saw her smile, yet lost it in a daze.

The jingle had merged with the drummer’s game,
Her frame now swaying in blissful disdain,
Her outspread hands as if calling his name,

She danced her way to her quarter’s lane.

Mother in love

Were it these tender legs that I embrace
That rocked my womb with merry kicks?
The red feet untouched by life’s dusty trace,
So blissfully unprepared for her toady tricks.

These unbiased palms that feel my teary cheeks,
The tears defining an ocean of joy,
And how do thee drive my whelming heart weak,
When thy fingers grasp mine in a telling ploy.

Thy face is to blame when I forget my way,
Thy smile is praise when I undo my pain,
Happiness caused me to beget thee, they say,
Instead, thou art the happiness that I had to gain.

Ever untouched by the seven emotions,
The seven colors fade to thy innocence’s shine,
Even more serene than the seven oceans,
May thee live in my heart and in this rhyme.