Her beauty, a marvel
To the artists’ eyes.
But every night,
She cried herself to sleep
Coz her love was blind.
Writer
Her beauty, a marvel
To the artists’ eyes.
But every night,
She cried herself to sleep
Coz her love was blind.
To paint her portrait
She studied her, carefully.
Her gaze, a wildfire.
A little red bird
Flew in and sang
Sweet songs of spring.

I lie numb on the chair.
Eyes towards the window on the ceiling wondering, “Who put a window up there?”
Also, being thankful for the wonderful idea.
The clouds were moving unusually fast today.
The weather forecast mentioned that it was going to get windy in the afternoon, and it did.
The dentist and the nurse moved their hands meticulously inside my mouth. I had just one job to do..
I had to lie still with my mouth wide open.
I lay there without flinching, trusting them with their tools inside my mouth.
A swab of cotton goes in, a piercing needle, and a voice above me says, “I am sorry, I know that hurt. Are you okay?”
She must have seen my fingers digging into my thighs. I nod with my mouth wide open and try to relax my hands.
There was an on-going battle inside my mouth while my entire body lay still.
Soon, the drilling and vibrations began.
The dust from the enamel of my tooth blew into the air and onto my face. The nurse wiped my face with a tissue.
A dim light constantly above my head, I lie on the seat with the shades on.
I hear sounds of a girl crying in pain and wonder what treatment she must be going through? I watch nurses walk in and walk out from the corner of my eye.
A faint sound of music in the air from the radio, the songs which played I no longer remember.
A cute guy wearing glasses and headphones sat at the reception area playing games on the Switch, waiting for his wife.
I try to focus on all the things around me so I could take my mind off from the things happening inside my mouth.
A mould of clay goes in, a spray of water, some suction and I feel a bitter tingling sensation on my tongue.
The process repeats and goes on for hours.
Now and then, I hear the dentist say,
“You are a trooper honey.
You are doing good.”
I guess I’m winning the war.
Then again,
There is nothing much for me to do.
As the battle continues,
I lie numb with my mouth open
Looking up at the sky through the window.

PS: The cute guy, my husband *_*
She fell asleep
While the dancing flame
Of the candle
Burned all night
By her side.

Lured into a bakery
By the warm smell of bread
& roasted coffee beans.

On a bloodied war field
A breeze of sand buries
The deserted bodies.
In her tranquil gaze
Her warm embrace
Lies his eternity.
Her family was broken
She gathered pieces
Every single day
& put them together.
They would fall apart
Every single day.
With tears dropping from her eyes
She gathered the pieces
All over again.
With a single hope,
That some day
They realise through her
That no matter how difficult life gets
You need to keep aside your weakness
Put on a brave face
& keep your loved ones content.
A distant rumbling thunder.
There it comes,
Pitter-pattering rain and with it rises the fresh earthy scent of mud in the air.
Avni goes running out of her mud and straw hut with the pullu of her sari over her head, its tip clenched tightly between her teeth to prevent the pallu from falling.
She hurriedly grabs the washed clothes hanging on the fenced railing and runs back inside the hut.
After a while, white smoke rises from her hut.
Every time it rains, Avni brews tea.
She sits quietly and watches the foamy brown liquid come to a rapid boil.
After a minute, she removes the chai from the fire, pours it over a strainer and into two large mud cups.
She covers the cups with a lid, goes out running again and enters the hut opposite to hers.
Eighty-year old Ajjamma lives here and Avni is very fond of her.
The view from the other side of Ajjamma’s hut is beautiful. It overlooks a large pond with fields of corn surrounding it.
Every time it rains, Avni and Ajjamma sit by the doorstep of the hut in silence and drink chai.
They watch raindrops splashing and creating bubbles of air in the pond, they watch the field of crops sway gently with the wind and they like the mist softly touching their skin.
This is happiness to them, in each other’s company and their hot cup of tea.