My little fort . . .

The moment I was born,

He caressed me in his arms,

Crying, kissing my tiny forehead,

Proclaiming to the world –

“Oh, my beautiful angel!”

He was my hero – and I didn’t look beyond.

My life was him, and his life was me.


He held my tiny fingers and led me to kindergarten,

He brushed my hair and sang me lullabies,

He made me toast and gave me baths,

He took me to church and brought me whatever I asked.

He was my hero – and I didn’t look beyond.

My life was him, and his life was me.


As the years fell away like the late winter dawn,

His caresses grew more loving, more caring.

It wasn’t kisses to my forehead anymore, but kisses to the cheek.

His embrace longer, like two bodies destined to meet.

The pinches to my hips, the cupping of my lips,

He still loved dressing me up,

But more so – he loved dressing me down.

He was my hero – and I didn’t look beyond.

My life was him, and his life was me.


His kisses to the cheeks spilt over to the lips now,

His caresses almost entirely to my bosom and nowhere beyond,

He hugged me from behind, and bit my neck, in jest, he said,

He made his fingers into little soldiers, and ran it through my thighs,

The fort is being attacked, take cover, he cries.

He tears the veils and pledges his soldiers to battle,

Take cover in that tiny hole, hide like a herd of cattle.

And, so the little soldiers took cover in the fort,

In my fort.

“You have the most beautiful fort in the world” he said.

That made me giggle.

He was my hero – and I didn’t look beyond.

My life was him, and his life was me.


He died when I was 10,

I was unconsolable;

I went for nights crying my heart to cinder,

I tried joining him – but, never to flames could I surrender.

So, I lived on – for him.

Twenty now, and I know just how,

My little fort wasn’t breached anymore,

In my voiceless silence, I cried,

My soul torn to shreds, my body left in tatters,

By the man I loved the most.

Once upon a time.


Farewell my love . . . ♥

Alone in the dark, I lie in wait,

And stay awake though my eyes are full of sleep,

I see you sleeping on our bed, in peace,

But, am afraid.

I’m scared that you would leave without a word

I’m scared that this is the end

I know you hate me now,

You always did. You always will.

But, I just need you to say goodbye

Leave, but, with a parting kiss,

and a hug for a minute or two,

Make my life void again,

But, make me feel at peace

Leave me with a memory.

I grope around in the dark looking for you

Frantic, I hunt in vain,


But . . . you are gone . . . gone with the wind.

Without a word . . . without a touch . . .  without a memory left behind,

Tears flow like a river in fury,

But, you are beyond miles apart,

You are gone my angel. . . Far . . . far away.

My life is dead.

My heart beats away in vain, for you.

Always for you. Only for you.

But, you never know.

You never knew. You never will.

I walk away a mere corpse now,

Dead. But alive.

Farewell my love . . . ♥

Manic Monday . . .

*This post is part of The Chennai Bloggers Club’s Manic Monday series initiated to keep the spirit of blogging alive and challenging.*


The warning bells ring aloud,

Dreams abruptly clogged,

A jolt of realization,

Of the day ahead,

A slap to the head,

A sigh

A groan

A yawn

Dragging our feet to the battle beyond.


A harried brush,

An obstinate bath,

A hurried breakfast,

An awkward goodbye,

Events rush past,




We run with the wind,

Swim against the tides,

Battle the knives and swords of tongue,




We return triumphant,

to our abode, every Monday night.


We try to just survive.

Just breathe.

Just live.


Lying on our beds, wide awake,




For peace.

A glassy look at a pitiful world,

A murmur or two,

A lament to God.

We keep searching for peace.

Everywhere else.

But, never within.

One day . . .

I have just one mighty dream in all of my life,

Safe in the caresses of my beating heart,

I will stand against the forces of the world,

The conspiracies, the devious schemes,

The knives, the backstabs, the cutthroats.

I will stand Alone.

Against the world.

Alone, but, brave.


Even if the mighty sky falls on me,

And crushes me into ruins,

Battered and bruised,

Bloodied and near dead,

Life hanging by a thread,

I will not give up,

My dreams are mine,

Always mine.

Only mine.

I will rise from the ashes,


And come what may,

One day,

I will win the world and the universe.

Ashes . . .

As the years fall from the branches of time,

I struggle to wipe my tears away,

Every place my feet travels anew,

Stokes the dead fire in my heart,

The castles of love we built together,

Crashes down from the doorway of heaven,

You left me face the world alone,

And you moved away to a better life . . . to a better place.


I carved your name in the walls of my heart,

Adrift in my dreams, alive in my desires.

Dying a slow slow death . . .

Every day

Every minute

Every second

Every moment

Every drop of life left lingering

Reminds me of you.

Always you.

Just you.


I meet your eyes with mine, questioningly,

And you look away into the distance,

My heart stops beating, my pulse stops throbbing,

I plead with my voiceless silence,

For a single drop from your eyes,

As a memoir of all our years of love,

You struggle and wring your eyes awhile,

but, not a single teardrop falls.

Black and white . . .

(Thoughts of a mother on a son who’s turned bad)

The ocean’s blue, vast and lonely,
Reminds me of myself, my own life,
So much a failure, so much a disappointment,
Hopes and dreams, reached the skies,
Ten months of crucifix-pain, dying by the hour,
All seems in vain, all seems to be lost.

I knew a bright future was ahead at one,
The antics, the joy you brought to me,
Gave me ecstasy amidst the growing storm,
Things were to turn sour, I wasn’t worried.
I’ve got you, my rose of the desert,
I’ve got you.

I knew you’d be a star at seven,
Picking up marks, rag-picker like,
Singing your way to glory, and,
dancing your way to records,
The future Shah Rukh Khan, the badshah.
I’d die to do a duet with you, my angel.

Things flipped at fourteen, first signs,
Adolescence, the man of the moment,
You started to think of me as a no-brainer.
Girls caught your fancy, you became a dog,
Tongues out, chasing them, first signs of trouble.
Fights seemed common, my dreams seemed
To blur, anguish writ I wait for you.

Eighteen now, first time voter, bearded,
Into smoke, drinks, girls and nv.
All your talents thrown to the wind,
Every move of yours, a disgrace.
Everyone’s complaining, thrashed up by
The police, for illegal sex trade, and, still,
I preferred to believe, you’re innocent.

Twenty came, pain and sorrow tagged along,
First time you raised your hand to beat me,
Black and blue, inflated cheeks, deflated heart,
The jail, your second home. The prostitute’s. your first.
The walls, the floors, the world all had something to say,
Not the fame I foresaw, but the pain I overlooked.
My dreams, our household, came crashing down.

Enough…I can’t go on longer. I need space.. peace.
I’m happy by myself, silently joyful, without you.
It is true, I gave birth to you, ten months, I held you,
You’ve repaid me already, ten years, of bliss.
Enough… You’re past your sell-by date. Leave me alone.
I think of the future… more hurt, more sorrow…
I don’t need it. Oh God, have pity on me. Take him away.
Life is beautiful without you…

Chaos . . .


A blessing for all those who wake today,

A world of chaos awaits,

Far away from the people who passed,

Peacefully away in their sleep,

Free from the troubles of the world, they sigh

Looking down on those lucky few,

Who walk the earth burdened with ego and fear,

Happiness and joy and peace devoid,

We still smile and go about our lives,

A herd of trained sheep at best,

Trodding an uncertain path towards a future uncertain,

Laughing at people’s shortcomings overlooking our own,

Lying in wait, desperately,

For that one night when we finally rest,

In peace, in ecstasy, in love with ourselves.

Just us.

And God.