ShriG

Stay. Why do you leave precious ? The menaka  of the Arabian sea Mocks me with her song of glee, Humming through the empty rooms of this house, As I linger in the hollow of the wait You have left me. With my fingers, adorned with precious rings I despise That you buy from the profits of your merchandise, I draw circles in the rice at my feet From which I pick The chaffs of compromise. The two dinars which set me free Are the same that make me the detainee Of your house, of your crying son on my breast While you saunter into the arms of your keep And I know not when your return will be. Are the folds of my saree not a match

Raindrops form miniature rivulets On the window pane As I sit in the train To Paris, Papa. The reflection of my face To me seems content Yet somewhat melancholy As I sit in the train To Paris, Papa. Who could have imagined I'd be here one day? Memories of your travels stay In my head As I sit in the train To Paris, Papa. You must've been young, Beard dark and thick, Eyes scanning every stone Every brick When you sat here as I do, In the train To Paris, Papa. You must've imprinted these scenes in your mind, Like on the surface of a photographic kind That I leaved through in the album back at home And dreamt that somed

Counting time, Cutting single seconds of Scorching contempt (takes over) Reckless rumbling, mumbling, rummaging Found what you were looking for? Positively faded, (I would say) Masquerading as someone else. Conquering consequences and Influences beyond your understanding, Whitewashing memories Bright with a single colour (That is poisonous) It will ruin you(I tell you) Get going, get flowing. Wander the lengths of the earth Dig your heels into its depths Squander everything you own (Cellophane covers won't disintegrate) Strike balances. Figure the meaning. Let go of the reins for A second. (Just a second) For second ch

Breathing in your beauty, Yet breathless At the sight of the piercing green garment That covers your supple silhouette. Raising my eyes To the vastness of your vision Bending with your beam of Prism light. Reveling in your humanness, Recognizing that you too have Moods. Feelings. Favourites. Yet your selfless love falls in tiny raindrops, Too careful not to hurt. You have pined for me, I can tell. I feel your longing, Seeking attention in your enchanting display.

Force fed, Fed up with fights Fighting for your rights Righting wrongs in each other's lives. Lonesome pressed blossoms, In forgotten books, Moulding, melting On to jaundiced pages, Glass cases, In which you touch the fingerprints. Not the fingers. Membranes, Stuck with glue, Moving in opposite directions, Facing dejection, Performing rejections On the dinner table and bedroom. Rusting in the sheets, Disgusted at the reflection Of the familiar face that mocks your uniqueness. Reflecting on the time wasted Pasting memories With no feeling, or meaning, On the fridge door. Looking at the other, Looking through the othe

Many years ago, as I was sitting by my window with a song stuck in my head, I could have scarcely imagined what was going to unfold. You were passing by a patisserie at the time, your thin reflection dissolving in the bright blue, yellow and orange icing that topped the cup cakes on display. You were hungry and hadn't eaten since the day before. You couldn't afford a patisserie then, but you stopped and looked, just to admire that beauty that was being thrown back at you. I was flipping through the pages of this new book that I had bought. Very interesting read, I had thought. And yet, I didn't feel like reading at that moment. Instead, I f

I was there, And so was she. The day Dee wore The denim capri. No, it was shorts, You've clearly forgot, Her legs looked long And her calves were taut. Getting back to the point Where the story began The day was going well, And according to plan. Me in my jeans, And she in her long skirt Dee in her shorts We ran through the dirt. A girl's evening out, The mall was a fun place to be, We had shopped till we dropped! You would've envied us three. We stepped out of the mall A rickshaw came by, We cramped ourselves in there, She, Dee, and I. Somewhere down the road, We got stuck in a spot, And then came the three men, W

Out with it, Shout with it, Can't see it, Won't read it. Rush through it, Fight with it, Plead to it, Must feed it. Crash with it, Swim in it, Swing to it, Will beat it. Run from it, Rise to it, Jump for it, Want to breed it. Want to bleed it, Won't need it, Will free it.

If she fell right now, she would break into a thousand pieces. It had been three restless nights and she still couldn't get to the bottom of what was really rattling her. The first night she had dreamt of losing her lover, the next she had dreamt that demons from the past had come back to ruin her relationships and reputation, and on the third night, it was a random montage of incidents and visuals which she simply could not make sense of. She had suddenly woken at 4 am, completely numb and completely vulnerable all at the same time. She couldn't get back to sleep. She was feeling unusually hot. The weather didn't make things any better. Ever

I want snakes to be friendly And leeches to be cute I want to jump through a hoop of fire And slide down a shoot I want to be in Sardinia for breakfast And in Seoul for lunch I want to roll in a tub of cherries And spend every penny on a hunch I want to make sounds like Tarzan And wear long sleeves I want to ride a moose's back And delight in your pet peeves I want to rest a while And find you cooking a meal I want to be swept off my feet With a less ordinary zeal

So. It all began when the prophet Mohammad, peace and blessings be upon him, came for a visit to my house for some pizza and video games. I’d had the cheese and garlic pizza, with the pan-style crust with mozzarella crammed inside, and he had the regular old original crust topped with lots of vegetables, a lot of them olives, onions, mushrooms, and green peppers. He really likes those peppers a lot, so I always make sure I have some in the house in case he decides to come over. So anyway, there we were: me, lounging on the couch with my feet propped up on the little wooden folding table and he, sitting in his green robe thingy, cross