Four Sisters

 Burned Hand

It happened in a bus. 

He placed  his hand casually on my back. 

My friends, towards my left ...

His friends, in front of me ...

All eyes roamed around me and 

His hand on my back. 

I was silent.

I looked at him, still silent. 

His hand got etched into my soul and I 

Could feel the burn even today.

 

 

Gentleman

It happened in a neighbor's house.
I was learning to read. 

He was in college, exploring new things. 

His curiosity was so endless that
He wanted to know 

Whether big hands and small hands can hold him the same. 

Whether small hands are much fun, soft and innocent. 

Whether small vaginas are same as big ones. 

I remember telling him, that my vagina smells bad,

And so not to touch. 

He obeyed. 

What a gentleman. 

Rainbow 

It happened on a road. 

I was walking, thinking about why the 

Rainbow was colored. 

I was wearing a bright yellow churidhar. 

He was a biker, coming opposite to me. 

He had a dull life so much that he was wearing faded brown shirt. 

When we crossed paths, he took away my bright yellow from my left breast. 

I never worn yellow nor I thought of rainbow ever again. 

Petticoat

It happened in my home. 

I was in the terrace. 

He was hiding behind the neighbor's house. 

I could see some rhythm on the bottom part of him. 

I was in class four and haven't seen anything like that before. 

I watched him curiously to understand what was going on. 

I told mom later that day about the funny incident. 

She said: "this is what happened when you don't wear petticoat under your dress"

A Cold Inn

They were taking a hell lot of time for a simple task. 

"Oh, for the love of your fuckin' God, men, finish it already", I said impatiently.

The men looked at me annoyed, but did as I said. We walked towards the dimly lit inn were we kept our belongings. It was already a cold night and the walk through the woods isn't helping at all. I was annoyed and starving, and now cold due to the dimwits currently trailing me. 

 

It was time for dinner and pork stew greeted us on the dining table. The inn keeper's wife smiled and told us it was her husband's birthday. 

I said, "Happy birthday Mr..."

"Tommy", she said.

"Mr. Tommy. May he live a long and happy life with such a sweet and beautiful wife", I smiled at her. She blushed and gave us each a bowl of stew. It was surprisingly heavenly and made us go for seconds. 

 

I was washing my hands when she noticed the stain on my boots.

"You know, the look you're giving me is almost ravishing and if I didn't know any better, I might think you fancy me",  I said.

She blushed and replied, "No sir. There's a stain on your boots. From the hunt, I reckon? I can clean them for you if you want".

"That is so sweet of you. Please do", I said and gave her my boots.

 

When I was left with the men alone, they looked at me concerned. "Do you think she noticed?", one of them asked.

"Yeah, that's why I gave her those to clean. Where's your mind these days?", I replied annoyingly.

"You know what I mean".

"And I'm telling you it's alright. If anything is amiss, it's your incompetence. I've told you a million times to be fast and steady, and still you went and made a mess, and look where it got us! Now I've to ask a nice lady to clean my fucking boots". 

"We're sorry. It won't happen again", they said.

 "Or the next time it'll be your blood she cleans", I am growing tired of this conversation.

 

The inn keeper's wife comes with cleaned boots and smile at me. I took them and bid her good night. She seems bothered about something so I ask, "why do you look uneasy?"

"My husband...he's late. He went to collect wood and he's usually never this late", she said.

"Oh I'm sure he'll me back soon. I don't think there's anything that can keep him from his beautiful wife", I say and she blushed.

"Ring the bell if you need anything, sir", she said.

"Of course, love. But, don't offer things you can't provide", I wink at her. Satisfied to see her reddened face, I motion to the men to follow and walk to the stairs. 

 

We locked the room from inside and quietly exit through the window out to the woods, leaving the inn and the unbeknown widow behind.  

An Angel in Gaza

I know, I know, I know.

It is cruel to wait on the alive.

When it is my duty to keep you alive. 

 

We get assigned to each of you,

From the day you are bought down here,

With loves and longings,

To the day you depart ahead.

We are assigned to safe-keep you,

Till the judgement day,

And I enjoyed the duty at first,

But now I face the creeping helplessness,

Hitting us like bullets in point blank.

 

I heard the safe and secured saying,

"Everything has a first time".

I also shared many firsts with you,

I watched when you first cried,

I watched when you first walked,

I watched when you first prayed,

I watched when you first starved.

 

Alas, I didn't know we'll only get firsts.

I want to be there for your seconds,

thirds, fifths, a hundreds, 

A lifetime, not shortened by selfish men.

But what a guardian angel can do,

When the leaders play pool with your time,

Over archaic wines on mahogany tables,

For the bombs to rain,

For the shells to trigger,

For even the littlest of yous to perish.

 

I cherish what little time we have,

My new one,

Who will never taste a simple omelette, 

Cooked over the comfortable warmth of a home;

Who will never see a clear blue sky,

Devoid of flying machines;

Who will never touch a dust-free clothe;

Or breathe clean air.

 

This was supposed to bring us joy,

Oh little one,

I wait on you, to finally let go,

And to take your soul to heaven.

We'll come back on a brighter day,

And we'll have smile on our faces, not scars,

We'll live for the hundreds or more,

My little one, 

Forgive me.  

 

 

 

 

An Insomniac

There you stand at that corner, 

Curls darker than a darkest night,

Falling to your moonlit shoulders,

Pale white laces of your silky gown, 

Fiddling with the cold breeze,

Jolting me with your nightly eyes.

  

Companions we are,

Sharing the same nights,

Yet I am enamored in your light,

Desperate for your might.

 

Your gaze lingers like a fresh wound, 

Emanating the creeping pain,

From the phantom touch of a cold knife.

 

Eons passed since we parted ways,

Once I prided in my talent to touch those curls,

Now your visits took a harrowing turn,

And I watch you watch me with nonchalant eyes.

 

I hear, they sing your songs,

Of the sparkling visions you bring,

For those who possess a fearless heart,

To close their eyes to delve in you.

 

I've shown you all I have,

I've given you all I can,

Yet you remain aloof there,

A desperate reach away,

Floating farther to the closeness,

But never near, yet never far.

 

You seduce me with your dreamy stare,

Yet you evade me like a grasp of air,

You bait me with your extended hands,

Yet you deride me with your alluring laugh.

 

We keep watching all night long,

Passing unblinking glances back and forth,

When the sun kiss my still widened eyes,

A deprived carcass that lives and breathes,

Dreading what went wrong at night,

You giggle and vanish for the day,

Come night, you love this game to play. 

To Henry

 (From Clare to Henry; based on The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger)

 

Henry,

I wait for you,

Even when I'm forlorn by you.

I wait for you,

Even when I'm bereft of you.

 

I watch you slip through the cracks,

I catch you stumbling into the nows,

To places I can't follow,

To presents I can't fathom.

 

When are you in, Henry?

Where are you now?

 

I listen for creaks on the floors, 

I listen for ajarred doors,

The rustling of clothes,

The movements in air.

 

I wait, Henry,

For you to enfold me,

In the scents of flawed time,

From your unruly crusades,

Engulfed and entangled,

To the sense of free will.

 

I will drop down my reddened curls,

From the tallest of towers,

Lighting the untaken paths;

I will become the drops of rain,

That kiss those freckles,

On an unwelcomed summer day;

The greenest of grasses to safe-keep those fleets,

The warmth for your body in the wildest bites of frost.

 

Henry,

My lone traveler,

I wait for you,

For you to grasp the hands of the clock,

That left you unkempt,

And again when the time cracks, 

Voyage through the blemishes of life,

And come find me where we belong.