A random thought

My tests are fast approaching… five more days! That’s it… and I am not even sure about my portions! Maybe, I am still recuperating from the shock of doing very well in my second sem, maybe I am still savouring the success of finally making it to that glorious, very- rare- to- attain spot of getting 70+ in my o e paper, maybe I have lost all interest in my ability to write and thereby in the entire comm. e syllabus lined out for the third sem… well, whatever be the reason, it is quite clear that I do not intend to touch my books (the academic books that is) till it is absolutely necessary. And the absolute necessity arises only on the eve of the test!

So, what am I doing with my time? Oh, books always come to my rescue, you know!! I have finished reading four novels in this past one week and the book that made the most impact on me was ladies coupe by anita nair. Well, I really recommend it to you guys! Women, read it because you might just see yourself reflected in at least a few of those lines. Men, read it if you want to understand women better! I really liked the way she has woven the stories of six women in a train journey! The sheer beauty of her style is so very gripping. I mean, it kept me stuck to the book and I couldn’t leave it for even a single minute till I finally finished it. Only mystery books can do that for me, but this one definitely doesn’t fall in that genre. Its just a simple narrative but as I said before its extremely gripping …

Well, if you do read it, do tell me if you like it … I’d really like to know that.

THE FINAL POEM FOR THE COLLEGE PLAY (THE BEST POEM)!!

(‘What do women want?’ they ask. Its quite simple. Really.)

One day he’s gonna cook me a meal
A big meal
A big monster of a meal
With perfectly roasted crispy potatoes
And succulent garden-grown baby carrots
Nesting like sneaky little surprises
Beneath some richly flavoured sauce

One day he’s gonna cook me a meal
And for once his timing will be perfect

He will go to all that trouble
Of scraping and slicing and peeling and dicing
Of reaching boiling point
And taking care not to burn
And taking time over all those little details
And stirring and blending and caring and worrying
Breaking down over the crème caramel
But not wanting any help or instructions
And never, no never
Giving up and making pilchard sandwiches
With stale bread

He will arrange everything
Like an exuberant Egon Ronay
On a willow-pattern dinner plate
Swirling with dancing tongues of curling steam
And offer it to me like some long lost treasure

And I am not going to say thank you
I am not going to say aren’t you having some
I will eat it, insatiable
Sucking it up like an empty whale
My head stuck right in there
Cramming my mouth with a vegetable paradise
Grunting over the creamy horseradish
Gobbling like some hysterical piglet
Slopping it everywhere
My face mottled with dark ripples of gravy
Which run unstoppable down my chin
My neck my breasts
And congeal
In a brown solid stain
Right where my heart is
One day he’s gonna cook me a meal
And I’m gonna run my hands through it
Feel the quelch of steaming mash
Squeeze those pretty little peas till they pop
Cram my ears full of pulpy swede
Burrow into the thick nest of buttered cabbage
Gorge and wallow and swim around
In the sweet-smelling juices
Till the cows come home
Till I burst with greed
Till I can’t breathe any more

I’ll probably die
But it’ll be worth it
Cos hell
I’ve been waiting for this meal
A long time.

I loved this poem…I don’t know who the poetess is but she’s filled in so much passion...so much desire and all the pent up anger! Ah… the agony of the woman in the kitchen… the anguish of the suppressed woman… the desire of the perpetual giver....

Omniscient Lie

Inching towards the ultimate black hole,
Tempting doom summons my battered soul.
Seeking an escape, I look ’round for thee,
Alas! Conspicuous silence alone greets me.

Vanquished at thy feet I lie,
Stifling life piercing inside.
Muted cry of anguish scorned!
Art thou Satan in the guise of God?

Master of the divine sanctuary,
Where wert thou when I needed thee?
Hallowed keeper of the multitude’s faith,
Did thou flee, when I came in thy quest?

O powerful Creator, art thou a lie?
O merciful Saviour, art thou just a lie

those eyes...

His eyes- it seemed like they were searching my soul. It seemed like they could see through me. It seemed like they wanted to see through me. I cringed. I wanted to avert his insistent gaze. I didn't want to appear ugly. i knew that if he persisted , he'd see the flaws. I wanted to hide. But, i remained. He had a beautiful set of eyes. They seemed so innocent and so inquisitive. His hair fell in waves. He didn't get dimples but his lips curled into a lovely sight whenever he smiled. I had decided that i will not let myself lose control. But, i did. The past still haunts. The present is so bewitching. I wanted to be alone so that i could keep listening to him. He spoke softly, very softly. Behind this calm exterior, he swore he was a fighter. Screaming silence... soothing darkness... to the world, i am lost... i am lost!

Smile

A tender moment of my life,
A tragedy to withstand,
The wonderful time I had being a great man’s wife,
Was like a fantasy in “wonderland”.

All I can do is remember,
The sweet words he used to console me with.
The beautiful days of September.
The outstanding wonder of nature now seems,
All like myth.

The times we shared together,
Of sorrows and of joy.
The soft calm weather that seems
To persevere the memories, with
That most precious boy!

The criticism I got, when I was wrong,
The praise I received, when to me, it did belong,
Now the gift is gone forever,
Never to return, NEVER.
His mark he has left behind, mild
And lovely, a beautiful child.
Whose expressions make a mother’s heart weep
When slowly from behind she would creep.

Wiping my tears and consoling me,
“He’ll come back” she’d assure me.
Cheering me with a kiss on the head,
She’d pull my hand and tell me to go to bed.

With confidence that he’ll be back,
My head on the pillow lies,
With my daughter beside with eager eyes
Waiting for me to smile.

All I can give her is my love,
And fill the loneliness of her dead father.
The strength to withstand the tragedy
And not express my sorrow but rather, SMILE.

A smile which would help me forget
All the bad times.
Help me carry on with life, and
Support the greatest treasure of mine.

This piece was written by Nishi (Nishita) when she was in standard IX. It won the third prize at the poetry writing competition at Cascades. Nishi, I loved this poem. It shows such maturity, considering you were only in std. IX when you composed it. I just felt this has to be read and felt by everyone. So, here it is… Smile!