About my window- MK Abhilash

My bedside window

is pretty useless.

It doesn't offer a picturesque view;

just the sight of the neighbor's plain wall

that's built really close.

So close that

I could hammer a nail into it

through my window

and call it my own.

The wall's shadow

is its only offering to my room.

With great difficulty,

bouncing off this wall,

the last few rays of sunlight

manage to enter my room:

enough to wake my body up

but not my soul.

Despite all its shortcomings

my window still bears

a serene white curtain.

No light to control.

No human gaze to protect my privacy.

It is as futile as

dressing the dead

in new clothes.

Yet I make sure

the curtain stays on.

This has baffled my family

and friends.

Well, I have a reason.

Occasionally

the window lets in some breeze -

tickling the curtain,

setting it in motion.

Isn't it my duty to safeguard

this little love story?

Happy Easter! - Priyanka Ramakumar

Passover the loss of our Master,

To become the son of God,

On the first occurrence of the Sabbath,

After the paschal moon grieves over our past.

--------------------

A kiss of betrayal from his own disciple,

Breach of trust and blames shuffled,

But the apprehended Christ spoke not a word,

To prove the world of being the Anointed One.

--------------------

The priest claimed the Son of Man,

To have blasphemed the God we trust,

Pushing for a life sentence,

To crucify the Lord himself.

--------------------

Six hours of pain underwent,

With last three hours in compete dark.

As the almighty gave up his spirit,

The land quaked breaking shrines apart.

--------------------

As the centurion declared him,

Truly the Son of God,

They wrapped him into a linen clothing,

Placing his cadaver in his new tomb, carved.

--------------------

Three days later, from the tomb of rock,

Rose from dead, the Messiah we lost,

Turning the Black Friday, to a Happy Easter,

Making us recount on the love of our dear.

The Painter's Armchair- Nameer Khan

The clock, the armchair, canvas, colors, and ashtray,

The lighter she gave me and a packet of cigarettes.

I draw a puff as I stare, at the one I revere,

The girl who agreed to be my muse, this afternoon.

Hail heavens, she's so fair.

The colors I mix up are chiffon, pink,

Brown and porcelain. She shuffles in my armchair,

The only time one would without my consent.

Her hair rains over the cushions, her head leans back,

And her legs are hanging over the obtuse armrests.

She lays across the compass of my eyes, a swan

With blissful wings, raring to flip the only bedsheet

That covers her in this still. Her blazing eyes are,

Distracting, so is the smile that breaks on her cheeks.

The light on her head is dancing

As I sketch the lips, mine so want to meet.

Something's in the air, maybe it's her perfume or

maybe her treasured vase. Her movements are delicate,

A savoring crime, I try and advise her against.

She could have danced if she wanted to,

If she was here for more than just, this painting.

She could have rolled around errantly all day,

For I'd be there to catch her when she fainted.

I hope she's here to stay. All day.

Longer than the days.

My Mother Tells Me to Die at Breakfast- Ruchira Sharma

I believe I'm immovable.

Praying for spring to stop,

To sweep her off of my tiles for skin.

Mercury in retrograde makes my room’s wallpaper darker.

Chipped nail polish never suited me

Neither did she.

So I longed for another’s weight to carry

Until I didn't. And blamed my beldam

Like I do with every antidepressant I take and every media I critique.

Her chai incinerates my throat. hence I drink it every day,

Almost moves me,

Then I use the kitchen knife to kohl my eyes.

Often I'm reminded her tiles match mine

so I don't leave mine unscathed, just like hers.

She is a woman. Naturally, she told me to die;

And succeed this time.

So she could paint my body with colours she liked, could bear.

Breakfast is always fulfilling- with salt and salt and salt.

My therapist told me to knit with her

So she sews buttons all over me.

When she gives me almonds, my amygdala dissipates.

I was morose and immovable in may

Then a mayfly flapped its wings.

She kissed my temple

Every inch of me moved and committed again.

कल्पना की कलम से- Nand Kishor

कल्पना की कलम से

कविता बनाकर लाया हूँ ।

जरा ख्यालों की खिड़की तो खोलो!

ख्वाबों की खुशबू से मन को महकाने आया हूँ ।।

साहित्य के सरोवर से

काव्य रस का घडा़ भरकर लाया हूँ ।

दिल खोल के पी लो!

शब्द रूपी हर बूंद को चुन चुन कर लाया हूँ ।।

गीत, गजलों की दुनिया से

दिल को तसल्ली दे वो तराना लाया हूँ ।

ज़रा हाल दिलों का बतलाना!

शरमाकर, मुस्कुराना सिखाने आया हूँ ।।

बातों, मुलाकातों के शहर से

मीठी यादों की हिचकियाँ लाया हूँ ।

राज़ दिलों के बतलाना!

संबंधों को चंदन सी खुशबू देने आया हूँ ।।

जीवन के उपवन से

शब्द सुमन से लाया हूँ ।

प्रेम पराग चुन लेना!

शहद से मीठे बोल तोल तोलकर लाया हूँ ।।

अक्षरों की वाटिका से

महकते लब्जों को लाया हूँ ।

फूलों की तरह मुस्कुराना!

गीतों की थाली में सजाकर लाया हूँ ।।

मीठी वाणी की झील से

मीठे बोल से झरने लाया हूँ ।

संगीत के गहरे पानी में नहाओ!

बातों की बारिश में रिमझिम बरसने आया हूँ ।।

स्वरचित- नंदकिशोर

बकानी खुर्द, झालावाड़(राज.)

Last day of the year- Shivi Saxena

As she set foot into the last day of the year,

it made her halt for a while & ponder upon things that unfolded throughout the year

Some brought cheers, some brought tears,

& some gave courage that melted away her fears.

Spring, summer, rain & winter enlightened the entire year with their presence

As nature gives a chance to each season to unfold & spread its fragrance

Things worked upon together have turned into memories,

making her smile while she relived those past glories

In pursuit of happiness, some resolutions were made,

Some journeyed the four seasons & some happily got strayed.

The last leaf of the year revealed what was concealed at the start,

making her realise, agony and pleasure could be balanced if life is lived like an art.

As she set foot into the last day of the year,

it made her halt for a while & ponder upon things that unfolded throughout the year

Some brought cheers, some brought tears

& some gave courage that melted away her fears.

Shivi Saxena

Yin and yang - Gauri Sharma

The little fire

That ray of hope

She kept on lighting

With a smile like a bright flame

Never did she falter

Always joyful and tame

But when the strong wind blew

After whole nine years

The little fire was never to be seen again

Lost was she, in the air

With so many words unshared

Oh how I wished

Again could I see that face fair

There she stood

Bright like the sun

Radiating love and affection to everyone

Then there was that little drop of water

Her sister so she was

The water was distant and quiet like the moon

A true specimen of gloom

But both had a thing in common

Though impossible it may seem

Both hid their hurt behind a curtain of glee

The fire gave love to water so much

That the water could never return

The water could never mourn

Only churn, only churn

आखरी मुलाक़ात- Shivam Nahar

भूमिका: ये कविता एक प्रेमिका का अपने प्रेमी से संवाद है, जो अपनी शादी एक दिन पहले उससे मिलने आई है, उसकी शादी किसी और से होने वाली है। तो ये संवाद उन प्रेमी प्रेमिका के बीच का है

शीर्षक:– आखरी मुलाक़ात

सितारों के तकल्लुफ़ से, जहानों को संवारा है

तुम्हारी एक मुस्कान पे, हज़ारों ने दिल हारा है,

ये ज़ुल्फ़ों की शरारत को, यूँ मुख पे झूम जाने दो

बढ़ाओ कुछ कदम आगे, उसे तुम चूम जाने दो

सुनो, थामो नसों को तुम, दिलों की बात ना बोलो

ये पल बस मौन रहने का, उसे कुछ आज ना बोलो,

कि थामो एक उंगली फ़िर, और झट से छोड़ भी देना

जो जाए रूठ के तुमसे, कलाई मोड़ भी देना

कि कहना कान में उसके, कमर से थाम के उसको

कि सच कहता हूँ मैं जाना, राधा मान के तुमको,

कि अधरों पर, ये मुस्काने, दिलों की मौन रानाई

मुझे हर पल, हर एक क्षण में, तुम्हारी याद ही आयी

कि फ़िरसे आज रूठोगी, मनाने अब ना आऊंगा

मैं टूटा अब जो शीशे सा, कभी फ़िर जुड़ ना पाऊंगा,

ये आंखों में तेरे खंजर, बसी है प्रीत एक अंदर

ये काजल कर रहा पागल, उर्वशी से भी तुम सुंदर

ये जुल्फों का यूँ लहराना, नज़र का फ़िरसे मिल जाना

गले लगते हुए कहना, सुनो तुम, अब चले जाना,

धरा हो रूप दुल्हन का, श्रृंगार आंख काजल का

सजी हो अप्सरा सी तुम, क्या अर्थ मेरी पायल का

हिना में साथ उसका है, कंगनों में मेरी यादें

क्या करना चाहती हो जाना, मुझे समझाओ ये बातें,

कि मिलन की आज ये बेला, कसम से आखरी होगी

तू इस रात के उस पार, मेरे अब साथ ना होगी

सुनो, ठहरो अभी कुछ पल, सदी से जी भी लेने दो

तुम्हें कहना है काफी कुछ, अभी सब मौन रहने दो,

ये पल दो पल ही बाकी हैं, सफ़र में याद रखने को

हर एक मुस्कान में छुपते, ये आँसूं साथ रखने को

कि थामुं हाथ फ़िरसे मैं, या तुमको पास आने दूँ

संभालूं ये सभी साँसें, या इनको रूठ जाने दूँ,

कि शामों की ये रानाई, इसी पे वार देंगे हम

बहुत जीते हैं दुनिया से, तुम्हीं से हार लेंगे हम

चलो अब इब्तिदा दूजी, निभाना है हमें मिलके

कि यादों के इन्ही पल को, भुलाना है हमें मिलके,

ये सारे खत, ये तस्वीरें, मुझे न देके जाओ तुम

इन्हें भी पयालों के संग, सुनो अब लेके जाओ तुम,

सब्र रखना, अगर मर्ज़ी समय की फ़िर कभी होगी

किसी युग में तो राधा, सम्पूर्ण कृष्ण की होगी |

:– शिवम नाहर

A morning thought- Silva Choudhury

Tears rolling down the cheeks

the poor, famished and miserable

While pearls adorn the wealthy wrists

the rich relishing a feast on their table

Cry for help

No one seems to hear

The fountain of justice

is a mirage, far from near

Nations engaged in conflicts,

not a sign of truce

Violation of human rights

has left a permanent bruise

Mankind deprived of its basic needs

Is it a good sign?

Do we have the time

for the fight of "yours" and "mine"?

Can I wish for a day

when the sun will shine bright,

Peace be everywhere

and equality be each human's right?

Act of People Pleasing- VYSHNAVI MOHAN

Never has she been truly happy,

May be because she has been fed,

A poison of high expectation,

In all she did, her true self hid.

They never saw her good, it seemed,

Expecting more, as if in a dream,

Money, fame, a relentless stream,

Her happiness, a fleeting gleam.

That was her waning from a

Full-fledged free and joyful girl,

To a pathetic people pleaser,

Where she began faking herself.

Never could she be her real self

In front of even her close ones

As she was afraid of losing'em

What if she couldn't please'em

As time went on, she grew weary

Of every phoney acts, she'd do

Standing before her toxic kith

Putting on those sheepish grins

Afraid of conflicts and alienation,

Bound by others in a constricted bond,

Afraid of disappointing and rejection

Neglecting self-care, a harmful direction.

Finally, exhausted, she said NO

Couldn't be someone else anymore

As she was entirely done with it

"No more people pleasing", she'd bestow.

Picking up the bits of herself

One by one, like a jigsaw puzzle

Putting herself back, she had won

Just to make things fall in place

With grace and might, she said her part

Her worth affirmed, a brand new start

Breaking free from the people-pleasing art

Embracing her truth, an opus of heart.

ಮುಕ್ತರಾಗೋಣ ಬನ್ನಿರಿ- HEMA MORAB

ಮುಕ್ತರಾಗೋಣ ಬನ್ನಿರಿ

ಮುಕ್ತರಾಗೋಣ ಬನ್ನಿರಿ

ಸದಾ ಶಾಂತರಾಗೋಣ ಬನ್ನಿರಿ

ಭಕ್ತಿ ಮಾರ್ಗದ ಮೂಲಕ

ಸಮಾಧಾನಿಯಾಗಲು ಅತ್ತಿಂದಿತ್ತ

ಹರಿಯುವ ಮನವನು ನಿಲ್ಲಿಸಿ

ಸದಾ ನಮ್ಮೊಳಗೆ ಇರಿಸಬೇಕು

ಕಾಮ ಕ್ರೋಧ, ಮದ, ಮತ್ಸರ,ಮೋಹ, ಲೋಭವನ್ನು

ಕಡಿಮೆ ಮಾಡುತ್ತ ಸಾಗಬೇಕು, ಇದನ್ನು ಸಾಧಿಸಲು

ನಿರಂತರ ಛಲ ಮತ್ತು ಆಸಕ್ತಿ ಬೇಕು

ನಂತರ ದಯೆ, ಪ್ರೀತಿ, ಕರುಣೆ, ವಾತ್ಸಲ್ಯವೆಂಬ

ಪೈರು ಬೆಳೆಯಬೇಕು

ಬೆಳೆದರಷ್ಟೆ ಸಾಲದು ಪೋಷಿಸಬೇಕು

ನಮ್ಮಲ್ಲಿರುವ ಕೀಳರಿಮೆ ಕಿತ್ತೊಗೆದು

ನಾವು ಪರಮಾತ್ಮನ ಎಳೆಯೆಂದು ತಿಳಿಯುವ

ಜ್ಞಾನ ಈ ಮನಕೆ ಬರಬೇಕು

ಬಸವಾದಿ ಶರಣರ ವಚನಗಳು ಮತ್ತು

ವಿಜಯಪುರದ ಸಿದ್ಧೇಶ್ವರ ಸ್ವಾಮೀಜಿ‌ಯವರ

ನುಡಿಗಳು ಮುಕ್ತಿ ಮಾರ್ಗದ ಪಠ್ಯಕ್ರಮಗಳು

ನಮ್ಮ ಜ್ಞಾನ ಗುರುವಿಗೆ ನಮಿಸಿ

ಶುದ್ಧಗೊಳಿಸಿದ ಮನದಲಿ

ಅವರ ನುಡಿಗಳನ್ನು ಇಳಿಸಬೇಕು

ಬೆಳಕಿನಂತೆ ವಿಶಾಲವಾಗಬೇಕು ಈ ಮನ

ಬೆಳಕಿನಂತೆ ಸ್ವಚ್ಛವಾಗಬೇಕು, ಬೆಳಕಿನಂತೆ

ಏನನ್ನು ಅಂಟಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳದೆ , ನಾನು ನಾನಾಗಿರಬೇಕು

ಸಾಧನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಆಕಸ್ಮಿಕ ಕ್ಲೇಶಗಳು ಮನಕೆ ತಾಗಿದರೆ

ಗಾಳಿಗೆ ಮರ ಅಲ್ಲಾಡಿ, ಮತ್ತೆ ಸ್ಥಿರವಾದಂತೆ

ಮತ್ತೆ ಮನ ಸುಧಾರಿಸಿ, ಸ್ಥಿರವಾಗಿಸಗಬೇಕು

ಸಾಧಿಸಿದೆನೆಂದು ತಿಳಿದು ನಿಂತು ನೀರಾಗಬಾರದು

ಸಾಧನೆಯು ಹರಿಯುವ ನೀರಿನ ಹಾಗೆ

ಪರಮಾತ್ಮನಲ್ಲಿ ಲೀನವಾಗುವರೆಗೂ ನಿರಂತರವಾಗಿರಬೇಕು

ಆಯುಷ್ಯವೆಂಬ ತೈಲ ತೀರುವ ಮುನ್ನ

ಭಕ್ತಿ ಪಥದಲ್ಲಿ ಸಾಗಿ

ಆತ್ಮಜ್ಞಾನ ಮಾಡಿಕೊಳ್ಳಬೇಕು

ದಿನ, ತಿಂಗಳು, ವರ್ಷಗಳು ಕಳೆದಂತೆ

ಮನ ಶಾಂತಿ ಸಮಾಧಾನವಾದ ನಂತರವೂ

ಜಾಗೃತಿಯಿಂದ ಪೋಷಿಸಬೇಕು.

LOVE IS WITHIN YOU- AISHANI BHATTACHARYA

"Tell me darling why do you love me so?"

"The answer to that I do not know."

"Why is it that you care for a soul like me?"

"Maybe I just love to dwell in your darkness"

said she.

"l am the Devil, you know that right?"

"Well why then do I see in you, a blinding ray of

light?"

"l am just a fallen angel without a functioning

head."

"How can you then see my love, true and pure

bred?"

"l can't love, you know, demons have not a

soul."

"I'll share mine with you then if it'll make you

feel

"l am just a wingless fool who knows not how

to fly."

"Then I’ll lend you mine and together we'll reach

the sky."

"I'm not a pretty boy with a radiant halo above”

"But halos don't draw me in, it's your shadow I

love."

"What if I go insane and slowly leave your

side?

'I'd chase after you even in the cold midnight."

'l never had anybody beside, I am used to being

alone."

"Some things change over time, your fate

wasn't written in stone."

"Well then who writes my fate? asked he,

"Love it's you, you manipulate your own

destiny!

"Why then, join me as we count the stars till

dawn."

"l definitely will, but is it what you truly want?"

"For eons have I yearned for someone to be

mine!'

"Well then let me say, Isn't the moon lovely

tonight."

A Celestial Coral- Shagufta Siddiqa

In the vanity of wishes you are the finest piece of art.

Breaking into my house of forgotten shadows, you accepted the broken heart.

In the vast sanity of Marine Drive, you are the mark of the sea,

In the long drive of Mysuru, you are a date over a cup of tea.

In a dizzy day of a tizzy mind, you are the vicious tranquilizer,

And again, in the stormy woods you are the lost fragrance of the breezy air.

In a heart of junk desires, you are my part of self-diligence;

Delving into the blue ocean, you are the wave of magnificence.

Despite the vehemence against the fleeting moments, you’ve become a lifetime,

It is that time of the year, a soul chooses to vanish every other time.

In my wild imagination if you watch me there to fly high;

In the world of our own, you are my celestial coral of 3rd July!

Its gonna be okay!!…- Chhavi Sharma

I was sitting on the dining table with a tie and a school bag

And you were feeding me with your own hands

and cribbing, how picky I am with food

Those were the days when I used to tell you,

how teacher praised me,

How Manu took my cartoon eraser and didn’t give it back,

How much I hate that bully boy in school,

How those 10H girls made fun of me and said that I am ugly

And you would put my head in your lap

And say, I was the best thing that has ever happened to you

N it’s gonna be okay!!

But today, I live with just these four walls,

And no one to feed me when I come home,

No one to tell how shitty my day has been,

How boss made re-do that assignment I've been working for months,

How sleep has left me midway

No one's here to crib about how skinny I am, how picky I still am when it comes to food,

Can u ask the Almighty to come for just one day,

So that I can tell you how comforting that hug was

How peaceful your lap was ,

I wanna hug you to sleep again

And say Maa, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me……

And in return, u would say, whatever it is it’s gonna be okay……

The Old Veteran on Bed Number Nine- Aniket Ranjan

I have seen enough wars for a lifetime, son,

said the old veteran on bed number nine.

I can still hear the grumbling of tanks and the thumping of guns

as orders for more bloodshed spread throughout the frontline.

I looked upon the crimson horizon, embracing the canvas beneath.

What had we become, children of Ares!

Amidst the cries of pain and the dance of death

came victory, but at what cost, the old veteran said.

Young and naive: I was back then,

ready to give my life for The Motherland.

I look back and wonder about the dead and the wounded ones.

On that day, humanity lost, and we won.

O bearers of the future, mark my word.

They say the pen is mightier than the sword, so use the pen and not the sword. Peace and understanding will take you where war cannot.

Let diplomacy and compromise become the pillars of the new world.

War is a necessary evil for those watching it from afar.

For those on the frontline, it leaves an everlasting scar.

As I said, I have seen enough wars for a lifetime.

So I wish you see none, said the old veteran on bed number nine.

Endless Summer- Rekha Balachandran

It was that time of year again

where spring ended and summer began.

The purple flowers were in full bloom

symbolizing the purest form of love.

Our memories of the last summer

filled with joy and innocent smiles.

Long-lasting kisses by the sunset

and walks on the shimmering sands.

Those beautiful moments and

the midnight adventures.

When you and I walked under

the full moon night, holding hands.

Wish I could have slowed down time

for more chance to fall in love.

It was meant to last forever

because you were my endless summer.

Compromise - Naveena Kadali

The hate you give,

Stir oceans in heart.

A wide sky blue,

Yet a vast land dark;

In the midst of blossoms,

Are weeds of poison;

In a day of colors,

Which one should I put on?

The bright fluorescent ,

Or the grey melange charcoal,

Sight in hands,

Held towards ground.

Justice is far lost,

Yet survival compromised ,

Long gone sails,

I really don't care,

Wherever you voyage,

Truly not my trade.

A little more - Shrutika Shetty

A little more of your valuable time here, then none of the passed minutes will stop being exhausting.

A little more of your unwavering faith, then all the troubles will be chapters finally meeting ends.

A little more of your empathetic mind then most of the perspectives won't be difficult to comprehend.

A little more of your undying devotion then certain miracles will seem like divine's magic spell, beyond your understanding.

A little more presence of your earthly life, then all of it will be turned into dust and everything else will fall away.

STROKES OF SOLACE - DEVI RAHUL

In hues of colors, I find solace divine,

Where brush strokes weave the tapestry of time.

When words fall short, emotions run deep,

My pain finds solace, awakened from sleep.

With every stroke, a story is born,

On canvas, my heart's secrets are adorned.

Each pigment dances, whispering my pain,

A language unspoken, yet not in vain.

The canvas becomes a mirror of my soul,

A sanctuary where my scars find console. In every stroke, a tear finds its release,

A silent catharsis, a moment of peace.

When words fail to capture the depths within,

My brush becomes the vessel, the unspoken hymn.

Each stroke paints the battles, the victories won,

Emotions unchained, in colors, they run.

The vibrant hues echo the joys and the strife,

In swirls and strokes, the symphony of life.

The pain transformed into strokes of grace,

A masterpiece born, an emotional embrace.

Each stroke tells a tale, untold and true, The canvas a witness, an eternal debut. Through paint and brush, my heart finds its voice,

An eloquent language, a healing choice.

So I paint away the sorrow, stroke by stroke,

In every color, a part of me, bespoke.

For when words falter, my canvas knows, How to speak my story, where healing grows.

The Fragrance of Withered Roses- Ritika Chowdhary

I always thought

That those who don't love passionately,

Do not actually love.

In young happy days of life,

I exchanged my heart for a red rose and

A man whose infectious blushing smile

Coerced me to fall for him.

I kept that rose in my diary

And returned home.

I saw a man sitting with his family and mine.

In between laughter and smiles,

I stood with a not at all happy face

For my fate had been sealed

With a man I do not love.

The day came

When my cousins bejeweled me

And my dad said,

"I have seen the two most beautiful brides in the world,

One whose hand was given in my hand and other,

Whose hand I'll be giving in someone's hand."

A night

Where all the desires died

And death itself became a desire.

The wedding fire

Burnt like the fire that'll

Be set on my pyre.

With tears wept for separation from all the loved ones,

I left with strangers

Whom I'll call family.

I was welcomed with open doors,

Not open arms.

I thought,

Is it necessary to marry the man you love

Or love the man you are married to?

Well, I did neither.

I was petrified

When he came closer,

Closer than I wanted him to

And then went back,

" I find consent in your words

But I don't see comfort on your face.

Your consent seems

To be bereft of your comfort..."

His eyes seemed to be filled with

The disappointment he thought I gifted him.

Years passed,

I opened my diary

And found a withered rose.

I decided to give up

On my cantankerous in laws and a man who doesn't even look at me.

The roses were bathing in the rain

And I was about to make one last fall

To become a part of the stars.

From the gloomy grey sky,

I saw hopeful rays of sunshine

When I saw my beloved one

On the balcony

Of the house in front of ours.

My wet eyes asked him

"Where you were for so long?"

And his sighing eyes replied,

"You don't know how much

I've been longing for you..."

After years of separation,

We formed a relationship of secret meetings.

How beautiful those nameless relationships are, whose name one utters quite frequently.

I reopened my diary

Where I kept that withered rose

And his memories.

I could smell a sweet toxic fragrance

From that rose,

The fragrance of love.

Love that bloomed

And dried up.

But who knew

That everything that tastes sweet isn't honey,

It can be poison as well

And with every sip I became addicted

To that sweet poison.

This relationship was platonic

Until one monsoon evening,

When he came drenched in a blue shirt

And left with two buttons missing from his shirt.

One evening,

When our bodies were fuming

In the flames of passion,

Passion which mixed into the air

We inhaled and felt

Like the fragrance of Turkish itar

And lips that tasted

Like Belgian chocolate.

For the first time,

I felt I was making love

To someone I love.

He sent a letter and a rose.

He wrote,

"When I saw you after years,

You looked like the torn pages of my favourite story...

At a distance,

Those eyes spoke in

The language of silence

Like two breathing statues

Expressing love to one another.

How badly I wish

My shoulder and your head could make

An inseparable pair.

That evening was the best

I had ever spent in life.

The naughtiness in your smile said

"If making love is a crime,

Leave some evidence on my body."

And that mole on your face

Is a beautiful blemish on

A white surface.

I've been counting many..."

The letter was for me

But read by someone else,

My husband.

He left me with two choices,

To leave either of them and stay with another.

I thought I found freedom

And a chance to return.

When I went back to my lover's house,

I found he had gone.

He left with hefty bags

And a heavy heart.

I thought it was an unsaid goodbye

But he left a letter,

"Love is not a crime

But loving a married woman is...

I can't bear the guilt

Of the beautiful sin

I have committed..."

After days of heartbreak,

My husband smilingly glanced at me,

Giving our marriage another chance.

I wondered how much courage

He had to forgive me.

He always tried to cajole me

But it was my ignorance

That forced him to stay at a distance.

I wouldn't say I was in love with the wrong person,

But I probably never fell in love with the right person.

One question still crosses my mind,

Who am I-

A passionate lover

Or an unfaithful wife?