Linger

As I sir here on an empty bed listening to the howling winds and the rain, sleep is a dream away with smokes between my fingers. Thinking up train of thoughts, images of what I want to see dances on the white washed walls, wisp of familiar scent lingers in the air like a phantom of my fancies has just passed beneath my doors. It’s not an illusion or conscious indulgence of fancy of my somber mind, but like an unsettled soul, the smell has often passed through the airs of my empty room.

I would jump out of bed and check every bottles of perfume searching for the same smell that would just lingers just for a moment, but none of them smelled like it. It would come just as I seem to close my eyes for sleep or just sit here reading, I often expect a shape or a face to appear with it but it hasn’t shown itself yet, the smell is always feminine, but I am not intimidated by its aroma.

It has a sweet smell, fruity that I could almost taste it, its misty and mysterious it stirs my senses, it reminds me of someone I cannot recall. Its fresh and minty, it has an aroma of wildness to stir my mind, if it was in a bottle it’d be in a fiery yet subtle colored glass capped with a cone of poisonous vileness. It’s almost within my grasp but just as I turn myself into it would have gone just as it had come and I would then smell the moistness in the air with a dash of musky tobacco instead.

I wouldn’t think much of it until this night because the air is filled with the scent, I opened my eyes and just as so I turned around I saw…I swear its just emptiness I would never dare to fill. I would only share this, it’s a girl and she sure smells good, maybe the smell is her hair or her kiss or embrace I haven’t felt yet or her way of telling me the pleasure and pain of certain event. It might be a healing touch towards my inert angst that lifts the airs of depression. Whatever she is I am not to fear as she might be a girl bathed in oils of innocence who fills my thoughts in times of my loneliness.

zoslura© 2008

Colors, Shades and Hues.

Relative to the shades of black and white
I am a grey person.
I can’t be any other color,
Only the in-between in the spectrum
I am an Individual not a primary in the rhythm
You’d see me in the kaleidoscope
I exist in the light that passes through the prism in the clouds,
The after glow after the rainbow.
I am the mix in the palette of the masters,
The colors that makes strokes
The Impression on the canvases.
But what I bleed is Crimson,
That conjoins You and I,
You and I cometh before we were expected
Castor and Pullox being our stars,
We are what shades and hues are made of,
No matter how much they’d mix
They’d get only a shade in between the spectrum,
That would be You and I.

White Candles

I deem life as a white candle, when the wick is burnt it flares up and slowly the flame seems to fade before it constantly burns.

As the wax melts it flickers and changes its luminosity.

The flame attracts a moth like a good friends who remembers you only in summer

Sometimes the heat burns the moth into obscurity and other times the moth just forgets the flame when a wisp of wind blows out the flame,

It makes me wonder if the wind does a favor to the Moth or the candle.

Candles comes in colors, scented and moulds of shapes,

To ornate, to comfort and to light the dark

That’s exactly how people come!

I still prefer the stand alone white candle, whose purpose is to light,

As it burns out rather than fade away in the corner where it is lit.

Other candles just burns out its wicks and leaves behind the wax,

Only a reminder of its charm, which will be forgotten with time in the dark.

My Little Girl

Gotta hold on easy as I let you go.
Gonna tell you how much I love you,
though you think you already know.
I remember I thought you looked like an angel wrapped in pink so soft and warm.
You've had me wrapped around your finger since the day you were born.

You’re a beautiful baby from the outside in.
Chase your dreams but always know the road that'll lead you home again.
Go on, take on this whole world.
But to me you know you'll always be, my little girl.

When you were in trouble that crooked little smile could melt my heart of stone.
Now look at you, I've turned around and you've almost grown.
Sometimes you're asleep I whisper "I Love You!" in the moonlight at your door.
As I walk away, I hear you say, "Daddy Love You More!".

Someday, some boy will come and ask me for your hand.
But I won't say "yes" to him unless I know, he's the half
that makes you whole, he has a poet's soul, and the heart of a man's man.
I know he'll say that he's in love.
But between you and me. He won't be good enough!

A Prayer for my daughter

These lines and verses are from A PRAYER FOR MY DAUGHTER by W.B.Yeats

1^st verse last two lines
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind

2. I have walked and prayed for this child an hour
…5^th line 2^nd Verse
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come
Dancing to the frenzied drum,
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.
3^rd Verse
May she be granted beauty and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger’s eyes distraught,
Or hers before a looking glass, for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend
6^th Verse
May she become a flourishing hidden tree
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but the dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound,
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel,
O may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.
7^th verse 6^th line
If there’s no hatred in a mind
Assault and battery of the wind
Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.
8^th Verse
An Intellectual hatred is the worst,
So let her think opinions are accursed,
Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of Plenty’s horn,
Because of her opinionated mind
Barter that horn and every good
By quite natures understood
For an old bellows full of the angry wind?
9^th Verse

Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that is self-delighting,
Self appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven’s will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy still
10^th Verse
And may her bridegroom bring her to a home
Where all’s accustomed, ceremonious;
For arrogance and hatred are the wares
Peddled in the thoroughfares.
How but in custom and in ceremony are innocence and beauty born?
Ceremony’s is a name for the rich horn,
And custom for the spreading laurel tree.
June 1919

Nice Girls

“Young girls I regret to say are seldom nice these days. When I was young, most of them were quite nice; it is to say, they shared their mothers opinions, not only about topics, but what is more remarkable, about individuals, even young men. They said ‘yes Mamma’ and ‘no Mamma’ at the appropriate moments; they loved their father because it was their duty so to do, and their mothers because she preserved them from the slightest hint of wrong doing.

When they become engaged they fell in love with decorous moderation; being married, they recognize it is their duty to love their husband, but gave other women to understand that it was a duty they performed with great difficulty. They behave nicely to their parents-in-law, while they making it clear that any dutiful person would not have done so; they do not speak spitefully of other women, but pursed their lips in such a way as to let it be seen what they might have said but for their angelic charitableness. This type is what is called a pure and noble woman. The type alas now hardly exist except among the old”

Your Mother and I

There will be a time when you read this and wonder why I wrote this. It’s just a story I want you to know…

I met your mother through a mutual friend six years before your birth, she was in Pune, studying and I was in Chandigarh for the same purpose. We didn’t know each other very well personally, but by exchanging e-mails and through chatting we became quite a friend. She’d send me gifts, such as collection of classical music (Beethoven, Mozart, and Handel etc.) or just edibles. I once had a chance to meet her in Pune but my plans were cancelled and I did not tell her about the cancellation, and she waited on me there at Pune Station. I was unwell and had to go home, when I got to know this I felt very awkward but she was alright with it.

I met her again after two years; she was also home and working in a school where your cousin SinSin attends. It was funny how I was when I met your mother again, I was going through a hard time, a crisis of sorts, but she helped me see through tough times. I used to drop and pick your cousin up from the school where she works, so I get to see her everyday. She’d be all smiles and Yakity yaks, she was totally into silly, dry, corny jokes that makes me laugh, she’d come over to my place and I’d go over to hers, sometimes I’d stay there till late and how I used to be, we still laugh about it.

Time went by and my troubles were fading fast and I began to have a thing for her, though I held back myself, one day I took a chance and sealed my feeling with a kiss, I was ready for a rebound, a slap or a punch in the face, but your mother was all chocolates and Ice creams for me tooJ. Let me put this in her own words, “ I used to wonder when I fell in love with you, I couldn’t pin it down to the day, the hour or the moment, I have learned since then that, I never fell in love with you…We met, we talked, we shared and we grew in love…”

Your mother was a goofball, when we started dating, I’d look into her eyes and say some endearments and she’d burst into a guffaw that unnerves me and I’d say to myself there she goes again. But she grew up and I miss that a lot in her.

When we were together we’d talk a lot about different things, about our lives but mostly she’d do the talking and I’d listen. I was the centre of her universeJ she’d forget everything and sits besides me, we’d listen to “My love my valentine” her favorite song or to some classical music, she’d try to make me listen to Hip-Hop with I abhor totally, instead of telling her that I’d cringe and listen wondering if it was a song or a some depressing recital. In the evening she’d realize she had forgotten to cook dinner when your grandmother came home from work. I was often invited for dinner, sometimes I’d cook, that’s how she found out I’m a better cook than her.

I have a ride that’s over twenty years old and it often died on me on the driveway at her place, sometimes she’d wake your uncles up and they’d push start my ride and I’d be on my way home. Whenever this happened she would never let me deal with it alone no matter how late, she’d fetch a light and be there helping me when that crap needs a fix. Word of advice: Never date a guy with a crap ride… I won’t let you anyways, the guy would too embarrassed!!! It’s not pretty when I had to kiss your mom goodnight smelling of grease and gas.

Your ‘Ama’ is a cry baby, she looks tough on the outside but she is soft as a virgin cotton ball inside. Sometimes I often wonder what makes her cry, she’d cry when she watch Hindi movies, or soaps. She is very jealous too, and a nasty one at that, I will give you one example, when she calls me, if I don’t pick up or if I had switched it off or even if I’d answer her and she hears female voice in the background, baby, you don’t want to know what I had to do to pacify her. We have our fallouts but it was never that bad, we’d talk it out and we’d be alright. You see your mom loves me so much she even fought for me, I had to referee in an all women Saturday night fight, there was no winner of course, I still have a good laugh when I think about it… So if you want to make your mother Mad, Plan Ahead!

I love her for lots of reasons, but one thing I really love about her is that she’d never forget to give me gifts on my birth day, even if she could not afford it. When I am sick she’d bring me something that would make me feel better (she'd bring me eggs or even medicines,something to read etc), I get sick a lot of times. Try to be like her in that way, people will never forget your intent behind the deed. As for me I am pretty lousy, I even forget your mom’s birth day, but she knows me even if she feels bad she’d hide it and I’d be there three days late or something like that.

I used to behave in a way she really hates, but instead of going all out on me, she’d pray, she’d forgive my ways no matter how I had hurt her, she’d always be behind me when someone tell her that I am not right for her. She is like that even for her friends; she’d never want to hear anything bad about the ones she cares about.

There was a time when we’d talk for hours on the phone, and even after we hang up we’d still short message each other, I don’t recall us talking about anything of significance but the feeling was indescribable. I read a joke some where about a girl who went to see her dentist with her dad, she was curious about how the dentist would keep her mouth open, the father replied, “They’d give you a phone”. I always remember your mom when this joke crosses my mind. I hope you don’t turn out like that, even though your mom already bought you a toy cell phoneJ.

One difference your mother and I have is on reading, she seldom reads, even the daily paper, where as I read anything I can lay my hands onto. I like reading in bed, with your mother it’s like me bringing another lady along to the bed. When I cannot read before I sleep I’d still think about it, she can’t stop me from that isn’t it?

You see dear reading expands the horizon of your mind, it widens your perspective, the way you look at life, you can paint pictures with words, have endless adventures, meet the fairies, the powerful Kings and Queens, handsome Princes and beautiful Princesses, and you could even fight with the demons and chase them away, and you can even save the world you live in.

There is nothing I hate about the ways of your mother, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t get annoyed. We have our differences and we will have more in the future, but Your Mother and I we always work things out, no matter how long it takes us. We have a bond in between us which is called HOPE, and that is you my littlest Nadia.

Written on 24^th June 2008