Monthly Archives: February 2014


Oh! Prisoner of Pain!
Before you go insane!

Let that hatred come out,
Do not struggle to endure,
just shout.

chaste, unadulterated,
inevitable, unbridled!
Just HATE!


You think about your hatred,
to avenge, to torment,
to pay back pain
with pain.

You think about the anguish,
seething hatred in your heart,
day in- day out,
each moment without doubt.

So much so that,
you have never thought that much,
about your Love.

Love, your Love!
You remember it sometimes,
some whiles in a day.

But Hate, your hate-
you cannot just remember it.
It doesn’t leave your thoughts for an iota of time,
to return in remembrance at random whiles.

You do not stalk your Love.
You know it loves you,
as much as you do.

You stalk your Hate,
to assure yourself-
You hate it,
more than it could ever hate you.

Your Hate.
If he smiles a happy curve,
you put the world within you in cursing flames.
If he mourns a sad cry,
You put the skies into stars of celebration.

Ahh! Such magnanimity!
that you can even gift him yourself,
for he has made you happy by his defeat, his pain.
He has tasted today those pangs of pain,
that he once gifted you.

Oh Prisoner of Pain!
You have filled your heart,
with so much of hate,
that there’s no more space for it,
in your ‘Hate-chambers’

You wake up one day,
hating your hatred more-
only to see that hate has spilled into
your ‘Love-chambers’ few.

Hate, that hate,
was to banish love out of you.
But Love, your love.
Has let hate flourish too…


Love your Hatred?
Or curse your fate?

Oh Prisoner of Pain!
You have gone insane!

Look!Your Hate!
Hate resides in love.
Hate imitates love.
Hate intimidates love.
Hate surrenders to love.

Hate becomes Love-
The highest form of love.
Chaste. Unadulterated. Inevitable. Unbridled.


And the Love Bird flew. AWAY.

The love-birds had stayed together for 26 years. Fought together,reconciled together. Dreamt together. Achieved together. Lost together.
So on their each anniversary we gifted them just one gift. Not that our gift celebrated their togetherness and oneness, but it had always been like that.
Odd as that was, the pocket money would always be just enough for one. Sometimes it was a Saree for Mummy. Sometimes a shirt for Daddy. But never something that was meant for both  🙂
We had grown up now. I was married and she was not.

This anniversary all the children shared the gift.
We gifted them Love birds.

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They lived inside their cage.
They loved inside their cage- day in day out.
But whether they loved their cage- we didn’t know.

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She escaped from the cage, as Mummy was cleaning it.
While the male remained trapped inside,it flew past, without ever granting a miniscule thought for its LOVE, its partner- in sorrow in solace.

As it escaped it did not halt on any nearby bush to watch its love , its companion for a year now in the cage.
Yes,companions by compulsion and not by choice. Because we chose the two most pretty looking birds from the pet shop and not the ones most compatible.

But anyhow, togetherness in their solitary confinement had made them love each other, stuck to each other like paper and glue, flower and fragrance.

I had flown to my in-laws the very afternoon I gifted mummy and Daddy the love birds, not returning home for a year now. Each morning I would wake up with Mummy’s call.

Nutty Nupur and Hooligan Honey


She would tell me how the flowers bloomed in our garden, how the fish hid inside the pond,how the diabetic sugar-philiac grandmaa stole mangoes and hid them under the newspaper, how the hooligan Honey hopped throughout the house,how the nutty Nupur was naughtier than the hooligan Honey, how the Daddy lost his socks each day and how the love birds loved

And I would know the love birds were timeless, never to change with anniversaries adding on.
And I would know the love birds must be learning well…from their cages.

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I woke up with her call again. But this time the love birds hadn’t loved…

But Mummy seemed too happy . I could hear it in her voice. She hadn’t been happy on seeing their gift. She had said, “umm caged birds”.
I had corrected, “No. Love birds”.
She had never cut their tail feathers as the pet shop had asked us to. She fed and cleaned them opening their cage, the caution clearly missing from her gestures.

Now Mummy was happy to see her fly like a supersonic jet air craft… no like a bird in the sky.
It perched faraway on a tall tree branch in my school grounds.

It looked beautiful- mini yet majestic, like never before…in the skies, on the tree. Like a Bird.
It was as if the vastness of the skies painted it in different colours. Colours that the cage had hid…
The Beautiful Bird- flew away.


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He sat alone in the cage, she didn’t return for him, lest we cage her again.
She had flown after ages. She was free after epochs.
There was no time for love now- no trifling time.

And perhaps he understood too.

A soul not free cannot love.
A soul not free cannot be free to love.

The free Love

It was as if…

If I am not allowed to walk for ages and put in bars, when I am set free I will walk, I will run.
I will not look forward to whom I am going to meet. I will not look beyond for whom I have left behind.
I will just walk. I shall simply run.

I will hug my freedom first.
I will love myself first.
I will love my love later

So he sat there, without brooding in an open cage, surprisingly not waiting for his love, who he prayed should not return. But yet he would wait…

The Wait

Perhaps he chose love over freedom.
Perhaps he chose timidity over courage.
Courage- to hug the skies that he had long forgotten how to. That he had forgotten dreaming about while he was in love.
Or perhaps he had forgotten he was bound in a cage, bound in love.

An hour passed, he did not eat, he did not move.
We nudged him to come out, to escape, to fly, to go to the sky.
But he sat there in the open cage, praying she should never return.

Perhaps he was born in cage never been taught to fly.
And she was born on the clouds, never needing to be taught the sky.

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Someday perhaps she would narrate him stories of clouds, rain, sun behind the mountains, fogs of the valleys, of building a nest, of watching it break, of making babies but not in mud pots,caged…
Someday she would tell him stories of the skies, that he prayed he shouldn’t hear from her.

Bird in the sky

He wanted to wait.
He wanted her to never come back.

He chose LOVE. Love for her freedom.
She chose FREEDOM. Freedom over her love.

The Love Bird Flew.

After all she was a Bird.
A Love-bird later.