SHE TENDED TO HER WOUNDS

She was scared, she was shivering,

her home work was half done, full of errors...

The clock struck ten, she looked at it again..

.almost willing it to go slower...

The door opened, he walked in, she stood still...

Every filament in her body shivering...

She looked at her mother for help, she looked aside at something...

She shrieked trying to get away, she was caught in his pincer like arms,

she dreaded what came next...

They tied her to the table and then came the lash,

down it came in thunderous crack, there was tears in her eyes....

Her mother looked on, without a drop of remorse; she was immune to it...

A weekly ritual for her brother, he beat the living daylights out of her only daughter...

The bleeding body of her, trembled, in agony which was still yet to come...

Four men came; two with a camera recorded their shameful acts in glory...

She felt her entire body burn, her soul convulse in shame...

She endured in silence, her young dreams shattered...

Her mother collected two hundred from him, hung her head low, and thanked him...

She tended her wounds....

THE HEALING

The skies are dark and gloomy,

 there are tears waiting to flow from my red eyes...

There’ s a hollowness in my soul, betrayal sounds bitter...

The sadness sticks, like an ugly dream haunting,

Memories of friendship now turn sour...

A sense of stupidity attaches itself to me,

 I ask again and again, was I blind in trusting a friend...

There ‘s a sole silence, waiting for her apology,

which I know I shall never ever get, yet I wait for a miracle,

 step deeper into quicksand..

.

There’ s a voice shouting, I realize its raining,

 my brother comes running and pulls me out to dance in the rain,

Each drop that dances on my face

, takes away my inherent sadness, the tears flow,

 like the Ganges washing away the ash...

My shouts of  joy, draw my family to join the fun...

As my mom, slowly dries my long flowing hair, she hugs me tight...

A sense of warm love, flows through my heart, what ever I shall face,

 however sad I may be, I’ve a family to whom I am the apple of the eye...

THE DRAMA QUEEN

She wept as in competition to the great floods of apocalypse,
Her melodramatic intensity convinced every living soul that he was the culprit who had stolen her two centimeter pencil !!

Déjà vu had forewarned the entire class of forty that she would extract her payback and revenge on this poor hapless friend of theirs...
   
She shrieked in terror, she trumpeted her shrill voice and shouted at him, who sat next to wall!!

THE entire world knew he would never want her pencil...
She however waited for the class teacher to arrive..
She would put him in jail for his act of crime...
      
With a tongue full of profanities, heart full of genuine hatred, she shouted on and on...

THE guy by the wall in one fit of rage got up and drama queen ran away in fear...

Crying now she fell down and found her dear friend!! THE two centimeter pencil again...   

THE STORY TELLER

It all started with a story, long long ago in a village,
By the fireside, listening to grandpa tell stories of the wild forest beyond our huts...

Wild dogs, foxes, lions And tigers ,
Talking Ghosts, walking trees,
and the realm of darkness,
Several of us around the fire donated our fears onto the soft earth, some shivered around in fright and ran away back home to sleep...

and so began the story of how I ran away into the dark jungle with my accomplice in mischief...

Night was cold. the moon was high and not a bloody vampire in sight

the mists were high and the glow of white hung everywhere, not one curious ghost to give us company...

No tiger with sharp teeth, no lion with furious eyes, the trees were sleeping...

we were found next day by the search party that had gathered,
We were given a thrashing, verbal as well from the cane...

So began our turn to glorify the darkness, to paint darkness into fright into the youngest miscreants of the village...

Darker villains, horrible trees, deadly flowers, slithering snakes, gnawing worms with giant teeth, a hundred other monsters took shape in the woods, seen by every soul at midnight   

It all started with a story, long long ago in a village,
By the fireside, listening to grandpa tell stories of the wild forest beyond our huts...

Wild dogs, foxes, lions n tigers ,
Talking Ghosts, walking trees,
and the realm of darkness,
Several of us around the fire donated our fears onto the soft earth, some shivered around in fright and ran away back home to sleep...

and so began the story of how I ran away into the dark jungle with my accomplice in mischief...

Night was cold. the moon was high and not a bloody vampire in sight

the mists were high and the glow of white hung everywhere, not one curious ghost to give us company...

No tiger with sharp teeth, no lion with furious eyes, the trees were sleeping...

we were found next day by the search party that had gathered,
We were given a thrashing, verbal as well from the cane...

So began our turn to glorify the darkness, to paint darkness into fright into the youngest miscreants of the village...

Darker villains, horrible trees, deadly flowers, slithering snakes, gnawing worms with giant teeth, a hundred other monsters took shape in the woods, seen by every soul at midnight   

THE MOUNTAIN OF LIFE

Thousands upon thousands had gathered around the treasure trove,
There it lay on the ground in a humungous heap scattered everywhere...

For all they looked they found their treasure in the distance,
Lines and lines of hunters came, carried their loot at hand,
no one grudged another, no one fought over the spoils, everyone grabbed weights worth ten times their own...

As far as I could see, thousands upon thousands of ants marched to the mountain of sugar I had put,
Big and small, red and black,
Older and younger, marching in order in a line,
Queues of them, akin to temples and god they thronged to collect their treasure...

In discipline they could every army to shame, onward and onward with one goal they marched, following the trail left by the one beyond...
None fought for more.

No jealously nor a hint of malice,
They were satisfied with their share...

Like an army they did come, gone back home without a war, they had left clean this mountain of sugar