Dark Horse

Running through the desert,
the vision blurs, the lips parch.
But I run, towards the Pole Star,
always distant in the infinite.
I run for it, I hurt myself.
But it remains faraway
bruised, aloof, shining like the dark horse.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Me & you

'I am smelling of you',  said she,  Lying on the warm bed beside me.  You dread going away embracing her tight,  Curling fingers around her with all your might.  You hold her bosom in the spreading calm,  Your breath grows heavy and your mind goes numb.  She smiles in the dark, her eyes burning bright,  The moments of pleasure slipping into the night.  You open your eyes and she is gone,  The tired face stares at the frosty dawn.  The lonely soul craves for the time that flew,  Attuning to the cold bed and now stale brew. But your heart awakens to words that are true,  'Your smell is mine and mine is you (rs)'. 
Read more

The News that was

Two and a half years ago, the nation cringed, held its head in shame and erupted in protest. What of it? It’s Bu siness as usual. Girls are still being pinched, pushed, shoved, felt, caricaturised, discriminated and yes, are still worried. Worried to reach home by the evening, worried to move out at night, worried when in public transport, worried in Homes, Offices and between them and worried about their friends, mothers and daughters too. Being of eight or eighty doesn’t matter; someone needs to show the women her place. May be, two and a half years is too less a time,too less for a nation teeming with people to understand humanity. Too less to realise that may be, the other half (often referred as better but probably, the worse) is asking for its legitimate space in the milieu and to provide it such, won’t be an act of gratitude but to right the wrongs of a millennia. Too less to cast away the misogyny and accept what we should be and not what we have become. The wound is ...
Read more

A Confession

‘Confess your crime!’ Mahesh bellowed. Samaira was at home after finishing her school for the day. After changing her clothes, she went inside the kitchen and took the food out from the fridge which her mother, Natasha had kept. She heated it on the stove as mother had taught her. After finishing her lunch, she opened the upper cabinet in the kitchen to take a glass out. She raised herself up on her toes trying to take a glass out but her hands brushed against a mug her father had bought from of his foreign trips and it fell down with a crash. Afraid of the implications, she quickly collected the pieces using a plastic shovel and tied them in polythene which she threw outside the house. Later, she went inside her room. She was enjoying her afternoon siesta when her father came in. He asked if she had broken something in the kitchen. Afraid, she lied. But Mahesh, shuffling nervously on his feet, kept on probing her wanting her to confess. A blunt heavy hand landed on her cheek...
Read more