The Bouganvillea Sang While I Waited For You

It started as a balmy, every day Sri Lankan day when the araliya flowers in my gardens were in bloom. The days were hot and the nights were hotter, the muslin curtained windows were thrown open to coax in the slowest of breezes. The balmy days of a Sri Lankan spring slowly turned into the characteristic humid summer. My parents were cutting mangoes, and the golden juices pooled lazily at the bottom of the plates almost beautifully as we watched a sneaky fly or two trying to get into it. 

Who would have thought that you'd come along? 

My days were slow, sad. Only paced up with those days at the Barefoot Cafe where my friends and I spent hour upon hour reflecting on the shallowest vagaries of life and drinking liter upon liter of beer and in my case, iced tea. The balmy Sri Lankan spring turned into a humid Sri Lankan summer. The beat was slow, temporal. Out of sync, out of place. Summer hardly felt like summer, but it's always summer in our little island paradise. The birds were too tired to sing, it was far too warm. The butterflies couldn't step out, the sun would have burnt their wings into fairy dust. 

Who would have thought you'd come along?

The bright pink Bougainvillea in my garden, violent shades of magenta and orange; they blossmed in full stilt in the harsh sunlight, sining out their colours like an all too eager show choir. They were my mother's pride and joy. I'd spend the days fanning myself in the verandah with a battered copy of the Hi magazine dated three years back and my dogs would be at my feet, so lethargic in the warmth to even raise their heads up from their paws. The spring dragged on into the heat of the summer. My days were punctuated by cold faludas from Bombay Sweet, ice cold Cokes from the college cafeteria and cold milk chugged out of the carton at midnight. 

Who would have thought you'd come along? 

Ice creams melted just outside college as we walked out of the kade that sold Jumbo Jolly. Just when we though the heat wouldn't end, the first drops of the seasonal rain began to hit. A little to early in the year, it was true. No complaints, the heat was unbearable. Warm, cozy Sundays cuddled up in bed, a cold pillow to keep me happy, watching the plant world through a rain streaked window and drink ginger until it almost ran in my veins. The days were cool and beautiful, the streets were rain streaked and full of utter senesless joy. The nights were cold and blankets were soft. The fresh smell of the Earth from my garden as the summer-browned grass drank up the water was intoxicating. The Earth was rejoicing, as was I.

Who would have thought you'd come along?

The Indian Ocean frothed in front of us. The lights on Marine Drive were iridiscent blobs of the prettiest colours, blinking along the coastline of our beautiful Colombo. Back to the summer days of the hot days and hotter nights, with occasional patches of rain to keep us happy. The waves broke on the rocks like crystal breaking into little shards of diamonds, a million glittering points of utter wonder. We watched as the sky is a shade of mostly royal blue with a traitorous patch of tangerine, pink, purple velvet, Barium green or red, showing that the sun isn't totally gone. The lights of Colombo blinked merrily, and seated near the rail tracks of the beach down Marine Drive, we kissed just as a train passed behind us, our bodies shuddering at the thundering noise and impact, your grip only getting tighter.

We kissed.

I was waiting for you to come along.

All through these beautiful summer days.

All my life. 

Dear Fairy-Godmother

This letter is in reference to that party I went to, two days back.

I was dancing with this guy at the party.

The very hip, very cool party.

Flashy clothes, all top of the line

Everyone glittering from head to toe.

I was fancily dressed thanks to you. 

So then, the cutest guy in the room asked me to dance.

Of course I said yes.

He was rich, he was cute, he was tall. Why not right?

So we danced.

Everyone watched as we grooved.

Slowly, the dancefloor started filling up and people were dancing around us. 

And just as no one was looking.. He grabbed my butt!

That pervert! He grabbed my butt.

I was shocked. So I ran for it.

Pell mell, down the stairs, I ran for it.

The stairs tripped my shoe and I nearly fell. I was too much in a hurry so I left the shoe and I ran to my car.

And now that pervert is all over the place

Trying to identify the shoe.

That bastard. 

Sincerely,

Cinderella.

Monster.

Below the fathoms of the ocean blue

Beyond the tides froth churning brew

Away from the grasp of reaching light

Kelp such green and monstrous height

He lies in the shadows, deep great slumber

Skin deep gray, eyes bright umber

In his sleep the water doth churn

Churning until the fiery burn 

Of mankind brings this Earth to demise

Then from the watery depths he shalt rise

But until the day the angels weep

Sleep well beautiful monster of the deep. 

The Knight, The Hero, The Loser and The Phony.

"Knight in Shining Armour" it said

A paid adverstisement on the flat screen TV

Armour colour choices of black or red

Finally someone who was ideal for me

"Hero Upon a White Horse" I see

Splashed across the leaftlet one day

My life would never be as bleakly

If I find this hero right away 

But I was never a damsel in distress

I fought my battles, I stood strong

As nice it is to have love's caress

I would prefer to sing my own song

The Knight was nothing but a loser in tinfoil

The Hero was nothing but a jerk on a pony

Such was the result of my meandering toil

My so called man was a  phony. 

Single and Sold

You might be a girl reading this, or you might be a boy..

So I shall write this story in both perspectives.

You wake up, the sunlight hits your eye, it's annoying. 

You blink, you check the phone.

You have some GPRS charges messages from Dialog, some Tweet mention messages,

some Facebook wallpost messages.You want to sleep.

He/she calls you. You talk about useless things for fifteen minutes. 

Call ends.

You smile, widely awake. Okay, let's start this day!

You walk around, on the road, with your friends. You are talking, texting, watching the road,

doing the uber-multitasking that youngsters are so inept at these days. 

You have your phone in your hand, you dressed in the usual college life garb;

the jeans, the causal t-shirt, the sneakers and your bag is slung over your shoulders.

There is a boy flirting with you. He notices how your hair shines in the sun, he loves the way you talk.

There is a girl faltering under your gaze. She loves the deep gravelly tone of your voice,

she likes the fact that you can play the guitar. 

Phone beeps.

A message from him, a message from her.

All thoughts of that other person who likes you...

... ah well, they lie flat, like a fallen leaf down a lonely road. 

You are having a bad day. You are frustrated, anger is creeping up on you,

work is piling up, homework is nowhere close to being finished.

You want him to call. You want her to text. 

You stare at the phone.

You are bored, you are not absorbing anything on the white board.

You are far far away from the lecture room as you can be.

Lectures finish. Your day is no better.

You send a random text. 

You come home. You are on Facebook when person from your class comes up on chat.

A boy, a good looking one, flirts with you. A really pretty girl finds you interesting.

You reply like a dead duck.

All the while, staring at your phone, willing it to ring with that name on it. 

Day is winding, you slip into bed. 2200 hours. 

Phone rings, you smile.

You talk on and on for an hour or so, ending the day talking to this person.

This person, who is not yours to have.

This person who makes you feel good,

makes you smile

This person who should clearly sort out their stupid issues

and say "Screw that "

and just be with you. 

Because you and that person, are perfect.

The two of you are so dysfunctional that the ridges fit just right. 

Two broken halves of the same cookie.

You end the call, you end the day.

You stare at the wooden slats of your ceiling,

and think of that boy who flirts with you.

You think of the pretty girl who likes you.

They'd be very happy if you gave them a chance.

Another face comes to your mind.

His spectacled face and toothy smile.

Her soft curly hair and twinkling eyes.

You sigh, knowing that this is how it will be

..for a long time to come. 

Because you are single..

.. and yet your heart is sold. 

Rain and Ramblings

Everytime it rains, it brings back so many memories. I wish I knew why, but I get a deep sense of nostalgia.

I normally sit out side in the verandah and I watch the rain come down.

It's amazing how these little drops of water bring the whole universe to life. The greens of the leaves become greener and the shades of yellow become brighter. It's almost like the rain breathes life into everything that surrounds us.

When I look upto the sky, I wonder where the infinite drops of rain come from. Oh sure, I know the scientific explanation but that's boring. I like to make up my own theory. Maybe there is someone up there, crying? Maybe, just maybe, these crying people are angels? Who knows. A little bit of imagination never goes amiss.

The rain is falling in a steady stream and I love the sound it makes when it splatters the leaves. It's almost like the rain is talking, singing and serenading the world with it's stories. Pools of water form all over the grass and when the wind joins in, the soft chilly breeze that hums around me is so inviting. The world smells so fresh and seems to peaceful.

When it rains, my father likes to sit outside in the verandah and watch the rain, just like I do. I wonder what he thinks of the rain. The dog snoozes on a warm patch of terra cotta and the day passes so, with us watching the rain.

The rain reminds me of my childhood, of my sister whom I miss very much. It reminds me of stories I have read. They say people don't remember things will, but they will always recall how they felt about something. I don't quite remember the stories but I remember how it felt, cuddled in my mother's embrace, making jokes while we watched the rain from the safe harbour of her bed.        

The leaves glisten with the rain water as it washes their faces, dripping off the ends beautifully like little drops of liquid diamond. The dog yawns and I watch the little stones swimming in the pools of water. The gentle pitter patter of the falling water, the smell of fresh soil, the memories, it all overwhelms the senses. It is comforting to retire to bed with a warm mug of coffee but I don't like wasting rain. I love to sit outside on this verandah with my cup of ginger tea and read a good book. Some of the books I enjoyed the most have been read while it was raining. Maybe the continous pound snd thrum of the falling water had something to do with it? Who knows.

When the rain clears up and the world goes back to being it's dry place, I will miss it. I miss the rain, I always do. But maybe it's the ocassional occurrence of the rain that makes it so beautiful in my eyes. Something common would get boring, wouldn't it?

The rain might go away and the world will be dry again, but one will always find the little drops of water clinging to the very tips of leaves, catching the sunllight with proud defiance and throwing their colours to the world; the evidence of a recent rain-fall. I like to think that rain is life. How can it not be when you see the flowers and trees drink up the water so joyfully?

There is not much sunshine during the rain.. but there is always some. And sometimes, even through the rain, the sun shines's brightly, letting the world bask in it's golden, waterly glow. That sight, I think, is the best gift nature can give us.

Rain is beautiful.

Oh My God, It's The Devil

Religion. Ah, it is such a prick.

And no, think what you want of me, but honestly religion is a whole load of crap. 

Do I believe in God? Interesting question.

The thing is, I don't. Half of the good things that have happened to me, I say they happened due to random chance, coincidence, luck and timing. Believable. I have a scientific mind.. And unless I have proof of something, my mind rejects it as being false by default.

Which is ironic you know? I'm a writer. I am supposed to believe in things beyond the conventional realm of things but my mind refuses to grapple with the concept that God exists. My mother preaches to me that He does. Sometimes it honestly gets on my nerves, but it's my mother and she has her beliefs and I have mine.

In all honesty, I don't have issues with people who believe in God. I don't have a problem with religion as long as religion doesn't apply to me. I mean a person I am close to could be one of those Bible quoting, Rosary counting people and it wouldn't bother me in the least because it's their life to believe whatever and do whatever. So here is my stand in things... I don't believe in God.

Ah, now comes the rub.

I believe in the Devil. Yes, yes I do.

Now let's back track and forget everything for a moment.

The universe is made of opposites. This is stuff we learnt for basic Physics/Science. Light has darkness, fat has thin, Voldemort has Harry Potter and Batman has the Joker. Opposites are needed to strike a balance. The world would never be a utopia because utopia would not flourish on its own, not without the dystopic element in it. Dystopia is crucial for the survival of utopia and vice versa. Just imagine lions stopped hunting deer... We'd be over run with deer and we'd have no fucking trees! See my point? Nature knows best, and knowing best is striking a balance. So there, we have our basic theory of opposites.

Now going back to the Devil. I said I believe the Devil exists right? Yeah. You know what bothers me? I don't believe that God exists but I believe the Devil does. Oxymoronic? Yes. That's like saying that I know light is present but darkness doesn't. I mean, no light = no darkness right. So... It's looks like my beliefs have been questioned! OH NO! I HAVE TO BELIEVE IN GOD!  THE HORROR!

Also, you know what's funny? We get all these self proclaimed Atheists, metal heads mostly. They speak exclusively of their strong disbelief in God and yet pay homage to Satan. To them, I say this: You are all a bunch of fucking hypocrites. Seriously. If you're going to disbelieve in God, you need to not believe in the Devil too. If you're going to hero worship Satan, you might as well accept the fact that God exists. And no, you cannot fault me on this because I am talking directly based on the theory of opposites. One end of an opposite can never survive without the other. Simple fact. I'd rather be a metal head who believes in both God and Satan than a hypocrite who believes just one side of it; to be evil is SO COOL NOH!

So now comes my take on things. 

Do I believe in God along with my belief in Satan?

Or do I believe that neither exists?

I won't consider either of them. I don't believe in God, I don't believe in Satan. Rather, I believe in something more powerful, something inevitable, universal and something far easier to grasp because we see proof of it everyday, we see it affecting everything from a virus particle to a blue whale; a flower to a tree.

Death.

I believe in Death.

I hate love.

I know I know, such an oxymoron eh? Yeah, it is a highly ironic thing to say, but I am not talking of platonic love. So, in my view, non-platonic love is one of the most disgusting things. It makes one a fool. 

So, you build walls right? You have your armour, your guard and they are all ready for battle. No one is going to break those walls, no one will go past them and reach out to that soul deep inside you and the best part is that you won't let them. Of course not! That, is highly ridicilous! Horse-feathers! You will never entertain such a notion. All this undying, unconditional and un-whatever love crap is good for the pigeons. And no pigeon, chicken or ostrich will crack YOUR defense! You are super awesome and you like to keep it that way. You go on with life being the cool, nonchalant, super deatched, uber cool person you always were and you feel great. You feel awesome. You ARE awesome. 

And then some idiot/fucker/asshole comes along and fucks you up effortlessly. 

Maybe it's the way he grinned or the way she tossed her hair. Maybe it was a hug, a kiss, a dance, a bite or even a random slap on the wrist. Maybe it's their stupid adorable curls, their buck teeth, puppy eyes or beard stubble. Maybe it's the way they fell on their ass or the way they tripped over their own laces. Whatever it is, one thing is evident: You Are Buttfucked. All your defenses fall down like crumbled Marie biscuit crumbs. You want to sing corny, crappy love songs, you want to be all cutesy and possesive. 

And then comes the second snag: You Are Butffucked AGAIN. Why? Because the intial source of Buttfucking, you know the one that made you listen to love songs? It goes away. That person moves away and your are Buttfucked beyond your wildest imaginations.  And really, it's not pleasant. Hardly. 

So now, you feel naked and vulnerable. You let down your guard for this person. Or, in all honesty, that person wormed their way through your best defenses and rendered said defenses utterly useless, incapacitating them. You are left feeling vulnerable and exposed, like going commando on a cold day. 

Then you realise you are alone. You have no one but yourself to help you to dust off and pick yourself up. All the silly clichés kick. "Time will heal all wounds" or "It's better to have loved and lost". I mean, what the hell? Some smartarse comes along and quotes the Greatest Quotes They Think Helps You When You Are Heartbroken. You then feeling like throwing something heavy at the head of the idiot who tries to comfort you but instead you smile and say nothing while your insides seethe away in raw anger and annoyance.

You.are.alone. 

You have no one but yourself to hate, blame and hurt so you numb yourself emotionally and forget everything, distracting yourself with work and stressing yourself out on a daily basis just to avoid spending time alone with your own goddamned thoughts. 

Fuck that. Fuck all of it. Go tell your parents, sibling[s] or best friend that you love them. The above three parties are the least likely to dump you, butffuck your mind and break your heart. Out of the three parties, your parents would never really do any of the above highly offensive things. So seriously, kiss your mum goodnight and tell her she's fly. Because in all honesty, she really is. 

One last thing before I end this: Always keep in mind that when someone sweeps you off your feet... they are in a perfect position to dump you on your ass. :)

Gravity's Story

Prologue

Gravity, My Dear, what is your deal?

Why do I trip over my own heel?

Why do I stumble on surfaces flat?

Why can't I land stable like a cat?

Gravity, Dear Gravity, why so cruel?

Walking against you, a constant duel

Where is balance? Please give it back

What say you? Shall we make a pact?

Epilogue

So Gravity and I, we made a pact

And for a while everything remained intact

And then things started going downhill

I wondered why I could not stand still

I fell down, I spiralled to the depth

And on that note, the pact hit death

I screamed at Gravity for letting me fall

For I did no wrong, it was all his fault

But Gravity smiled and said to me

"Dear Child, you are failing to see

Things were meant to go this way

When you fall out of love, I have no say"

The Scar

I stand in front the mirror and smile

I stare at my self and wait for a while

Willing myself to change, to change

And I'm still me, it is so strange

I raise my shirt and study my skin

Soft and smooth, curving in

I look at the scar which marks my side

I study the scar that spreads wide

I go back to that horrible scar

Like a lightining bolt, my skin its marrs 

A part of me which I cannot hide

Acceptance raises the fallen pride

I look at the scar, and there it stays

A patch of skin that's dark and raised

I smile and the scar, I trace it's shape

I see no reason to find an escape

The heart in me with good pride swells

Thank you scar, you taught me well. 

A/N: Always nice to have a moment to accept one's self. ;)

A Craving For Love

Love comes is all shapes and size sand in so many various forms right?

But.. Tell me why the love we have is not the love we pay heed to?

Why do we have a hell-bent need for a different type of love?

We crave for the love that is like wildfire

With the bright, red flames that consumes us whole

And before we know, we lose ourselves

And in most cases we can't find our way back

We lose ourselves. So.. Why do we crave it?

Is it because that a love like fire is rare and doesn't happen often?

Or is it because we're hormone junkies? Riding on guilt trips and sorrow?

When a lover breaks our hearts we claim to have "lost the ability to love"

We claim to be "unloved by anyone".

Screw that. Open your eyes. See how many friends have pulled you to safety

Remember all the times your mother held you to her

If you have a younger sibling, you'll see in their eyes how they look up to in complete adoration and love

Think about the nights you were drunk and happy in the company of people you'd take a bullet for

So screw all the "I am unloved by anyone" stuff.

Crave the love you have. Not the love you don't. A love like a fire is still a fire. It will burn out someday.

But a love like magic, like the one you seen in the smallest things around you...

... it remains intact and unbroken, because the universe is built on magic. And the universe never ends.

Crave the love you have.

It's all around.

You just have to know where to look.

The Boy

He sings to me; that boy that man

He sits outside my window pane

Every night without fault I see him smiling

Sitting through the dreary rain

He sings his songs, so soft so beautiful

Heart breaking, a soft lullaby

His voice it tilts me over soft yonder

When the moon smiles in the sky

His long lean body shakes in the cold

And it calls out for my embrace

I see him through my window glass

Through curtains and trails of lace

Caged I am within these walls 

For I cannot speak out to that boy

His eyes smile like the Evening Star

It brims with unbridled joy

I long to hold him for I am falling in love

But I cannot bring down these walls

So I sit and listen as he sings to me

As his voice to my soul it calls

The need for me to sooth his hurt

Grows to drive me insane

But I cannot go so I sit and watch

The boy outside my window pane. 

Lies

Darling your lips are red, they're shining

What poison apple did you eat?

Your eyes bloodshot, red blood lining

Your skin oh, flushed with heat

Darling your lips are red, they beckon

Lingering kisses on your throat

Your lush skin speaks in want I reckon

Your mind struggles to stay afloat

Darling your lips are red, they glisten

Like the diamond on your hand

Close your eyes and take a listen

To the funeral march playing band

Darling your lips are red with your lies

They're crimson, they're scarlet, they shine

Darling I see the fear in your eyes

As the knife traces your jawline

Darling your lips are red, I'm taking your life

It's killing me to hear your cries

They say an eye for an eye, it's beautiful

Your lips are red with your lies.