Nostalgia (vignettes)

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(i)
she wore a tired smile
like singed marigold petals in june,
to camouflage the searing pain
which wizened her beyond
an anorexic youth yet unlived~
sighing soft whispers to placate
our anxieties with her complacence
and suddenly that flickering smile froze
on chapped lips now quiet,
her voice coffined in silence.

(ii)
life is an enigma, a mystery
strewn in laughter and tears,
such the lyrics flowed as rippling river
entrancing me with their depth
as they unraveled surreal meanings
of bittersweet existence,
unaltered by the drooled moments
by an hourglass bellybutton.

(iii)
a face scratched by mischief,
an impish grin worn with bravado
to defy angst of skinned knees and elbows,
a little girl with grit enough
to challenge boys twice her age
trying to prove something to herself,
but on stardusted nights
she peered into onyx realms of insomnia
trying to gather fragments
of once savored choco-chip cookie realities
now a distant, faded dream.

(iv)
the boundaries
between truth and falsehoods
are blurred by conceptual interpretations
she lost her most cherished dream
and sought satisfaction
in making empty threats to break
the sand castles built by others,
just to prove to kismet
she could beat it at its callous game
of cheating, swindling and destroying…

Yearning for Sepia Yesteryears…

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I yearn to return
and traipse along those straits
sepia and serpentine
strewn in chiaroscuros spun
on boughs of flamboyant mesua,
riddled in raindrops
blasphemed by muddy puddles
and echoing in muted whispers
of scarlet palash petals
peppering silent mornings,
where rainbow fantasies of youth
sequined my nights
and childhood slowly altered
to blossom into juvenile desires.

where the chartreuse muteness
of tea leaves pregnant
in piquant syllables of aroma,
is unruffled by garrulous dialogue
of golden sunrays~
chirping after being laved in dew
and blue hills that fringe
obscurities of distant horizons
in their curves and contours
dusted in dawn’s golds
argent moonlight dreams
and fingerprints of reverie
of a long lost childhood,
still stand reminiscencing about
a naivete long molted off.

those days were
a grey monotone emblazoned
on cloudy sighs of cerulean heights,
the garbled poetry of sparrows
mingling with verses muttered by doves
to change blue moods
of tempest’s monotonous songs,
my giggles as I threw
my umbrella to the winds’ whims
and danced in falling rain,
those broken lyrics scattered
by my idiosyncrasies in the shower
and that sigh of delight
as I munched on orange popsicles
still linger somewhere
in that place I lived.

those trees which shared
my first love confessions,
their complacence aiding my decisions
as I hesitated and dallied,
the wildflowers in pink
that I picked and filled in
vases of loneliness,
to make solitude fragrant,
the hursinghars whose redolence
composed the aubade
of cerise dawns in flagrant bloom,
are still there adding magic
to someone else’s adolescence
while in a sunburnt land
sighing in heat waves
I dream of mists and rainfall.

Childhood Memories of March…

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apple blossom mornings
of march tinted in aromatic sighs
emanating from tea leaves’ nostrils,
were favored in gold-pink sweetness
of gujhias deep fried
in mother’s kitchen of magic.

festival of colors
lurked round the corners
of days laved in lukewarm honey,
as seen in scarlet laughter
of blazing flames of the forest,
peppered on dewy grass blades.

affection was ground and kneaded
into delicious dreams
on gas stoves and in oven wombs,
paste of dry fruits and saffron blending
in the boiling fluidities of milk
to scent throats of chilled glasses,
as sidewalks and walks awaited
graffiti splashes in anticipation,
to color their bleak realities.

spices romanced jack fruits
into curried delights,
platters of china fragilities preened
adorned in sumptuous delicacies,
sweets competed with each other to lure
drooling tongues with their charms,
the beauty of spring forgotten
in the redolent whispers
echoing from the ardent kitchen.

summer hovered on sidelines
with ripeness of golden mangoes
and sweltering gasps of a wrathful sun,
but often the day of vibrant hues
was peppered in whimsy of spring showers
drenching mischievous hopes
of splattering colors on mellow daylight.

Memories of Blackberries…

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blackberries

 

their sweet-sour, tangerine flavor,
still lingers on my tongue, no longer dyed
in eager gluttony of naiveté

girl blue sky

 

 

as eyes lost in infinite azure, read
thoughts perched as praying mantis
on foliage’s palms-
travelling trail of forgotten reminiscences.

reborn, with a look at shriveled arms,
of a dying sentinel, gnarled, twisted
standing as a frozen sigh,
pleading unto cerulean heavens

 

as half dried leaves taste autumn’s bane
in monsoon’s season, of rejuvenation
insipid blackberries are tasted by cicadas,
or left to stink in downpours.

blackberries1

 

 

 

thoughts’ pastels paint sepia realms, of a memory,
of another tree laden with juicy blackberries,
whose flavor blended, in my lost childhood
blurring my eyes, at plight
for this unfamiliarly familiar tree…

jamun

 

 

 

Jasmine-scented Memories of Childhood…

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moist, dewy morns
peppered in honeydew sunshine,
caressed by morning breeze
softly on blushing, vermilion cheeks,
fringed in translucent frills of mist
with lingering fragrance of
faint sighs of withered jasmines
that cover grass in sublime quilt,
still hover in sepia memories,
that scent familiar and precious
like taste of acerbic berries
and sips of aromatic brew of green tea.

in my pinafores of adolescence,
still drowsy with soporific dreams
of blanket cuddled nights,
I traipsed in my backyard
every spring dawn to pick hursinghars
sweet scented blossom of ethereal scent
a blend of white and orange
like tangerine juice spilled dusk
whence daylight is wedded to moonlight.

flowers I collected with care
to string into redolent garlands
not to ornament my raven mane but
to be offered in reverence on pedestal
of deities in devotion and prayer,
perhaps many a hope blossomed
and many dreams turned into reality
because of my humble offerings
of redolent night jasmines ,making
them a treasured childhood memory…

A Priceless Gift

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subtle fingers of mist cover
yesteryears in sighs with cracked edges
and sepia footprints are left
by filtering recollections
on the bosom of tranquil moments
– transient scribbles of reverie
like the hues of fading crepuscule.

distant echo of words 
long forgotten is revived by 
lethargic solitude interwoven with
with threads of recapitulations,
as seemlessly snippets of 
long erased past unfold 
in burnished syllables of the old.

I remember an incident,
watching it play on mind’s canvas
almost like a vaguely remembered scene
from a movie seen once,
I am a child again-
all knee scrapes, laughter and mischief
visiting the shops with mother,
my eyes alight with delight
at the myriad colors, lights, smells-

I fell in love with her
as she sat high on a glass shelf 
in a dainty frock in the shop,
pestering mummy I whined for it
and with a smile-tipped sigh
she bought it for me.

pleased I went prancing downstreet,
to show my doll to father
and learnt my mother had spent
money meant for her saree to indulge me
even after all these years, flown 
under time’s bridge as a river,
I still cherish this memory like
a memento of love from
my mother long since departed
to tread cottonwool clouds with angels
her smile lighting up life’s drab alleys forever…

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