Cold Love

There is that familiar sting in the air. The cold bites on the lips; the chill tucks at the heart. Windy memories rush past as time moves anticlockwise.

Another Earth

The moon peeps at me from behind a cloak of dark, rustling leaves. Its dark crevices move, almost. Could there still be water in them, I wonder. As the movement in the moon's crevices becomes more and more pronounced, the wind suddenly becomes chilly. I shiver. The crevices have started flying.

Distant dark flying objects. I strain my eyes. Some of those flying objects start moving into the neighbouring area of my roof. I see women with pointy hats sitting on large flying brooms. As I stare transfixed, they ignore me and fly around, quietly in the dark realm. Another earth within mine.

Diwali House

As evening arrived, a glow spread over her face. Bright ornaments decked her from head to feet like the jewellery of a new bride. Tonight was her time to shine and no one could take that away from her.

The lights turned on; the house smiled. Tonight was Diwali.

The Dead of the Night

The dead of the night.
Your story makes me wonder
The Universe is mysterious
Sometimes, it reflects life
But most times, a lesson.

Strange are the ways of men
Stranger still, those of women.
What does that make us, I wonder.
Poets, anti-socials, loners
Or the rejects of society?

They say, love is a young man's game
A wrong bet, and you lose heart
Learn the rules, don't be a fool.
You see, love is not for amateurs.

So while you and I scribble
Pages and pages of morbid prose
Pretty lovers with prettier frames
Live fairytales of their own.

The Night Sky

Draped in a wave of clouds,
The moon lets out a lazy yawn.
A naughty wind brushes past
Pulling off its cover, oh so lightly
Illuminating half a mile of the sky.

The moon is called off from sleep
A rude awakening
Big eyes, full of reproach
It scolds the wind, pulls the blanket closer.
And the endless sea goes dark.

Dark clouds with stoic silver linings
Like the depth of a bottomless ocean,
The synchrony of a fish's scales,
A unique geometric pattern
Shield the Universe.

A solitary star winks away
In the midst of this celibacy.

A lighthouse full of hope,
It is the sole flame, 
Eternally awake
In the sleeping world.
Like my love for you.

Lurking at Night

When your soul is tired and the eyes, weak
When your limbs succumb to the dreamy beat
When the sky is crowded with stars lit,
That's when poetry peeps out at night.

Stars Below

Twinkling stars
Travelling stars
Static stars
Halogen stars
A starry town comes to life 
At night.
Hopes and dreams
Lend their wings
As this town softly glows.
As I watch this sleepy town come to life
14000 feet below.

The Darkness Inside

Darkness creeps
Like a lone wolf
About to pounce
On indiscretions of the past.

The clock ticks,
As the prey runs
Desperate to hide
In a maze of uncertain shadows.

Fallible and naive
It senses danger.
But how can it hide?
When the real enemy lurks within.

Scared and lonely
It counts its last moments.
As the predator inside it
Patiently waits to make a strike.

It's during dark days as these
That my predator comes to life.

Loving in Oblivion

Seems like yesterday

I was a kid growing up.

I said 'I love you' hoping against hope.

And you said nicely, 'Thank you'.

Through the tears I laughed.

You were funny alright.

And I had thought we'd be just fine.

Damn free will, I smiled.

What had I hoped for, after all?

Then my best friend, my confidant

Fled up the farthest wall,

When I told him it made me jealous

That he got involved with another girl.

Other men I have liked, 

But dared not express.

My affection comes off as rudeness

As I die to escape.

Their gaze.

Their presence.

Their very touch.

The sound of their voice.

It just gets lonely here sometimes.

Lonely and terribly cold.

I hope I don't stumble into the darkness,

I have worked so hard to be free from.

Because the darkness, it unleashes

The demon I shelter inside.

Loneliness

A lonely night
A moonless night
It's not fair; it's not bright.


Cold breeze flutters my hair
Tells me I'm not alone
I look at the night
Distant majestic light
And atone.


Will you be my friend?
I ask the Night
She looks at me speechless
Owls gape, bats smile
Loneliness flutters
She walks away...


Where can I find a friend,
In this big wide world?
Who is there, who is truly mine?


Humans detest me.
With hope, I ask the animals
Will they be my friend?
A sick dog, a naughty parrot?
A big fat furry cat?


The sick dog finds a kinder friend
The parrot dies
The cat befriends the food.


In despair, I turn to Nature
Trees, sky, wind
Rivers, mountains, cloud
Surely they would be my company
And drive out these demons, so hungry?


But Nature has her own course
I'm her subject, not friend.
Not an equal.
My emotions, my passion
Are but just events
In her larger schema.


So here I sit by 
On a dark silent night.
The only sound that of crickets
And loneliness, my only company.

The House

The House so busy

The House so full

The House full of people

The House is Haunted.

Through its corridors I pass

An eerie wind blows by

The doors and windows rattle

The house- a silent solitary lass.

There's darkness all around

The people- asleep or dead?

The gentle moonlight streams forth

And illuminates those laid

Bodies mutilated

Centuries of oppression

They breathe, these bodies

But are they alive?

Towards dawn

A phantom figure

Does his rounds

Through the unending corridors.

A quest for something

Power, Knowledge, Immortality?

Drives this phantom around

A lean shriveled figure

Can't properly see, can't properly hear

It remembers the golden days

When it ruled over the bodies

That now lie at the maze.

I am awake- not the body

I can see- not the Phantom

Then who am I?

Silently observing this haunted house

I see dead people walking

And working in the world at large.

Bodies shout

Bodies cry

Bodies try to live

A normal life.

But I watch and think

Is it possible

For the bodies

To ever live?

The Phantom has sucked them dry

Used their lives to live his own

And though weak, he still rules.

Will it ever end?

I see the Phantom

Trying to regain his lost kingdom

And still command mastery

Over those bodies.

No living thing survives in this house

Plants wither, animals die.

But the bodies go on working

And old Phantom King reigns

This Palace of Ruins. 

Bite Me

Anger, Despair, Rage

Just another stage

I go on saying nothing's wrong

When there's such a big thorn

Comfortable in my throat.

Irritatingly funny

I laugh at other's jokes

When I am overcome with pain

Inside.

You think I can write?

You think I am weird?

You think this is not a poem?

Burst aflame, Good night!

Why did I start writing?

Why oh why did I cry?

None of them will ever fill

The emptiness inside of me

Dark, hollow, lonely

I look at myself in the mirror

And all I see is a masked smiling intruder

Staring at me grinningly

I look at it surprised

What have I become?

I am not this; this is not me

Do I really pretend that much?

And it occurs to me

All those days

Those dark days

Those horror days

When the sun shone bright 

On my face.

And how I craved

The night.

The warm, comforting night

But it was not there.

And here I am now

In the grasp of daylight again

Amidst a sea of smiling faces

Pretending to care

Pretending to like

Pretending to be happy

When I am dying inside.

Protest against wrongs

Fight for your beliefs

They say.

I am but a coward

Looking at my smiling self.

Craving...

For what? They ask.

What do you need?

I try to speak.

But my words are lost

In space.

I search and search

For the lost words.

Trying to find something, anything

To say.

But the words are gone

And I stare in awe

In the oblivious nothingness.

Saat Khoon Maaf

Imagine a situation where nothing thrives- no love, life, joy, hope or creation. Imagine spending your whole life in such a situation. Most of us would get mad. Most of us would give up hope. But not Suzanna Anne-Marie Johannes. She always wanted to live life on her own terms. She was not going to be helpless. If a problem arose, she was not going to run away from it, or even tackle it like ordinary people do. 


She was the femme-fatale. Her beauty masked the emptiness of her life. With her passion, she could have any man she wanted. And they came. With promises of hopes and dreams, they came. She didn't care for anything else. She was not bound by normal conventions of tradition or morality. Watching Saat Khoon Maaf then is not an exercise in conventional norms and conscience. 


The film is based on a short story by Ruskin Bond titled, "Suzanna's Seven Husbands". Ruskin Bond appears in the movie towards the end. The name Suzanna is striking. It is established right in the beginning of the movie that Suzanna is a Christian. I don't think a story like this could proceed if Suzanna hailed from any other religion. 

In a country like India, where millions of women are tortured by their husbands everyday and are taught to be docile wives, the character of Suzanna could only proceed if she hailed from a religion, which since it came from the West appeared to be relatively "progressive" and "open minded" as compared to the other dominant religions of Hinduism and Islam. Does this mean that Christian women do not get tortured in India? 


Of course they do. But when it comes to how Christianity was imported to India, we see that the British purposely employed Christianity to "civilize the natives". It is said that they were horrified by the kind of violation that natives subjected their women to and hence sought to "teach them better manners" through this religion. Another important tool which they used in this civilizing mission: that of English language. 


Over sixty years of independence and we are still hung up on both. Whether we overtly accept it or not, it becomes much easier for us to accept radical changes when they are primarily introduced through a Western system. Radical methods to combat daily problems too are therefore much easily acceptable when they come through a "broad minded medium" like that of Western education or religion or language.


The film quite predictably then is set in Post Independence era. Suzanna's father was one of the first generation English officers who married a Hindu woman. Vishal Bhardwarj gives us clips and occasional insights into the character's life but does not waste too much time on introduction. Coz he knows and he knows it well, that the audience needs to not lose its patience till the 7th murder; an arduous task. 


The movie therefore cuts right to the chase with the dominating patriarchal character of Neil Nitin Mukesh, who suffers from a deep insecurity of his manhood characterized by possessiveness for his wife; which leads him to break the head of his subordinate who does a close dance with Suzanna (with Neil's permission btw). Mukesh is awesome. There are no words to describe the fantastic way in which he portrayed the gruesomeness of the character. 

However Neil's character, much like those of the other male leads remain black and white. Their grey shades never come to light; or even if they do, the black almost always submerges the white. The reason for this is mainly the fact that the director did not want either of them to overshadow Suzanna. She is the heroine of this movie and cannot be shown in negative light.


One can rationalize the need of Suzanna to kill her first husband, Major Edwin Rodrigues then. But Bhardwaj  does not show the action (of murder) right then and there. For some peculiar reason he chooses to wait till the end of the movie when he shows Suzanna killing all her husbands, one by one. May be he wanted to surprise the audience with Suzanna's violent streak, but the viewer knows it all too well by then and cannot wait to get out!


The second husband stops making any sense whatsoever. More than that is the puzzling question of why a wife would want to kill a drug addict husband. His wanton lifestyle could be a source of concern, his dishonesty with songs could also be a source of concern. But Suzanna refuses to surrender for all of those flaws. 


Instead what really gets on to her is when he fails to give up drugs. I read somewhere that John Abraham was angry with Bhardwaj for not giving equal weight-age to his character as Priyanka in the film. Well, he should thank Bhardwarj for that. John manages to irritate not only Suzanna but also the audience with his flighty overacting. The viewer actually feels relieved when he is killed.

The third husband is interesting. A romantic poet by day, a sadist by night, Irrfan Khan acts his role to perfection. This is where Suzanna's darkness comes to full play. She loses her sanity completely. Her husband, Wasillulah Khan hits her and covers her with bruises to satisfy his perverse needs. Suzanna tries to cover the bruises up with makeup, and visits several dargahs and masjids praying for the end of this savagely behavior. 

But things only get worse. This is when one sees her sitting in front of the mirror wildly tearing apart her hair and laughing insanely. This is when the first traces of psychotic behavior are spotted in Suzanna. She always had a dark reverie but it is the torture of the third husband that makes her lose complete faith. With a vengeance, she decides to take revenge upon him; leading to his death. 


The fourth husband has been portrayed beautifully by Russian actor, Aleksandr Dyachenko. This is where the song, "Darling" is featured. This song has been influenced by a Russian folk song which is also played in the beginning. Rekha Bhardwaj lends her melodious voice to this striking number which captures the mood of the narrative very well. The name of the Russian spy is Nicolai Vronsky and Suzanna repeatedly refers to Anna Karenina where Anna falls in love with Vronsky outside of her marriage. 

In the novel, Anna gets suspicious that Vronsky is involved in relationships with other women and commits suicide. In the film however, as Anna (that's what Vronsky used to call Suzanna) murders her fourth husband when she finds out that he has a wife and children outside their marriage. Even though he tries to explain to her and give excuses, she refuses to listen. It seems even the director gets bored after this and rapidly shows the fifth and sixth murder sequences. 


He hardly wastes time to provide reasons behind the fifth murder. Annu Kapoor is there throughout the movie right from the second murder and does a great job of a sex maniac. Naseeruddin Shah plays the role of Dr. Madhusudan Tarafdar who manages to coax Suzanna to marry him in spite of her not wanting to get married any more. But when she finds out that he had planned to kill her one night, Suzanna gets scared and murders him too.

The choice of her last husband, notably has disappointed some and mesmerized others. I for once, was ecstatic, not by her choice but by being able to guess who she is marrying right by seeing the choice of her wedding gown. At last Suzanna finds peace. The viewer is just happy to be able to leave the hall without killing anyone or himself. 


It would have been much easier for me had Suzanna been a psycho. Frankly that would have simplified things down. But the fact that there is a reason behind her madness makes the viewers wary at first and weary later, to try to find out reasons behind her continuous killing. 


One can only attempt to find out the reason behind her rampage when one combines the toll of tortures of her previous husbands combined with her killing of them. Murder does not only kill the victim. It also leads to a death of a part of the murderer. Suzanna is no exception. Her patience slowly dies down where she does not hesitate to kill even at the slightest hindrance.

Can Saat Khoon Maaf be called a feminist film? Feminism is not only about the victory of women and the celebration of their independence. Feminism is also about bringing to life their untold miseries. Suzanna's life cannot represent the lives of myriad Indian women even if they have thought of killing their husbands at least once in their lives! However it does show the excruciating circumstances a free thinking and independent woman finds herself in. It stands to reason that the situation would have been different if it had been a man with seven wives. 


Suzanna brings to mind the character of Emma Bovary in Flaubert's masterpiece. Throughout her life, Emma hankers for the ideal lover and even engages in extramarital relationships but she never finds the One. Her desperation is transmitted into a financial crisis through which she is unable to get out. The only way she can save her honor is by committing suicide with poison. 


Suzanna does not commit suicide. The director takes a brave step in this regard. The easiest way would have been to kill her and make her a martyr.Instead he brings the film to a conclusion with Suzanna finding peace in her seventh husband. 

The cinematography of the film is exceptionally brilliant. In several scenes, the camera does not capture the whole of the characters but simply a part of their face; a part of their expression. In the scene where Suzanna realizes that her sixth husband was trying to kill her, we see only a fragment of her face reflecting from a mirror where Madhuda is shaving. 


The rest of the frame is cloudy with the focus on Madhuda's naked back where Suzanna spots the scratches which her attacker had faced the night before. The second last scene where Suzanna meets Arun for the last time is shown only through the facial expressions of Arun; the camera rarely follows the 65 year old Suzanna except when Arun turns to leave.

The movie has been strongly contextualized in terms of history. Major Edwin Rodriques, Suzanna's first husband is a proud fighter in the Blue Star Operation, that took place during Indira Gandhi's regime. I am doubtful about Jimmy Stetson's rockstar reception in India. How many rockstars were there in India during the late 80s and early 90s? 


Again the Russian spy is well situated in the era of India's nuclear program in the late 90s. While Dr. Madhusudan Tarafdar, her sixth husband is shown listening to the radio about the ongoing 26/11 attacks (that took place in 2008). 


Acting wise, Priyanka surpasses all. There are no words to describe the genius she upholds in this movie. The movie has bold dramatic scenes; subtlety is upheld not in terms of brevity of speech or manner but rather through an almost maniacal celebration of blood thirst. The color black comes to foreplay once and again.


The first time one sees Suzanna in black is when her father dies. That is the first scene where Suzanna comes into the movie. The narratorial voice of Arun (Vivaan Shah) says that his 'Saheb' liked this color a lot and slowly this color became her color. Every time Suzanna decides to murder a husband, the viewers see her in black. This is a recurrent motif throughout the seven husbands. Most of the crucial scenes are filmed in darkness, at night. When not in darkness, the shabby surroundings (seen in the murder of the sixth husband) bear witness to the solemnity of the film. 


The film does not allow the audience to rest in peace. While it starts on a speedy note, the Director does not build characters but jumps straight to the action. This is one reason why most of the characters appear shallow. Necessary time is not spent in building them up. As a result even Suzanna appears psychotic at times when she should normally have appeared reasonable. Annu Kapoor's death is shown as a matter-of-fact occurrence which Suzanna actually enjoys. 


Suzanna's partners in crime, namely Maggie Aunty (Usha Utthup), Ghalib Khan (Harish Khanna) and Goonga (Shashi Malviya) are shown to add fuel to her passion for hatred and blood thirst. They help her commit the murders when in normal instances one would expect well wishers to inspire her away from murder. 


Bhardwaj's excessive obsession for the plot does not allow these characters to grow, except a little bit of Goonga during the time of the first husband. The viewer is left wondering whether these characters are psychotic or are they dark too; at any rate the four form a deathly combo. 


This is baffling specially if you are trying to follow a linear method of reasoning while watching the movie. The death of husbands like John Abraham, Annu Kapoor and Naseeruddin Shah actually make you ask if their offences were too gruesome to not be forgiven. As stated earlier, Suzanna Anne-Marie Johannes is an enigma who cannot be grasped with common notions of morality and conscience. But the director could have done a better job of justifying her character. 


Vivaan Shah, the new found talent shocks everyone with his mature voice and acting skills. He is probably the only sane character in Suzanna's house, who keeps track of everything she does. He tries to make sense of Suzanna's turbulent nonsensical world. He loves her. 

It is not clear therefore why he refuses when Suzanna wants to give herself up to him. May be he did not want to lose the sanctity of their almost maternal relationship. May be he wanted to hold on to the noble idea he had of her. Or may be he was plain scared of getting killed too!


Whatever the reason be, after being refused by the person she trusts the most in her life, Suzanna goes into depression. And her last thread of conscience is lost. Vivaan Shah however manages to win hearts and appreciation. He probably surpasses all the male leads by his conviction and determination. One can proudly say that this youngster is here to stay. 


Saat Khoon Maaf cannot be judged through normal standards. This is an experimental genre and darker than Kaminey, which still had some entertainment quotient. I felt that Saat Khoon Maaf in the midst of providing bare dark facts somewhere loses out on the entertainment factor. However if you like a different style of film making and darkness, this movie is one to watch out for. 

Valentine's Day

Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell

It was love from above that could save me from hell

She had fire in her soul it was easy to see

How the devil himself could be pulled out of me

There were drums in the air as she started to dance

Every soul in the room keeping time with their hands

And we sang...

She pulled him closer. 

"You are mad, it's late, we should get going," he said.

She laughed. Her smile, the ever beautiful smile that made him wonder with amazement.

"It's Valentine's Day, silly. Let's dance." She spoke with a childlike feverish excitement. The twinkle in her eyes was contagious.

He was pulled out of his amazement when she pulled his hand towards the middle of the road. He resisted. "I know you are crazy but seriously, now? In the middle of the road? At this time of night?"

"YES....Now means NOW!" She pulled him to the middle of the road. 

"But..But I don't know how to dance..." He protested meekly.

"I will teach you", she winked. Again that naughty smile, the kind that made his heart stop.

It was late in the evening. The road was deserted. It was dark. The dimness of the streetlights, the soft breeze, the rustling leaves steered his passion. She looked at him, her eyes laughing. And suddenly, there was music, as if by magic...

She took his hand and put it on her waist. Their other hands joined in unison. Her eyes sparked fire. His were full of longing. They looked at each other, as they had never before. She turned. Her hair lightly brushed over his face. Their fragrance made his passion more intense. With a firm grasp, he pulled her back. She smiled, that same innocent smile. His eyes were fierce now. With a hand behind her waist, he let her go. She fell back lightly, rose again and looked into his eyes. They radiated heat. Her smile vanished. She stared at those deep hazel eyes welled with passion. And suddenly she felt vulnerable. Overcome with the intensity of his eyes, his firm touch, she felt weak. As if something deep, something dormant was stirring inside her and she did not know what to do. He smiled. She tried to pull away from him but he wouldn't let go. With a strong grasp of the hand, he pulled up her leg. As she stared deep into those eyes, his fingers ran smoothly lightly kissing her soft down. With a terrified jerk, she pulled her leg back and turned back. She was walking away but he softly touched her delicate shoulders, but even his palms were radiating heat. She felt powerless. Her eyes closed. He went right behind her and planted a kiss on her neck. Holding her waist, he quietly took in her warmth. She stood, feeling his aura. Their eyes closed..

In the night sky above, the stars danced with wild flickering lights.

Like a piece to the puzzle that falls into place

You could tell how we felt from the look on our faces

We were spinning in circles with the moon in our eyes

The room left them moving between you and I

We forgot where we were and we lost track of time

And we sang to the wind as we danced through the night

Snakes

I wake up on my bed. Everything is dark. I sit on my bed. It's hot. I sweat. Suddenly in the floor below I find something moving...I look down. Something slithery coils around, I try to look more clearly...A Snake?!! Here? How! I get astonished, scared. I look elsewhere, trying to find a way out. As my eyes get used to the darkness around, I see  more slimy wriggling creatures around. I am horrified. One of the creatures coil up around my bed post and try to come above. I jump out of the bed and land on the stark white marble floor. Two of the slimy creatures are moving around my feet. Small wriggly snakes. I run on to the adjacent dining room. More snakes there. S**t! I run and run but there is no place safe. No Place free of snakes. The streets are full of them. I am alone. Snakes all around me. I climb to the highest point in my room. But they find me there. They find me. I try to run. But one of the dark coils begins to roll up my sleeve, reaching my hand..... And then all is gone. 

The Reign of Dark

I am walking through a lonely road. Columns of trees stare like a giant down on me. It is night. The trees are black, dense and their leaves are fluttering, as if conspiring with each other against the wind. I walk alone, a solitary figure among these demons of darkness. Suddenly there is a noise. I look back but see nothing. I keep on walking. But the noise comes again. I stop. I listen intently. Ssshh......The leaves flutter. The leaves whisper. The trees speak. Behind me are hooded figures. They talk softly. They do not notice me. I hear one of them speaking doubtfully, "Tonight another one has to be sacrificed". The voice is heavy, like that of an old man. I suddenly realize that this is one of my elderly neighbors. The others also seem very familiar, I can recognize them, they are all the elderly neighbors of my colony. Suddenly it strikes me. This is not some unknown place in some unknown world. It is one of the streets outside my housing estate. The road is awfully quiet and there are large columns of trees on both sides. It is night and I am in this road. Whaa? How did I get here? My thoughts are interrupted when I suddenly see an old man snatched away by the wind. Only it wasn't a wind. It was a giant branch.. of a tree, that was up in all furor. The old man was not dressed in hood, it seemed as if he had been kidnapped right from his sleep. I could not see his face properly. But I felt a chill of fear down my spine. The hooded figures began to conspire about who to send next. I see the branches of the trees moving. All around me the trees are walking with their roots. They begin to get denser, the foliage grows blacker. The darkness of the night mixes with the darkness of these giants. I feel something tickle me from behind. I look back. It is a branch. I stop dead in my tracks. God, what would happen now? There was no use running, the branch would snatch me away too. The branch begins sensing me with its tip, going up my stomach to my hands. It is soft, almost like a feather. It itches. My skin flinches. And it is exactly at that point that the branch becomes sharp and cuts my hand. Blood begins to trickle. I am desperate. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. But I have to escape. Escape from Death. And it is at this point, with a desperate attempt that I open my eyes...

It is dark outside. Little diamond droplets of rain fall relentlessly. I heave a sigh of relief.

Darkness Revisited

Melancholy passion-eternal longing-that is what Death in Venice reminds me of. It is so dark, so pessimistic, so charming. Melancholy longing leading the protagonist to his death- a journey towards Hell. Giving up? I don't know. All I know is that I love this ennui. I love this dark enchanting space. I love the Unknown beckoning to me. I love the seduction of Darkness. I love the romance, the adventure, the calling of Dark. I guess that is why the pessimism of Baudelaire fascinates me. If you knew how the seduction of Darkness is, you will know what I mean. It is like a drug, it delves deep into your limbs and numbs them with an euphoric, ecstatic feeling. And every time I drown in this feeling, the nerves throb up in a rapture. They are overtaken by the drug. It spreads..slowly...from the extremities to the vitals. The experience....the experience is like bittersweet venom spreading across you, overtaking your body....extending to your soul. Darkness envelops you, you willingly submit to its charm.

Lovestruck ;)

Seems all strange now. A distant call. A careless whisper of the breeze. Rustle of the leaves. Kiss of sky on the horizon. Faint light. Skylight. Have you seen skylight on a moonless night? It is faint blue in color. Stars twinkling in the distance. Asleep the whole world on the cradle of earth. And you awake. Beside the windowsill. Or on the rooftop. Dreaming. About the one. About that stranger. He comes up from behind and whispers in your ear. You turn around. No one. Realize it was the wind teasing you. You look towards the horizon. The faint blue horizon. Closely built buildings obstruct your view. You yearn to look beyond them. To see the future. There you see, both of you together. But there are no faces. You only see the backs. Dark against the faint blue night sky. Yours with flowing long hair, his hair short. That's as much as you can see. And yet, you yearn to know more. But the other side wants to know no more. May be this is enough. Imagining the two together on a moonless night. But the devilish side rebels. "You want more, you know that!" It coaxes. Seduces you. And you get lost in its maze. Soon you lose yourself in its captivating torrent. A whirlwind of emotions, a flood of passion. Your angelic side warns you, "But he is just a stranger..." The devilish side persuades, "Indulge." You know your angelic side is right. But the devilish side is stronger, overpowering. You indulge... in the dreams. Fervor. Rapture. Ecstasy. But he remains a stranger. Still a stranger.

The Dream

She shuddered. Where was she? This looked like a haunted house. She approached the house. A fellow companion joined. They walked towards the house. A smiling face greeted them on the doorway. The house was meant for them to stay. They had nowhere to go so they went inside.

But soon things began to change. The blue sky turned grey. Light gave way to an eerie darkness. She had always loved darkness but what was this? The smiling face became a window of terror. It chased them. Soon she was alone. What happened to her companion she did not know. She ran and ran but she had seen(or felt) the smiling face put something inside her hand. It was an insect of some kind, a dark wriggling coiling insect. She had not seen the species before. The smiling face had taken her hand and forcefully inserted the insect inside her veins. Now while she twitched and turned in terror, she could "feel" something turning up inside her hand. How far could she run before some help arrived?

Could she run from the smiling face? But the insect, was it inside her? Or was it a dream? Something that she had imagined? She did not know. She ran but creatures of darkness surrounded her. She was not scared, she was terrified. The terror of the unknown, the savage wilderness of night seemed to surround her in its grasp. She ran and ran..where could she find a bit of daylight?

Daylight came soon, to her relief. But the creatures..they didn't stop! In fact, they started chasing her. From all sides! Gosh what would she do now? Suddenly there came a handsome charming youth. They ran away together. With him around, she could move faster. Her feet felt light. The creatures..she could feel the distance widening between her and them. She dared to breathe again.

The youth and she stopped. The place was deserted. Grey caves surrounded them. Their insides were black holes. Her white dress flowed in the air. The youth was dressed in white shirt and black trousers. He told her about the creatures of darkness. He told her that she had to kill the smiling face- the witch. But how? She asked. How could an ordinary person like her kill that witch? She dared not look at the lower part of her left hand where she thought the insect was. That part had become rigid. Her hand felt heavy.

The youth gave her something small.It was soft and leafy, she felt it was a twig. She could almost see the faint green color. He told her that she had to strangle the twig and ultimately tear it away. This would kill the witch. But it would only work when the witch was around. How would that happen, she wondered.

There was a gap as she opened her eyes. Beads of light floated in and dazzled her.

When she closed them again, the witch was already coming closer to them. Shit!! She did not even have time to run. What would she do now? The twig was still in her hand. But where did he go? Her eyes eagerly searched for him and there he was, battling it out with the creatures- the ones that scared her, terrified her, the very sight of whom repulsed her. But ..she turned around. The witch was flying in close to her. She only had the twig in her hands. She had to do something fast. As if with a reflex, she began to unconsciously twist it. The witch stopped as if suspended on air. She was shocked. What was happening? A few seconds later and the witch would have killed her..what happened? Then it dawned upon her. Of course the twig!

While she was busy thinking, the witch had regained mobility and was now steadily closing the distance with her. Desperate for life, she twisted the twig savagely. The witch cried! As if with a tremor of savage laughter, she began twisting it with all her strength. The witch cried, her voice like a shrill mourn, begging for mercy. But she showed no mercy. She twisted the twig, till the sap came out of the plant. Her hands were wet. The witch had died.

When she opened her eyes, she was still feverish. Terrified, she got up from bed and made way towards the door.

Creature of the Dark

Another post on darkness. But I can't help it. I love it. The comfort, the warmth of Night, the all encompassing embrace with which it beckons me, I can't help but love it! That might be one of the reasons why I love reading books that deal with the darkness of mind and that of heart. Have you spoken to Night while no one was there? Have you embraced her? Did you let her take you to all those unknown places, unknown dreams you never thought you would be able to visit? Did she beckon you? Did she make you curious? Did you never want to know what was there, on the other side? Did it never occur to you to attempt your deepest darkest desires under the comfort of the night? Did Night never make you free in a way that no daylight ever did? Aah..that taste of freedom, of uncertainty, of safe wilderness, of being on TOP of the WORLD! Darkness embraces, Darkness comforts, Darkness Rules!