Arugudi

The path she chose, was the path she walked With each passing step, she felt she was mocked The night was cold, as cold as ice Her heart skipped a beat, as she remembered the cries She cut and she bled,  and he trembled in fear Her eyes rolled skywards, with the whispers hard to hear Her gaze was bare,  as bare as the night Her blood tricked down,  as the moon shone bright There he stood,  as dead as a desert Her voice was loud,  a voice to assert "Enough" she said,  with the sharpness of thunder For she was done,  covering his blunder Her eyes met his, as it stared into his soul The deep dark within,  was all set to maul Respect is a request,  if not a demand And "No" is the answer,  if not a command.

And it wriggled behind a tiny crevice, For it was the menacing image that felt tarnished The severity with which the bite was dealt with, Was the meanest possible way involving a skin chip. It took a couple of seconds for it to strike But the reaction was a tad slow was it's plight And then he collapsed as he cried in excruciating pain Hardly did he realise the gushing blood drain His tongue sensing a metallic taste And the lymph swelling up in unimaginable haste His eyes widened at the thought of life, For it was a bite, just a few centimetres wide The venom was already surging through his veins As he tried hard to take control of his life's reigns "Am I going to die?" a thought crossed his mind As he saw his entire life's journey rewind Was it the venom or just plain fear? But the memories were something he surely held dear And then it peeked out of its hole for a second To shake its victim, or to check if it was beckoned The chill down his spine intensified by ...

We are always told about change being the only constant. Change is initiated from the time of one's birth as it sends waves of positive emotions all the way. As one sets foot into the energetic teens of life, with all the adrenaline rush and idealistic approach running hot in the blood, repercussions and consequences are the least of one's concern. The zeal to achieve greatness clouds one's judgement. The race has already begun and the competition is such that it forces even a limping horse to make a dash at the winning line with all the strength it can muster. It's said that sports is a great teacher, helps one deal with defeats better than the wins. Well, it's often noticed that nobody blinks an eye before adding a brick wound to the already bleeding cuts and bruises while the victor stands all gloating in the limelight. The winner, though rightfully enjoys the toast of the evening, the darkest corner of the party is always reserved for his counterpart. Losing is ...

I am home, or so I thought With the struggles and aches, echoing in my ears The lesions and bruises, humming a tune of tears Yet, I enjoyed the distant shade The cries of pain, Gnawed into my flesh And the wounds they say, bore into my chest Yet, I am comforted by the faces I watch The smiles and grins, brighter as I march I walked and hiked, day after day With aching feet, and a bleeding nose Fighting the sun, and his scorching heat I walk alone, with beads of tears The shelters and shades, far from reach I still walk the path,  Amid berates and screams And a place to reach, With a string of dreams.

The clouds burst into an ear splitting thunderclap as we walked past the old bus stop which evidently looked well past its prime. The leaking asbestos roof and chipped baked brickwalls were a testimony to its age and abandonment. Our movement along its side was quick but not effortless. The sticky mud and the lashing rains made our walk tougher than it actually was. A goods truck zoomed past us with the driver battling heavy condensation on the windshield. The tires hissed with the reduced friction due to the wet roads as the truck took a right turn at the junction. My eyes instantly made contact with the man towards my left for a split second, as he nodded before breaking off the pack, into the thick foliage near the big old banyan tree. His positioning had to be perfect. He was the vital cog of our extraction plan. The distraction he was to cause was the only possibility of a safe return. Now, the team of three was reduced to a couple and we dashed forward trying to make as much ...

"When the sun shines, darkness hides, only to return with its thick black blanket, covering the sky the following night. The sun bids it's time until it can shine radiantly again, to peek through the blanket and make its presence felt. The next morning, it shines brighter than ever, forcing an enemy retreat... That's life" said the second grade teacher in her moral science class, leaning on the teacher's table, with a white chalk firmly gripped in her right hand and a brown bound textbook in her left. The yellow walls of the school building hadn't changed a bit since Abhinav's last visit, a few years ago.  A dark gloomy sky, waiting to break into heavy thunderstorms greeted him as he impatiently waited for his brother, Arnav. The teacher's words and the will of God had signed some kind of an agreement on that day, perfectly synchronising their words and actions.  With Arnav still basking in his new found popularity, courtesy his hundred in the intersch...

Both of us sat staring at the opposite walls of the hallway avoiding eye contact at any cost. The walls, painted a dull grey, mirrored the atmosphere of the dim lit hospital. The darker hue on the bottom half of the wall shone brighter at one spot due to a flikkering light near the door with a red OPD sticker. My eyes scanned the far end of the long hallway for any sign of the Orthopaedician we were waiting for. The nurse in the X-Ray room had casually mentioned that he would walk in precisely at seven every evening and the big round clock near the pharmacy showed two minutes to seven. Pushing aside all the chaotic voices from my mind, I decided to talk to my dad sitting on the black iron chair opposite to me, staring intently at the newspaper stand as if he was using all his unavailable psychic powers to read the magazines from twenty feet away. "Pops... How do we handle this one?" I asked with a straight face. Of all the escape techniques my dad so poorly employs, he chose ...