Euphoric

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I nervously paced the deserted corridor that smelled of disinfectant. This was my first time and I didn't know how things would turn out. I said a silent prayer and wondered what it felt like to be on the other side of the curtained glass door. I was clueless and that made me feel left out. I wished I had someone to keep me company to reassure me that everything would be fine.

Would you like to come in?” A head popped out of the glass door.

“Is it allowed?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to be there. What if I screwed it up and fainted instead of feeling happy and proud?

“Come on in.” She said with a smile.

I changed into a green gown. I could hear my heart pounding and my mind suddenly went blank. I walked up to my wife who was propped up in an awkward position, and held her hand. She was happy to see me and managed to smile even between the bouts of severe pain that made her scream.

Her grip tightened, her face turned red and she let out a blood curdling howl. I watched as a tiny head and then a dainty body pushed its way out, into our world.

“It’s a girl. Congratulations!” Someone had said after cleaning up the baby and swaddling it before handing it over to a delighted me. It was one of the best moments in my life as I looked at her face staring back at me. I kissed my wife who beamed as she held our little princess. I couldn't stop the stream of tears.

“How does it feel? my wife asked me.

 "I am a dad!!! I feel euphoric!!” I said.

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Disgust

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Around her the crew members were buzzing with activity fixing lights, testing the sound system, shouting, giving and receiving instructions. The choreographer ran up to her panting “Let’s try the new moves for today’s song Ma’am. She sipped some juice, swept up her hair in a ponytail and took her position. She watched the steps being demoed. Now it was her turn.

All eyes were on her, the beautiful supermodel tuned actress. “One, two three….” Loud Hindi music filled the entire set. The lyrics and notes blared into the cool morning air. The song went on to describe the heroine as a piece of tandoori chicken, one whose snap was worthy of being glued to one’s chest. The crowd that had gathered to watch whistled and hooted, pleased with the flowing words that objectified women, depicting them as just an easy means of pleasure.

She was horrified upon seeing people laughing and cheering at the cheap lyrics. She didn't find it amusing at all. In fact, she found it disgusting. For the first time in her acting career, she found herself reflecting about the roles she had portrayed so far. What was it about the twists and turns of her hip, songs with repulsive lyrics and women in arm candy roles that attracted such a fan following?

She was in a fix. But ultimately she decided to bow out of the assignment. She knew of the risks. The labels that would be slapped onto her. Betrayer. Arrogant. There could even be legal issues. Worse, offers to do films would dwindle. But she was sure she didn't want to be a piece of chicken or jalebi anymore.







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The Scarlet Prophecy

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She smeared vermilion along the thin line of scalp that gleamed, furrowing backwards from her forehead.  Her long wet tresses sought refuge within the spirals of her towel wound carefully into a bun at the nape of her neck. She plucked the safety pin lodged between her teeth and secured the obedient pleats of her starched cotton sari, slipped on a few red bangles that chorused in ecstasy at her touch and bridged her brows with a red dot. Her eyes shaped like a lotus petal, were lined with black kohl that smudged at the corners, adding to her charm.

It had been their wedding the previous day and this was her first day in her new home.  She looked at herself in the mirror, surprised at how a ring on her finger and a new mark on her forehead could turn her world upside down. In her naiveté she had consented without second thoughts, to tie the knot with someone she barely knew. She had known no other options. This was what all the women in her family had done and they were all happy, at least that was what they told her.  As she gently touched her reflection, she felt something was amiss but could not settle on what it was. Was it her innocence? Her dreams? Desires? Or was it the twinkle of hope in her and the smile on her lips that was missing?

Memories of her nuptial night which by now had swollen into a tidal wave, lashed uncontrollably across her eyes, spilling over its kohl rimmed beauty. Her shyness, exaggerated by her excitement over blossoming love and anxiety about first impressions, were soon replaced by shock, pain and fear. She remembered with deep remorse the way he ate into her spirit like a savage animal caring the least about the tenderness within her that he was butchering.

This was least expected, not the kind of romance she had seen in movies or heard from her friends. In her mind she begged him to stop but her thoughts refused to form words; when they did, they tied themselves into a stubborn knot at her throat. With a bruised body and a heart pierced by the shards of her shattered dreams, she waited for sunrise. She hoped against hope that the rays of the new day would brighten up her life as well.

Wiping her tears, she walked across to the window and watched her surroundings burst into a riot of colours with a green backdrop. The garden was still moist from the early morning dew that adorned the leaves, grass and cobwebs. They glistened in the morning sun like precious jewels. Her eyes searched for the lone hibiscus that had blushed along with her when she stood at the threshold of the house as a bride. Draped like her in the hues of a bride, the blossom awaited with nectar in her heart, the touch of a hovering bee. She had imagined only hours before, that its scarlet petals prophesied the consummation of her marriage like the vermilion on her forehead. But today it lay shrivelled, devoid of colour on the damp earth.

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Unscarred

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I watched you walk away jilted

your face hung low and wilted,

I chose to keep you away

setting your thoughts in disarray.

I believed I had a choice

I was polite and made no noise,

it was my life, my decision;

that upset your planned precision.

But you came back unexpected

to show me you were dejected,

with a few drops of acid you spoke

and burnt my dreams down to smoke.

Brave, the warrior in me fought,

you thought I’d give up, distraught?

I battled the bruise and the blister

unwilling to succumb to the disaster.

I am not the body you scarred

whose features you savagely charred,

survives my spirit, strong as ever

keeping me bold and beautiful forever.





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Woman of the Night

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I am the woman of the night,

a dirty secret kept from daylight,

whose day comes alive at dusk

with a painted face and a touch of musk.

My captivating looks seek to lure

a man or two I am forced to endure

in silent pain and a lifetime of grief

so my babies sleep with some relief.

I live this life cursed and infernal

to fulfil instincts purely maternal.

The least I need is your heartless judgement,

an infliction worse than this predicament.

I am the woman of the night

erased from your life by daylight

before a fine gentleman you become

in whose life I’m most unwelcome.

Wanted: Homely Girl for Broadminded Boy

She made garam garam rotis and paneer for him. He liked to eat out.

She broke into a sweat making gajar ka halwa and pakoras. He hated greasy food.

She ironed his clothes perfectly. He loved the wrinkles and creases.

She scrubbed herself clean and powdered herself. He loved the smell of sweat.

She went to the parlour to make herself attractive. He hardly noticed.

She flaunted her mangalsutra and sindoor. He found them too loud.

She quit her job to take care of his needs better. He found it too odd.

She cleaned the house. He felt the home smelled of a hospital.

She never asked him for any gifts. He waited for her to say what she wanted.

She mindlessly obeyed her in-laws. He wanted her to think and act independently.

She invited relatives on Sundays and treated them well. He wanted to go out for a movie.

She was unhappy that he never acknowledged her effort. Then one day her friend advised her to be herself.

She ordered pizza and chocolate mousse.

She did not clean, cook or iron.

She stopped her parlour visits.

The mangalsutra was locked away in the cupboard.

She applied for a job.

She made some plans for a trip together.

She was contemplating the idea of appointing a maid.

He cried foul and called his mother.