Hourglass

Time flew, seconds passed, resembling grains of sand,

transporting us, ferrying us to a new year, a new land

The days had crawled, the minutes had slowed...

although other days the hours had flowed

I had thought my life was a mere cliche-

having the same routine day after day,

as if my agenda was already arranged,

I had longed for an indelible day,

I had aspired for a change

But now, as I look back,

I realize that my days

had been packed

By aims, goals-

an endless

chain,

hopes and

opportunities

cascaded as rain

As I look at the year alone

I marvel at how much I have

grown, for I can scarcely believe

I had actually determined to achieve

what I thought was within my reach...

Now, as I reminisce on the bygone weeks,

during which my personality seems rather antique,

Sensations of perplexity plague my racing mind,

as I leave a monumental pyramid of memories behind,

and escape the realm of recent history, a treasured sphere-
I anticipate the thrill of entering a new time- a whole new year

Fiery Monarch

All conversations suddenly ceased,
a gusty whirl of silence breezed
Hush mingled with the frosty air,
trapping sound like a snare
Shock was etched on everyone's face-
mirth vanished, leaving no trace
All heads were turned, impaled by shock
countenances turned as pale as chalk
Discerning peril, people rose,
sprinting away, on their toes

                                         *                                  *                                   *

The mountain was lofty, impossible high
seeming to tower over the sky
Clouds covered its summit like a shield,
beauty and might, it would wield
A most picturesque view it would create,
beauteous was its placid state
It was the abode of creatures and birds,
the cries of nature could constantly be heard
It formed an illustration of azure and pale green;
white snaked its way into the scene,
as did dots of violet, specks of red-
colors that multiplied, colors that spread
People would arrive to bask in the view,
inhaling the air and the atmosphere blue
Tourists would gape, and point in awe-
at the streams formed when the snow would thaw,
at the slopes speckled with blue tarns,
that knit the mountain's elegance like a yarn
Its peak could not be seen from miles afar-
for it was rumored it rose right up to the stars

                                         *                                  *                                 *


An unforeseen rumble, an unexpected shake,
a cavernous crevice, a sudden break,
an unanticipated, smothering spell of dust-
a massive crack in the earth's crust
An ear-splitting, shattering sound
that seemed to arise from the depths of the ground
that trailed its way up to the sky,
as the mountain caved in with a sigh
It collapsed inwards, lava spilled out,
terrified people dispersed, trying every route
to escape the volcano- dormant for years,
fire surged out from heights so sheer
The sky turned red, the ambience seared,
creatures fled for cover, overwhelmed by fear
At long last, all were safely hidden,
to come out, everyone was strictly forbidden
Sparks flew out, a storm of fire-
adding to the situation deadly and dire
After hours did all motion cease,
after hours did the volcano resemble peace
People and animals emerged- cautious, silent
reluctant to incur the volcano's wrath so violent

                                           *                                 *                                 *

Eyes glazed over, in sheer wonder,
while the sky crackled with roaring thunder
The pale blue of the afternoon sky
had darkened tremendously in the blink of an eye
Lava cascaded down in a perplexing gush,
annihilating the mountain's greenery so lush
From the minds of all- other thoughts were banished,
every topic of significance suddenly vanished
People looked up in reverence at the sight
of the blackened world that had been set alight
by the rushing flames that seemed to pour from the stars,
whose verdant beauty had been charred
Their eyes were hypnotized, entranced
as the sky's shadows revolved and danced
Clouds formed a ring encasing the crest,
by a halo of clouds, the volcano was dressed
The air was thick with inky smoke,
the ground embedded by a glowing cloak
It was now the most perilous in the world,
it would take mere days for its true power to unfurl
Fire ruthlessly traveled through the cracks and veins,
while the now active volcano established its reign

Awakening

I wrote this poem for a competition; it was inspired by a phrase I read about.

I am surrounded by magic,
it thrives in my soul
It is almost a part of me-
a single, breathing entity
in a world almost enveloped by darkness
A drop of fire is my only light,
that flickers for a moment, a tiny space in time
until it loses its flare-
I cannot tell when, for time is so abstract
All I know is that it truly reflects
the spirit of my territory
My conscience is vigilant, watchful,
remaining hawk-eyed indefinitely,
able to evade the waves of sleep
that pursue it day after day
It sidesteps the approaching manacles of languor-
determined that it will never slumber
My pale blue eyes turn glassy, smooth
polished like a mirror, yet always moving,
absorbing whatever it catches,
insistent that it never misses whatever is lit up
by the single drop of fire,
whose beauty I can never cease to admire

Although I never close my eyes,
a strange, inexplicable feeling frequents me-
similar to rising out of glacial water,
or inhaling the bracing breeze for the first time
after dwelling in a cave for years on end
It is a sensation of renewed energy,
akin to awakening,
It is a feeling of sudden awareness-
awareness which had never left me
It is an emotion of unexpected vivacity
of energy that had always been there
It is always unprecedented,
though it keeps happening again
I never fall asleep-
but I keep waking up

Intensity

A feeble flame, a wavering glow
which the wind oscillates to and fro
It provides warmth to shivering hands,
as smoke escapes in silvery strands
So very fleeting, yet so dear
giving respite from the weather austere

Animals approach the subdued flames,
other chilled creatures do the same
A pleasant sensation, the burning blaze emits,
and the seeking animals around, it closely knits
They curl around the heat, expelling the frost
which rapidly returns when the fire is lost

People surround it, basking in the heat,
as the towering fire blazes and greets
a dark night devoid of the moon,
and a ground around which cinders are strewn
It creates a tingling perception, burning eyes
as sparks soar into the darkened skies

An empty edifice, on the outskirts stood,
experiences a brush of wood against wood
Fire engulfs the walls, tearing them down,
by a violent orange, the desolate house is drowned
it crumbles helplessly, more fragile than glass
and remains a wrecked mound when the fire dies at last

A single crackle, an unaccompanied spark,
and then the conflagration explodes in the dark
at first, stealthily slinking through the trees,
until it grows by massive degrees
The fire- devastatingly beautiful- moves with aplomb,
which neither drizzle nor time is able to calm

Milky Way of the Sea

It's white against the expanse of blue-
which blends with a lackluster, greenish hue
It swirls inwards, a flurry of clouds
that billows with the intense gusts
It resembles our galaxy in shape and form-
a spiraling, whirling, forceful storm
relatively small, yet massively immense
to the creatures that dwell on the earth-
victims of the wind, the tempestuous gale,
the innocent earthlings, it relentlessly assails
So mesmerizing, when looked at from above
but so threatening when witnessed from beneath
the enveloping veil of frenzied clouds
that roar with thunder- resounding and loud,
that flash with lightning, so sudden and glaring,
while torrents of rain surge from the sky
which is dark and dismal, a foreboding black,
the world's terrain is seems to attack
Whereas when viewed from space, it boasts soft, white, shades,
appearing so very tranquil, bursting with serenity
like the thick atmosphere of eddying mist,
rather strange to observe, for it lies in the midst
of utter darkness that the cosmos boasts,
like a single star twinkling in the night
However, below the clouds emerge and loom
concealing the light, spreading their gloom
And so, as I watched the unfolding storm, from space
I focused solely on the unfurling view-
there would be ruin, there would be disrepair
portions of the earth would be laid razed and bare,
yet, above the canopy of clouds, beauty emerged,
as did a whole new perspective- a milky way on the earth
So, seeing nature's forces reign autonomous and free,
I observed the milky way of the sea

A Star in the Galaxy

Like a single person in the earth

lost in the hopes, the thoughts, the dreams

of the surrounding people- boys and girls,

one heart beating, among billions of others

So trivial, so insignificant, when viewed from above

by foreigners from another world

Our personal crises, our actions of scurry

are so meaningless, never worth the worry

as inconsequential as the minuscule creatures-

ants- whom we regard with amusement

at their assiduity, at their unwavering passion

to build their hill, no matter how many times torn

by our nonchalant, careless fashion

of roaming the earth as if it were solely ours,

as if we were omniscient and owned all the powers

Like a single flower rooted in a desert,

as lonesome, as isolated, yet as striking

it burns bright, lighting all in its vicinity

though it appears a single star in infinity

For it is surrounded by a billion others

that may glow brighter, that may shine dim,

yet throw light on their own family in space

to whom it is far superior, a life giving relic-

a massive sphere of heat and light

of varying shades, a stunning sight

if only the star could be seen-

distinguished from the others that overwhelm it

a distinct entity, not discerned as 

yet another common existence 

But the universe is so colossal

stars are generalized as stars-

a body that emits bundles of heat and life,

if given the opportunity to unleash its potential

a star can do wonders

a star can commence a civilization

it has astronomical worth-

a star in the galaxy 

Refrain of the Moon

It shone, it shimmered, giving radiant beams
sending light in many a luminous stream
though hidden by clouds, rather pale
shrouded by a misty veil,
lighting up the paths of all those lost
sending light glinting off the wintry frost,
illuminating the course of those at sea
casting forth its melody
of waves of light that never fade-
a rendition of a visual serenade
Compensating for the sorry lack,
ensuring that the world does not reign in black
of the warm colors of the day
that thankfully never truly fade away
Managing to set the night ablaze
enveloping everything in a silvery glaze
that does not last, that quickly dims
due to the clouds' untimely whims-
to conceal the moon's beauty, to shroud its flare
for governing their rather quotidian lair
Yet the moon persists to share its light
to the earth and darkness of the night
It arrives at its fancy, in its own, distinct way
eager to illuminate and shed its rays
Dominating and stately, dancing to its own tune
arrives the melody of the moon

Disdain

The blackbird swooped down, its eyes gleaming with condescension, and carved the frosty night with its prowess and agility. The glacial mist was sliced by a pair of outstretched wings, into arcs that mirrored the shape of the crescent moon. Diving and dancing, entirely heedful of the envious glares of the other birds that assailed it, the blackbird glided with the breeze, in an almost tantalizing manner. Nearly blending in with the inky sky, it was faintly lit up by the flickering lamps of the nearby house, and by the weakly twinkling stars.
A minute later there was a clatter, and an excited squeal. A girl of no more than five came darting out of her house, with her mother trailing behind her, mildly astonished.
"Oh, look!" the girl exclaimed, her eyes brimming with pleasure. "Look at that bird! Look at how it's flying." Her angular fingers perfectly traced the path of the blackbird, as if amazed that any creature could perform such an enthralling accomplishment.
By then, the blackbird was beginning to realize that it had a very admiring audience. Delighted, it threw itself into its flight, descending mere inches above the ground before spinning up into the sky, until it was only a minuscule speck that was lost in the night. As it elicited gasps of wonder from the little girl, its eyes glittered with all the more disdain, and it threw contemptuous glances to its fellow, subordinate blackbirds.
Unable to bear the blackbird's patronizing visage, a mass of birds abandoned the branch upon which they had been perched, and soared into the sky. Within a few seconds, the blackbird was lost amid a flurry of feathers, although it fruitlessly strived to detach itself from the crowd. However, the girl's awe had vanished, only to be placed with mild fear and surprise. Screaming, the child ran back into her home, shocked by the sheer number of birds that had remained hidden while she had been gaping at only one.
The blackbird struggled and grappled to distinguish itself from the wall of black, upset that it had lost its only onlooker. Exhausted and dispirited, it retired to a lone branch, and forlornly watched the performance that the other birds were putting up for it. Warming itself against the leaves, the blackbird, faintly illuminated by the moon, gloomily waited for the spectacle to cease, not caring to defend itself against the haughty looks that came its way.

Nightly Appearances

Indefinitely extending layers of sand,
caressed and fashioned by the ocean's hand-
a silken, smooth, darkened plane
embedded by the crystalline, sweeping grains,
where the dimmed waters converge with the land

The night is hushed, a mirrorlike lake-
barely a ripple, barely a break
A sailing boat rests upon its waters of glass,
nothing can stir its tranquil waters, nothing to pass,
the lake remains dormant at night, never to wake

Pouring waters, cascading falls
creating an impenetrable, nightly wall
of the faint shimmers of midnight, surging foam
billowing out to form a frosty dome
whose eeriness can hypnotize, whose sight can enthrall

Perhaps the most captivating occurrence at night-
the rare dancing of the northern lights
Against the backdrop of the sky- dazzling hues
from amethyst, ranging to azure blue,
can send spirits soaring to untold heights

They hurtle down, like incandescent rain-
ignited, swooping, showering grains
that form a parallel to a drizzle of fire
whose existence, sadly, swiftly tires
But until that time- nighttime radiance reigns

The night is so silent, but never dark,
for it is lit up by a belt of sparks,
a crystal clear phenomenon, so very far,
spiraling galaxies, slashes of stars
that cut through the darkness to form an illuminated arc

A sinister sight- deathly pale,
enveloping the night in a luminous veil
The moon hangs, powerful, for in her domain
despite the gloom, its light it can retain
the shadow of the night, it ably impales

She Painted...

Under a tree in the autumn glow,
a crisp, enlivening breeze commencing its blow,
she stood armed with an easel, paper, a brush,
on her cheeks etched an ardent flush

She painted the journey of the growing trees,
she caught the movement of the swirling leaves
that danced in the wind, whirled in the breeze,
she painted her feelings, never to cease

She painted the motion of the billowing clouds,
that governed the sky- complacent and proud
The soft colors of autumn- they would shroud,
whilst she painted her emotions, burgeoning and loud

She painted the hills- a stunning sight,
its peaks seasonally crowned by a blanket of white,
that thawed with the heat, shimmered in the night-
an embodiment of her fervor that shone with its might

She painted the affection, she painted the care
of the creatures with whom the world she shares-
their excursions, their pleasure- instances so rare,
she painted her spirit for which she treasured a flair

She painted her sentiments well into the day,
other matters of importance would be kept at bay
She honed her love in an individual, unique way,
she painted until the sun had exhausted its rays

Retaliation

Published in the literary journal 'Nature Writing'

She stood smoldering with rage
in her tucked away cave,
sending magic in spells and many a wave...

Winds of the universe, winds of the world-
culminate, and let your energy unfurl
Flow through the skies, flow through the trees
come to be more than a slight, gentle breeze
Calm, lapping seas of the ocean-
deluge the coast, set your power in motion
Humans have killed dear nature's charm-
annihilated something so innocent, so very unarmed
For we are the very reason life exists,
and we ought to retaliate, we must resist
We shall show them that we aren't weak and frail
and will sit back helpless- we must derail
their uncharted progress that will shatter our world,
we cannot be deferred and let their might unfurl
So, churning, frothing, violent seas- rise
abandon the earth, and reach for the skies
Clouds so white, pellucid- renounce your beauty,
turn black and incensed- do your duty
And rain- transcend your state of being a pleasant shower-
unleash your potential, portray your concealed power
to those ungrateful humans who think they know all,
who bask in our disintegration, our untimely downfall
Who have felled our trees, our virtuous plants-
clemency and forgiveness we cannot grant
Who have turned the blue planet into one of dust,
whose viridescent hues can now compare to rust,
whose pure, sapphire shades have been subjected to taint,
whose ambience has long gone lost its aura so quaint
So now we reciprocate, now we respond,
we were wrong- humans and nature never shared a bond
They razed our world, we shall raze theirs,
we shall lay their sphere of modernity broken and bare
Thus, forces- harmonize, operate as a team,
let us ascend in our own esteem
I am at the end of my strength, so please obey-
make the humans dance to your tune, create your own fray
So, ensure that your competence and power unfurl,
so in a century, nature will thrive in a much better world

Shaking with fatigue, wincing with pain,
the old witch lay down, her power completely drained
Taking her last breath, closing her eyes,
she deemed her decision as appropriate and wise

Dilemma

It was amid a copse of verdant trees,
nestled away in faraway place
where hope blew like the bracing breeze
in a remote corner of mother nature's face

Upon the rolling hills and dales
beyond the gurgling, sparkling streams,
by following the convoluted, swampy trails
there exists a cottage abounding with dreams

Dreams that never dwindle with time
in actuality, grow till their size is sheer
Tired of planting herbs- lemongrass and thyme
jaded of harvesting crops- livelihood so mere

For she is youthful, capable and very bright,
the greenery, the tarns- everything screams
at her to finally enter the light,
to go to town, and pursue her dream

However, her helpless family, she must not leave,
leave them to fend in the acres of field,
by her heedful emotions, she ably deceives-
her aspirations that have not yet keeled

She sat at the crest of her hillock one day,
at the thick mist- eyebrows knitted in a frown,
but then the clouds parted and cleared the way
for her to catch sight of the enticing town

As the spectral night began to fall,
the hill was promptly plunged in the dark,
in her mind formed an unforeseen resolve-
that despite the night, had lit a spark

So for the first time, she left her home,
primed to see the world through new eyes,
apprehensive of her unprecedented roam-
she would be back before the sun would rise

The Pinnacle

Rising to towering heights
growing since prehistoric ages,
like castles of primeval times
that handle the changes of a growing world,
still retaining their grandeur and might,
but devoid of design and organization
innately established, yet flawless in pattern
They collect the cascading crystals,
careening from the clouded sky-
becoming smoother, fewer indentations,
more treacherous for explorers to climb
Countless have dared to venture forth
to subdue nature's most potent edifice,
battling surges of snow, pyramids of rocks
glaciated valleys, sheets of shattered ice...
Blanketed by a cover of silvery mist
unfazed by the bitter wind that rushes past
with a summit comprised of pristine snow flurry
is the lofty prestige of mountains
unflustered by the passage of time-
a pinnacle of glory
nature's power having amassed

Artist

She sits herself on her piano grand,
with glittering, soulful, fervent eyes
that make her view an idealistic land
that conceals the world with its artful guise

She gently smiles at the striking tune,
she sways as she unearths its true nuance,
her spirits tell she's over the moon
although she seems to be in a satiated trance

Her cheeks incarnadine from pure passion,
her fingers trembling slightly from sheer thrill
at being able to express her emotions in her own fashion-
through tones, reverberation and many a trill

She savors each moment and every note,
with a grace and ardor so very intrinsic
Her unwavering vehemence seems to devote
every second of her time to the art of music

When she ends with a flourish and a hesitant smile
she rises rather dubiously, and stands
oblivious to the applause of her enthralling style,
she remains landlocked in her visionary land

This Above All- to thine own self be true

This is what I wrote for an essay writing competition, on the topic 'To thine own self be true'

The quote ‘To thine own self be true’ is the piece of wisdom given by Polonius to his son Laertes in the play ‘Hamlet’, written by William Shakespeare. Polonius tells this to his son before the latter is leaving for Paris, and cautions him to avoid borrowing or lending money, to listen more than talk, and to avoid bringing excessive attention to himself. Although bits of enlightened wisdom, in the following context, these words become articles of irony and satire. Polonius proves to be a suspicious father, sending people to surveil his son and daughter, Ophelia.

While satirical in the context of the play, there is actually a very deep meaning hidden under the layers of pretentiousness by which Polonius conducts himself. To be true to yourself is to act in conformity with your nature, ideals and beliefs with which you live, and to refrain from partaking of self-deception. It means having the valor to accept who you are, and not entirely heed to the suggestions of others, thinking you will be accepted or admired if you do. Self- esteem and dignity all arise when you behave in a manner that reflects your values and personality, and self-doubt arises when you don’t. In addition, when you respect yourself, so will society- they will regard you as confident and assured of your opinions and views; this is a trait not seen much in today’s community.  

Examples of being true to oneself are eminent in literature. One example is in the story ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ by Harper Lee- Scout Finch. Being a young, unusually thoughtful girl, she has nurtured her individuality, moral sense and perception, without being pressurized by the social hypocrisies that afflict her town. On the first day of school, although Scout is castigated and victimized by her teacher’s incompetence for being able to read and write at such a young age, she adheres to her principles, and does not refrain from doing so in order to please her teacher. She continues reading and improving her skills, without giving her teacher any more thought, despite incurring her anger several times. To be true to yourself takes courage, and requires you to be inward-looking, just and sincere. It does not imply that you are uncivil or disrespectful, it simply means that you do not let others define your standards or your decisions.

Similarly, in the novel ‘The Little Prince’ by Antoine de Saint- Exupery, the narrator had been a child with a different perception and mindset when compared to the conventional way of thinking. This insight did not leave him in adulthood, and was a major reason of his isolation from the prevailing crowd. Rather than looking at the monetary or objective side, he would look at the imaginative, instinctive part. Rather than taking an ordinary occupation, he decided to follow his passion and become a pilot who embarked on adventurous conquests. Although this trait of his detached him from society, he lived by it, and preserved his uniqueness and originality. The narrator revered his own opinions, and refused to change in order to blend in with the widespread populous. He was true to himself.

Straying away from literature, another typical example is that of Walt Disney- American director, animator and producer. He made up his own mind regarding his career and interests, and recognized and almost solely developed his distinctive talents, which have culminated into the touching Disney films every generation sees today. Despite the fact that he faced enough hardships to make anyone revert back to the ordinary, he adhered to his tenets of being singular and noteworthy, and made a massive difference to the world. He faced incessant problems within his family, experienced bankruptcy that threatened his entire profession, and had nearly verged on a nervous breakdown. While the difficulties and debts he brought upon himself during World War 2 compelled him to abandon his career and creative pursuits, he followed his admirable value system of willpower and resolution, and continued directing and cartooning, nevertheless. Although he had been a figure of ridicule by his peers during childhood, and by critics for the rest of his life, he never let their deprecating criticism sway his code of life or his decisions. He demonstrated honesty and genuineness in the face of adversity- highly laudable characteristics that make him an epitome of morality to oneself.

The drawbacks of not being true to yourself can prove to be adverse, as seen in the story ‘Great Expectations’ by Charles Dickens. Pip, the protagonist, was naturally sympathetic, benevolent and possessed a naturally good conscience from childhood. However, shortly after meeting the beautiful maiden Estella and her step mother Miss Havisham, Pip’s longing for educational and social advancement overshadowed his natural integrity. After being the receptor of a perplexing fortune, his utopian desires had been fulfilled, and he gave himself to learning to be a gentleman in London. This idealism of rising up the social hierarchy led him to perceive the world narrow mindedly, and to forget those who loved him the most- his sister’s husband and Biddy. He began to treat them coldly and indifferently, only to be crushed by loneliness and dejection in the later stages of his life. In this case, Pip had not been true to himself- he had let his desires of betterment demolish his individuality, and had succumbed to the thought of escaping poverty and illiteracy. His disparaging actions towards his family had not reflected his genuine self, and had only resulted in him being miserable as he had shunned whatever had been attainable to him.


Therefore, you must be true to the best that exists in your nature, and live your life undeviating from your aspirations and conscience. We just need to be silent enough to listen to ourselves without judgment, and enduring enough to accept the truth once we envision it. Being true to yourself is necessary to gain self-acceptance, and thus Polonius’s quote- ‘this above all: To thine own self be true’, rings with undeniable truth.

Armed with Imagination

She attempted to conjure a backdrop intense,

which took ages, but she finally found

one, as it suddenly appeared in her mind-

of reluctance to lose it, she hurriedly penned down-

A sinister silence pervaded the air,

the sky devoid of the sun's flaming glare

Darkness and shadow seemed to haunt

The trees arched down, somber and gaunt

Whatever faint moonlight was hidden by a cloud,

the wind whispered piercing and loud

I can't find my way back to where I began,

my roam had been enacted without a plan

Indistinguishable was every turn,

the sudden hush was making my stomach churn,

working myself up into a frenzy of dread,

that grew with every step I would tread

Adrift and astray, had gone my path

leaving me victim to solitude's wrath

My eyes scanned the scene for a mark,

that I would be rescued from the dark

that was so perplexing when I traipsed alone

wandering into the great unknown

Waves of ideas began to crash

upon a mind that initially held none

They rolled as inspiration, never to cease,

as she drafted them down one by one

Noise continually pressed in on every side,

people walked purposefully with confident strides

Vehicles traveled along the street,

the gravel echoed with the pounding of feet

As I searched my way out with growing unease,

perspiring despite the gentle breeze,

anxiety hanging over my clouded mind,

that seemed absolutely unable to find

a logical response to my current plight

of disarray and mayhem mingled with fright

Each road and building were irksomely akin,

in endless circles I continued to spin

as people walked unfaltering, never to pause,

appearing too occupied to halt, going for such a cause,

My eyes scanned the crowded scene for a sign,

anything, anything enough benign

that could save me from this muddling ordeal,

that's beginning to seem rather surreal

A facade of determination, armed with her thoughts,

she sailed on with whatever her imagination had brought...

Oceanic Relic

First published in "On the Rusk"

It is corrugated, winking in the gleam,
mildly moistened as it lies on my palm
Ridges and whorls seem to stream...
of the brackish ocean, it wears a balm
It appears to perpetually scream
of the crashing waves upon the sand-
a calming sound, tranquil, serene,
music of the sea, it possesses a band
of instruments that play only to your ear,
faraway melodies light years away
So soothing and sweet, quick to be endeared
bringing colors to the eye- blue, gray,
sapphire, periwinkle, truly aesthetic hues,
colors that alleviate tension, as well as the tunes
shifting a mentality to mollified from blue,
as you envision the water lapping like dunes
Pretty to look at- of carnation pink
spiraling inwards, flawless to feel
as if it had spent time to adorn and prink
itself with unconcealed zeal
It emanates a scent faint and saline-
a fresh, invigorating smell,
It impacts every sense, you can perceives the signs
of the beauty in my palm- a coastal sea shell

Darkness

Following the sound of my voice, she sat next to me. "Describe the color blue," she ordered.

I thought for a few minutes, although it felt like several lives. "Blue is the color of the sky during the day, when it's not dominated by clouds that hide its beauty, or when it's not governed by sunlight that makes its soft tones seem blinding."
I visualized all the beautiful sights I had perceived, and how blessed I was to have been able to.
"Blue is the color of the waves of the sea, of the gushing waterfalls, of the pristine lakes that haven't been tampered by human hands. It's the shade of the corals on the ocean floor, home to shoals of fish. It's the color of the butterfly that settled on the fragile petals of the flowers we grow. It's the color of the starfish we almost stepped on when we were roaming about in the beach."
She settled back, sated. "That was nice," she said, a wide smile across her face. "Now describe pink. It's my sister's favorite color, but she can never depict it to me."
These words made me inexplicably sad. Her sister was too young.
"Pink... it's a color most people associate with girls. It's a hue of the azaleas and tulips that you smell, whenever we take a stroll into the garden. It's the vibrant shade of the flamingos you heard splashing about on the other side of the lake. It's the color of the sour guava fruit you ate yesterday- a rather dull shade, but still pink."
Once again, she seemed satisfied. But I wasn't.
"Your other senses can see for you, remember that," I told her, dubious.
"Yes, I know that. How else do I envision whatever you illustrate to me? I know that vision and myself are incongruous, but you can never know. Describe orange."
Sighing, I continued. "It's the hue that the sun imparts to the sky at sunrise and sunset. It's the coloration of leaves in autumn. Its..."
She let me speak uninterrupted for hours, but I couldn't be wholehearted.
I wished I could give her more. I was in the dark, and so was she.

Triumph

It's milky white, shimmering weak
oscillating gently with the breeze
glistening against the landscape bleak-
arid, barren, devoid of trees

It appears haunting, rather eerie
yet much more gentle than it may seem
Though its expression is rather dreary,
it is dejected, with low esteem

Though it constantly sways with the gusts
that plague its vague and sorry form
it has to linger, it really must,
so it remains and withstands the storm

And slowly, although it takes quite a while
it becomes more solid, embellished by hues,
despite the fact it hasn't advanced a mile
it had gone further, it has grew

It reached the stage when shades so pale
had darkened- solidified, every thread        
Its stature turned from delicate to hale
dim pink turned to a vivid red

From timorous to proud, its head held high
beginning to work with unconcealed zeal,
its aims accomplished, reaching towards the sky
as a nebulous dream ultimately became real

Wintry Heat

First published in "On the Rusk"

Its surface is bathed in pearly light
The air encased by its glistening glow
The wind blows delicately, soft and frosted
until it's felt- the first silvers of snow
The terrain has been transformed from green to white
the sky from aqua to a stormy gray
crystals cascade from above-
the clouds which shield the golden rays
Like sugar- white, sweet and smooth
that coats the branches of the lime green trees,
creatures retreat into their refuge
fear keeping them hidden- of the icy freeze
Within a few hours of the magnificent snow,
on the earth, has been embedded a crust
that shifts and dances like dunes of sand
pirouetting with the glacial, biting gusts
As the clouds parted, sunlight began to shine,
as the snowfall began to slow its pelt
winter defrosted, began to crawl away,
sunshine dominated, the chill began to melt
The air is sweltering, brimming with heat
turning my face crimson from peach
the ground glaring, vivid, radiating warmth,
to cool down- the world would vehemently beseech
Birds fly about, despairing, craving a sip
of the invigorating water, which is now a dearth,
creatures roam for miles, longing to gulp
from ponds, which are now sparse on the earth
The sun beats down with quelling force,
amber commands the sky, rather than blue
The air is unmoving, humid, sultry,
animals covet for the breeze that once blew
Then, gradually, the heat starts to drop,
the shivery atmosphere commences its unfurl,
creatures return to their caves in relief,
as the word is soaked in the light of a pearl

Whirlwind

The waves are gentle, benevolent, lapping
on the other side, thunder resonates, wild and clapping
The sea is unruffled, a calm periwinkle,
whereas the ocean is marred with waves and wrinkles
The sky is vivid, the sun an orb of gold,
in the distance, a storm brews, tempestuous, uncontrolled          
The ambience is delightful, with a muffled breeze,
beyond the bounds, a frenetic gale rouses the seas
Fish of radiant luminosity crowd around,
Distantly, they cower, terrified to make a sound
But at that point, the entire sky went dark
the light had been concealed, every sunglow spark
winds- violent and frosty- pervade the air,
the formerly tranquil sea complies without turning a hair
What hitherto had been a serene, limpid scene,
was now a whirlwind of components aerial and marine
The sky was charcoal, reflected from the clouds,
gusts shriek by, whistling and loud
lightning struck, an iridescent flash
followed by thunder, a rumbling crash
waves, squalls, torrents of rain would swarm,
heading towards land, ruthlessly came the storm

Humanity From Now

The three friends, young and inseparable, laid down on the wooden surface of the boat. It was drifting gently, meandering in no planned direction. The moonlight was soft and splendid, and shone off the rippled waters of the lake. Being a desolated, deserted part of the town, not a soul was about- they had all fallen asleep hours ago. The first indications of dawn were arriving, in the form of purple rays of sunlight. It was an alleviating, quaint atmosphere, but there was a pressing issue on Dale's mind.
'What will the world be like a thousand years from now?'
His friends glanced up, overwhelmed by slumber. Damien, a small boy of about thirteen, replied drowsily-
'It doesn't matter. It won't make an impact on our lives. Why bother and miss out on sleep?'
Dale was immediately angered by his companion's nonchalant response. Didn't the world their descendants would thrive on matter? Wasn't it a circumstance of concern that the world should give heed to? Given the fact that the earth had been alive for over a billion years, wasn't a thousand an astoundingly small number? And Damien was perturbed regarding his 'lack of sleep'.
A flaw in Dales character was his inherent, decisive, adamant nature. His opinion was correct, further discussion was fruitless. It was a trait that his friends thoroughly disliked- especially when it interrupted their own untroubled, tranquil thoughts. So, when peacefully dreaming on a boat resting upon the waters, with not a single disturbance, Dales loud, declaiming voice became exceptionally aggravating.
Taking a deep breath, he began-
'Well, I think that you're all wrong. I-'
'Dale. Please be quiet. I'm trying to sleep.'
The third member of the trio, Darcy, spoke up, petulant and frowning.
Dale turned away sulkily, disappointed that his potential tirade had been punctuated. Lecturing was an able way of venting out his thoughts, but no one ever encouraged him.
So, neglecting his friends' sighs of irritation, he launched into a harangue of his views on the future-
'Don't you think it's childish, how people our age dream about flying cars.. and skyscrapers reaching the moon? Everyone associates "future" with "utopia"- a place of technology, wealth, color and satisfaction. I highly doubt that will ever happen.
In fact, judging by the current plight our world is facing, a growing population reaching tens of billions is very possible. So is global warming- severe melting of the ice caps, uncontrolled flooding, submerging of the coasts, islands, lands at low altitudes... In actuality, there may not even be a world to write about a thousand years from now.'
His friends' interest had been kindled. Damien got up promptly, eyebrows knit.
'That's a cheerful thought,' he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 'But you seem to be missing a crucial point. Have you even noted the progress mankind has made in the last hundred years alone? A century ago, vehicles were still at its infancy, nature wasn't smothered by concrete, and only a fraction of all residential areas had access to electricity! And now look... humans take the advantageous presence of automated airplanes, cars and trains for granted. Man has been to the moon and back! They've sent probes and robots to planets thousands of miles from our world. People fight for their lives during an illness, with modern medical equipment, when previously they would give up hope- believing that all had been lost. And...'
He paused dramatically.
'If the life expectancy of humans has increased by over twenty years in the last century.. and if development stays steady, can you even imagine how long humanity will survive a thousand years from now? Taken from the ideas starring in the books by Isaac Asimov, could man become immortal? The development humanity will make a thousand years later is inconceivable.
And what about improvements in space exploration?'
His face lit up, and he proceeded, unmoved by Dale and Darcy's skeptical expressions.
'People may be able to surpass the limiting extent of the solar system. We could scout new planets, and maybe even use them as an answer to the growing population dilemma! And... we could use stars and other celestial bodies as a solution to the paucity of energy, perhaps from a heavenly body or something similar.. wouldn't that be wonderful?'
Damien's eyes shone with animation and delight, but by then Darcy felt neglected, and needed to air his views.
'I partly agree with Dale, on his relatively.. cynical approach of the future.' he began gravely. 'Though the world is nearing a crisis, it doesn't have to be solely nature that poses a forthcoming threat. What about humans themselves? Two world wars were included during the last century, and the tension and strain it caused between the leading nations still hasn't died down entirely. This is evident from the Cold War, though the magnitude of fear and uncertainty has greatly decreased. Who's to say the world may not be torn apart by war in the next thousand years? Maybe it will just be a sweeping expanse of rugged rocks, nuclear radiations and death? I mean, it's not as if man's greed for wealth and power has been curtailed.'
Damien glowered at his friends. Somehow his delightful reverie of a world of robots and advanced space exploration had been callously crushed by his mature companions.
He stood up with unexpected dignity and said 'Since when has negativity and cynicism ever benefited us? All I can say is.. I hope your musings don't become a reality.'
Fatigue had caught up with him, and he collapsed on his cushion and was sound asleep within a few short minutes. But it took a while for Dale and Darcy to do the same- they could only think if one looming question- what will the world be a millennium from now?

Depths of Dreams

My mind is still unhinged by swirling thoughts,

that blissful, mollifying dreams had brought

I lie in bed, the sky plunged in dark,

as I marvel at the path on which my dreams would embark

Here and there, I can catch a tint

of confused, ambiguous colors- a trivial hint

A deserted memory that crops up in sleep,

from which showers of remembrances suddenly seep

in from an abandoned, forsaken part of my mind

that housed experiences and people I had been unable to find

I perceive a distant rush of voices, intertwined and fazed,

as I try to snap back to reality, though dull and dazed

When I dream, all the emotions I feel,

seem so naturalistic, evoking sentiments so real

The pleasure, the sadness, the fury, the pride,

the time when I gave up, felt helpless, and sighed

For a few minutes, I simply reminisce and dwell,

as though under the night's hypnotic spell

And that's when the sun's rays begin to shine-

proud and glowing, feeling very benign

And then slowly but surely, I begin to wake,

of the manacles of sleep, I give a firm shake

The cloud over my mind slowly disappears,

as I gingerly enter into the awakened, bustling sphere

On my muddled conscience I decide to muse-

the perplexing result of a deep, prolonged snooze

While my sight begins to sharpen, no longer uncanny

Clear thoughts emerge from every nook and cranny

As dreams escape, and distinct feelings unfurl,

I reluctantly become acquainted with the authentic, wakeful world 

Her Magic Voice

First published in the literary journal 'On the Rusk'

She whispers with her magic voice,
sounds that mingle with the breeze,
that tread up to creatures perched on trees
She lures them down with an angelic smile,
her voice brimming with beauty, bursting with guile,
with nuances sailing across the waves
that reach those hidden deeply in caves
They hear a compelling tone, an unhappy sigh,
as spirits of music serenely sail by,
that reach the critters thriving on dunes,
whose ears prick up by the enchanting tunes
They all shadow the trails of her magic voice,
heard by those flourishing in the ocean,
the melodies enough to set them in motion
She entices all animals with her song,
without thought, she takes them all along
But they can never find her, to their despair,
despite the actuality that they seek everywhere
To find an inkling, they will persist
that her magic voice does really exist,
though they may search, they will not get far,
for she is the music coming from the stars

Talisman

I hurried to the door of the first shop I could find- an ominous, black door, suggestive of foreboding. It was pouring icy torrents of rain, and I couldn't fall ill in the middle of my tests. So, rather apprehensively, I pushed open the door, only to find a gloomy, dismal room, with a stooping figure standing in the corner.
Immediately uncomfortable, much to my distaste, I looked awkwardly about. It wasn't in my nature to feel uneasy or tense in sudden, arbitrary situations. Perhaps it was the shadowed room, or the strange artifacts that lined the cracked, peeling walls, or the covert woman making her way towards my trembling form.
Suddenly terrified, I turned to open the door. However, it refused to carry out my escape- it was locked, despite the fact that no one had locked it.

The woman's eyes were enigmatic and gleaming. They shone like stars against the dark walls- very hypnotizing stars. Unwittingly, I found myself walking, as though in a trance, towards the counter. With a withered hand, she showed me all her displays- beautiful but perplexing pendants. My glazed eyes caught sight of one, and I picked it up. Despite the glacial atmosphere, the locket was uncannily warm- warmer than my skin.
'You like it?'
The rasping voice of the woman reached my ears, and I flinched. She shook her head free of the cloak, and stared at me. I realized that despite her bent stature, her face was surprisingly youthful and calculating. It took a moment to compose myself.
'Yes. It's... beautiful. How much is it for?'
Her eyes were so bright I could almost catch fire dancing in them.
'Such a talisman has no price- yet its worth equals the power of the universe.'
I looked at her in bewilderment. Such profound words were unintelligible to me. Also, the word 'talisman' snapped me awake, and sent shivers down my spine- wasn't a talisman a charm thought to carry good luck?
'What is your name?,' she whispered, gingerly lifting the locket.
'I- my name is Leyla,' I mumbled incoherently.
I fingered the pendant, and put it around my neck. It was exceedingly heavy, and seemed to be made of pure silver, studded with opalescent jewels. Convoluted designs were carved into its surface- continuing to spiral inwards, never seeming to end.
But the sensation of wearing it overpowered its sight. I immediately felt better- I perceived everything in alarmingly sharp focus, and my head felt lighter. I decided to overlook the menacing ringing in my ears.

The woman, whom I had fleetingly forgotten about, came into view once more. Her eyes really were entrancing- they were beyond words. They defined mysterious beauty. I couldn't tell which color they were-much the same way we can't analyze the precise shade of the sun when it shines down on earth.
But then I saw something that made me go deathly pale. Her eyes that had been flashing like lamplights, suddenly glinted purple- a beautiful, but chilling, shade of purple.
Her eyes told me that I had played right into the hands of a sorceress.

She came towards me, took my smooth hands in her wrinkled, and murmured.
'Take it. Take it for free. You do not understand the value of this talisman.'
Her eyes cast a sinister glow on her young face. I found myself believing her. I braced myself for her next words.
'It is magic'
Frightened out of my wits, I ran to the door- the ominous, black door. But the sorceress' voice stopped me abruptly.
'Remember- I am a sorceress of the cosmos. I embody the power of the universe. Perhaps that will help you realize the might of this charm.'
I glanced at the talisman- with its queer aura of secrecy- and left the shop without further thought, back into the rain.


For the following few days, I could only concentrate on determining the power of the locket. It didn't impart any intelligence to my mind, since I found my tests as hard as ever. It didn't have the ability to read people, or to teleport. As far as I knew, it had no power at all. The only change was that I could finally abandon my glasses.
Yet, it felt honorable to have the silver pendant around my neck- like I had been chosen to decide the fate of the universe. But it never occurred to me to actually look at the night sky- a forgetful action on my part.
I couldn't resist showing the priceless relic to my friend and confidante, Claudia. She seemed indifferent to its beauty, yet she looked at it in awe. She held the pendant in her palm longer than usual, and appeared quite reluctant to return it to me.
Mildly suspicious, I vowed to keep it extremely secure, and not to disclose its apparent power to anyone. I was opposed to taking it off, as I immediately felt dense and heavy, not to mention vulnerable- or maybe it was my imagination running away with me. I was also beginning to feel incredibly paranoid- the imposing and fearsome sorceress had entrusted the talisman with me, and I was afraid of misplacing it.

I was walking in a crowded street with Claudia. There was a flurry of movement on all sides.
'Come on,' I muttered to her. 'Let's leave. Now.'
She gave me a tight-lipped nod. 'It's too clustered to walk together. We'll rendezvous at that terrace cafe over there.' She gestured to a bright, cheerful restaurant.
Instantly agreeing, I forced my way through the multitude of people with considerable trouble. Once out of the mass of hurried movement, I heaved a sigh of relief, and instinctively felt around my neck for the silver chain of the locket.
I felt nothing.

For the next few days, I could only lament and grieve. I was shocked by my carelessness- that something secure and steady around my person could have disappeared, especially without my knowledge! I was too miserable to begin a search for it, and too appalled by my remissness to even question its whereabouts. I had misplaced an embodiment of the power of the universe, without even knowing what it did. In a way, I had betrayed the trusting sorceress by not living up to her expectations. The thought brought a lump to my throat- one very difficult to get rid of.
At that time, it never occurred to me that it had been stolen.

                                              *                             *                             *

It is not in my nature to steal, especially from a friend. However, some actions are inevitable, and you find yourself implementing them without even thinking about the disadvantages.
In this case, it was a beautiful, daunting pendant. When Leyla had arrived at school, I had noticed a conspicuous difference about her- something which others had seemed to overlook. She almost seemed to glow- her eyes were sparkling and her skin was shining. But more than anything, I could sense a mysterious presence on her. Though I am far from supernatural, I could easily perceive something puzzling, but powerful on her, and was subsequently drawn towards it.
When she showed me the pendant herself, all my doubts were cleared- but still completely unanswered. When I held it in my palm, I could feel the force pulsating under its complicated form. It was a strange and unfamiliar sensation- but not an unwelcome one. When I held it, everything I could see was thrown into shockingly sharp focus, but there was a buzzing in my ears. I could differentiate between each hue I laid eyes on. I was stunned.
Thus, as I said, a small theft from Leyla on a crowded street was quite unavoidable- I wouldn't have done it if the power of the locket hadn't been beckoning to me.
So, my conscience had been clouded with guilt for only a few minutes.

At home, I felt very superior wearing it. My mother had been astonished to see me wearing such an expensive pendant.
'Claudia! Wherever did you get that from?'
'Oh... Leyla recently gifted it to me,' I reply smoothly, though ashamed by the falsehood.
My little sister had begged me to let her wear it, which I refused swiftly. I decided to lock it away, far from prying eyes, and safe from those who longed for it.

The next day at school, Leyla looked thoroughly dispirited and downcast. She barely spoke to anyone, and looked close to bursting into tears. By then, I was almost overwhelmed by shame. She confided her feelings in me after class.
'I lost the talisman... the one the sorceress gave me,' she said, half-whispering, looking down.
'Talisman?' I asked, mystified.
Leyla looked up, and said gloomily 'You know... it's a type of charm thought to bring good luck. It didn't seem to have brought any, in my case.'
It was a lot to absorb in a few minutes- the existence of a real charm and a sorceress. But I was ready to believe such statements.
Though contrite, I couldn't bring myself to tell the truth- I'm not as brave or straightforward as my friend.
'Today was the last test,' I told her, slightly nervous. 'Meet me on the green side of Ruby hill at seven in the evening, and we can finally talk without interruption.'
She agreed and departed.
My invitation had a different motive, though. I would take the talisman with me, drop it into the grass, and exclaim when I saw something glinting in the starlight- loud enough for Leyla to hear.

When I reached home, I first proceeded to the little music box in which I had locked the pendant- a glossy, golden one, with piano pieces of Mozart pouring out. I rummaged for the key among a pile of clothes, opened the box, and put the locket lovingly around my neck. The remorse and self-reproach that had muddled my train of thought vanished.
Leaving a note for my mother, I crept out into the night, still slightly damp from the week's torrential downpours, and set out to Ruby hill.

                                             *                            *                            *

Being a sorceress of the cosmos, naturally life on earth wasn't smooth for me. Despite my efforts to assimilate in society, people still eyed me with suspicion, and children evaded me on the streets. So, I had to resort to a tiny, insignificant shop in an alley, rarely leaving, except in disguise. I seldom used my powers to my benefit, and simply sat there, waiting for anyone to relieve me of my boredom and loneliness.
I had embellished the walls with all of the charms I had procured since I was born- they were my life's pride. Being an incarnation of the universe, however neglected, my talismans did the most enthralling things- one could instantaneously teleport someone into the Planet of Burning Ice, or the Diamond Planet, or the Himoko Cloud, or even to the heart of the Largest Quasar Group. Another could transport one across the cosmos with the speed of a Hypervelocity star.
My favorite was the silver locket that I had, unbelievably, given to a girl named Leyla. The power of the charm still astounds me- it made me see the universe in a whole different light, while rooted on earth.
When I had first worn it and then gazed at the stars at night, I had nearly jumped out of my skin. Instead of a black backdrop with a sprinkle of stars, the sky had transformed into a vibrant masterpiece of restless colors- darting from one end to the other.
My intuition had told me I was witnessing the bursting of a massive star, or a supernova, billions of light years away. On the other side, a nebula was slowly beginning to take shape.
Due to the exceptional eyesight the talisman imparted to me, I could observe every little happening within a particular radius.

Needless to say, my sisters unraveled the phenomenal powers of the locket, and promptly decided that they had the claim over it. Though I didn't find it any more exhilarating than the other talismans, their longing to acquire it made it all the more special. I couldn't bear to lose it, for the sheer amount of time that had gone into tracing it, and finally managing to obtain it, was one that could never return.
So, I guarded it jealously, constantly on my guard in case one of my sisters should come back.
And, in a moment of weakness, I had willingly given the priceless, remarkable locket to a girl whom I had never seen before.
However, my motive hadn't been entirely thoughtless. Leyla struck me as an absolutely honest and down to earth person, but there was also something unique about her personality that appealed to me. I couldn't explain it, but I trusted my instincts. Also, parting with the object that had created so much of strife between my closest kinship had been strangely liberating.
But I wanted it back. It was the one object I could taunt my powerful sisters with- the one thing that could get me what I wanted.
By that time, my mind was a confused mixture of complicated emotions running in no distinct direction.

I couldn't resist checking on Leyla to see if she had realized the talisman's potential. For a moment, I wondered where she would be, but then I remembered that I was a sorceress- I could see anything if I tried.
Within a few minutes, I had set off to Ruby hill, effectively disguised as a young girl eager to enjoy a wet, summer evening.

By the time I reached, neither Leyla nor her friend Claudia were present. So I settled back patiently on the dewy grass. I might have dozed off for a few minutes, because when I woke up, both girls had reached. Claudia had the most dumbfounded, amazed look on her face, and Leyla was beginning to look unnerved.
Then something drew me up short- a glint of silver around Claudia's neck. A very familiar glint of silver...
Leyla seemed to have noticed the same, for she gave an angry exclamation, and wrenched the talisman off her neck in fury.
This led to a very heated argument between the two, with Claudia fabricating very clever stories as she spoke- and simultaneously rising in my estimation.  Though cross at both Leyla and Claudia, I couldn't help but watch, amused.
I decided it was time to make my presence known. I stealthily crept out the shadows- a trivial shadow blending in with the darkness.
Something must have given me away, for at that moment Leyla gave a gasp of horror.
'What are you doing here?' she asked, suddenly sounding breathless.
There was no use denying my identity. 'I came for the locket,' I replied calmly. 'You are both unworthy of it. Return it to me. Now.'
Leyla took a step back, and closed her fingers around the pendant. 'No. You gave it me, willingly. You entitled me to it. You said it was an embodiment of the universe, without even telling me what it does. I could think of nothing else when Claudia took it'
She seemed almost apoplectic with rage.
So I had missed out on a crucial trait of Leyla's personality- fierce determination.
Then Claudia piped up. 'I know what it does. The talisman can make you discern space phenomena taking place miles from the earth. No, light years from the earth. It's entrancing.'
Her face suddenly turned dark and disdainful. 'I want it. With meticulous observation and skill, I found out what it does.'
By then, my indignation and rage mirrored- if not surpassed- Leyla's. I turned to Claudia, and spoke in a hushed, quivering voice. 'Do you even know how many months it took for me to find it? Do you know how much I had to beseech and negotiate to acquire it?' I couldn't bring myself to continue.
'Shame,' she sneered, nonchalantly.
Once again, I remembered that I was a sorceress, not a normal girl imploring for a locket. I was over a hundred years old- I had witnessed happenings all over the universe that astronomers couldn't even dream about. And here I was, pleading with two mortal girls- one cold and unfeeling, and the other hotheaded and forceful, for a charm that was rightfully mine.
I was too disgusted with myself to even think about my situation.

My main power as a sorceress was my eyes- compelling and spellbinding. My sisters, Lilith in particular, envied this talent of mine- to bewitch people with a blink of my eyes and a surge of resolution.
I used this little gift to persuade Leyla and Claudia into handing over the talisman to me, without harming either. Lilith constantly accuses me of being soft with lesser beings, but I always take her vacuous remarks with a pinch of salt.
I couldn't relax until the charm was safely within my grip. I debated as to whether I should leave the two girls in their state of oblivion- but turned down the idea. And I couldn't resist seeing their irritation when they saw the talisman in my grasp. So I carefully lifted the spell, and flashed them a triumphant smile.
I was prepared to disappear in a purple haze, when a familiar, commanding and very uninvited sound reverberated across Ruby Hill.
'Give me the locket.'
Lilith's voice echoed, imposing and authoritative. She materialized right in front of me, tall and intimidating.
What a coincidence- I think about her, and she appears before me in the nick of time.
'Give it to me,' she repeats, already sure of her victory- she had cornered me when I was at my most vulnerable. I would never dare to release my powers when before two defenseless, though aggravating, mortals.
But I couldn't bear to see the talisman, my talisman, in her evil clutches.
'You do not understand the value of this locket,' Lilith stated impressively.
Leyla glanced at me questioningly. Hadn't I told her the same thing when she came to my shop? The irony. Lilith is much more powerful than me- she has magic at the tip of her fingers, all at her disposal. Though she looks like an attractive, kind young woman, she's ruthless and cunning.

I was standing- grand and glorious- at the heart of the universe, the silver locket around my neck. I controlled all planetary motions and sidereal movements, the destiny of the cosmos nestled in my hands. My sisters and other relations bowed before me, only to eager to implement my desires, however irrational. I was proud of my identity, not ashamed of it. I exploited my powers to their full extent, instead of hiding them in fear. I was the ruler of the universe, the talisman being my aid.

I snapped awake. The locket was dangling from Lilith's slender finger, and a victorious smile was etched across her face. Leyla and Claudia had backed away, terrified, but too frightened to run.
Lilith disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

I don't know for how long the three of us stood rooted to the spot. It must have been several hours, for I could catch the first rays of sunlight illuminating the grass blades.
I turned to the two girls.
'You're both extremely powerful. You two were the only people in this planet who could sense the power of the locket. I've scoured the entire world, hoping to find someone like me. I finally have. And I desperately need your help. Please.'
I waited with bated breath for them to consider my plea. I couldn't let Lilith get away with this. I had certainly argued with Leyla and Claudia, but we were all united against a common enemy- someone who didn't mind eliminating whoever came in her way. And though I was highly reluctant to admit this- they were powerful beyond doubt. No wonder they had become friends, despite the discrepancies in their characters.
In addition, Lilith had, unknowingly, given me the most important tool I needed- determination.
I was hungry for power.
The locket provided one with exceptionally good eyesight- I had simply been too ignorant to use it. The ringing in the ears kept one from hearing criticism that could hamper their progress. The charm had provided me with everything I needed, but Lilith had realized it first.
I finally understood the true power of the talisman- and I'm going to go after it.

Going Nowhere

First published in "On the Rusk". 

In my glass bowl that is filled to the brim,
I dive and splash and sprinkle and swim
Periodically, food showers down as rain
you may think I really can't complain
of my calm, equable, foreseeable life,
yet with it, I share a rancorous strife
For I am constantly kneeling over with despair,
as I swim in circles, going nowhere
I have no destination to reach, nothing to achieve,
my life is a cliche, or so I believe
I am a good looking fish, of amber and gold
others feel so as well, as I am incessantly told
People admire my skin's striking, handsome hue
and how it would contrast with the sea's royal blue
Such words elicit nostalgia and sorrow,
and how I covet for a miracle tomorrow
To be returned to the sea, my family, I wish
or perhaps the arrival of a companion- another pleasant fish
I am enclosed, imprisoned by walls of glass,
watching helplessly as my owners pass
They are oblivious, they will never learn
what a living creature does desire and yearn
He wants independence, he wants to be free
he wants to fool about, as his heart fills with glee
He hankers to travel, to be creative, to find
his very own species, with which he must be aligned
To search for his very own natural food, he craves,
or to play about and splash with the waves
And swim until his fins can take it no more,
or use his imagination, or thrive and explore
But for now, I must live life as I must,
though I am afraid I shall never adjust
to the tedious, monotonous, repetitive routine
that an animal like myself must withstand- proud and marine
But at one point, I am sure one will answer my plea,
and before I know it, I'll be back in the sea

The Little Prince

He lived on a planet scarcely larger than him,
constantly responding to his rose's every whim
She was a beauty, no doubt, but haughty and proud,
by her perpetual demands, his happiness was shroud
The rose believed she could ward off anger with her meager thorns,
such statements and other untruths made him weary and forlorn
So, it was her nature so vain and naive,
that caused him- his beloved planet- to shortly leave
After a brief farewell of tears and sighs,
the little prince sadly bid her goodbye

After a critical, informative adventure, he reaches the earth
where it seems as though everything would soon lose its worth...

Instead of among people, he swiftly lands
in the Sahara Desert- an expanse of enigma and sand
While navigating though the dunes, where he is in the middle,
he encounters a snake that speaks solely in riddles
He torments the prince with the idea of home-
a taste of his poison would immediately end his roam
But deigning him too innocent, he decides to leave,
of thoughts of his frail rose, the prince unhappily grieves
He had left her vulnerable, without even her dome of glass..
how could he be certain peril wouldn't pass?

Eventually, a huge, rose garden- he comes across,
and for a moment the prince is stunned, at a complete loss
For they utterly resembled his very own rose,
and now there were thousands in a tiny enclose
He had considered his flower so special and unique,
and now his life as a prince seemed somber and bleak
It was a sudden, unwelcome, drop in his power-
for now he simply ruled over three mini volcanoes, and a flower

As the little prince sits on the grass, and copiously sheds tears,
next to him, a little fox stealthily appears
"Please play with me, I'm so lonely," the little prince cries
"Fine," says the fox sagely. "But first we must establish ties."
Through the fox's lesson, the prince comes to learn,
that what makes the vain rose a matter of his concern
was the time he invested in her love and care
that made her his flower- there was no other spare
So, what had made his rose so special to him-
was the fact that he responded to her every trivial whim
The fox's secret: What the heart comes across,
is what the eyes have missed and lost

Meanwhile, he befriends a young pilot, who had crashed from his plane,
together, the two lumber across the sandy lanes
As they do, an understanding friendship begins to form,
one based on trust and mystery- one very warm

Of his landing on the Earth- the prince's one year anniversary day,
the same, perplexing snake once again comes into play
The pilot fears the prince has become the victim of a bite
for he is terribly frightened, and is turning very white
He tells the pilot he must embark on a journey quite rough,
one that may span forever, one truly tough
The prince consoles him, by saying that the distant stars,
will hold a special meaning for him, despite being so far
for the pilot has shared such a firm, close bond
with someone who has lived in the beyond
The prince reasons by saying that his rose needs him,
someone to respond to her every shallow whim
So, as the snake strikes, the prince falls to the ground,
collapsing on the sand, with barely a sound

With this, the story comes to a close,
with the pilot wondering if the little prince reached his rose

(Taken from the novel by Antoine de Saint-Exupery)

Perception... in Everything

As I amble without an impulsion at night,
my course depends on sources of light
that lead me past, reign over my roam,
they shine from the lamps lit at mansions and homes
which glow a comforting golden amber to white

Its stem is arched in a drooping swoon,
around which shriveled leaves are strewn,
collapsing from callous care, perpetual thirst,
too weak for survival, too fragile to be nursed,
is the repercussion of the raging, summer noon

They are beautiful, intricate, a startling hue,
lingering between tedious shades, and a light, iris blue
It's a steadfast shadow of a friend, behind me it will trail,
against the backdrop of the snow- frosty and pale
as it disappears with the sun, I feel a twinge of rue

The grass is moist and gladdening beneath  my feet
successfully drawing away all the heat
it's tipped with tears of fragrant dew
over on the side lays abandoned my shoes,
it coats my soles in a dampened sheet

As I plunge into the lemon yellow fruit,
on my taste buds, pangs of acidity shoot
At the innocent fruit, I glare and glower,
it smiles back demurely, so sweet but sour
Resentment of lemonade, I am now en route

Behind me, stealthily, begins to creep
the inevitable, but unwelcome, shackles of sleep,
with the rhythm of wheels grinding against the street
with the hum of pouring rain and glacial sleet
buried in a blissful drowse, I remain in and keep

Butterfly Wings

First published in the literary magazine 'Balloons Literary Journal'; later reprinted in my school's yearbook.

Like petals of the sky- delicate, fragile
pirouetting with the breeze, with distinguished style
Reflecting golden shards of soft sunlight,
their presence though often, could never be trite
They flit between the shades of nature, flutter at a lilt
emanating beauty, enveloping the world like a quilt
brightening the pallor of every relinquished field,
able to rouse the flowers that have dolefully keeled
Dancers of the air- clad in crimson and lime
resembling fairies, unheeding of the passage of time
Frail and vulnerable, with the texture of ice,
through the air, they purposefully slash and slice
They latch themselves to the syrup of the flowers
unencumbered as the sun scorches and glowers
They flitter instinctively, as though in a trance,
they create an illusion for the senses, as they whirl and dance
Yellow like a daffodil, blue like a coral,
red like a dewy rose, colorations that are floral
Predictably, the awakening of the sun was too sublime to last,
as the clouds converged, their temper overcast
They billowed across, and began to trickle,
and on the pearly wings, began to pierce and tickle
As thunder rolled across the sky,
the beauties retreated, with a disconsolate sigh
The blithely painted wings moved with the gust,
gliding to safety with unrelenting trust
The violent wind whipped through the grass,
as comeliness vanished, having amassed
As the storm died down, the butterflies all disappeared,
leaving the fields looking subdued and austere

Speculations

Max rose apprehensively, and shakily made her way to the front of her class. She shuffled her weight between her two legs, and feverishly rustled the sheaf of papers she was clutching.
She cleared her throat and began.
"The topic for this term's speech is 'Earthly Mysteries and Corresponding Guesses'," she began feebly, comparing herself to her vehemently proclaiming classmates.
"Though my decision may seem like a digression," she continued, motioning towards those before her, "The term 'earthly' does not have to refer to something proximal to the Earth. It can also allude to something that the Earthly beings enjoy conjecturing about."
Emboldened by the observation that everyone sat up a little straighter, and that Mrs. Melli was listening intently, Max proceeded, heartened.
"So, after hours of deliberation- combining my innate interest for space, and childhood speculations- I have chosen my topic to be 'Our Universe'."
Cheeks flushed with excitement, Max launched into an eloquent recital of her thoughts.
"The Universe acts as a roof, a protective covering to our planet. It provides us with light during the day, and guides us at night. It provides the icy landscape with beauty- gorgeous, dancing colors. The sky depicts scenes from mythology and history. So, it would be appropriate to conclude that the Universe is as integral a part of the Earth, as the mighty oceans. Thus, its mysteries will be termed 'Earthly Mysteries'."
The class was silent, and Max's voice began resounding impressively.
"Humans are incapable of confidently concluding the precise limits to which the cosmos can extend. Scientists, and all their equipment, are just insignificant specks of knowledge and technological advancements, when placed against the backdrop of the Universe.
It is evident that we are only aware of a mere fraction of a percentage of the underlying mysteries of our distant surroundings. This is reinforced by the fact that the 'Largest Quasar Group' defies the laws of astrophysics, simply by living up to its name!
So, taking our oblivion into account, it would be fair to say that a few surmises by a curious girl will not undo anything."
Mrs. Melli was wide-eyed, stunned. Max resumed, reaching the climax of her speech.
"Could our Universe be a cell? A cell, alongside millions of others, thriving and providing life to an organism, whose size is so gargantuan, it's mind-boggling? Size is relative, so it will have no impact on that creature whatsoever.
And, this thought reminded me that cells operate in our person as well. Could these cells of ours, house a unique and dynamic universe of infinitesimally small galaxies, stars, chunks of hurtling rock, and living creatures? And, abandoning biological explanations, could an illness, minor or major, be caused by those residential organisms exploiting their surroundings, much the same way be abuse ours?"
Max paused, inhaled deeply, and continued.
"You may think that their are greater mysteries linked to the Bermuda Triangle, or the Great Pyramids of Giza, which is perhaps true. Because, for a mystery to start, there must be an object with that essence of enigma! Since our knowledge of the Universe is quite small, so are the number of questions. This simultaneously adds to our feeling of unknown.
Yet, there are so many intriguing phenomena in our own solar system- raining diamonds on Uranus and Neptune, the presence of an atmosphere on Saturn's moon- Titan, the Oort cloud- a hypothetical region of space.
I won't even dwell further from the limits of the Solar System. We all grew up learning that there are nine planets orbiting the Sun. Who's to say there aren't ten, or eleven, or twenty? It is entirely possible that another planet, its size exceeding Jupiter's, exists furtively beyond Neptune, with its complete mass shrouded by fog that bleeds into the background.
Honestly, the possibilities are endless. And I..."
Max halted suddenly, a lump in her throat. She felt rising anxiety. What if her suppositions were scoffed at?
"And come hell or high water, I intend to be a part of the group of people who unravel these mysteries.."

Max's abrupt departure took everyone by surprise. Jessie, her friend, looked at her. Her face was red and perspiring, her fingers moved impulsively. She seemed mildly abashed at having ignored the last part of her speech. But a hesitant, proud smile was etched across her face.
She clearly spoke from her heart.

Departure of the Summer Heat

Published in 'New Plains Review'.

I hear the crunch of shriveled leaves
disintegrating beneath my feet
I watch the remnants blow with the breeze
as I plod to the morning, jungle heat

I grimace at the crow's menacing calls
as its blown off course by a summer squall
My legs entangle in the irksome vines,
a massive web, clumsily intertwined

The streams reflect a dismal, leaden brown
a surging, rushing cascade as its source,
the dreary shades mirror that of the ground-
the soil- rich, yielding, or sand- dry and course

Trickles of sweat pour down my face
my heart pounds wildly at an aching pace
My ears prick nervously at the most innocent noise,
I whirl instinctively, my body poised

The warm shades of exotic vegetation and creatures
offer no consolation to my itching eyes-
miniature blue-eyed insects with inconceivable features,
with a striking, tropical, imposing guise

I feel the lapping ripples of a gleaming pond,
as vivid schools of fish tickle my knee;
they thrive underneath the abandoned fronds
of ferns, and the lime green creepers stemming from the tree

And as the softer tones of the strident sun
are veiled as the latter sets over the horizon,
unobtrusive critters return to their knolls
while joy and freedom has been triggered in my soul

Some say people feel vulnerable at night,
as they are unfortunately denied the sense of sight
Yet, it simultaneously means the withdrawal of heat
a one-that-cannot-be-compared, stimulating treat

I hear the crunch of fresh, crisp leaves
harmonizing beneath my feet
I gape as the remnants swirls patterns with the breeze
as I gallivant to the night time, frosty heat

I welcome the birds' mellifluous calls
as they swerve motifs by the sudden squalls
My legs are offered warmth by the obliging vines,
a convoluted web, flawlessly intertwined

The twinkling streams reflect a golden brown,
a buoyant, effervescent fall as its source,
the vibrant hues indicate that of the ground-
the secure domain of animals- safe and sound

I appreciate the shadowy views, the sublime scenes
of the foliage, that have turned ebony from green
Though humans are declined the perception of sight,
in summer, the most wonderful experiences are lived at night

So There It Stood

There it stood, colossal, towering high
coming in contact with the realm of the sky
surpassing the tallest of mountains by birth,
all was diminished by its mere presence, everything on Earth
It rested upon an infinite sheet of glistening ice,
as sun rays glinted off its walls- a bane to the eyes
accustomed to the dark, kindred shades of greenery-
the verdant views, the gorgeous scenery
On its polished pillars were emblazoned intricate designs
of spirals, mosaic and patterned lines
A scintilla of sunlight poured in through the ceiling clear
emitting a watery light, anything but austere
It possessed the vitreous texture of crying clouds,
by the coloration of stained periwinkle, its structure was shroud
The tower benignly acted as the bright, north star,
glad to guide people stranded in places bizarre,
to those who aimlessly and helplessly roam,
will put them on the right track, escort them back home
As ice, it had that mystic, lambent glow,
while wreaths of mist arising from its depths swayed to and fro
But later augmented the shivery atmosphere,
thus making it no longer approachable, all throughout the year
So it faded from memories, its deserted location unknown,
resting singly, standing alone
It shortly resembled a forsaken, natural spire,
as its spirit of mystery mounted higher and higher
It's aura of charm unfalteringly rose-
it was distinguished from the world, time seemed to have froze
Its beauty remained untouched by human hands
which only highlighted its facet of being glorious and grand
It was positioned imperiously, indifferent to the seclusion,
that it was better off standing isolated, was its delusion
So there it stood

Night Was Falling...

When the particles falling from meteor showers are smaller than grains of sand, they burn up in the atmosphere. However, those larger are capable of penetrating the blanket of air surrounding our Earth, hit the ground with a tremendous impact, and invariably become meteorites. When they fall continuously, the chunks of rock are a bane to those unfortunate enough to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Yet, they do create beautiful sights...

It was terrifying. There I was, wandering soberly across a trimmed field I had visited since childhood, with my conscience fixated upon solemn thought. I would intermittently step into a hidden gully, and tiredly shake off the clinging water. Night was falling, yet I had no desire to leave. In the distance, I could spot a small inn, laced with flashing lights. The voices and laughs of content people drifted to my ears. I could hear the dim clinking of glasses, and the faint trail of music. I looked stonily ahead.
And then... one second all I could see was dark, prickly grass... and the next second- it was alight. A few moments later, an explosive sound, diminished, worked its way to my mind. The stalk of grass was momentarily ignited- an orange blaze- and later lost its color, and dropped into a bow. A minute later, several other grass blades met with the same fate. It took me about ten seconds to realize what I was in the middle of. Ten seconds later, my only instinct was to flee. With a gasp of terror, my dawdle broke into a run. I sprinted in no particular direction, dodging any indication of flames. Chunks of rock, the size of large pebbles, hurtled towards the ground. One grazed my elbow, the other narrowly missed my foot. But I was alive. I felt more alive than I had in weeks. I swiftly evaded the meteors, while I unwaveringly trusted my intuition. There were consecutive explosions, each possessing the power of dynamite. At long last, their frequency began to cease. Overcome with fatigue, I collapsed heavily into a massive puddle. I had landed on the outskirts of the field, and was wincing with pain. I got up carefully, cradling my elbow, and surveyed the damage. Parts of the field illuminated the night, and other parts, a mixture of gray and gold, were emitting smoke. An acrid scent hung in the air. The sky and atmosphere had reverted back to their normal state. I could hear screams of delight coming from the inn. Dazed, and overwhelmed with shock, I sat and stared at the burnt remnants of the meadow, a place I would run to even from the tender stages of my life.

It was beautiful. I had gone to the countryside to visit my young niece of seven. She lived in a desolate village- charming, bursting with wildlife, but lonely. The celestial bodies were her companions during the night, as I came to know. After a few hours in her company, she kindled in me an interest in constellations and nebulae. Later, brimming with enthusiasm, she led me to all her cherished places- a clear, gurgling spring, a tree entirely composed of bright, magenta flowers... Our day ended with an exhausting trek up an endless mountain, encumbered with thorns and snakes. Panting, we found respite in a little, merry inn, and ordered our respective beverages. Night was falling, yet I had no desire to leave. My eyes wandered about the fields and valleys, and finally rested upon a shining, golden patch on the grass, that lit up all in its vicinity. Though it was quite a distance from my inquisitive eyes, it was unmistakably fire. But I shrugged off the observation, indifferent, and continued with my drink. A second later, I had spilled half of it over the tablecloth, and so had half the others around me. An explosive sound, reduced exponentially, had been produced several hundred yards to my right. Later, as though resembling immobile, golden critters, tiny tracts of land irradiated a fiery ambience. I looked up, bewildered. Ten seconds later, I realized what I was in the middle of. Ten seconds later, I could only gape soundlessly at the phenomenon of raining fire. Like ignited jewels continually careening towards the Earth. Spellbound, my eyes turned glassy. My feet were rooted in place, while my heart was pounding wildly. Fire was surging from the inky sky, and landing on the vegetation with the strength of a small detonation.
One fell precariously close to my location, and I cringed discernibly. The fire was deep purple at the center, and lightened and mixed with orange as it proceeded outwards. Minutes later, the sparks died down, revealing a crumbling, smoldering mass of rock. My niece uttered a scream of pleasure, which echoed across the hills. The people surrounding me were applauding, stunned.
Fire replaced water as pouring rain, water extinguished fire. It was an immaculate succession of the transfer of power of the main elements. A smile of awe etched across my face, I too, broke into applause.

It was puzzling. Two ambivalent descriptions of the same occurrence. One, with the tenor of fear, and the other with that of respect. Two people, from two different walks of life, at different but proximal places, at the same time, viewing an event from two varying directions. I could detect similarities from their illustrations. The plight of one was the pleasure of another. One experience was devastation, and the second was unconcealed admiration. Perspective was instrumental in shaping and recounting events of historical or any significance.
Jaded, I slumped back on the warm, dew-tipped grass and switched off the lamp. Night was falling, yet I had no desire to leave. So I lay down, and gazed at the stars.

Circles of Imagination

Hot gusts whistle past in menacing tunes,
unsettling the flawlessly arranged golden dunes
Vivid grains of sand invade the air,
providing the atmosphere with a glinting flare
Listless, I wearily, wearily tread
as the Sun beats down upon my head
In the distance, I can catch an uncanny sight,
perhaps that can rescue me from my plight,
water- cool, consoling, delicious
that can save my soul from the weather so vicious
I extend my arm- it's just a stone's throw away,
yet it decides to keep itself at bay
from my itching throat, parched mouth,
as it annoyingly continues to elongate its route
And in a trice, out of nowhere, I am enveloped my bliss,
a fact my spirits do not let go amiss
My state of mind is imbued by unappeasable delight,
all my fatigue has evaporated, and had soared to great heights
Invigorating drops cascading from the sky- my solace,
they guarantee me happiness, a very reassuring promise
I close my burning eyes, in the euphoria I relish
by the rain, my feelings have been embellished
But when I open my eyes, it isn't glaring sand I see,
my sight had been dominated by a thicket of trees,
that climb their way towards the sky,
the oncoming result of when the heavens cry
Coarse sand was transformed into rich, moist mud,
the green was dotted my several blooming buds
Then arrived the fearful, intense draught,
powerful winds and gale, it had brought
In the comfort of greenery, it did not let me linger,
for the next moment, I noticed a conspicuous lack of fingers
I had grown wings, I was flying high,
past the atmosphere, past the sky
past the soft sunlight pouring down
until I lost sight of the blossoms on the ground
I was being propelled vertically by instinctive wings
basking in the thrill unreachable heights can bring
I could sense a remarkable alteration in the hues
of the sky- dark black from sapphire blue
I continued for days, months and years
till I could tell my destination was drawing near
Sure enough, my pace of movement began to slow
as my curiosity, proportional, began to grow
When I finally halt, I look straight down
to my astonishment, I am levitating over a glimmering ground
Silver spirals arising from its core
where it glistens and sharpens all the more
like glitter shaken perfectly over a dark piece of silk,
emanating a divine aura, its shade resembling milk
The light was scattered expertly, in little immaculate sprinkles,
the mass as a whole was sparkling, in little ceaseless twinkles
And then, before my dazed, searching eyes
it rapidly began to shrink in size
In a drop of water, it could be contained,
water that fell to the Earth as rain
for it was accompanied by dazzling bright
structures, by with the night could  be set alight
spreading out endlessly, like a limitless stretch of sand,
was it then could I ultimately understand
I was looking down upon, with my very eyes,
the structures we gaze up at, that govern the night skies
I was looking down upon the entire universe-
enchanting, beguiling, meticulously interspersed
I was momentarily transfixed, until I felt the heat
starting at my head, trickling down to my feet
overpowering my senses; I could perceive the arid weather
with its patches of thirsty, purple heather
the dry sand was staring up at my face,
the cool breeze had reduced to a non-existent pace
 hot gusts whistle past in menacing tunes,
unsettling the flawlessly arranged golden dunes...