Petrichor

Tags

birds, chime, contentment, dry spell, earthly desires, glorious sight, monsoon, musty smell of earth, petrichor, rain, respite, soul, trees, wind, window panes

PC: Pinterest

One word prompt: Petrichor

The curtains flailed wildly, its rings clanking against the rod, a chime of sorts. The door creaked, albeit faintly, as it swayed to the rhythm of the wind. I woke up to the sound of first drops pelting the ceiling, turning stronger by the minute. Window panes streamed with water as the sky thundered with all its might. After weeks of dry spell, scorching sun parching throats and glazing skin with sweat, this unseasonal rain was a welcomed respite. Moreover, the aesthetics of rains have always soothed me and I’ve fond memories of every monsoon.

The billowing trees and blossoming buds glistened, as though they’d been painted afresh. Like me the nature too rejoiced as little birds chirped gaily and flitted from tree to tree. Cool breeze whisked my hair and droplets grazed my feet, as I stood still immersed in the glorious sight, inhaling the musty smell of wet earth. I closed my eyes and a mere blankness engulfed my mind, enclosing me in a sanctum of pure contentment. Momentarily the banal earthly desires vanished, replaced by a higher level of awareness.

As the rain cleansed the earth, petrichor cleansed my soul.

 

Contemplate

Tags

awake, contemplate, error in judgement, sugar coated lies, true colours, turn of events

One word prompt: Contemplate 

I toss and turn in agitation. I inhale and exhale, desperate to calm my queasiness and this growing sense of despair but sleep evades me and I’m unable to think straight, drowning in the cacophony of my own frazzled thoughts. I lie on my bed, wide awake at this ungodly hour, contemplating the reason for your presence in my life or the lack of it now. How had I not anticipated this turn of events? I should’ve known better than to confide in a man who hardly could be called his own. When I first laid my eyes on you, I was truly infatuated and the alarm bells at the back of my head were pushed further by the sound of your silken voice. Looking back with new eyes, ones that aren’t smitten by your forced chivalry anymore, I see your true colours. I repent believing those sugar-coated half-truths and I cringe at the thought of your touch. It is between these tousled sheets that my sensibilities waned and it is where I now lie alone, morosely contemplating the error in judgement.

Intrigue

Tags

courtship, intrigue, old couple, old-school, pure love, sharing silence

One word prompt: Intrigue

They looked a decade short of a century and not surprisingly quite at ease, perched on the sea-facing boulevard with frail fingers lightly entwined, watching passersby, sharing silences and styrofoam cups of coffee. I remember watching intently in order to decipher the sweet nothings they might have whispered to each other but for the next half an hour they sat still, satisfied in their devoted, wordless companionship, unaware of my gaze. Occasionally he would steal glances, sigh contently and trace circles on her wrinkled skin. This kind of courtship has never ceased to pique my interest. What intrigues me is the course of such relations and how sometimes love truly conquers years of conflict and the ever-growing susceptibility to resentment. Familiarity may breed contempt but clearly not for this greying couple that I visually intruded upon. Lost in thought, contemplating their unavowed love and the contrasting nature of relationships today, I see them retreating, their small drooping silhouette fading in the crowd.

Compromise

Tags

compromise, mother, sacrifice, survivor

After penning poems for so long I wanted to try my hand at something exciting and challenging, so I started asking people to give me ONE word around which I could randomly scribble my musings. I’ve never written short pieces and so this is the beginning of something new. :)

One word prompt: Compromise 

She called herself a survivor because victims are hopeless beings who lose the will to fight and live in the confines of a miserable existence. Survivors accept they’ve been wronged but continue to display exemplary courage in the face of overwhelming odds against them rather than resorting to willful obedience to fate. Accepting a child born out of compulsion, whose inception was not a result of love but sheer dominance and oppression, is a feat many choose to ignore.

She called herself literate because even though she couldn’t read the signboards or write her address, she learnt to write her name, a requisite for school forms.

She had dreamt of opening a tailor shop, a skill which didn’t need education for validation, and employing women like her to lend a hand. Rebuked and ostracized by family and society alike and deprived of any financial assistance she resorted to selling her own body to feed two mouths.

She compromised on her self taught ethics and morals but most of all she compromised on her fragile self esteem.

She compromised on her sleep, her health by traversing on foot from house to house in the blazing sun, cleaning dirty laundry in the morning, saving the bus fare for the humble fortnightly treat, all  for a child whose half DNA was as tainted as the khadi-clad rogues she serviced at night.

She compromised for the entirety of her life for someone whose mere presence was unwanted by the world. No one could fathom the reason. It is only when she was on her deathbed, breathing her last breaths did she confess that refusing to mother this child would’ve amounted to sacrilege and that all her sacrifice and compromises were worth the suffering. You can’t choose your fate but you can choose to be a victim or a survivor.