Fix

The television is on.
Juices pump in your brain
as you play god,
blinking lives out of existence.
The perfect fix at the end of a hard day.

Blink.
Human tragedy stretched out on the widescreen -
the chattering fire of cameras and questions.
Loss battles the chance of being heard.
Blink.
The love of your life has gone out
for a commercial break but will be right back.
Don’t go anywhere.
Blink.
History is being made
as numbers jig across the screen
independent of the lives they belong to.
Blink.
Love and lust exchange meanings in the perfect unreality.
Guns and sex melt into each other so fluidly
that you are bored. You’ve seen it all before.
Blink.
The talented Mr.Chuck Norris
just snapped a guy’s neck
with his legs. So cool.
Blink.
howdoyoufeel?whatdoyouthink?whatareyougoingtodo?
he feels nothing but the weight of guilt
and the phantom corpse still cradled in his arms.
Blink.
Some stranger caught a UFO on camera.
He will no longer be laughed at. You will forget
the happiest moment of his life the next time you
blink.
Poverty. Disease. War. Disaster.
The world is going to end unless YOU change it.
Make a tax deductible donation TODAY to -
blink.
The eyes had been starved empty.
The light had faded out slowly
again and again and ag-
Blink.

Wish You Were Here

The world ebbs and flows
as time trickles
like sand between my toes.
Moments softly crushed underfoot.
Forgotten.

Wish you were here
to share this now
breathe the wind
and feel the noise.
Your skin glistens in the sun
like something beautiful.

The wind whips away
the unsaid words.
Hush. Just breathe. Live. Be.
Becoming can wait,
and so can tomorrow.
The fisherfolk are heading out to sea;
today, they cast their nets
for happiness.

Wish you were here
to steal this moment and
hide it away in the folds of memory.
It will shine through your smile
and in my eyes
and this moment will never be
crushed under the weight of time and
forgotten.

Her Name Was Happiness

Sunshine pours out her eyes
and loops ’round her feet.
Madness like a cur follows
at her heel – yapping and nipping
at the dirty rainbow -
stained with the laughter of an old friend -
trailing from her shoulders.
Its frayed edge unravels
leaving small puddles of memories.

Dreamless and lost.

She wanders the streets of the world,
looking into the eyes of strangers,
a bowl loudly clanging by her side -
empty but for a few smiles,
a left over piece of love.

A crow caws his hoarse song
and stars appear – like hand prints
across the faded wallpaper of the sky.
Her eyes dart about quickly -
no one is looking.
Her heavy hips sway and her blistered feet
move to the music only she can hear.
She dances softly into the twilight.

The Ice Cream Men

Dedicated to Deepika Vaishnavi. You know why

WARNING: Strangeness lies ahead!

In the labyrinth under the far away forest, cut off from the desire and dreams of humanity, lived the ice cream men. It was hard work, mining ice cream. You see, the ice cream was all swirled in together, golden butterscotch spiraled around the luscious strawberry and the dark chocolate circled glistening blackcurrant. In the darkness, the ice cream would glow with a soft light all its own. Starting an hour before dawn, the ice cream men would carve each flavour out, chiseling out the little gems of frozen fruit and chocolate chips with delicately designed pick axes. Just before packing the ice cream in the little plastic boxes, they would add the secret ingredient – a drop from the Tiny Vial of Happieness. At night, as they neatly stacked the boxes inside the portable freezers, they would dream of the smiles and the warmth that their ice cream would bring the other world.

The ice cream men were perfectionists. They worked inch by inch, their minds wrapped within the bubble of their art. They were so engrossed in it, that they did not notice that the layers of ice cream coating the walls of the labyrinth were getting thinner and thinner… and beneath the last layer of raspberry sorbet hidden away in the last dead end of the labyrinth, there was nothing but rock. So it was with astonishment that they woke up one day to find that there was no more ice cream to mine. They looked at each other and shuffled their feet. They had been mining ice cream together for as long as they could remember. This was their world. And all of a sudden, it had come to a screeching halt. It had run itself out.

“So, what do we do now?” one of them asked uneasily.

Their eyes met for a brief instant, and they looked away hurriedly. They never really had to look at each other while at work. It was all very awkward and strange.

“It’s a pity we have so much Happieness left,” the other said, fiddling with the vial in his hand.

There was a long pause.

The roof of the labyrinth started to reverberate and clouds of dust fell like choice seasoning on the ice cream men. They looked upwards. It was the pick up truck that came every month to collect the packed ice cream and deliver fresh plastic boxes. They looked at each other, weighing their options. Being locked up with nothing to do was too terrifying. And all that they remembered of the outside world was the beaten track by which the pick up truck would arrive, the dappled sunlight on the forest floor, and the moist southern breeze. Nostalgia combined with the lack of better options made them curious, maybe even excited. They told each other that they had always yearned to explore the outside world, except that there was so much work to be done, they had always been putting it off, and they had never quite gotten around to doing it. They convinced each other so well, they almost believed it.

So they braved the dark journey up the steep, narrow staircase. They used a rudimentary mining lift for shifting the ice cream to the outer world, but this was the kind of solemn occasion that needed the use of a crumbling, ancient staircase. The key turned in the lock and the door to a brave, new world opened to them. Sunlight streamed onto their triumphant and caked-with-dirt faces. They felt invincible.

They loaded up the last shipment of ice cream and clambered onto the back of the truck. All they took from the ice cream mine was the Tiny Vial of Happieness that was stored away in the only soft pocket without a hole. They bounced along on the back of the truck, through the forest, across the green country side, and over the rocky hills. They watched pink stain the blue, blue sky as the sun sank low over the horizon and saw the eagles spinning high at dawn. For the first time they saw the starlit sky. They sang. They laughed at each other’s songs. They lay on their backs and watched the universe spin around them. They did not need language, listening to music of the wind and the sound of steady breathing was enough.

At last, they reached the city on the other side of the hills. They stood in round-eyed awe of the gray structures towering into the watery winter sky. The smoke filled, honking mess of the urban jungle terrified them. They were moved by its discordant harmony. They were impressed that nature could let just a ghastly thing exist. They saw and smelt things that at once terrified and thrilled. The other world swirled around them, drifting in and out of focus with every curiosity seen, a snippet of conversation heard. They were carried along the streams of humanity flowing along the pavement and found themselves deposited in strange places. They were shoved, touched, fondled, hated, pitied, ignored. They saw a girl sitting with her head in her hands, and knew that she was sad. They offered her a drop of the Tiny Vial of Happieness, but she just screamed something they did not understand and walked away, brushing the tears from her eyes. This new world seemed to have no place for them. They wandered down the narrow alleys, hand in hand, listening to each other’s heartbeats.

They came upon a park with an ancient tree in the centre. The tree reminded them of home – a left over relic of some distant cousin of their previous life. They sat on the little bench under those ancient branches and watched the children play. Laughter rang through the park, and the ice cream men smiled. Just then, a colourful truck pulled up, and all the kids started to run in its direction with shrieks of joy. The ice-cream men wandered over to the truck apprehensively. The screaming children frightened them a little. Their nervousness gave way to a particular strain of idiotic happieness when they saw the colourful spheres balanced on the biscuit cones. Here was the reality of all those dreams they had on those long, tired nights when they would imagine the joy their meticulous work would bring the world. They smiled in a friendly way at the children. They even offered to add extra drop of from the Tiny Vial of Happieness to each of their cones.

A little girl screamed.

The ice cream men smiled even broader.

More children started screaming.

“FREAK!” someone screamed.

It became like a horrible screeching anthem “Freak! Freak! Freak!” they chanted.

Big, round eyes narrowed and filled with tears. The petite bodies became rigid with hatred. Their mouth gaped open with screams. But beneath the hatred of the unknown, there lurked another darker animal instinct. They drooled. They looked more like a herd of demons than a group of little children. It was the stuff of nightmares. The ice cream men turned and fled.

They collapsed in a dark alley, breathless. The sun was sinking, and grey clouds gathered on the horizon. The ice cream men looked around in the darkness. A small distance away, a young man and a young woman were wrapped around each other. The light of the dying sun caught in their eyes and sparkled. Its warmth played across their skin. Sweet smiles splayed across their faces and their limbs were entwined. They seemed more alive than anything else the world had seen. They kissed softly, they needed no words. The universe swirled around them, it existed only for them. They did not care, they had each other, they asked for nothing more. Time waited for them. They were immortal in that moment.

The ice cream men were filled with a desperate yearning. A slow drizzle peppered the earth. Their eyes met. They realized that they were lying in a tangle of limbs, sweat stained their bodies. They smelt the fragrance of home on each other – the dizzying scent of all the different flavours whirled in together. Their yearning to go back joined in a frenzied dance with desire and hunger. Their hearts raced. Wave upon wave of sensation broke inside their minds. With excruciating slowness they explored through their fingertips – their hands wandered over hair, face, limbs. The hunger inside them strained against its leash. They let it loose. They kissed. Their senses exploded. They ravenously explored each other – pushing deeper and deeper with their tongues. They licked noses, fingertips, eyelashes. They began to bite, playfully, it tasted quite nice. They tore out great chunks from each other. They slurped and drooled until there was very little left.

The rain came down hard.

The Tiny Vial of Happieness rolled along the gutter and into an open drain.

A dog lapped up the small puddle of ice cream that was left.

This new world of desire and dreams seemed to have no place for them.

Illusion

A glass of water
through which the vision bends -
a prism that swirls
light and perceptions
into another world
of magic and possibilities.
Fragments of reality
shatter across the tiled floor
as a careless elbow tips
the illusion over.

The Communication Lines Have Gone Down.

The communication lines have gone down.
They hang limp – cut and abandoned,
overgrown with the roots of ancestors
tangled in my hair. They had wrenched
the cables apart, snapped by the pressure
of hankering traditions and foolish dreams.
The ghosts of conversations collect
in little puddles, on the ground
between intention and reality.
Weeds of frustration grow,
as do coarse flowers of understanding
that lean towards each other
across the irrevocable distance.

Opening of the Nanowrimo Novel 2008

I have no idea if I’m going to finish this. But I just can’t keep myself from trying. Here it goes.

The stone walls of the old temple smudged out the stars that glittered through the finely woven fabric of night sky. The trees whispered to each other, remembering the beginning of the battle. Only the trees knew its beginning, and only they would be present for the end. The story would travel, from leaf to leaf, carried by the gossipy south wind. Then she would waft through open windows and into the dreams of a young writer… and then the story would become legend. But that, is a story for another time.

The sand whispered beneath her feet as she paced the invisible circle… she knew it was there, just as the rakshasa did. They were destined to keep chasing each other – hunter and hunted. The border between the two often becoming blurred, and the roles reversed. She looked into its fiery red eyes, and instinctively adjusted the rope wound around her arm. The rakshasa’s feet padded on the sand, ancient and solid; as though made of chunks of flesh from Earth herself. It growled, eyes flickering from the rope to her face. Gut knotted, heart pounding, eyes gleaming, she snarled. Her teeth gleamed like a lightning flash, charging the air with its intensity. She could feel the adrenaline rushing through her head, her body straining like a wild animal on a leash. She could hear the voices screaming in her head; urging her to escape when there was still a chance. They sounded like they were coming from across a distance – as though through a bad telephone line. Made it all the more easier to ignore them. A sudden cold wind blew, sending shivers down her taunt body. She took a deep breath… today will be the day it will end. She didn’t have the strength to keep fighting anymore. She pulled the rope taunt between her hands, and rushed towards the hulk of dark muscle towering in front of her. The rakshasa looked at her cocking its head to one side. It had a quizzical gleam in its eye.

“That’s not allowed,” it said quite matter-of-factly.

“Let’s finish this!” she said through her clenched teeth. She pulled the rope into a tight loop around its neck.

“No, really. You’re not allowed to actually kill me.”

She felt distinctly stupid. The rope fell limply onto the sand.

“Oh.”

This annoyed her. She did not like being made to feel stupid. The adrenaline was slowly fading from her mind, and the wind was getting a little too chilly. She made an attempt to pool together all that undirected rage.

“What’s the point in the whole battle thing then?”

Her voice sounded petulant even to her own ears.

“Battle ends when you actually confront me,” the demon said shrugging. It settled on a near by rock and made a small blue fire that hovered a foot above the fine beach sand. It waved a stout hand in a vague, inviting action towards the fire. “How do you know I’m real anyhow?” it added.

“Same way I know I’m real I guess.”

“Are you?”

The amused look in the demon’s eye annoyed her even more. Just when she was about to open her mouth and let the river of anger flow, a sudden thought struck her. She was arguing with a rakshasa she had been trying to strangle a few moments earlier. She definitely must be dreaming.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked.

“Depends on whether you are real enough to have dreams or not.” The rakshasa smiled, tending to the fire that was coughing out wispy gray smoke. She eyed demon and fire dubiously for a moment. It looked like a long night ahead, and she was showing no signs of waking up. May as well make herself comfortable. For the first time she looked at the landscape she was standing in the center off. An empty beach sprawled as far as the eye could see on both directions. The ocean aggressive invaded its pale shores over and over, only to be repulsed and fade back into the darkness. The moon sat upon the waves like a fat dowager, casting its pale, tired, light over the scene. The air was heavy with the smell of salt. An old temple stood a short distance away, half submerged in the high tide. She looked around curiously – no smell of fish, no crabs, no small insects, not even a hint of ever-prevalent garbage. This place was completely bare, as though life itself had suddenly decided to pick up its bags and abandon the place.

“So, where are we?” She said, humoring the figment of her imagination. She had never had a conversation with this creature from a nightmare before and she figured it would make excellent time pass till she finally woke up.

The rakshasa looked around and shrugged, “on a beach with a temple.” It fished out a lump of some vile looking substance from under its amour and began roasting it over the fire. ”One of those places that refuse to be named.”

She took a few tentative steps towards the fire while working out the correct words in her head. “I know I’m dreaming. You’ve been appearing in my nightmares since I was a kid. So we’re obviously somewhere inside my head. And if you are inside my mind, then how could you be real?” she asked.

The demon looked up from its slurping for a moment. It looked like it was going to contradict her, then stopped itself. “There are more ways of understanding reality than just one,” it said, taking a bite out of the lump. “And maybe more than just one reality.” A dark liquid oozed out and dribbled down the demon’s chin. A long red tongued licked up the truant droplets. ”Enough questions,” it added, in between gulps.

“But you said rules. What rules?”

The rakshasa held up a hand, silencing her.

She plowed on, determined to fish out the answers. “If this is inside my mind, why is someone else making the rules?”

The rakshasa slowly rose to its feet. “Do you know what this is?” it asked holding up the lump. She shook her head mutely. Her stomach started squirming as an idea crept within her head. The demon watched her expression change with an amused smile. “Yes,” it said, seeing the horror on her face. The stench made her eyes blur, and her knees buckled beneath her.

“It is a heart,” the demon said simply. The half eaten mass was still beating weakly against the coarse walls of the huge palm. “Pity that it should have so much bitterness in it,” the demon said as it tilted its head back, and slipped the rest down the cavernous mouth. The chiseled teeth stained brown in the faint light of the moon.

“I am a demon little one, and you would do well to listen to me. There are things in the universe that are far more powerful than your puny mind. This is my home. We are not inside your mind, it is you who is trespassing.”

She looked into its eyes, and did not see the old furnace, but the worst of herself – her hatred, regrets, phobias, rage, evil, frustration, bitterness, all amplified a thousand times over. She could feel her mind pushing against the edges of her skull, revolting at the sight of how disgusting she was. The stench was crawling up her nose, invading her throat, forcing her stomach to retch. Her eyes blurred with tears.

“Please…” she gasped.

She sank to her knees and rolled herself into a tight ball, cradling her head. She rocked herself backwards and forwards, muttering gibberish. The rakshasa stood over her a moment with a curious expression in its eyes. The demon’s hand twitched – the only sign that it was unsure about what to do. Dropping a soft blanket of silence over her, it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

********************************

Shakti woke up, uncurling herself from the tangle of sheets. She looked at the alarm clock. She groaned. Today was jut going to be one of those days. She looked at the hard bound book resting near her pillow and idly picked it up. She flipped it open to the first page – it had ‘DREAM JOURNAL’ written in a fancy cursive font. And underneath, in smaller, more practical letters was written ‘vol 4 sept 2008 – ‘ Shakti stared stupidly at the page for a moment before picking up one of the reynolds black ball pens that littered her bed. Deliberately she scored out the ‘DREAM’ and scribbled ‘Alternate Reality’. Then she made a silent wish that no one would ever look inside the book. But then everyone thought she was crazy anyway, so it wasn’t that big a deal.

White Aeroplane

The white aeroplane
like a little fish
flits between the clouds
of the afternoon sky.
It tows the dream
of the person I could be
behind it
leaving streaks of
ambition
future
hope
across the landscape.

Behind a cloud
beyond the reach of my eye
out of my mind.

I try to smell the burnt
broken frame
of the little fish body, thrashing,
choking on the terrible flames.
The dreams make a bright blue bonfire
in the darkness
inside my mind.

But the plane just fades into blue-ness.

The clouds sail by
as though nothing happened.
They would always be changing,
always moving,
even if nothing else does.

A crow flaps his wings
and caws hoarsely.
He would never steal
a dream from me.

Space

Time shuffled his wrinkled feet across the cold floor. They made the sound of fine sand rushing through glass endlessly.

“Do you always have to be so far away?” he asked squinting against the blank white expanse, looking very much like a peeved old man.

“Very well,” said a voice, and instantly Time found himself staring into his own lined face reflected on a gleaming white wall. He met Space’s deep eyes in the reflection, and the walls instantly disappeared. Instead they now stood in the middle of darkness – the cosmos spread like a carpet beneath their feet.

“So, how long till we begin?” she asked lounging on a conveniently placed galaxy. Her black cloak flowed into the Universe and wove itself into its fabric.

“As long as we please,” answered Time. He plonked himself down on a bouncy black hole. It sagged a bit under the weight.“I still don’t see what’s so special about this planet No. -” Time swept a small hard bound book from the depths of his robes with a dramatic flourish. Space glanced at the title which Time waved rather obviously under her nose – “Quick Reference Guide to All Celestial Bodies – Was, Is and Ever Will Be.” and was suddenly seized by the desire to study her nails. Time flipped through the pages, equally unconcerned.

“Oh alright,” Space said in exasperation, knowing that she will never be able to beat Time in a game of waiting. He would just keep flipping those pages till the Universe destroyed and re-built itself in infinite number of cycles – and even then he would be there, casually thumbing through the pages of his book, studying the fine print at the bottom of the introduction.

“That’s the book you wrote, isn’t it?” she condescended, finally.

Time looked up, thrilled. He nodded vigorously with a with a grin on his face, “It even has a cross reference index with -”

“Hello.”

Space smiled at the form gently pulsing with light that now stood before them.

“Missed me?” asked Energy, placing a light, burning kiss on Space’s forehead. The stars in her eyes gleamed brighter. For a moment they seemed entwined, absorbing hungrily, morphing into each other.

Time cleared his throat noisily. “This planet -”

Instantly Space and Energy sat apart, apparently in rapt attention.

Time continued, ignoring them. “This planet,” he consulted his book again, “code named EARTH – I don’t see what’s so special about it that we have to individually cater to it. Why can’t it be like everything else and go through with its own cycle?”

“One of the Powers that Be was a bit bored and wanted a bit of a fireworks show I expect. And most probably we were the only Great Family free – “ said Space her voice abruptly erupting into a high pitched giggle.

“And due to our small number we must have been the easiest to assemble,” Energy added with an expression of studied innocence as Space broke out into another fit of giggles.

Time scowled at the two of them and snapped the book shut. He rose with the creaking sound of infinite ponderous clocks, looked at a distant blue twinkle, and with the inevitability of death, said, – “Let us begin.”

Conversation

“What are you doing?”

“Reading over your shoulder.”

“I can see that. What I mean is, what are you doing?

“Oh. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“What memo?”

“Ah well, I’ll paraphrase it for you: Dear Author, I quit. Signed, Protagonist.”

“You cannot quit!”

“I just did.”

“But you’re supposed to be in the middle of a brawl!”

“As much fun as I was having with Baldy, I am here instead.”

“No compulsion to single handedly take down the entire gang of ruthless killers to rescue your one true love?”

“None.”

“You can have a nice joyful reunion when you’re done. Maybe some steamy sex… ”

“Not interested.”

“Why not? She’s hot, she’s brunette, what more do you want?”

“A little more upstairs would be nice.”

“Oh. That can be easily rectified, I’ll just add a couple more inches-”

“I meant higher upstairs.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll fix it up for you. I’ll throw in a brainy librarian as a love interest, hm? What do you say? Just get back into the story, pretty please?”

“To tell the truth, I find this side of the page much more intriguing. You’ve got any alcohol in this hole?”

“In the fridge. Door to the left. I know! I’ll make you go back! I’ll just write here that -”

“’He took a swig of cold beer, and smiled as the golden liquid -’”

“What the hell?”

“There’s nothing you can do. New Union rules.”

“Fine! Just fine! Have it your way.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Getting someone new to take your place, that’s what!”

“No… That’s just me with a different name. Doesn’t change things one bit. Except that I’m … I’m… that name doesn’t have any vowels in it! ”

“Oh. Alright, then! If you want someone totally different, I’ll give you someone totally different!”

“Suh-weet!”

“It made a funny sound!”

“The It is your replacement!”

“Hey baby. Hw u doin’?”

“It talks funny as well!”

“Gah! What’s he doing?”

“Hitting on a blond at the bar, I think. She looked very friendly. Look! Look! It’s trying to talk again!”

“Gurl, u must b tired coz u’ve been runnin thru my head all day.”

“No, no, no, no, NO! This is all wrong!”

“Haha! This is the best – Erm, are you okay? You like you’re going to – Good God, don’t start blubbering! Alright, alright. Let’s see how we can fix this.Yo new guy! You’re doing it all wrong!”

“Ur eyes – ur eyes r lik spanners coz dey make my nuts go – wait whut?”

“Yeah, you! You’re supposed to be in a fight right now!”

“I m? I’m sorry man, dis is my 1st day, so m a bit confused…”

“Throw a couple of punches at the bald guy!”

“Who, dat dude? Dat bastard is HUGE!”

“Don’t be such wimp and just do it!”

“But I –”

“DO IT!”

“Alright, alright. Here goes… ARGH! dat hrt!”

“Jesus! Where do you new heroes even come from? Just push over, will you? I’m taking my show back!

“Whts happenin? U can’t thro me out… I just got hre! Dis ws my first job… noooo…..”

“There we go. Hey baldy, I’m back!”

“Thanks.”

“You owe me one.”

“Look who just walked through the door.”

“Red head, long legs, and is that James Joycee’s ‘Ulysses’? Nice! An Aston Martin, and we’ll call it even!”

“We’ll see in the next chapter.”