Little Bird

I was kissed by the petals of Spring
When a chill stole away its warmth
I had learnt to leap into sunlight
When I learnt I had grief unfulfilled
So beloved was I of sorrow
And sorrow most beloved of mine
That it spared me not from its shadow
As I was slowly spreading my wings,
It let me soar up into the bright sky
But only when it was night
Speaking gently to the starlight
Whispering with the moon's wan light
I could delight in the bejewelled wonders
Until I rose and flew too far
Upon which grief would call unto me
Reminding me of tears I had left to cry,
The oceans would weep with me
If the waters weren't reigned in by pride
Candid tears would flow most freely
If only they were mine to shed
I could only watch while others wept
And had sorrow flow out of their way
While grief accrued within my heart
Darkening my light and all that I see,
Yet I wonder if I'd know and still
Believe I am loved by Spring
For the joy of life and the urge to live
Have imbued my spirits with a fiery zeal
I wonder now if it is alright
To grieve and still know how to smile
To love what is gone yet let it go
And strive for those dizzying heights,
I would like to live in spite of death
For all the love given to me
Respect my grief but not be enslaved
And instead set myself free
The stars are mine to sing to with fire
And caress with my wingtips
The free little bird must awaken again
And return Spring's sweet kiss.

Lost Goodbye

Anya watched as she saw her grandfather being carried away in a stretcher, and she wondered if she would ever see him again. She also wondered if she would miss him if he weren’t to return.

Anya had been crying herself to sleep when she was stirred awake by the sounds. There was a lot of movement in the house. All the grown-ups had the same look on their faces — they looked worried and looked like they were trying to hide it. She had heard about widows, and had heard people talk sympathetically about them. Her six year old mind could not understand what all the fuss was about. She certainly never wanted to be one. But today, she wondered whether she would find her grandmother draped in white sooner than she’d thought.

Her grandfather had grunted feebly while being helped into the stretcher. He had also been strapped, so that he didn’t fall off, her father said. Still, the constraints disturbed Anya and she wondered again whether they would make her grandfather not wish to return.

She wanted to get back to sleep, get back to the time when she pulled her teddy-bears by their ears and dragged them across the floor. And she certainly did not like the grim, quiet pallor that had descended upon everyone’s faces. Within all the commotion, she knew, and she was okay with her grandfather not coming back. She had decided that she wouldn’t miss him after all, especially since he never stopped her grandmother from kicking the baby in a fit of rage or sending a plateful of food flying to the floor in a hasty tantrum. Such men were not to be depended upon, she thought.

Anya wanted to slip away quietly without anyone noticing. But she didn’t notice the old French window left wide open beside her. With one small footstep towards her left, she tumbled, and never returned.

Leafy Sprinkle

For some reason I was in a pretty creative mood today. Of course, it is quite likely that Internals and the need to study for them is the real reason behind that. I've noticed that I feel the greatest urge to write, sing or even draw during exams. I wrote today after ages... something too personal for the blog. However, there is this bit of digital art I made later in the evening.


It is 600 x 600 pixels and completely digital, with practically no stock picture, made using Photoshop, which I hardly know anything of. All said and done I think it would make a neat CD label. Feedback is welcome. :)

LA-isms

The visiting lecturer who takes Physics with my class this semester has absolutely no idea that she is teaching a class full of perverts, especially a majority of perverted girls. (RD, sitting to my left today, actually exclaimed, albeit to herself and me, “Ma’am, we are perverts!”) Neither does she realize what she says at certain points of times. Today’s class itself resulted in my frantic note taking, which should be read as frantic quote taking as the Ladies of the Last Row laughed themselves silly over all that was spoken. Suffice to say, I did not learn much Physics today.

12:26 p.m.
LA: (to the class) If you mumble like a penguin no one will hear you.
{This was accompanied by significant hand gestures reminiscent of the times when, as kindergarteners, I was taught the greater than and less than signs.}

1:10 p.m.
LA: Ummmnh? What will I cover? When will I cover?
{I refuse to cite the reference and spoil the effect the above has on pervy minds.}

1:15 p.m.
LA: When I am giving you a flavour of everything, I am not asking you to cook it, I am asking you to taste it... Don’t worry it is very interesting.
{The above clause applies here as well xP.}

1:25 p.m.
Class: (owing to very faint scribbles on the whiteboard) Ma’am, we can’t see.
LA: (very earnestly) Imagine.

1:45 p.m.
LA: How many of you have microwaves at home? Ok. When you use a microwave, what have you experienced?
Class: (highly amused at the coincidence of what is on display) Ma’am, the projector is overheating. It will burst.
{At this point, the entire class has broken into mad fits of giggly laughter.}

1:50 p.m.
LA: So you know that the brain, it comes till here (*points with both hands at some place in her head*) maybe till our eyes… it extends beyond the nose…
{The class is dying of laughter now.}
LA: How many of you have been X-rayed?

xD

Reflected Glow

I awoke to a dream of fireworks. Resplendent colours flashed across the sky and their patterns, reflected by the still waters of the lake cast many spells on my widening eyes. I had been flying again. Yet, all the vast stretches that I traversed, from the greens forgotten by man to cobwebbed shelves left dusty in the dark for all their loneliness, did not appeal much to my tears.

I had been following the lights. They seemed elusive at first, almost shy, but when one bright ball of assembled sparks shot up into the night it was only a visual symphony waiting to unfold. The colours assembled themselves and twirled lyrically to the sky’s delight. And mine. They zoomed towards the horizon, teased the waters to smile radiantly and mesmerized two small, dark orbs which seemed so much duller in contrast.

Since when had the night been dark enough to present the perfect stage? Since when had moonlight been dimmed in defeat to brighter bursts? No sounds emerged from the thicket nearby. Not a whisper from the wind, no rustling of tired leaves. The ground was set for the dazzling hues to set the night on fire.

And I watched to my heart’s content and flew along as I could. But the kaleidoscope always seemed just a heartbeat away. I could follow all I wanted, but I’d never be one with the lights. The closest I came to blending with the colours was when I left a kiss that rippled into the lake mirroring that glorious glow. The lights fled, however, as dawn approached, leaving a yearning soul dissatisfied, looking achingly towards east. That was as far as a mirror would go.