The Last Page of Her Diary

Does everyone become conscious a day how dim-witted they are? Can’t tell about others but I was as stupid as a box of rocks.

Diary, you’re the only one who has read all the chapters of my existence. Today, before I turn off the light, and embrace the creepy hours of darkness unconsciously… I want to open my clothes one by one and bare my heart to you.

I knew I have a bloodcurdling sixth sense that often becomes an annoyance for me. But, I couldn’t realize it will cost me the most valuable possession of my life a day.

Have you ever noticed the conclusion of an oil lamp? The more the oil reduce, darkness crawls forward… slowly… but gradually! There was a time when I couldn’t visualize such a dismal end of my life. But today, standing on this juncture, the eagerness of a dying lamp has gone astray! It is not a bitter end; I’m just going to start a new life without Rahul!

After all, a bitch has all the rights to begin a new-fangled life… and this time without repeating the misapprehensions! I was wrong about him, there was no love for me… he was only drooling for my bare body! I never realized my life was destined to be a sex toy! Wish I could go to downstairs, take out the petrol from Sam’s car, pour it on my body and blaze the dimmed flame of the dying lamp…one last time! But, like many other lamps in this world of creeping darkness… I’m frail, as weak as the dying flame of a ravished lamp.

I was traumatized to discover that everything he told me was fake… in these 6 years of our relationship he was only fascinated with my body.

It’s already six years and he already knows my body inch by inch, how long will he pretend so hard to show off his loyalty towards me? He was apologetic but I relieved him of such a stress. He jumped off his bed and threw a blanket on that girl to cover his greed and said he will clarify the whole thing… but I didn’t want any explanations!

This is not going to be another of those nagging breakups where the girl ends up blaming the guy and lives as a symbol of virtue for the rest of her life. It’s almost 11:10pm at night… in an hour or two everything will be hunkered down for the long bleak darkness. The end of an oil lamp always becomes red… look it’s red all around me body… my ravished body… floating on my tainted blood! Waiting for the fondle touch of growing shadows…

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The Goddess From My Eyes

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Hover Through the Fog and Filthy Air

“What exactly are you going to do with your skills?” – They ask every time I draw something new.

I look like a baffled last boy of the class when the teacher has asked an easy question from the Chemistry book. It’s a chemistry of life and I’m exceedingly bad as a chemist!

Somewhere deep within a dark sphere of my bewildered soul someone cries out “skill? What skill are you talking about?” I don’t have any skill. I didn’t even know the existence of such a skill inside me! I breathe only because I can’t live without oxygen. I draw… only because I can’t survive without it.

Every night I hear the voice of a weary painter… desperately looking for an oxygen mask and a canvas in front. I don’t know how to open the clogged windows of my room and let the birds come in. I’m all alone and ensnared in a world of pale turpentine and unfinished canvases.

My feeble hand holds the color palette in an utter perplexity… still can’t choose the right color of life. My cartoon character… Bighead asks me every so often “What exactly are you going to do with me you fool?” I could have… but I can’t wipe away his dialogue balloon. I can’t do anything except painting!

And every single day those frantic molecules continue asking –

“What exactly are you going to do with your skills?”