Meedhu Miriyam

The untitled

I screamed as hard as i could

more than those she gave

against the cold stares of my father

who for once had not looked at me

for i was born unplanned

a burden to his now ruined dreams

a huddle to his goals that remain to be achieved

Yet i was there , staring hard into the man

who lend a part to breath life into me.


Then came summer, winter and many a monsoons-

during which i flew many a paper boats

with no sailor by my side to direct the mast

I watched the thunderous bolt of lighting

flash so bright in the sky

but what screamed in my ears were

sounds more sharp and piercing

hearts that had turned cold

colder than this rainy night.


Glasses shattered, curtains tore apart,

screams echoed through the night

and i watched my doll clap its hands

in unison with their snarls

" look" i wanted to say

"look mother how it claps", saying thus

i had run to her.


i could feel only a throbbing pain,

and then a numbness as

jets of gore flowed down my neck

a red river where i would have sailed my boats

had i been freed of my hands

that were strongly held back.


As i looked into the bewildered face of my mother

in his arms my father laid me gently

trying in desperate measure

to stop the blood river,

taking out the broken glass piece

-remains of a framed wedding picture-

that had gored into my head

as i was pushed away amidst the fury

that lay broken by the side.


There were no more snarls,

just whispers taking turns

tears being wiped at each other's end

bodies yearning for a soothing touch.

i watched the storm calm down,

the sails up and steady ,

before i fell into peaceful snores in their arms.


At one click they waved at me

from behind the glass

hard as i may try

they remained locked

inside the walls of a com-pu-ter,

grandparents they are ,my father had taught

days after days i saw them

sending flying kisses to me

and laughing with me

which i dearly missed at home

i learnt they were -

patient with my frequent questions,

encouraging my little efforts

and eager to my visits,

which i was afarid to make

even when i yearned for it

for i never wanted to go into that box

i believed so long it to be their home.

Letting my fears rest i had

for once ventured to reach them

Hardly had i reached out my hands

the screen flahed at once

" connection lost", it said.


If loses were to count

the red balloon and the boy-

standing near my window

at times by the door

crosses my mind like a flashing dream.


Deep breaths he used to take

before he blowed the balloons

while holding my breath i watched

it grow larger and larger

become the same red colour

like my mothers cheeks

when she fumed with anger

i hated balloons for the boy

or boy for the ballons--i cannot decide upon

but never did i see him again

after his mother had all at once

stopped coming to kitchen

there were screams from my mother

footsteps of my father in opposite direction

and the ballon bursting

in a split second i had

realised i was loosing him too.


i had enough of the blue car and the black horse

the bending train and the speeding plane

they never replied to me, not even once

i was not alone but lonely

only they who could talk, never did

waiting outside was a world

that had more to offer

perhaps into the darkness it would pull me

then uncertainly return me into light

i would see them-

the boy and the baloon waving in unsion

Grandparents eager to hold me in their arms

no screams would echo and no snarls would erupt

they ,instead held arm in arm

calling out to me, I knew.


I looked back to find

arms raised against each other

Three steps forward -that is what it would take

to reach the welcoming wind

Three steps backward-to the raised arms

My body thrust forward

The screams distancing itself

The balloon extending an arm

And I took them-

the bending train and the speeding flight

trailing behind me.