dracula2504

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Forbidden

I lit a candleFlickering flameLong shadows on her faceShe stared unblinkinglyAt me through the hazeHer eyes, afraid.Her fingers restedOn the intercoastalOf my ribcageAs we lay side by sideBy the lakeShe drew me closeMy heartbeatsMatched the upbeatCicada songTouched my faceFor a little too longWe embraceShame shame shameThe bells tolled in my headHugged herTighter insteadLove at first sightHeart��

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Winter Melancholy

A western disturbanceAn unexpected winter rainOn my green HimalayasPerception foggyWinter melancholyPregnant grey cloudsDescended uponMy sunshine soul A pill a day, they saidDo medicines work?Once you are awareThey are mere placeboStriving to manifestA SunTo illuminateMy miserable soul A metronome ticksI spiralPulled downInto the darkUnknown depthsOf a calmBlack seaMy numb soul A floating tree…

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Between Silences

Words are mere mediumShe communicated in The silences between themThe pauses, the relaxed exhalingEyes rolling in disagreementBut blinking to acknowledge You from across the room Her silence stood guardA mighty wallNone knewWhat lay on the other sideAn impenetrable fortressStood dark againstThe twilight sky. Enamored, I stood at its gates For a long time, they sayTime passed slowly and then…

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Seasons of Life

Location: Rohini Guest House, ARIES, Nainital, IndiaShot on: Samsung Galaxy M31 64 MP QuadCam

My mind is a sunny meadowRolling down the lush green slopesThoughts, the first bloom of springThe freshly melted ice, my emotionsPicking berries from the bushesSweet and sour memories,Popping on my tongue.

Crack! A lightning flashMy tree of hope now burningAlit by the flames of desireIt rages across…

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Aamis

A piece of you,A piece of me,We exchange.Marinated and cured,Sometimes smoked,On other times charred.We’ve cooked it,Slowly,The insides blushing pink,The seasoning,Crackling and sizzling,As the rotisserie,Twists around.Layer upon layer,As I slice through,I see a little bit of me,In you.Captivating all five senses,A forbidden pleasure,A piquant treasure,I consume it,It consumes me. ©️Darshana…

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The Winterline

ARIES, Manora Peak, Nainital, Uttarakhand, India Lines bound, restrict, fence,A border, an edge,A Purnviraam, to enclose. And yet as the clouds descended,Blanketing the plains,In a somber white veil,I felt an infinite oneness,Transcending my soul. The red Sun merged,With the rolling clouds,Spreading its fiery wings,The pale blue sky,Lit up in wonder,And so formed,The winterline. – Darshana…

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Blowing Dandelions

Picking up fallen rhododendrons,Blowing dandelions,She pranced down the grassy slopes,Chasing the melodies of the bulbul.She plucked a cherry blossom,Cupped it delicately in her hands,Tucked it in my braids,Hair which she had lovingly washed,Disentangled and plaited last night. We went down to the cliffs,To get a better view,She, of the sunset,And me, of the rays,As they glinted off her eyes,Her…

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The Saree

It was a windy day in November, There was a power cut, I went upto the chhat, And lay there under my, Ma’s colorful sarees, Billowing in the window, With each attempt, Trying to escape the hold, Of the clothes’ pegs.

With every gush of wind, The green saree, Screamed to be let out, And when the wind left, The saree tempered down, And lovingly caressed, My face in return, Just like Ma.

Just like Ma, I…

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Of Death

On the banks of the Holy Ganges, Rishikesh, India

Of Death Do we contemplate Sanctimonious souls Do pontificate But in death We stand apostate

Of Death Do we construe Unbeknownst we are About what’s false And what’s true Discern, can you?

Of Death Do we ponder What’s left with us Once our soul departs What lies yonder Anticipated, have you?

Of Death Murakami once said Not antithetical of life But…

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स्त्री (strī)

One Two Three Four Don’t ask for more

Five Six Seven Eight Don’t go out so late

Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Completely cover your self

Thirteen Don’t talk to boys Fourteen Don’t look them in the eye Fifteen Don’t wear lipstick Sixteen Don’t wear those jeans

Seventeen Eighteen For marriage aren’t you keen? Nineteen Twenty Can you make a round roti? Thirty How many kids do you have? Forty You still can’t…

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2020

The roads lay bare The glass buildings stared At each other’s reflections The air lay still Waiting for the mighty train To whisk it away To lands unknown. The empty streets Whispered to each other Bidding their time Till the noises resume, Only, they still haven’t.

There was light But not bright enough There was darkness But not impregnable enough

Yes, We stood nonplussed Yes, Uncertainty surrounded us Yes,

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物の哀れ (Mono no aware)

Harr ki Pauri, Uttarakhand, India

How quickly do, The years pass by, Once a stranger, Is now a name, You swear by, From a stream, To a river, And now, the sea, Melting into the ocean, The reality today, Was once, Just a vision.

© Darshana Mehta

Note: Often considered to be untranslatable, mono no aware refers to the bittersweet realization of the ephemeral nature of all things. It is the awareness…

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Stars

At Kanyakumari, the southernmost tip of India

Stars above her, Stars in her hands, That’s how I remember, Watching her, holding her, Probably for the last time, Her skin glowing softly, Against the black sea, Against the black night.

“Mama! Look! “, she bubbled, Or that’s what I presumed, She might have done, If only her tiny hands, Still had their strength, Instead they just lay, Unmoving, as the waves,

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Boom, Boom, Ciao!

What is it about love stories, that demands incompleteness? How can two lovestruck entities, who were an explosion of passion, a whirlwind of emotions, stay together for long? As Palermo from La Casa de Papel, rightly stated, Boom, Boom and then Cíao. True love doesn’t last forever. Asking for more, and being cupidinous will only lead to disillusionment, disenchantment, and alas disappointment.

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नैकष्ट (naikashta)

Shrivardhan Ballekila, Rajmachi Fort trek, Lonavala, India

The sky A myriad blend of colors A thorny path strewn With dead flowers You stand at its end  At the gates of paradise Want to reach out but Am wary of cowardice Questions float in my head Answers to which I’m unable to realize Should I bloody my feet? Bloody my heart? Or bloody your back, instead?

©Darshana Mehta

PS: नैकष्ट (naikashta) means…

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Winter is Coming

Tungnath Trek, Uttarakhand, India (January 2018)

How many days of youth left, When exactly do you become old, When the sun reflects, Off your wrinkles, off your skin, Which once used to glow. Dreams of flying, fluttered, In your infantile eyes, Now your bones creak, And you know, Words don’t, actions speak, So you sit, and count, How many days of this youth left, How many days of this summer, Till when…

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प्रमाथ (pramātha)

It wasn’t dark yet Just four in the noon.

I wasn’t going to a night club I just wanted to reach home

My dress wasn’t short or revealing It was a salwar-kameez, with a dupatta

I wasn’t being chatty, wasn’t being bold But I couldn’t resist screaming, under his hold

I wasn’t even a woman yet I was just eleven years old.

© Darshana Mehta

Note: प्रमाथ (pramātha) means rape or molestation in Sanskrit.