Sub rosa…..

Just a gentle tap
On my misty window pane,
I shall not fail
In my attendance,
Neither too early nor too late,
My numero uno.



Maybe we should give our beds
A little rest,
They tire of our laidback attitude,
The land that nests
Between the ears
Should not be desolate.

These Golden Days……

I trudged on with my weathered face as

The sun looked defiantly at me and

Watched beads of heavy sweat journey down my chest,

This has to be the hottest of days,

For I think I’ve gone a shade darker.

It was terrifyingly hot today and sadly, the beginning of heated days.



She glared at her reflection in the mirror, and felt acquainted with it because just like the mirror, she was cracked and over the years had learned to hide that crack and exude a personality that was, as often described by her many, many associates to be ‘cold, dark and queer.’ Life for Revaya was distasteful and toxic, an endless ride that makes you nauseous. This being her belief, created in her an awakening, gave her a substitute for the life that she could not relish in her depressing reality. She spent an awful amount of time taking long walks in her head,engaging in secret reveries, building her kingdoms and casting roles for her characters to play and over time, through careful practice, did not need to think hard or induce a state of tranquility to conjure them. She was not a visitor anymore,but a necessary part of their existence….. All were borne from anger, sadness and hatred for the picture perfect Allen Family and resentment for their putrid lives behind closed doors. I suppose she had to be grateful at least,for their benevolence in welcoming her into their home. But she knew, just by gazing into the brown deceitful eyes of Mrs Frauline Allen, that she did not come bearing gifts. Of course, this was not clearly expressed, merely implied by certain acts of ‘kindness’.

Started this recently, and it’s already showing signs of the flu, might as well enjoy it while it lasts.


We met on the bleakest of days, in a world we crochetted together. We paved our path with wilted flowers, an unwavering broken bridge and a grotesque door with rusty  handles. You could not come at a better time and I fretted when you hid your identity. You took me on a crazy whirlwind to places unseen, dreams too far to grasp in my hideous reality-Cloudy days, heavy skies, horses and carriages, fancy dresses and tall castles in the air. For every overwhelming emotion,came great ecstasy, Every burden, a lightness of heart. We have never been perfect, but together you called us ‘just right’ and when we finally met, it was like gazing at the sun but not being forced to squint.  I beheld you in all your grandeur and hilarious weirdness, like how you love the colour ‘brown’ and will never settle for anything less than suede, your electric fingers always aching for some oddball activity and the stories you tell of love and war and humanity’s flaws.
Yes, I am  bit of a handful and my laziness surprises me sometimes, my heart may stray and my ideas become stale, but I will plead and grovel ,chase you through our realms until I am graced with your forgiveness for my constant bickering and abandonment.….and all that sputtered, coughed and died return.
To Jasper,
My muse.
(We’ll meet at the Yellow walls).

P.S: Don’t wear a necktie, I loathe formal togs.