Forgotten Forevers

If only truths were spoken,
I can say forevers can be counted,
On the tiny fingers of love
Born a few years ago,
On the walls painted red,
Every year on the same date.

But love has grown up now.
The red walls have been repainted,
This time, on another date,
Only to be repeated year after year,
One false forever after another.

And truths, these days, are spoken
The same way promises are made,
With gritted teeth and crossed fingers.

At the end of the day,
All smiles seem fake,
The fake forevers remain
To be counted upon the stars,
One after the other,
Some forgotten,
Some too dim to be seen,
But a forever, nevertheless,
Another star to keep.

Comments

Curious Case of the Open Backdoor

What does a backdoor mean to you? In matters related to computers, a backdoor is something that breaches security measures and accesses private data without your permission- some means hackers would use. In matters of real estate, a backdoor is a door at the rear end of a house or building. Leaving it open would often mean keeping the house insecure as one would seldom be guarding that end unless when close to it. Leaving it open would also give one the chance to run away from the backdoor when someone uninvited unwanted is at the front door. So, what does backdoor mean when it comes to your life goals? It's something on the similar lines- Every time you devise a plan B, you are creating a backdoor in your life and leaving it open. Your life goals could be anything - that career option, that job offer, that relationship, that marriage proposal, that transfer letter, anything significant, and anything that makes you wonder how it would turn out, anything where the future is uncertai...

Ablaze Within ...

It was either for the scorching sunrise that hurt her eyes or the cold breeze that blew scratching the fresh wounds on her arms, but Disha could tell that her friend had tears in her eyes for some reason or the other. “Nothing,” Razia said, when confronted by Disha, hiding her eyes as she wiped her tears with her hands. “Got paid?” Disha enquired. “Yes.” Lied Razia while walking towards the place she has been calling home from the past couple of years. She headed for the bathroom as she entered her room where two girls were sitting, one smoking a cigarette while the other wearing make-up in front of the broken mirror in the room. Razia cleaned her skirt that was smeared with her blood. She wasn’t prepared for it. After all it was that 14- year old’s first time. Not the first time that she had been “ridden” by men, nor the first time that she bled while bearing the intolerable pain the men gave her, but for the first time that she painlessly bled indicating a cycle o...

"Are You a Lesbian?"

“Are you a lesbian?” A friend of mine once asked me mockingly when we were discussing about my aversion from some (“some” not “all”) kind of men. “No. But does it matter?” I asked her scornfully. No, I wasn’t bothered that I was asked a question about my sexuality. But what I didn’t understand was that is being a lesbian a matter to be jeered about? What if I was one? Wouldn’t I be hurt and embarrassed that my sexuality was just mocked at? Why are the words “gay” or “lesbian” used as slangs? Another incident, that took place a couple of years back, was when I was teasing two girl friends of mine, accusing them of having an affair. I considered it as normal as teasing a guy and a girl. One of them found it so disrespectful that she, instead of simply denying the fact, chided that she isn’t of such “third class” standard. I later discussed the small argument that we had, with her, trying to make my point that being a lesbian or a transgender doesn’t define anyone’s cla...

Pens and Pages

Search This Blog