Prologue

 

 

 

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He didn’t wanted to go inside there anymore, that depressed dwelling where,

All the reminiscences of his muse were still alive, merely the nights forced,

Him to come back to that carcass dwelling, that had become his sole lover now,

An old kaput, wrinkled and torn muse made of concrete and bricks,

Adorned with soiled curtains in the inside, the panes of the casement were mucky,

Neither light dared now to enter through them, and in nights he often got hurt,

Bumping into the wooden fixtures and mostly cursed them in that moment,

And every day when tears did came out from his weary eyes without taking,

Permission, his set of rule it was of course, he was the king of his time and even,

The breeze in the house took his consent to flow, then who was she to defy those,

The pots and pans were lying untouched for long, bodies corroded all with rustic hue,

The blue flames didn’t rise anymore; neither there was smoke in the kitchen,

Of varied spices, the aromas of kingly meals were long lost in time,

The place was quiet, filled more with the smell of rotten vegetables in the air,

Dust was sitting in layers on the tables and on mahogany furniture,

That once they bought together, everything was hand-picked by her,

Adorned in their nest with love and passion, alas! The place has become a derelict,

Which was once the most peaceful place on earth, where he found solace and,

Love to his heart’s content, now it filled him with more hollowness and loathe,

Infrequently it seemed more grotesque trying to eat his soul alive,

Thus Anishvara kept absconding from his situation, but there was no place left,

For him that would gave him solace, he tried roving in those spaces which he,

Earlier detested trying to find peace, but all he found was darkness and deeper void,

He was the beggar of his own kingdom; his manor had valises filled with pennies,

Emeralds, rubies and gold but now they laid all covered in dust and cobwebs,

One birth wouldn’t be enough for him to spend all those, though he was the most,

Wastrel of his reign, he was losing it all in wine, women and more, yet found peace,

Nowhere and in none, his muse was aware of all and she cried in her solace seeing,

The downfall of the man once she loved alas!

Seeing the downfall of the man once she loved…

 

*Anishvara* Male Protagonist

 

~Monalisa Joshi~

 

 

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Revelations

What is it that you love me about?

I asked and there was no answer,

All lips were sealed and hearts chained,

They had stopped loving me long before,

I could know, their gestures tell me,

That I am not welcomed, not anymore,

The queen and king once who ruled the house,

Their hearts have turned ice, their faces pale,

And a wrinkled body wrapped in clothes,

Merely breathing, those shoulders which I,

Perhaps needed to utter some of my tales,

Of hurt and pain have now become weak,

To bear my melancholic words!

Alas, I have stopped speaking the truth,

 

Even that lane going to that dwelling,

Has a dead end, often reminding me that,

I am standing at the end of all the old ties,

Those were soon going to perish in dust,

But still my feet takes me there, my maternal,

Home where now the air seems much,

Eccentric and how I am seeing it all falling,

In front of my eyes, the house of might once,

Whose walls even reciprocated tender love,

And warmth, have now changed into bushy,

Thorns that pricks the skin of a daughter more,

Now the kingdom is ruled by another queen,

Her set of rules are not to mingle, not to glee,

Let the daughter cry the most painful sobs!

Her barbed mansion is not for me anymore,

 

I know it well now, that one day my maternal,

Home will become history for me, kaput as it can,

Be, it shall stand there, holding myriad tales of,

Despair, somewhere in its heart holding the chapter,

Of my existence! Yes it eyes me I know with the same,

Love, I know the walls still want to embrace me,

I know in its solace, when darkness prevails,

It even cries myriad tears of despair, it has now,

Its own story, holding the tears of my mother’s sigh,

Her silence and her mourning, only I can hear,

Lost beneath the crevices and fissures covered,

With white paint now, that white doesn’t appeal me,

Anymore it seems as if a dead house is wrapped,

In white sheets and its sepulchre I am visiting,

 

The rituals say so, not others not them who are in,

Grave for long now, “A daughter is someone else’s keep”,

Are you following them, even in these modern days?

Why? Am I a burden to be kept in your hearts?

Forever! If not in that dwelling whose threshold,

Even stops me, antagonistic words floating in the air,

Uncanny smell of hatred, perhaps I am more sensitive,

I feel much, I over think; my bonds are not for purpose,

To rob or to steal, I am your daughter and not a dacoit,

The blood flowing in my veins is yours’ and shall be ever,

Then how I am any different now, just because I am far,

With my king, believe me my mansion is much barbed,

My threshold is thornier then yours’ it can chain me,

Forever, you have to understand this I have a heart that,

 

Still lies there, thinking and often worrying too much,

For both of you, and forgive me if my revelations are gallant!

 

~Monalisa Joshi~5ede63960f2a142e4fc85952111b9d7a

 

 

Mistress

No don’t bother to ask, “Did you feel bad?

Did I hurt you with my most harsh tone?”

I am too busy nowadays to hear such words,

My role is to play that perfect mistress,

Who is pampered more and loved more!

 

I wonder seldom, how rest of the days,

Are easily forgotten, When I had stood,

On my toes to make the most comforting,

Dwelling, petite but full of warmth and love,

Alas! My love is merely as dust beneath the rug,

 

Shrugged off easy, and mostly broomed out,

Yet I am tall enough to read your thoughts,

From the higher surface, I observe all but I,

Never express irk, my words are washed ten,

Times and weighed less, before they are spoken,

 

I remain tangled in chores, but my clothes,

Aren’t dirty, I wear the perfect pricey,

Attire, how can I ever let my worth be lowered?

My strength comes from that to hold on,

Oh dear! Even when I had downpour over me,

 

From the darkest of clouds, when my tears,

Were like ocean, incessant and full of salt,

I still was in the pricey attire, so they merely,

Saw me from beneath my neck and not my,

Pale face and swollen eyes, oh! I am a woman!

 

I stay graceful even with a melancholic heart,

My soul has the sturdiest glue, it keeps the,

Lips sealed, so do not worry you shall never,

Hear the words you never want to hear,

Ah! They say that my face is mostly radiant,

 

And I take pride, because I haven’t told them,

I have a concealed truth, I am a doppelganger,

I keep the ugly one at home, and I am the,

Beautiful one outside, I laugh! I socialize!

Welcomed at home again by the gloomy one,

Sometimes even I despise her, then I feel the,

Poor thing is just here to help, come on darling,

Don’t look at her; she is simply your slave!

She only listens from ears and not her heart,

Enjoin her, command her and even thrash her,

 

Who cares, all eyes reaching to that lane are,

Blind, love me only! I am your perfect Mistress…

 

Poem By ~ Monalisa Joshi~

 

The Pilgrim

The man was the sole wanderer in the,

Desert of love, he sold his soul to the,

Oracle of time, trading for a woman one,

He hadn’t seen yet, the sanctuary was,

There he knew but from where to begin,

He walked barefoot, miles and miles,

Burnt his skin under the hottest sun,

When his own sweat, became the rivulet,

He was half sunk with thirst unquenched,

For the water was salted, he couldn’t,

Satiate his thirst, neither his desires of,

Youth as a man, he was the lost pilgrim!

 

In the city of sand, this seemed as vast,

Like a dried ocean, as far the eyes could,

Go he saw hillocks spreading wide,

There was no ship of the desert, he had,

To walk, for he oathed so in his dreams,

His soul was traded for a visit one,

To the shrine where he would find peace,c63c5efb5bd27f5c300205a04b67f4167976607a-tc-img-original

His skin burnt, so did his corporal body,

Slowly he was turning into a carcass,

With pieces of flesh clinging barely to,

The bones, horrifying sight he witnessed!

 

Yet, what was that craving, that never seemed,

Quenched, his throat wasn’t parched it was,

His soul! It was probing something, someone,

A woman, who was nowhere to be found in,

That nightmare, he feared he had lost her,

That unknown face, but yet he wanted her,

By his side, at last he found the sanctuary,

Situated within an oasis, where he saw mere,

Reflection of a woman, who was filling quietly,

Her earthen pots, the ripples even remained,

Silent not disturbing her peaceful heart,

And how much now he willed to see her face,

 

As she removed the veil, it was none but his,

Own beloved, and his heart made loud thuds,

Inside his brawny chest, knocking him to be,

Awake and so he was, he now knew there was,

No need for him to visit myriad shrines for,

Finding that thing lost, either to quench his,

Abiding thirst, the sanctuary was his home,

Where they lived aside each other, he realized,

That he was the pilgrim of his own nest,

Which was filled with love, and how much,

Solace he felt melting into her peacefulness,

Was visible on his face, he was a changed man!

 

~Monalisa Joshi~