Undead

(Watching too many zombie apocalypse movies can do this!)

Cruel seems the night
As upon whispered winds i sit
A snail of pain crawls up my arm
the place where i've been bit

A faraway moon
howls down at the earth
An earth filled with the undead
of this fact there is certainly a never ending dearth

Sharp cries i hear all around
panicked people running here and there
But i sit still holding my arm
pausing only to stare

A pointless night this turned out to be
I should have stayed in bed
but heroic me jumped up to find
that everyone around me was dead.

It was old Mrs. Peter
who gave me the bite
As i tried to ease her
of what i thought was fright

Everyone looked leached of blood
My neighbour Jones and his wife Pearl
who trudged after our other neighbours
for the love of me i couldn't locate Agnes, their sweet little girl

Then i saw Agnes and i truly wish i hadn't
crouched over a fallen man
tearing, biting, drinking him in
while his arms spun like a terror crazed fan

Hell fires broke all around
looting was at its peak
Would the dead watch a stolen TV i thought
And for a moment i couldn't speak

There was so much i wanted to do
before i turned into a drooling brainless freak
i thought of my job, of love, marriage and kids
and my zombied eyes of their own accord began to leak

Many of my friends rushed past me
without even a backward glance
at the man who always entertained at parties
with his once funny zombie dance

Terrified and chilled to the bone i sat
waiting for my infection to completely spread
until i too became a monster
that filled survivors with dread

A little boy chased by one
came to me for help and shook me hard
I pointed at my bloody arms
and for a moment his eyes turned into icy shards

He screamed a scream
and away he flew
would he survive, would he remain?
This was an answer god only knew.

My senses seemed to shut down
and i felt my body go numb
I tried to speak or atleast moan
but my tongue seemed completely dumb

I saw not humans around me anymore
merely plump, juicy, tender cattle
running on all fours
without a doubt, the human me had lost the battle

A sliver of drool ran out my mouth
as my dead eyes located a fat boy named Paul
in a fantasy, soon to become i reality, i would run over
throw him onto the ground and start to maul

Paul saw my crazed eyes
and i saw him with fright shiver
I rose from my spot and lurched toward him
my undead body all aquiver

Poor fat Paul did try to run
his enormous fleshy body tried to get away
Though i lurched, i was faster
I drew closer to the panting boy as his body started to sway

My clawed hand curled around his fat neck
my drool fell in rivulets thick
He screeched like a girl
and he tried giving me swift, fleshy kicks

My undead body felt nothing but hunger
as i flung him onto the ground
My nails raked across my face
And his belly my famished mouth found.

I leave out the rest, grotesque as it is
I ate like a mad man until
I was covered in blood, not mine
and yet, i didn't seem to have my fill

I joined my fellow undead
as we made our way through the town
Firemen, policemen, strippers and priests
a once loud mouth comedian now with a crooked frown.

We marched on without a thought in sight
only hunger never ending
maybe you shouldn't have read this poem
never know what message the undead could be sending

Without a smile, without a laugh
we move like a heard none too bright
blind and deaf and dumb, yet hungry
we march on with only eternity in sight.

My Hairy Godmother: Everybody Needs one!

(Written for 'My Beautiful Hair Story' contest organised by Dove and Indiblogger )


Of course i haven't misspelled my title! And it does in no way refer to the amount of body hair on my godmother. Another point to be noted is that my Hairy GodMOTHER is actually a guy but i'll get to that soon.

I used to be the whiniest person ever when it came to my hair. I used to spend hours in front of the mirror cursing my existence because of the mop of ruin on my head!Thanks to my mother's wonderfully dominant genes, i was blessed (according to her) with "lovely" curly tresses. Now i assure you my hair was not in the same zip code as lovely. I had super frizzy hair that had no other go but to be tied into a pony that looked suspiciously like a horse tail hair broom!

Well i can't go blaming everything on my mother because i didn't know the first thing about hair care. I used to keep my shampoo for a long time while i thumbed through a novel and kept my conditioner on for about half a second! The result? A head full of straw! I really have no idea where i had got the knowledge about how to use shampoo and conditioner from but i also made sure i passed on this stupid bit of news to a couple of unsuspecting girl cousins. The funniest part is that no one bothered correcting me or telling me what i should actually be doing.

Utter shame! Horrid hair in a pony hidden by a pink cap :(

So i moved on with life and i reached the hallowed grounds of my 12th grade where the beauty queens were fast separated from the wallflowers. Guess which one i was? No guesses there i assure you but i have to say that i did attract quite a lot of attention from the guys! My bundle of frizziness was made into a battleground into which those devils launched paper rockets, bits of chalk, erasers, pencil stubs and paper balls...i had a hell of a time brushing everything out of my hair after school! The bets were: Rs. 50 if it sticks up in the hair and Rs. 100 if it goes into my hair. I can tell you without a doubt that a lot of money was made everyday!
I was hurt and depressed because i see girls leaving loose gorgeous waves and shiny sleek straight hair and bouncing it in everyone's face where i was stuck with the names: "Chakiri thala" meaning "Coconut husk head" and "bottle brush"!
Life was soooo unfair! This went on all the way through Degree and my Post grad where i was dubbed "The girl with the frizzy hair". Though i blossomed into a talkative and friendly person, my hair kept giving me confidence issues.

Years passed and I moved to Chennai to work with a reputed newspaper. There appearances meant everything and in i walked with a total mallu (lingo for malayali) look. Hair all brushed and braided and oh boy! I was so not pleased. For more than half a year i was yet again referred to by my colleagues as "The girl with the braided frizzy hair"! Quite honestly i had never had a fashionable haircut my entire life. If at all i desperately begged for one, my mother would take me to a local beauty parlour and have the scissors sweep a straight cut through my hair. No pre wash, layers or mousse here! Now that i was free to make my own decisions, i started enquiring about reputed salons around my work area and that's when "Studio Profile" surfaced. Right then, the hippest, coolest joint and i had my colleague (A regular at Studio profile and yes with ultra glossy hair) fix an appointment for me.
I was nervous because hey this was the first time i would be at the mercy of a true professional. I entered the salon and had a short conversation with the receptionist who asked me about my hair and what i required and i wanted the end result to be. I almost bawled and asked her to make my frizzy lumps into a mane of beauty. I guess they have had quite a few bawling clients because she wasn't affected at all by my outburst.
"So...curly hair...hmmm....we have just the person for you...RAP!"
And in walked my Hairy Godmother! He had his straight brown hair cut into an emo style, wore low rise studded jeans and orange converse (yes! i still remember the colour). In his wand hand he clutched a pair of gleaming scissors and he looked me up and down, stopped and surveyed my mess of hair. A smile broke on his face and he said "No problem!"

Thus began an excruciating 2 hours where he scrubbed and bubbled and creamed my hair out of more than a lifetime of disdain all the while happily chatting me up about the latest fashions and trends in hair! For some reason he faced me away from the mirror whilst he cut my hair. I saw wisps and tendrils and curls fall all around me and i kept my eyes screwed shut wondering if i had made a mistake after all!
A final blow dry and a bit of light mousse and a dash of hair spray and "DONE!" my godmother exclaimed!
He swivelled my chair around and out popped from the mirror a girl with gorgeous, glossy, bouncy thick curls accompanied by astonished eyes and a HUGE smile! He set down his scissors (which i still call his magic wand). I almost burst into tears! For the first time i could "Leave your hair loose" Rap said reading my mind and that was the end of my hair problems! I floated out of the salon.

Me in the middle with my super new, extra special hairy godmother cut! 

The reaction at office the next day was one of utter amazement and shock! Girls and guys alike swarmed around me touching my hair, weighing it on their fingers and wishing they had the same luscious locks and since then i was referred to as "the girl with the beautiful curls!" Thank you Rap, my Hairy Godmother i am definitely indebted to you for life!

For awesome tips on haircare, do log on to: https://www.facebook.com/dove/app_127320750626819

The Afterlife

The light shines dim in the forlorn room
In my very heart
and deep down in the gloominess of my soul
The time has come at last to meet my creator.
I am but a man devoid of faith, love and inviolability.
The fear of no life to live for is replaced
by something so very paradoxical
As to whether there would be life after death.
That was the condition i was in at the moment
For a man who has nothing to hope for in the future
will have no faith, love or inviolability
The conviction that i had in my mentor
was replaced by a perverse hunger to witness
my creator surrounded by his angels in chorus.

The operation meant everything
the victim the rest
The time of judgement
was scheduled at 8 in the morning.
Dawn crawled at the pace of snails
Time, like that of a drugged sloth.
Is it a sin for a man to ask for a quick, decent death?
I became aware of this question in my head
the tenth time it repeated itself.
I wondered why fate had to be so fastidious
with this worthless cadaver of mine.
Someone once told me that death was like flying.
I wondered if i would be flying
into the eternal kingdom of my creator
in the few hours to follow.

Chances of survival were minimal they had said
It was in a way an immense reassurance.
Why live at the mercy of scavenging vultures,
when the kingdom of the great one
beckoned so deliciously in the distance?
Drawing closer with every tick of the second hand.
It was time for the judgement to be passed.
The white coated angels of mercy
had already entered the death house, they called a private ward
I watched them wheel in my coffin
What they called a stretcher.
They helped me into it
i was a step closer to death with the help they provided.
For a moment i felt indebted to them!

They then placed upon me, my shroud
what they called the theater sheet
I was being wheeled toward my destiny.
I could feel the bequest left for me by my father in the heavens
getting closer
I felt saturated
as the rays of my legacy shown through me
Time was fast approaching
I felt i could wait no longer.
The preparation room for the afterlife-the theater.
I was wheeled in
dressed in heaven's attire
The white coated angel stared down at me
and smiled reassuringly.
Almost as if to declare that the heavens were just
a few miles and hours away.

I felt the mask of sleep being held at my mouth
Preparations had reached a point of utmost scrutiny
There lay no liberty for the gaffe of hand
The sacrificial lamb was almost ready.
The last obsession within my drowning self
was how well my father would receive me
The last memory clip i had imprinted in my mind
was of the angel beside me raising into space
the apparatus of eternal life
The scalpel as they called it.
Minutes ticked by and i felt myself enter an alien environment

The angels on earth had lost their battle
against my father's angels.
I step foot onto the alien grounds
and suddenly,
the light of life strikes me
and it fills me with the beautiful radiance of the afterlife.

Chocolate

This poem is dedicated to my sister, who is a huge fan of chocolate and fell in love with this poem the moment she read it!

Today's the day my heart's all abloom
As i skip happily up to my mama's bedroom
I wake her with a gentle prod
She yawns, stretches, sits up and gives me a knowing nod
I hardly give her time to brush her teeth
For i have to hurry, hurry over to that street.
Mama smiles lovingly and opens her little money box
And gives me a few coins, smiling like a wise old fox.
She knows where i'm off to
Hurriedly lacing up my little red shoes
She fondly remembers as out the door i hop
With great excitement, that lovely little chocolate shop.
"Sweets for the sweet" the shop board read
Owned by that portly old darling Mr.Hofsboardstead
"His chocolates are the best and much better by far," the townsfolk cry
And that's where i'm off to
for my chocolates to buy.
I enter the shop, and a tinkly bell chimes
I quickly walk past a tempting display of sugar limes.
"What shall it be today my dear?" asked old Mr.Hofsboardstead
"Will it be those pink gummy balls, chocopops or sugar plums ever so red?"
My eyes wandered along colourful shelves and jars
Hmmm...i haven't tried those lovely chocolate bars.
"How much for these Mr.Hofsboard sir?" I ask
"For those my dear? Or those orange flavored masks?"
"Those Golden bars of chocolate and nut brittle sir, i havent as yet tried them out"
Chuckled Mr.Hofsboardstead "A pound each my dear and please darling do not shout!"
I counted my money
Oh enough! Only enough to buy a few sweets with clotted cream and honey
"Oh! Mr.Hofsboardstead sir, i don't seem to have the right amount"
"I really should learn the right way to count"
Mr.Hofsboard gave me a little smile
Then disappeared into his backroom for a while
Out he came and gave me a gaily wrapped box
Of his greatest masterpiece of chocolate skilfully shaped into clocks!
"Not to worry dear, a little gift from me"
"You're such a sweet girl, you don't have to pay for them you see!"
I stammered my thanks and rushed back home
Down that pretty street of St Elves and Chrome.
"Mama! Look at what Mr.Hofsboardstead gave me!" I smiled
"Why!" said my mother with a twinkle in her eye
"This is exactly how he treated me when i was a child!"

Inanimate Love

Loveless was he
His life as empty as a drum
A white heart in a white body
His facade dark.

Alone was he.

He saw many an enchanting sunrise
and many a romantic sunset
He had his ornate home for company
A false home he felt
A false home for a broken soul.

Sad was he.

Drowning in solitude
Flashes before his eyes
That was life to him

Loveless, alone and sad was he.

Until there came that sudden darkness
A scratch announced her arrival
And forth she came
In a blaze of beauty
A mysterious lady
In a flowing gown of silk
A gown of bright, fluid gold
He was dazzled by her beauty
He felt abated by her presence
A jaunt started she
She settled herself above him
just out of reach.

So light was she
She danced with utter grace
In tune with nature's melody
Flinging brightness across far reaches
She flirted and she danced
She twinkled and she laughed
That lady in liquid gold

How serene was he
And how untamed was she.

Then love hit him
A hot streak of it
flew past his burning body
And formed a puddle near his feet.
He burned for her touch
His soul once garbed in loneliness
broke free of its tangles
and gushed out to meet her.

Asinine was he
He danced along to her tunes
So mad in love was he
She moulded him with flirty promises
She burnt him with her kisses
And then she was gone!
She vanished in a tendril of magic smoke
right before his eyes!
Alas! Alas! Naive was he
He waited for her
A loon

He waited for her grace and warmth
Was she a dream?
No she was not
For she came to him a week later
In that sudden darkness
Her breath hot on him
She rose high above him
And danced with lust
Pretentious was she
His strength waned
His body grew emaciated
Such a pretty pirate was she!
She lived off him
Feeding deep into him
My sweet, arrogant lady love
Thought he in vain.

She left again in a rush
without even a glance
nor a farewell touch
But she did return
Grotesque became he
with every one of her visits
So twisted out of shape
his mind and soul
aching for that proud peacock
That rebuffed him
That burnt into him.

Frivolous was how she treated his sickness
Slowly, he felt himself sink
Exasperated was she
What more use to her was he?
She sniffed at him in disgust
As he lay there on his soft, white deathbed.
But fate dealt with her
in a way she could never have seen

She felt her fiery feet entangle into his deathbed
Struggle as she might, she could not break free
His anger, his pain and his sorrow
Rose higher and higher
for he had loved her
And she, overcome with smugness
had cast into the raging winds
his plea for her heart.

He rose and rose
Touching her breasts
caressing her lips
closing her eyes
and engulfing her hair

Thus she died
with so cruel her heart
Along with his love
That she did so spite

Scardey Cat!

I love horror. Three simple words with dire consequences! As far as I can recall I have been completely mesmerized by horror. Forget mesmerized, i think the appropriate word would be consumed. My mum told me that when she was pregnant with me, she used to watch nothing but horror! Now i know mothers make their babies listen to Beethoven or read them bed time classics even before they are born; moulds their character while in the womb itself they say! I used to think that was complete nonsense but hey I am such a believer now! Ask me favourite anything and I assure you that most of the answers would have some relation to horror, blood, guts and gore! One would think that a person so interested in horror would be impervious to the side effects of the same; the biggest side effect being scared of one's own shadow! Now look...I am definitely not scared of my shadow...maybe I was when I was a kid...Ok maybe I am a little scared even now but that's not the point! I just find it funny that someone who is so into horror is also such a friggin scaredy cat! I have friends who practice the art of Ouija every day and laugh about it as casually as buttering bread! I for one won't sit in the same room with an ouija board for company. I have a brother and a sister and when we were kids, watching horror flicks would be a special treat indeed. My parents would be out for the day and as usual my brilliant mind comes up with the suggestion of watching a spine chiller! The poor kids could do nothing but nod their heads and agree, I was their "good example setting" big sister after all! So we used to drag our pillows and blankets to the TV room, sit all bundled up surrounded by snacks...and the movie marathon would begin! Obviously the kids would wisely have their eyes closed or heads buried under the blankets and I would be the one staring mouth open, absorbing each scene. Once the chill fest was over, the only way we would walk around the house would be in the form of a human chain! We would practically switch on every light in the house and sit in a corner shivering waiting for our folks to get home. Suprisingly, both my siblings grew up without being scarred for life! My brother sleeps alone and has a nasty habit of walking all groggy downstairs to get a drink of water at 3 in the morning. My sister walks around from pillar to post in the middle of the night without a care in the world! I on the other hand, used to bunk in my parents room for a good three months when I shifted back to Cochin on a permanent basis. I did try to sleep alone the first day I came back home. The result? I sat bug eyed till 6 in the morning when there was a trickle of daylight and only then did I manage to get some shut eye! So yes, a good three months was spent listening to my dad's snores and my mum's gossip sessions late into the night. Despite them both being in the same room with me, I used to avoid looking under the dark crevice of the bed lest something pops out and grabs me like the clown in Poltergiest! A few years back, there was even an incident where I had to, simply HAD to visit the loo in the middle of the night and after my business, I was just too chicken to set foot out of the well lit bathroom! I ended up bawling for my mum who dragged herself all bleary eyed from bed and asked me if I wanted a friendly visit to a counsellor! One would also think that someone who's such a scaredy cat would aleast avoid situations that resulted in sleepless nights. No way no sir! I think horror keeps me alive. I don't know if my brain is twisted but I sure admire the way horror makes one's imagination go all haywire. My fiancée is the icing on the cake! We speak late into the night and knowing I'm the biggest scaredy cat in the world, he happily asks me to NOT stare into the dark corner near my wardrobe, and to NOT go to the loo between 2 and 4 in the morning (which I obeyed out of fright and almost ended up wetting my bed!)and what not! I manage to sleep alone nowadays and trust me that in itself is a huge achievement! And how did I manage to accomplish this? Three simple rules: 1) Watch/ Read/ Listen to anything remotely connected to horror only when the sun is shining bright and the birds are chirping 2) Keep my fiancée up and chatting till as late as possible so I have the company 3) Run to my cousin's place next door with the excuse of a sleepover if the first two rules don't work out! But give up horror? NEVER!

Daddy's Little Darling

She had wanted to see the world, to her daddy she said
Right from where she lay on her warm little bed
Her daddy loved his little girl and could only comply
So, he took her in his loving arms and slowly let her fly
Amidst raindrops and fluffy clouds
Amidst brilliant rainbows and white down
Her eyes sparkled at the beauty she saw
A laugh escaped her lips, something her daddy longed for.
She held up her hands as she was lifted up high
A heavenly star flew past her ever so shy.
She saw enormous mountains and jeweled waterfalls
She was a child of the earth after all.
Her sight held nothing but delight and pure wonder
To see her that way, her daddy would bottle thunder
A little queen of sorts, her kingdom she surveyed
Reaching over baby pillows that formed a tiny barricade
Her light brown hair flew against the breeze
And she smoothed down her yellow dress as pretty as you please
Her daddy could watch her all night long
So would she as she waited for the bell's "Ting Tong"
Her daddy would be home then, this she knew
He would come and show her the world in a minute or two
As he took her in his arms, she would mouth silent words
She would ask him about everything he saw, be it a butterfly, be it birds.
And her daddy would laugh with delight and raise her way up high
So that she could see what he saw by and by
As she played happily with shooting stars
She could see her Daddy's adoring smile from afar
And though she loves the world, she would want to return
Because her Daddy loves her the most, this she had learnt
And though she is the center of many a universe
She knows once and for all that her Daddy's love is only hers.